Always start off with no ambitions.
The arrival of the New Year would not have been the same if TJ wasn't standing three feet away from me screaming at the top of his lungs (which can surprisingly reach a very high pitch). Or so I thought it wouldn't be the same until I realized that nothing will ever make New Years more to me than 2004+1, or x+1 for that matter. Its just another day. "Okay, its an excuse to get drunk," I said to myself as a sipped some more beer, but this happens all the time without excuses. Is it so necessary to rejoice over an idea that no one can ever fully grasp? By that, I mean time and history; the infinite; the sublime.
Now I knew I was drunk because philosophy was finding its way to the sacristy of my mind. I left the party, second time tonight, the first being when I took a certain Bly home. He couldn't quite see straight, or left, or right. He probably couldn't see at all. Took him home, came back. And here I am. Leaving the second time. My car was parked towards the corner of South and Main, not that this is important at all, but as I walked to it I realized I had to piss.
I began driving around. I looped the square, attempted to navigate the maze of roads within the Wilkes Campus, and finally decided to stop because my bladder would soon erupt. I couldn't go to my dad's because Amy locked the doors. Since I was still in the vicinity, I went back to the party.
Parked in the same place.
Some bald ruffian filled my cup and must've thought I was exceptionally drunk because I kept spilling out the head all over his foot. Not my fault. I walked to the bathroom and found that the door had been broken: the bottom half had been kicked in, leaving a two-by-two hole in the door and a piece of wood lying on the ground next to it. Now I remembered why I had to pee. I never went earlier because I was afraid of the hole. I had a little fantasy of me peeing and someone on their knees outside the door looking through the hole at me. I place myself (metaphysically?) in the hallway and looked at them from behind, realizing how ridiculous it would be for someone to do that. I laughed to myself and then I stopped laughing because my urinal shyness is ludicrous.
Someone was in the bathroom, and outside was a girl dressed like a pink marshmallow that looked extremely familiar. Earlier, she was asking me to take a picture with her and then began to pull me from the living room of this apartment to the long hallway leading to all of the bedrooms. I got nervous and threw her hand from me and ran away. Why? Because she was familiar in a way that reminded me of someone repulsive that I knew, but I just couldn't put my finger on it.
She said hello, and I probably said something drawn out, high-flown, and ridiculous. I must've because TJ began yelling my name from inside the bathroom. I cut her and the rest of the line and joined TJ, who was now surprisingly washing his hands. I felt like a girl in a bathroom gossiping. That is only based on movies and books, as I will never be able to truly experience the girl-bathroom experience simply because I am not a girl.
I peed, he naturally talked about how drunk he was, and then I washed my hands and followed him out. Immediately, he was devoured by a pack of girls. That is so TJ. A year ago I may have been envious of that aspect of him, but now its a little deeper: I'm envious of his lack of conscience. I really do think too much, and even though I am constantly accused of simplifying things to black and white, that's not the case at all. There are definitely so many in-betweens of the spectrum and I guess its a good thing that I can make wise and well-thought out decisions, but also a bad thing because most entertaining and fun things are bad, hence I will never do them.
That's the real reason I went back to the party. Although I wasn't exactly ambitious, I'd rather go against my better judgment and drink until I puke, or at least until I got bored of drinking, and then drive somewhere because I refused to believe that this party would be my entire New Year. Not that I am contradicting myself and falling into the herd of New Years Beasts, but more like, "If everyone else is having such a good time, I'd be damned if my conscience doesn't let me." So, momentarily I threw it away as I pursued other nonsense until the time came for my night to really begin.
I had things to do, and I knew it at the time. More important things than dabbling with inauthenticity and watching boys and girls gambol toward one another.
So on and so forth. The battle of the consciousness was coming.
The night continued with a girl trying to use me to make another boy jealous. I would have none of this. She began to fall all over the place and, eventually, I ended up taking her home. I skipped a whole bunch of unimportant details here, but nonetheless, I will continue.
Juicy! In my car, it was almost like a Twilight Zone, Bizarro World rape scene. This girl was possibly the most aggressive little monster I've ever ran into. I couldn't move in any direction as my conscience had me on lock down. I wanted to listen to my mind, the good thing, and drop this girl off and get the fuck home because she's drunk as hell (and I had a certain Wyclef Jean skit on repeat in my head), but my penis, the other warrior of this battle, urged me to do otherwise. It was especially trying because this girl wasn't exactly backing down.
She was too drunk, that was her immediate downfall. What buried her was my earlier set of objectives: there was a certain person somewhere out in the middle of Bear Creek, where I should have been spending New Years, that I had to make miserable for being so selfish.
And so I drove off into the night and was forced into the 'unfortunate' lane, starting off the New Year in probably the worst way. This is where my night really began. Even though it was short-lived, its potency makes it the most important element in a certain aspect, as I could write novels on just a moment -- simply because each moment is a lifetime.
Again, this is where my night really began. This is also where the entry stops.
Happy New Year~
Now I knew I was drunk because philosophy was finding its way to the sacristy of my mind. I left the party, second time tonight, the first being when I took a certain Bly home. He couldn't quite see straight, or left, or right. He probably couldn't see at all. Took him home, came back. And here I am. Leaving the second time. My car was parked towards the corner of South and Main, not that this is important at all, but as I walked to it I realized I had to piss.
I began driving around. I looped the square, attempted to navigate the maze of roads within the Wilkes Campus, and finally decided to stop because my bladder would soon erupt. I couldn't go to my dad's because Amy locked the doors. Since I was still in the vicinity, I went back to the party.
Parked in the same place.
Some bald ruffian filled my cup and must've thought I was exceptionally drunk because I kept spilling out the head all over his foot. Not my fault. I walked to the bathroom and found that the door had been broken: the bottom half had been kicked in, leaving a two-by-two hole in the door and a piece of wood lying on the ground next to it. Now I remembered why I had to pee. I never went earlier because I was afraid of the hole. I had a little fantasy of me peeing and someone on their knees outside the door looking through the hole at me. I place myself (metaphysically?) in the hallway and looked at them from behind, realizing how ridiculous it would be for someone to do that. I laughed to myself and then I stopped laughing because my urinal shyness is ludicrous.
Someone was in the bathroom, and outside was a girl dressed like a pink marshmallow that looked extremely familiar. Earlier, she was asking me to take a picture with her and then began to pull me from the living room of this apartment to the long hallway leading to all of the bedrooms. I got nervous and threw her hand from me and ran away. Why? Because she was familiar in a way that reminded me of someone repulsive that I knew, but I just couldn't put my finger on it.
She said hello, and I probably said something drawn out, high-flown, and ridiculous. I must've because TJ began yelling my name from inside the bathroom. I cut her and the rest of the line and joined TJ, who was now surprisingly washing his hands. I felt like a girl in a bathroom gossiping. That is only based on movies and books, as I will never be able to truly experience the girl-bathroom experience simply because I am not a girl.
I peed, he naturally talked about how drunk he was, and then I washed my hands and followed him out. Immediately, he was devoured by a pack of girls. That is so TJ. A year ago I may have been envious of that aspect of him, but now its a little deeper: I'm envious of his lack of conscience. I really do think too much, and even though I am constantly accused of simplifying things to black and white, that's not the case at all. There are definitely so many in-betweens of the spectrum and I guess its a good thing that I can make wise and well-thought out decisions, but also a bad thing because most entertaining and fun things are bad, hence I will never do them.
That's the real reason I went back to the party. Although I wasn't exactly ambitious, I'd rather go against my better judgment and drink until I puke, or at least until I got bored of drinking, and then drive somewhere because I refused to believe that this party would be my entire New Year. Not that I am contradicting myself and falling into the herd of New Years Beasts, but more like, "If everyone else is having such a good time, I'd be damned if my conscience doesn't let me." So, momentarily I threw it away as I pursued other nonsense until the time came for my night to really begin.
I had things to do, and I knew it at the time. More important things than dabbling with inauthenticity and watching boys and girls gambol toward one another.
So on and so forth. The battle of the consciousness was coming.
The night continued with a girl trying to use me to make another boy jealous. I would have none of this. She began to fall all over the place and, eventually, I ended up taking her home. I skipped a whole bunch of unimportant details here, but nonetheless, I will continue.
Juicy! In my car, it was almost like a Twilight Zone, Bizarro World rape scene. This girl was possibly the most aggressive little monster I've ever ran into. I couldn't move in any direction as my conscience had me on lock down. I wanted to listen to my mind, the good thing, and drop this girl off and get the fuck home because she's drunk as hell (and I had a certain Wyclef Jean skit on repeat in my head), but my penis, the other warrior of this battle, urged me to do otherwise. It was especially trying because this girl wasn't exactly backing down.
She was too drunk, that was her immediate downfall. What buried her was my earlier set of objectives: there was a certain person somewhere out in the middle of Bear Creek, where I should have been spending New Years, that I had to make miserable for being so selfish.
And so I drove off into the night and was forced into the 'unfortunate' lane, starting off the New Year in probably the worst way. This is where my night really began. Even though it was short-lived, its potency makes it the most important element in a certain aspect, as I could write novels on just a moment -- simply because each moment is a lifetime.
Again, this is where my night really began. This is also where the entry stops.
Happy New Year~