I ended up at a friend's party two weeks ago, and never thought of myself as a social person or a party person but his friends were nice, we had things in common, things to talk about and laugh over, and it wasn't until midnight when I realized that I'd been socializing with what was up until then complete strangers when familiar faces did show up. We're a bunch of aging punks, I guess, Ian Mackaye's dalliance with Urban Outfitters entities and random references to bands we liked in high school being discussed. And books, and ephemeral strangeness. The things I love.
Everyone's probably got a good decade on me at least, but I enjoy their company way more than people my age, and there are kids running around which is refreshing in a strange way, I guess because people my age just have lapdogs. Having a car and coming alone has its benefits, because if things are lame you can bail and if they're awesome you can stick around and this time I stuck around.
And the next day, I'm still dusty from the softball game but I've packed for the overnight to Geneva on the Lake and roadtripped out there with a comrade for one of my near and dears' bachelorette weekend, which on paper sounds like hell on earth but was a good time with some girls I rarely get to hang out with these days. We love the kitsch element of this place, which feels like if a county fair was a town and had way more bikers.
It's weird realizing that we're all getting older, that now people are talking about marriage and children and maybe buying houses and then there's others where we're still stuck in this strange land somewhere between teenagehood and adulthood. But I'm incredibly happy for her, happy for him, and looking forward to celebrating.