Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Boat Party

I couldn't have felt any older, even if a giant purple dinosaur had emerged from a paper-machet volcano to lead us in rounds of "row, row, row your boat" as we struggled to string painted pasta-piece necklaces…, and stopped only to exchange exasperated "poo poo heads" over who got the dried, lavender tortellini.

I could almost feel crows trampling the muddy corners of my eyes, leaving near fossilized footprints on my face as flocks of undergrads in pirate costumes passed around alligator masks, candy cigarettes, skittle-colored jello shots, and talked of "deconstructing old paradigms of understanding," and "annihilating out-moded education models with heavy-handed pourings of Whiskey Sours."

Yeah, I was feeling old…
… old like I-had-just-crampon-crunched-my-way-past-Mallory and-Sisyphus-and-was-on-my-way-over-the-hill Old.

Old like I just didn’t care anymore and could scream: “We’re all being attacked by bow-tied, flute-playing ants!” in the middle of a church barbeque without minding if I upset someone’s discussion about how much dill is just the right amount in a potato salad…

But…, yeah, I swear someone was sprinkling gray hair seedlings in remote areas of oft-succulent growth on my body when I overheard Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's recent escapades used to illustrate the meaning behind an arguably profound Samuel Beckette quote, and when my refusal to drink Tequilla (that was obviously fermented in a re-used trashbag-lined kiddy pool outside of a carnival goldfish cemetery-slash-nuclear storage site) provoked a dissonant chorus of "CHUG it! CHUG it! CHUG its!"

Oh well. Maybe it’s not about age at all…

After all.., I couldn’t even handle those kind of parties when I was that age…

And,

Most of my “grown-up” friends now are admittedly still prone to bouts of freestyle poetry recitations (with an emphasize on fellatio puns and shunning of political buns), sessions of banging on household items (for no reason except that- wow, those are some “cool sounds”!), rounds of summer-saulting and skinny-dipping (only where appropriate and attention-grabbing, of course!), and improvised skits performed in public places (the louder, goofier, and more obnoxious, the better!)…

So, I guess it’s safe to say that even though I felt quite old at the party, those cheap booze-guzzling, liberal arts sea mariners are, in fact, a lot more “grown-up” than I am.

Afterall, I’m certainly not mature enough yet to use the words imperialism, secularism, logical positivism, multilateralism, and Clitorism all in a single, chatty conversation with someone I just met.

But, give me a few years.

I’m sure I’ll work them all into a coherent pick-up line one day.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

I was just thinking today that the hardest part of my current gig is just trying to behave as an adult...
every forktruck i pass, i wanna jump onto, zoom by Module Assembly Line 15, swoop up the tattooed hottie working there, and drive on out of the factory, wreaking havoc and/or chaos wherever we go....and it's not even luchtime yet.

Frustrated Writer said...

Somehow I don't think you will ever be old. As for me, I only feel "old" among my young directors who laughingly ask me to join them in a pick up game of b-ball so they can watch me dunk it. I'm quick to reply to them I couldn't dunk it when I was your age so why the heck do you think I can dunk it now? If you just want to watch the old fat white boy make a fool of himself, then lets get to Happy Hour...where it can be done properly.

dingobear said...

Another great post, -c.

You know what they say: you may only be young once but you can be immature forever. See, this is how I try to live.

"The secular rise of capital-C Clitorism in today's society all but defies the type of logical positivism that was once so integral to breaking off the shackles of the forgotten despotic imperialism which was previously prevalent - and I, for one, am disgusted by it. But you, baby, are different ... you have such pretty eyes ... you're like a dream to me. How about coming back to my place for a drink?"

-c said...

cap'n rich- Yes, I'm all about embracing the badge of aging. Especially if it offers me any rights to act stupid sometimes.

scotch-n-soba- Ha! I can see you doing that. Nothing like the wind in your hair, a babe on your arm as you speed into the sunset on your forklift!

frustrated- oh, c'mon, fat old white boy- the dunk's within your reach. I'm watching and waiting:)

kyokoshell- Happy Gaina festival to you! Watch out for falling flaming lanterns!

dingobear- Ha ha ha ha! Now..., THAT is a superb pick-up line! I'm usually quite tight-lipped, but with an opener like that, what the heck- who needs to wait for the third date?

Anonymous said...

Ugh. Phrases like "deconstructing old paradigms of understanding" gave me gas when I was 21. It's not an age thing. T.S. Eliot and Negro Modelo still make for a great conversation, though.

Beer + Books = Good
Beer + Barthes = Stomach Ache and dirty feeling (not the good kind)

-c said...

philbrick- I'm with you. Ain't no paradigm can't be broke down with a little T.S. Eliot and a coupla Negras:)

portuguesa nova said...

The other day I was taking the bus home from work and we were stopped at a light outside of this house in the heart of colllege-land. It was 4:00 p.m., and two dreadlocked college students were sitting on the roof in their PJs. One playing the guitar, the other smoking something out of a small pipe. They were totally unshowered, and obviously hadn't left their bed all day except to sit on the roof.

For one second I was jealous.

And then very, very relieved to not be there anymore.