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Friday June 16, 2000, 03:12

I find myself wondering whether the fact that I had no hot water while doing my dishes tonight reflects on the fact that I will no hot water tomorrow morning with which to take a shower. I think perhaps that I don't care so much, that it might wake me up as I will be tired.

She told me that I just hadn't experienced enough good vibes. Enough fun, I added. And she agreed.

I feel like I haven't experienced enough of the things that I was supposed to experience when I was younger. Enough parties. Enough people sitting around doing drugs. I never did that. I still don't. But there's something about being around that. Something about a culture, about the people. Something that I can't quite put my finger on. Something that I feel like everyone else would have outgrown by now and would shake a finger at saying "those kids." Something that I want to try out for myself. By myself. To be myself.

I had wandered by the space that night because I was in the neighborhood. There was this interview for this lighting design position where I spoke very poorly about lighting and forgot my resume. I don't think I want the job any more, in thinking about it, but we will see what happens. I had been in the neighborhood and realized that this thing, whatever it can be called, this party thing that I had gone to a handful of times before, where I would dance and look silly but generally had a good time, this thing was probably happening. And this thing was a few blocks away.

I wandered over, through the town, and finally found my way to a familiar building. "Enter Around Back" the sign on the front doors to the VFW had read. I wandered back behind the building to hear two people, rapping, outside the door. They had built up a crowd around them. A crowd, presumably in front of a door to the place where the dancing would be happening. A small crowd that I had no idea how to approach. So I walked past the building and down the street. Away.

The street was calm and when I got to the end of the block, I heard nothing but the wind. It was amazing. No cars, no rap, nothing. Just wind rustling leaves on trees. I turned back down the street and walked back, towards the sounds of people.

I stood outside a chain link fence away from the crowd, at the other end of the parking lot. Nobody could see me back there and I stood, looking for the door to the party. I found it, crammed my fears of what other people might think of me back into a part of my brain that I couldn't reach for a while, and wandered to the crowd. Getting there, and not having gotten that far in my plan, I stood, leaning against the fence, watching the people.

Until I spotted a friend. I had met her a couple of times before, friends of a friend sort of a deal, and she emerged from the party, shoeless as always, and was talking to some people. I wandered up to her. "Hi," I started and proceeded to mention how I was just "in the neighborhood" and how I "remembered" that this thing was going on.

She told me to come in, that it was a lot of fun. That it was the last of the year before fall. I did not need convincing. I just needed to kick my brain into not thinking so much.

I danced. There is more to be said here about bouncing and not knowing where to put my hands and my feet and feeling like the biggest chump in the room. But the point is that I didn't care. I was dancing and bouncing and smiling.

There is again more to be said about how I met up with a guy I had met once before and had not kept in touch with at all. About how he offered me a spot in his friend's car after the party and how we managed to convince ourselves that jobs be damned, we would go out and enjoy the after-party at the house of a girl we did not know.

I will skip that bit too.

We did end up at the house of the girl we did not know. We entered a house with a pile of shoes at the door and the smell of pot in the air. Turntables were set up in one of the living rooms, and music was being spun, and would continue to for the rest of the evening. The soft light of the halogen, which would be replaced by the soft light of the morning, reflected a soothing amber light into the room.

I felt very out of place.

I had no need for the joint and kindly declined. I sat to the side for a bit, not being the one to walk up to a stranger and ask of them the definition of the japanese text printed on their shirt. I am not one to just jump into a conversation about whatever politicals were being discussed at the time, being as unaware of either point of view in most topics regarding the world as I am.

Slowly though, as I got more tired, or just more comfortable, I slipped into the experience. I got to talk about things I knew about. About theatre. About the art that I do. And people actually cared, or were too baked out of their heads to actually tell me to be quiet. So I talked. I interacted. I was part of something again.

...

I watched as they sat on the chair in the corner of the room. She was giving him a shoulder rub. He had been giving the girl on whom she was sitting a foot massage. Follow that so far? Doesn't really matter. He was sitting on the floor, she in the chair. He leaned over and lay his head against her. She smiled and rubbed his hair.

I watched because I needed human contact. I was living vicariously.

Later, they moved to the couch. I was on the couch as well. A comment was made. A conversation regarding extroversion. Regarding wanting to talk to, to interact with everyone around. I, sitting at the end of the couch away from the two of them, was cited. I leaned over and introductions were made. Conversations happened. He was drawing his hand back and forth across her neck and she would close her eyes and smile.

He got up. She and I spoke. We hooked fingers and pulled against each other. finger finger finger pulled against each other. He came back and again we talked. He ran his fingers through her hair and across her neck. She let go of my hand to touch his. I smiled and watched them do the same.

I offered my hands up for massages, citing discomfort from my day job. They were happy to oblige. I held both of them, hands rubbing against each other. Talking occasionally. I took her hand and placed it against his. It belonged there.

At one point he asked how old she was. She told him to guess. He did. She told him. It didn't really seem to matter.

Throughout the evening, I would look at my watch. As the night wore on, my desire to leave diminished, realizing that the amount of sleep that I would get was a) not going to be enough anyway, so why bother? and b) was going to be time spent not enjoying myself in this setting. I opted for a life rather than the feeling of coherence the next day at work.

He had a beard and scraggly hair. She had been wearing big zebra pants at the party, and was now wearing black spandex pants, a black stretch top with a strap over one shoulder, and black gloves that extended from her upper arm to her hands, covering half her palm. Her hair was blue.

I had checked my worries at the door at the evening. I don't know what I looked like.

Other than that, I spent the night trying to avoid a hippie who did not seem to understand the idea of personal space who kept trying to lean on me as he perched on all fours on the couch speaking to a man at the other end of the couch.

I managed to find out how to contact one of the people I had met last night. Is that the nature of the event? Is this a group of people, friends for moments at a time, when it is convenient, when there is a context? I'm not sure how much fun I would have with these people on a regular basis. It might be a lot, or we might not have anything to talk about at all.

Regardless, I danced and stayed up until all hours of the morning. I am still tired and have not quite fixed my sleep schedule. I can't wait to do this again.

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