I wish I could remember more of last night.
What I remember from the Events of Last night
-----I sat in front of the television with my friends, the people who have helped redefine my life and idea of myself over the past three years. We had the usual banter, the usual wit and repartee. Without a drink, I offer to pick up a girl in exchange for a forty of malt liquor. Disgusting, Ye Old English malt liquor. It's amusing to watch her purchase alcohol through the window of the Mobil Mart, because she looks like she's twelve, despite the fact that she's stunningly gorgeous.
-----I'm halfway through the bottle. Another friend, a lighting technician, pulls out a blue vile containing a joint and asks who wants to join him. I say, "what the hell," and join him out on the back porch. We shoot the shit and smoke, talking change--change in the world, change in politics, change in ourselves, change in the school we attend.
-----And that's when my vision starts to get blurry. I hand my keys over to someone I trust, saying "take these away from me." And I start to giggle. Over nothing. Completely over nothing. I stay in the kitchen of the house, hiding under a table, clutching my forty of beer. I have no idea why. Someone comes to check on me, as I watch the TV in the kitchen, asking if I'm okay. All I can reply is, "red rum, red rum." I hear voices talking about me in the living room. They ask what I'm doing. The girl with my keys replies, "It's just Miles doing his thing."
-----People pour into the room. A close friend, someone I look up to, asks "ARE YOU HIGH, MILES? DRUNK?" I laugh. I eat cheese. I mistake cheese wax wrapping for chocolate, bite into it, and am sorely disappointed.
-----The next thing I remember, is watching the same friend, Denise, the dancer, tall and armed with a white hoodie, ran off into the night after the election results were announced. I ran after her. Ran as long and as hard as I could, my body awake, my tunnel vision getting worse. People in the streets, honking, screaming, cheering as loudly as they could.
My peripheral vision was done with.
-----My body worked harder and harder than it ever had before, running and running. I lost her, and returned to the house, where I was greeted by a friend with whom I was in a bizarre "not speaking mode" with. Long story. She greeted me with the biggest hug in the world and we both agreed to be friends again. The hug felt really good.
I still feel wasted.
-----I sat in front of the television with my friends, the people who have helped redefine my life and idea of myself over the past three years. We had the usual banter, the usual wit and repartee. Without a drink, I offer to pick up a girl in exchange for a forty of malt liquor. Disgusting, Ye Old English malt liquor. It's amusing to watch her purchase alcohol through the window of the Mobil Mart, because she looks like she's twelve, despite the fact that she's stunningly gorgeous.
-----I'm halfway through the bottle. Another friend, a lighting technician, pulls out a blue vile containing a joint and asks who wants to join him. I say, "what the hell," and join him out on the back porch. We shoot the shit and smoke, talking change--change in the world, change in politics, change in ourselves, change in the school we attend.
-----And that's when my vision starts to get blurry. I hand my keys over to someone I trust, saying "take these away from me." And I start to giggle. Over nothing. Completely over nothing. I stay in the kitchen of the house, hiding under a table, clutching my forty of beer. I have no idea why. Someone comes to check on me, as I watch the TV in the kitchen, asking if I'm okay. All I can reply is, "red rum, red rum." I hear voices talking about me in the living room. They ask what I'm doing. The girl with my keys replies, "It's just Miles doing his thing."
-----People pour into the room. A close friend, someone I look up to, asks "ARE YOU HIGH, MILES? DRUNK?" I laugh. I eat cheese. I mistake cheese wax wrapping for chocolate, bite into it, and am sorely disappointed.
-----The next thing I remember, is watching the same friend, Denise, the dancer, tall and armed with a white hoodie, ran off into the night after the election results were announced. I ran after her. Ran as long and as hard as I could, my body awake, my tunnel vision getting worse. People in the streets, honking, screaming, cheering as loudly as they could.
My peripheral vision was done with.
-----My body worked harder and harder than it ever had before, running and running. I lost her, and returned to the house, where I was greeted by a friend with whom I was in a bizarre "not speaking mode" with. Long story. She greeted me with the biggest hug in the world and we both agreed to be friends again. The hug felt really good.
I still feel wasted.