Or the account of my decline into barbarism (and all of the lovely, mad people who helped me do it).

Thursday, June 24, 2010


Last night my friends threw me a surprise birthday party in Johnson City. Michelle was there, which was completely surreal. I hadn't expected to see her until our Montreal trip next month. But it was a good surprise, of course.

After taking shots and sipping wine, we drunkenly walked to a nearby park. I got on the swing set. My dress fluttered above my thighs and I squealed as I took flight. It was dark and quiet.

"This is so good." I said. The breeze seemed to melt on my skin. I pumped my legs until the view below-so small, so fast- gave me chills.

"It's like the last innocent thing, you know?" I said. I felt like everyone was writing me off since I had guzzled three glasses of wine, but I was being serious. Swinging in the summertime, my heart ticking, my bare skin in the wind, it all felt so good. The sensations were innocent. I didn't think about them, I just let them happen.

Later, I passed out on a power chord in Michelle's apartment. I slept on the hardwood floor by the window so the breeze would dry my sweat. I woke up at 8:30 to meet my personal trainer this morning. I powered through another tough work out. I wasn't sure I'd be able to run laps with a belly full of wine but I surprise myself sometimes.

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