Lonely/Lovely

Glue Pour - Robert Smithson

St. Patrick's day started out in earnest when I awoke from a post work snooze to the sound of the phone ringing from across the room. It was Dragica calling, she was drunk, and in her signature drawl that resembles a comedian in the midst of telling a dirty joke, she announced that her and four of her girlfriends had been at the bar since three and wanted to come over. Without a moment of hesitation I obliged her invitation and jumped into an excited scramble around to tidy up, get dressed, dust of the grey monk pinot noir that had been sitting on the counter for the past three days, dim the lighting, and turn on some music. And what started out as a rather dreadful and lonely evening quickly turned itself around by 8pm when I found myself sharing the couch with 5 lovely ladies one of which I was quite smitten with.

There is a great sequence in the the film The Odd Couple with Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau, when they decide to invite two women over for dinner that live together in the same building as the newly appointed bachelors. "Felix! There's Gurls coming over tonight, get ready my boy!" The thought of Walter Matthau running around the apartment changing his shirt with manic excitement at the prospect of women coming over came to mind as LeRoy and Remington arrived within a half hour of each other. Remington had pizza, and Leroy had beer. It was a party, with gurls! Remington started moon walking, Dragica stole a moment with me by the fridge to say that the ladies thought I was quite charming, and LeRoy was in righteous laughter about my "lord of the fuck" story, which by the way garnered more fan mail than I've ever gotten from a single post. Thank you very much everyone that wrote to me.

It was getting later and the women departed, so Remington, LeRoy, and I grabbed a cab to the bar with the couches and no windows. As we were standing out on the street waiting for a cab, a tall blonde haired woman approached us, and as she walked past nearly fell right into LeRoy. We stood there watching her walk away, zig zagging all over the sidewalk, her chin up and eyes forward trying to maintain a certian level of dignity; it was a dangerous sight. The place was packed but we somehow managed to find three seats right at the bar. LeRoy ordered round after round of Irish whiskey while we sat there surveying the crowd that was working the only bartender into a feverish sweat. There was a truly wondrous energy swirling all about us as we sat there in complete comfort, drinking, and talking about everything from Remington's writers block, to LeRoy's disgust at the shit eating grin of that scenester that everyone knows with the glasses and the clashing outfits. I took my friends, I put my arms around them and stared out overtop the bottles and pumps behind the bar. I told them that I wanted to remember this moment forever, because it was truly a moment to behold. Then I announced that I was in love with a woman that didn't even know my name, and I tipped my glass to the buttermilk flesh of her neck; and at that point I fell backwards off my barstool and into the fine folks chatting behind me. I was promptly cut off and handed a glass of water.

Sometime nearing 4am, I found myself walking home alongside the big 30 thousand seat arena's that are all on one street. Underneath the viaduct that takes cars in all different directions at a high rate of speed, I stopped to look up at the roof of the bridge that I was walking underneath. It was covered with a grid of bright yellow lights, and it lit the entire area in a moment of artificial daylight. The sound of the buzzing lights was overpowering and I couldn't go any further. I decided to sit upon a pile of dirt by the side of the empty road. Staring at the fabricated sky buzzing above me, burning, and lulling me into a hallucinatory complacency, I leaned backward in my utmost leisure, and I thought about my predicament.

To be continued...