I was ankle-deep in a sea of balloons, carrying a roll of mylar over my head, and I anxious to leave but I was listening to a stimulating conversation. I think I agree with them. I think "Early Net" is what our generation should be called by the future. That's our definition. The silver cylinder and I walked out onto the soggy quad on Sunday afternoon of Renn Fayre 2k14. Synth-heavy experimental music moaned from a 35 foot geodesic dome as I headed home with my gift and and my fatigue weighing on my shoulders.
We joke that it should be called Rain Fayre. On Saturday morning I lay on my back looking up at a plywood roof two feet above me. Rain knocks on the platform, and my friend and I hide in the steerage of the pirate ship I built with my housemate. I feel pride and water, but not the cold because the drugs are distracting me. Knots in the wood warp and reform with rainbow auras as I blink at them.
I finally kissed him. It was the end of thesis parade when everyone is milling outside of Eliot and the drum korps is straining against their blisters. It was so soft. It was like falling onto a naked bed and sinking down into the seams. I want it again and again.
No comments:
Post a Comment