First Post of the Year

I am tired. I am tired like not enough fuel, if sleep is a quantifiable sustenance, and I didn't get enough. The coffee makes me jittery but no less tired. It's like having a dirge mashued up with a jig.

Last night I got word that I could, in fact, move out of my apartment. My associate, or tenuous friend, or recently somewhat less tenuous friend Cameron could move in, to replace me. The gun had been fired, and now I was to move into the house on which I had payed a deposit, though no rent. This impending feat only vaguely snuck up on me like the hot flashes of too much NyQuil, at the moment I was handing my apartment keys over to my ex-landlord. Without these keys, I thought, I wasn't to sleep here ever again. A call to Shawn--who, by the way, has got to be the most loyal friend I have ever had--and I had access to a truck. Big stuff only, I thought to myself, now in my room, emailing Comcast, USPS, Voter Registration, the lot.

Shawn arrived, and before his truck's door had been slammed behind him, he was telling me he just layed out some woman-abuser at the gas station, oh, two minutes ago. This night would not be--had not been--normal. Chaos was in the air, like a mischievous spark. Like walking through mist, under power relay lines. The crackle and hum of who-knows-what-next. Like Anasazi.

Bed in the truck in seconds, truck in the busy street as we hoist and huck. Ex-landlords strolling by, watching the farse, making passive-aggressive comments. I'd hurt their feelings by opting out of their apartment. They'd hurt mine by being dicks.

Off to Red Robin to repay Shawn for his generous help, though he was still swimming, I think, in adrenaline from his recent tussle, and so barely nibbled his chili. I was ravenous and experienced the first time I have ever taken up the offer of "bottomless fries". We sat and had a few drinks and talked about life, and death, and hallucinogens. We discussed film, and women, as we tend to do. I mentioned I still owe he and his girlfriend a separate dinner entirely for their help with moving me into the recently vacated apartment, back in June. Did I mention most loyal friend ever? I have had closer friends, and I have loved friends more, I suppose, but he remains one of my favorite people, and he defines old-school "I've got your back" friendship. He has earned a mirror of such loyalty in me. Even if we don't ever take shrooms together.