thistimetogether

I realized something tonight, walking to the Java House by myself, thinking about walking along there with Mike and the other guys from Wesley. I was thinking about how we used to go by the bars, and laugh at some of the goings-on there (once someone mooned us). I was remembering some of the assinine comments that Mike used to make, and how stupid so many of them were. I knew then that I hadn't been in love with Mike - I had been in love with this experience, of walking down the street at night in a crowd of laughing people, of seeing crazy things from the outside, the variety and wildness of a city that stays up late. Not being a part of it, but not completely seperate either. The life and the furor of youth. The simple beauty of walking somewhere from somewhere else. Feeling a million things and not giving yourself up to them. Telling stories in a coffee house. Telling the truth, life translated into parables. I never called Mike again, because it would have been a lie. And that would have betrayed my real love, this experience.