The Last Hours of an Otherwise Sunny Day

There is that feeling at a party when you feel bolstered by the collective energy in the room.  There is no need or great temptation to connect deeply with anyone specifically, but you feel a bit king – electric and excited and uplifted.  Drinking helps, sure, but you have hit the right crest of a wave and there is greatness and satisfaction until the wave washes you happily, exhausted into shore.

There is that other gathering where the connections are intimate.  You may have one, perhaps three or four, encounters with people who work your heart into goodness, remind you of some substantive things of life, or quench a thirst you didn’t know you had in your thinking.  The people are good, you are humbled and grateful and your flesh is stronger after.

There is also a party where maybe you are the surly guy from Chicago, exotic from so far away, but awkward.  You can’t quite tell.  But if that’s how you came across, the note from the surly guy reads:  I came for the music.  I came because my friendly housemate invited me and I wanted to support.  I felt strong today, but now this is, for the moment… oh, now different… a gathering of music-hopeful, pot-smoking bachelors and I don’t speak the primary language here and I don’t want to burden you with the fact that I am irresponsible and did not learn the language and I didn’t even bring beer to share.  And I feel like a silent, grinning loser who is screaming on the inside.  I’m going to hide behind this little hand drum and hope that my musical inclination comes out to wow you, so we can all dazzle in it for a little.  So far it hasn’t, and I can’t find the beat and the more I don’t talk to you, the more I feel crumpling and socially poisonous.  Oh good, we found some beat, so now I look like I have any contribution to make.  I can have a purpose other than burden for a while.  But now that that is done, I think I will go.  Bye!  Thank you for having me!