the red eyes won't speak apologies 12.05.04
gully, i am sorry we called you from the ace bar screaming about the sex that shall make marriages invalid. you see, laura and i had made peace and all, starla was happy and hyper, lauren was silly, her joel was having a good time, and the other fellows-- jacob and the rest-- were buying drinks with finance money. you know how that ends up.
with ivo writhing on the pleather chair and giggling as we tickled her. but that was wrong, and we were kind of filthy. for that, i apologize. but belly was showing, an invitation if i have ever heard one.
with your friends hollering things you barely understand just to prove that we are still out here and having that old new york happy hour time.
i got home not too late, still tired as i had been when i left my evening group project meeting, my bag heavy with swimming gear and notebooks. me, trudging along empty streets, aglow, seeking pillows and sheets.
i should apologize for arroz the rice-a-homie and myself on saturday night; we had been surrounded by our children from the summer camp and the adults who made them, uptown, in the 140's off of broadway. the locale was the size of an apartment, crammed with the whole family, no room to move, no room to sit and eat the sierra leonean food, no way to avoid being bumped by dancing women, moving to the singer/ bassist in the middle of the room, plucking her bass while her head wrap stayed perfectly still.
it was a cold evening, i had been doing homework and the rice-a-homie had just finished his LSAT's. we were tired, itchy, and being stuck on the west side highway with carline, who had been part of camp with us, and carrie (who cringes when she admits she's from st. louis), who is the new social services coordinator for the organization. gurney told us to get off the west side highway, and we did, with a lurch and a screech that is familiar to people who have driven with arroz.
riz noted that he and i together are... our own planet or filthy non-sequiturs.
miles stopped over, and there were more non-sequiturs.
and at holiday's holiday party, we kept it up, drank the green apple low carb bacardi silver (ok, we let other people drink it), enjoyed the crush in the place. sarah had the music poppin', girl sammy came late, boy sammy made friends, we closed the place down, stumbling out and onto the highways, careening to my outpost of the city, for 3 hours sleep and a morning meeting which was all numbers and "cost drivers."
i apologize to rini for calling multiple times; abberts appeared at the party through some confluence of events, and gurney was next to me, and we just wanted to say happy birthday and we're all together in one place, missing our curly-haired shevirini. but carrying on, on dance floors, resting on beds, looking out over flags and rooftops in the dead still cold, passing time as best we can.