i threw a party last night.
i am a party thrower.
it made me feel a bit like a man dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean.
i was sorrounded by beautiful women, but not one for me.
here now, for zak, is my alcohol log for last night:
2 bottles of guiness
2 shots of jameson
half of some sort of bacardi/jones soda concoction
part of someone's cosmopolitan (which i made for them. i make a great cocktail.)
and thats it. not that much really.
sometime in the wee early morning, i had a conversation with a more than slightly drunk girl about what it means to be bohemian.
"we are bohemian", i slurred "not just because we are drunk on a thursday, but because we are drunk on a thursday as an act of defiance of conventional norms. we are engaging in excess to obtain a sort of enlightenment or higher spiritual plain."
"i dont feel enlightened. i just feel really tired."
and in that brief sentence, a truth was discovered that seemed to me to be far more profound than any thing else we artsy intellectuals could have said.
we are tired.
we are still in the dark, lost, faithless, loveless and tired.
doesnt matter how much we drink, or scream, or dance, or paint, or write;
nothing will replace the rest that we need.
the peace we can't seem to find.
all of us pilgrims, doing things the hard way, finding out for ourselves.
10:16 a.m. - 2006-06-23
Recent entries:
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