and you can dream, so dream out loud
when i fall into kate's bed, it's just that: a fall. my legs are so numb from the copius amounts of alcohol i've consumed that i can't even register and perform the correct motions that make up walking.
last night, robin, kate, kate, liz and i got dolled up and hit barrmore's for their no-cover retro eighties night. strobe lights and bubbles are the name of the game while billy idoo sings about masturbation at levels high enough to leave you deaf for three days. normally it's a dry event, but last night we hit the sauce before, during and after.
and oh my what an after.
after getting home, stealing the wine bottle and parading morgen, the six of us put on u2 and spun around the dining room, bottles and glassles slipping haphazadly through our fingers, the floor bouncing with our feet and the sounds of drunken happy beautifulpeople filling our ears and eyes and memories like fireworks on a hot and still july night.
liz and i danced for hours until, having finished the two bottles of wine, we collapsed into the two chairs and i apparently waxed poetic about the lack of cleaning skills on the part of my roommate's and the drama of secret love from last year, or so kate tells me as i remmeber talking and being clear in ym head, but can't- in retrosepct- recall a clear word of what i said.
when i woke up this morning i could taste happy.