the good times are killing me
i try so hard to put nights like last night into words, but it never seems to work out.
know that there were old books about physics as myth and myth as physics. there was music, painting, one lone samosa, a pint and a half of steam whistle and three glasses of red wine. there was discussion about thomas jefferson, the human genome project, my catholic sex-guilt, polygamy, genius as an inherited trait and what constitutes an appropriate and useful graduation gift. there was hilarity at a distance as tory tried to make eye contact in, through, around, and over the group she was stading with.
afterwards, when the warm shroud of outside was cast off and kate and i emerged into the frozen wasteland of parking lot five, there was a smoking bus driver and a free bus-ride, kids yelling of mcdonalds, discussion of losing pants, and plans for grilled cheese.
finally, there was drunken messaging, plans made for this evening, the afore mentioned grilled cheese, modest mouse on repeat telling me that the ocean breathes salty, one slipper on and one slipper off, the elixer of saint jude and fifty pages of ender's game.
i don't know how to sum all that up, but i woke up this morning to the message that my drunken statement via msn had earned me seven hundred and fifty points.
so, yeah- it was a seven hundred and fifty point evening.
and then some.