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FlickrThe Power of Parties
Saturday was a party for a dear old friend, one of those college remnants who never saw fit to leave my life; and so I found myself taking the long train-trek to Berkeley, to Philip K. Dick's old house, to enjoy home-cooked food with an acupuncturist and a zombie burlesque dancer. Call it "Awesome by Proxy".
And lo, it was awesome.
The first hour was meeting and re-meeting, surprise hugs from people thought gone and surprise hugs from people I'd never met before. I got to hear the phrase "There's some beer in the bathroom". I spoke to two writers, a journalist, two burlesque dancers, and more "amateur" chefs than I've ever seen in one room. I listened to a woman with the loveliest pink hair play "Chocolate Jesus" on the accordion. I tried a galaxy of delightful foods and beverages including whole new uses for cucumbers and figs. I was misunderstood in the kitchen and called a perv while washing dishes and did equal parts thinking and laughing. I determined how sober I need to stay to engage with a party as I require it. And in the morning I was awakened by my friend's acupuncture classmate for an impromptu breakfast and conversation, wherein I was assured that one session of needling could handle both my tendonitis and my life-long clogged nose, as well as some suggestions for handling my asthma and a suggestion of getting into bodywork.
My friend, going nameless until I have permission, has always had a knack for finding unusual, brilliant, talented people to surround himself with; people who are not affluent, not necessarily stable, not making the kinds of lives we're told to make, but the kinds of lives that fulfill. And I've often been jealous of them, these radiant people, these thinkers; until it occurred to me that my friend had kept me around all these years, despite knowing me in my confused, tear-stained, self-jigsawing youth, and it dawned on me: though I might not command a room, I was not here out of some sense of duty, on either side of the equation. Maybe I'm one of them?
Well, I'm not. I've got my life issues and plenty of falling on my face left to do. But I'm surrounded by models that show the kind of life I want is possible, and they clearly enjoy my company. So I think I'm on the right track.
And that's the best thing a party could ever tell me.
And lo, it was awesome.
The first hour was meeting and re-meeting, surprise hugs from people thought gone and surprise hugs from people I'd never met before. I got to hear the phrase "There's some beer in the bathroom". I spoke to two writers, a journalist, two burlesque dancers, and more "amateur" chefs than I've ever seen in one room. I listened to a woman with the loveliest pink hair play "Chocolate Jesus" on the accordion. I tried a galaxy of delightful foods and beverages including whole new uses for cucumbers and figs. I was misunderstood in the kitchen and called a perv while washing dishes and did equal parts thinking and laughing. I determined how sober I need to stay to engage with a party as I require it. And in the morning I was awakened by my friend's acupuncture classmate for an impromptu breakfast and conversation, wherein I was assured that one session of needling could handle both my tendonitis and my life-long clogged nose, as well as some suggestions for handling my asthma and a suggestion of getting into bodywork.
My friend, going nameless until I have permission, has always had a knack for finding unusual, brilliant, talented people to surround himself with; people who are not affluent, not necessarily stable, not making the kinds of lives we're told to make, but the kinds of lives that fulfill. And I've often been jealous of them, these radiant people, these thinkers; until it occurred to me that my friend had kept me around all these years, despite knowing me in my confused, tear-stained, self-jigsawing youth, and it dawned on me: though I might not command a room, I was not here out of some sense of duty, on either side of the equation. Maybe I'm one of them?
Well, I'm not. I've got my life issues and plenty of falling on my face left to do. But I'm surrounded by models that show the kind of life I want is possible, and they clearly enjoy my company. So I think I'm on the right track.
And that's the best thing a party could ever tell me.
posted by Tyler at
6:57 PM
3 Comments:
Right room, right time, right guy (that would be you). And, tears filling my eyes, I say, "Amen and hallelujah." Still some falling on your face to do, you say? Ah, but Bard, thou knowest 'tis the journey that is the true joy.
I want to go to a party like that.
@Corey: I highly recommend them. Maybe if we ever get you out to California.
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