Something happened at Willow's ball that I found very interesting. I got a little tipsy. Not that there is anything all that interesting about getting tipsy as such, but you see, I don't drink. I used to drink, back in the old days, before I figured out that my life was much less complicated if I didn't. Now I wax ecstatic over a good bottle of Carl Jung de-alcoholized red.
Last night was different. I dressed in the finest finery, arranged to be driven to the ball in a truly luxurious car, made my grand entrance on the arm of the divine Colin Firth in his Darcy persona, and proceeded to tie one on. I drank anything that I could get my hands on - martinis, champagne, tequila - I mixed the grain and the grape with abandon (an exciting combination, that) and tripped the light fantastic. Colin, the cad, turned out to be escorting several ladies, which involved a good deal of disappearing/re-appearing and costume changes on his part. I found that quite amusing. When I wasn't with Colin, I danced with someone else - lots of someone elses. I even learned to rhumba with Reya (I don't think either of us realized that the other one didn't actually know how to rhumba. We may have been doing the hokey-pokey, for all I know.) Given the amount I drank, it's a wonder I could walk, much less dance, but dance I did - and you know what? I feel great today - no hangover at all. There's a lot to be said for virtual drunkenness. All the disinhibition, none of the sequelae.
What else? The virtual ball, the virtual wardrobe and transportation and drunkenness and desserts (Oh, my - the desserts!) were wonderful exercise for my imagination. I feel restored and ready to write. Thank you, Willow. You made some magic.
2 comments:
Yes, I saw you there! I didn't actually attend so that anyone would notice. I was hidden the entire evening behind a velvet curtain sipping Jack Black whiskey sours and munching on pork rinds.
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