:: The circle of libation ::

Friday, September 10, 2004

Awash in a sea of reserved, approving nods last night at a certain after-party / show (oh, perhaps you heard of it? that's right, yours truly found a foolproof tactic for avoiding pesky "guest lists": "purchase" a ticket ahead of time and show up "three hours early") there stood out a sore thumb of a girl, face unscarred by jaded wrinkles and slightly slack with inebriation. Her pig tails bobbed in time with the vivacious gyrations of her plump innocence. Like pedophilic moths to a nubile flame, so came the bumpers and/or grinders.

"I go to NYU - I'm a first-year. I just got here two weeks ago," she slurred in the direction of her first suitor. "First-year"? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Why not "thirteenth grade"? Bah humbug.

Minutes later staccato kisses punctuated a free-form dance duet bucking and swaying to a rhythm quite apart from the Jamaican dance-hall reggae on the PA and the energetic Futureheads performance that followed. It was the rhythm of love. Specifically, it was the rhythm of oblivious, drunken, horny, 19 year-old, college fresh-naïf love. And this love is blind, or at least severely astigmatic. Thankfully, it's also amnesic.

I started becoming vicariously embarrassed for her and her barely-elder partner, which was a peculiar sensation seeing as they themselves displayed not even the slightest sign of shame. This precipitated a review of my own youthfully indiscrete antics. There were far more than I cared to think about. And those were only the ones I could remember. How many precociously-cantankerous twentysomething office-drones had I discomforted?

My unease dissipated. There was nothing of which to be ashamed. It was... natural, like some grand ecological cycle immortalized in a schlocky animated epic with music by Elton John and lyrics by Tim Rice. I would nod and reflect upon this youthful exuberance, and acceptance would come. They would one day do the same with others, as my predecessors had with me.

Fortunately I awoke this morning to a stunningly nice day, to the kind of weather that subjugated any supposed aged wisdom and reverted me to a bubbling idiot.

Posted by morland @ 04:20 PM

:: Comments ::

"it was...natural????"
That's the best defense you could come up with? Eugene Levy called. He wants his character from American Pie back.

Yeah, I know, that wasn't funny. Neither are you, asshole.

Posted by: choistein on September 12, 2004 08:05 PM

Tip: when I invoke Elton John in a simile, I am likely being less than serious.

Posted by: morland on September 13, 2004 09:26 AM

I try not to assume anything with you.

Posted by: choistein on September 13, 2004 02:25 PM

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