maybe what you see isn't part of me at all...

There were so many things that happened... a night at the cinema, social obligations akin to females involving the pending matrimony of friends, and I ducked out before the housewares came out of the boxes to start preparing for the dinner soiree but detoured to the Fun Wall and mingled among graffiti artists and skateboarders and those who love them, shooting photos of breakdancers and aerosol cans and little kids wandering around in the teenage wasteland of Clevelandia. Breakbeats and generator party soundsystems and a refreshing lack of corporate sponsorship, the only festival thing that wasn't institution related where people of every conceivable background if not age were hanging out together.

The hours dripped away, dinner for some old friends from the Parmastan and Kent years, waking up early to play guitar and sing to God praying through a hundred doubts and distractions and hearing the voices before me rise in a way that crystallized beyond any effort of mine, and afterwards we spoke again for the first time in years and while we had a lot to say, to catch up on, I knew that it would end there.  And that's okay. I'm accustomed to a lack of requition, but almost three decades on and this just starts to get old.

And now I'm back here, dealing with ditzy undergrads and egocentric academics who understand the balance of power well and can make passes at women twenty years their junior without fear of recompense and so all I can do is scowl and complete the transaction with a minimum of eye contact. I just don't want to be here today.