the best word to describe life of late is bleh. but I think I know what could fix it. a party. I don't want to give one, nor do I want one given for me. just to be there. here's approximately how it should go:

9:30. I arrive with several others. Just a few have showed up so far, ten tops. Pleasantries had, drinks made.

10:00. I start to worry that the evening may be a dud, but someone interesting shows up with liquor and the news that more people are on the way. Within the hour, the stereo’s blasting and 30+ folks are milling around. A circle of pot smokers forms—I don’t partake of course, but take comfort in knowing that it’s there. Someone shows up that I don’t particularly like, but everyone else is friendly to him/her so I assume that I’m missing something.

11:00. Feeling buzzy, I get involved in a conversation with several people that I barely know in which philosophical and intellectual topics are bandied about. We discuss that we don’t see each other enough. Hugs are given and empty social promises are made—at some point within the next week pictures of said embraces will be developed and sent my way. Sidenote: historically at this point in the evening, I would have picked out a guy at the party as a potential make-out/hook-up partner and would increase my liquor intake to lower my inhibitions. As I’m very much spoken for these days, I decide who it would have been and hit the booze harder anyway.

11:30. A good friend of mine is tipsy and bitter about a negative interaction with someone else there, whom he/she is avoiding. For half an hour we retreat to a corner. I sympathetically listen to his/her ranting until he/she begins to feel better, after which we chuckle and quietly ridicule the offending party while watching him/her across the room. Again in a good humor, we rejoin the fracas. The undesirable who arrived around 10:00 leaves and everyone proceeds to discuss their hatred for said person. I feel vindicated.

12:00. Power hour. At least one indie rock song prompts a drunken chorus that makes me think, “Damn! I’m glad I know these people.”

1:00-2:00. Two people get partially or completely naked, two mysteriously disappear and reappear, and word makes the rounds that there are at least two people there that no one knows at all. I make good natured sexual overtures to my straight guy friends who won’t be offended by it. Someone says something hilarious that I write down on scrap paper. The next day I’m still sure that it was funny, but have no idea what the scrawl on the paper says.

2:00. I see someone that I’d rather not, and drag the 11:30-12:00 friend on a drunken walk to the nearest convenience store/supermarket for something as an excuse to hide. When we get back in half an hour, said person is gone. Close call. During the interim, a crafty drunken partygoer has been cooking—some surprisingly good snacks, probably involving fresh baked goods.

2:30. Just as the evening seems on the verge of winding down, someone shows up that everyone knows and loves—he/she lives out of town now, but is visiting. The party gets a second wind. An hour of reminiscing and gossip during which one or two ninety-pound weaklings finally throw up, lie down, and trudge home.

3:30. People begin to trickle out.

4:00. Six or seven of us remain; we sit on the porch quietly talking—the stereo has been silenced—until the residents of the house have all gone to bed.

4:45. Three or four of us are hungry, and the most sober of the lot drives us all to a 24 hour eatery for breakfast.

6:00. Stumble into own apartment, unsure of how I got there. Fall into bed and asleep around dawn.

This doesn't have to be followed exactly; it's a flexible guideline. If anyone is willing to attempt to reproduce such an evening, let me know and I'll bring the hooch.