A scenario of the evening. I pulled them from my pocket, hoping to decipher the evening.
Napkin 1. Moments of freedom….they are necessary mechanisms of survival. Not always understood by others around us, because it’s our protection.
Protection from what? Destroyed wishes and hopes. A new beginning. A new hope for lost memories and causes.
Napkin 2. Preferencences….selections in life. Wants, desires, needs to fulfill a personal need. Only undermined, until there is a conclusion. A conclusion never ever reached because we’re human. Humanity in us that’s counter reactive.
Napkin 3. He’s relating a memorable moment in his life. A member of the New York symphony is riding his penis while he plays his violin to the song that was playing on the screen….Barbarara Steisand is singing ” How Lucky Can You Get”.
Napkin 4. He’s looking over to the man ordering a drink, and his heart swells. It’s everything he wants in a person to fulfill his desires. I see I’m wasting my time with banter and chatter. I release him. From what?
My freedom. Sometimes, we encapsulate ourselves in our own moment of desires, wishes and wants. Not always achievable. It’s only because we never see the whole picture.
Napkin 5. Release, again. Letting go….mostly of something you love or want. Painful and disappointing, but acceptable. We’ve been there before. I tell him of the release.
Napkin 6. I was going to ask….are you at least disappointed? And, I already know the answer. I don’t like it. It’s what we feel most of the time in any situation like this in life. We don’t like it.
Napkin 7. He doesn’t drink anymore. Issues from his past. Only every six years, will he imbibe. What’s that? Protection or fear?
His choice of release is Petron Silver. So I tell him, we’d only be good together on Petron Silver. He’d forget, I’d remember.
Call me. We’ll have music.
I move across the street. The dance bar is full. It has the best energy in a long time. I watch a young man dance his heart out.
I tell him how good he is. His dance partner is incongruous of who he is.
I eventually move onto the floor and begin to dance. I feel hands on my butt, but when I look to see who put them there, I see emptiness. But it was nice.
The floor is full of marines on leave. They’re enjoying their freedom.
The box dancer is new. I slip $5.00 into his apparel as I tell him it’s only because he’s unique. “As compared to what”, he asks. Unique compared to the other box dancer I point to, doing a routine on boringness. He laughs, and then becomes boring in his attitude.
I go home, walking and breathing in the wonderous clear, fresh night air. Better than the whole evening.