The first words in James Blunt’s classic, “High”, a condition in which I find myself yet again.
After a tiring and depressing day (refer post prior to this) which had me bummed from the moment it started at 8 a.m. unto 8.30 p.m. when I entered the party, it all made sense.
The disc was dark, lit up only by the disco lights that would allow one to see so little, and thus, no more than required. The floor was empty and awaited my arrival. I’m a terrible dancer. No rhythm at all, no sanity. Nonetheless, others would admire. I have no boundaries, no inhibitions. As a pro-dancer-friend attempted to teach me how to Do-It-Right, I believe she eventually gave up, and revelled in the Unsung-Style of dancing… shake the boot, dance like you’ve never before and will never again, and get lost in the music.
In the middle, some friends sneaked off to guzzle a bit. I promptly joined them and had my dose of vodka (not very much though; the regular 90) without any consideration for how many calories I was adding to my system. (Oh well, I had finally gymmed after a week, earlier today!)
Now, as I sit here in my room, I have for the time being, no reason to worry. Tomorrow will be another regular day, with no optimism in the distant horizon or nearer, but nevermind that. For now, I’m not sad.
Vodka! I should try that more often!
Ahhh .. Someone is learning my way of life ….
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