Thursday, February 01, 2007

Drunk Writing of the Party Place

You could be totally alone in a party, surrounded by people, not friends, just people who know your name, your face, but don't know you. They are strangers that you have to work under the same roof.

They don't matter anymore. None of these. But I am wearing red, like a flame, someone say. The crying is inside, invisible even from the moon.

This holiday party is at the same venue as we had our first one together. We did not talk then. You saw me and I saw you. That was about it. Longing is the best part. I danced after you left.

People are drinking their sorrow. Crowd is smallest this year. No speeches. Too tired to even pretend this is a good time.

People avoided certain subjects. Dancing floor is empty, embarrasingly so.

This is like celebrating wedding anniversary when the divorce paper is finalized.

This is like in the world of 1984 when people disappear and those remain pretend they don't see or care. They hush and turn the other way.

This party is where you are missed by me and your friends.

You don't miss them, you don't miss me. Maybe you miss them. Maybe you miss me.

Familiar faces did not show up. Maybe they have left or let go. I am waiting for my turn, to leave, for I know I could not wait until they let me go, they know how to drag for efficient cheap labor, people who got sponsored. Take it then.

This venue on the 21 street, that was so close to where our story started, 4 years ago.

We were a life time.

I want to smash the glasses on the people whose face we did not like. You are so much better than all of them. I am too. We were lonely among these people. I am now.

I just smiled, raising my glass. I am house broke already after so long. But I am waiting for the day when I can rebel.

"I don't know what to say, it is not holiday anymore". COO woman said good naturedly. A lovely blonde.

This is a party with collective akwardness.

I kept drinking. I talked to the French girl from each other we were alienated from, since we no longer shared that large office facing 41 st. I talked to new people too, those with no histories or past, here.

She is dating someone she worked with. "I am happy for you. Anne" I said and meant it. She is dear to me,even we don't talk. She was a witness of us. She was part of.

Life is a full circle. Maybe I came here to meet you, now it is done. Let's move on from here. For it interest me no more. Now it is only a prison, a drag, like myself was.

This is a party that I should not be at. No more pounding heart and anticipation and hand holding behind our back. I am here only becuase I know, this is the farewell, the last one with this company, this phase of life. I came to say goodbye, to mourn, wearing red. Some funerals are happy ones.

Eight years, that is how long it took the Chinese to drive away Japanese occupants in Second World War. Damn long time. Damed good time.

Damned wasted time on tables and charts and response rates.

Damed good time to know someone and love someone like you just found them back from your past, a past that was erased from our memory. But you knew or remembered.

Little emails on blackberries, that kept us in touch in after hours, secretively. I am not ashamed.

I am not guilty for having fucked my group account director anymore--I was for sometime, I was a weird breed. I avoid talking about it. But you were and still are my proud. You just never know.

We are smart and worked really hard, charming. It had to happen. We could not avoid it. It was a crash. The James Spader's type of crash, the Secretary type of desire and release, the longing that had to be satisfied. The forbidden longing that is as if we are screwing the whole world while we fuck. We could not help it.

Maybe it is nothing more. If you say so. Maybe it is too dark and consuming to be anything more than, to be like a Hallmark card story or a Visa Card ads.

I am sure this is not the only thing you want, wanted.

I am sorry that I did what I did, to have loved you. But you know.

I won't argue anymore.

Let's have another drink and No, I don't date Scorpion boy. My man is Aquarius like me.

Let's have another drink.

And I know I will wake up mid of the night and throw up, but no one will see.


Anonymous Neil said...

That was almost too intense for me to read. But I want to know more.

7:50 AM  
Blogger NYE said...

Neil, do you really want to know more? I thought I have bored everyone out with this. Intense, that is me, espeically when I am drunk; humor and fun, that is why we have you.

6:31 PM  

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