call•me•jonah

When you sit around a crummy bar and drink some drinks with good friends. And at the bar you're all good friends. Miraculously.
There's a woman turning 30 right before your eyes. She's drunk and tells you to remember her. When you turn thirty. She warned you she says. It happens so fast. I came here on my 21st birthday, she says. She's drunk, but not as drunk as her friend, who demands that you admit that this is a good song. You confess you don't know the song. It's Journey. Her husband asks if you know any Journey songs. Yeah. Name one.

One day this will be you, sitting next to some kid at a college bar. Name a Radiohead song, go ahead. Forgetting that you didn't even listen to radiohead in college, convincing yourself that age is synonymous with importance.

You laugh, wishing you had something to drink. You can see yourself, already though you're still a kid, reflected in these people's aging faces. Wheel in the Sky, you say, I know that one. Their heads all bob in drunken approval.

Now you're bouncing from friend to friend. Jumping in the middle and leaving conversations hanging in the air. Talking about something important. Everything is important and nothing is as well. Because everyone is smiling. You're not even drunk, you can't afford it. But all your lightweight girl friends are. And they're having a time. Can't help but laugh, because the air gets so light, despite the musty walls and stagnate air. You don't even notice how your stomach hurts from dinner.

Now driving Manda's car, windows down, music loud, screaming like megaphones to all the choruses of your favorite songs. Pumping your fists like anarchists pouring volume down the highway at night.

Now sitting on the balcony passing a glowing wad. Talking in quiet almost-whispers. You laugh really hard. Don't remember why. Something Chris said.

Now it's late and the girls are heavy eyelids floating like buoies on the wake of unconciousness.

JB can you give me a ride?

Half way back you feel a key in your pocket. Too late now, she'll call in the morning...