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manic recreation I have an extremely social lifestyle, however it often feels more like work than play. Despite of the diminutive size of my place I have little parties most weekends. Sometimes it’s just a few of us sitting around talking or playing games. We debate on what’s wrong with the world and how to fix it or what good music is and if it exists anymore or whether prison and even execution is a relief for toppled dictators. Sometimes we have a huge bash with twenty five to thirty people. Music blasting, drinks flowing, food flying. (For those of you who went to college, I know that thirty people doesn’t sound like much of a bash, but picture that many people in your apartment right now. OK then.) Somebody, or several somebodies will play guitar and sing. Laughter is loud at jokes unheard in different parts of the room. No one wants to be the first to go. Some don’t want to be the last to leave. Some just don’t want the party to end. Eventually, even the stoutest of hearts has to admit defeat (though I am reluctant) and the last good byes are said as the Velvet Underground quietly whispers “All tomorrow’s parties” to a now empty room. A last clean-up with thoughts of tomorrows events before an exhausted collapse into bed (with delusions of reading a book or writing a letter) and a sudden sleep that washes away the need to worry about overdue bills and chronically neglected laundry. I dream in colors and sounds and tastes and smells (even though I’ve heard you don’t do any of those things) and I wake up with profound truths that will change my life. I won’t write them down even though I keep a pen and pad nearby for just such an occasion (because I know I can never forget something so deep yet obvious.) By the time I am brushing my teeth, by brain is twisted trying to remember that dream. Another day begins where I feel the sand is pouring through the hourglass of my life’s experience. I want to do more. I want to feel more. I want to be more. The conflict with that part of me that wants to just lay in bed for a few weeks to just “ catch up” is like a sword fight in an Errol Flynn movie. Who is the good guy and who is the bad? I am frustrated with my waste of time. I can’t get it back. Well, instead of bickering at myself for my lost time, I get on
with the things I “have” to do before tonight, maybe
some laundry, maybe some cleaning, maybe some viral inoculation
for my computer. I know tonight I will see some live music. I know
tomorrow I will catch a movie and another live show. And then it
will be Monday. Ahh magic Monday, where I can take a break from
my manic recreation. |
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