Burn Down The City
My head’s still buzzing. Everything comes out in fragments now because language just gave up somewhere during the night at Sladdi’s place. We were at a party and by the end I was running on nothing but pure gibberish.
Mandy was in even worse shape. She was losing it before I even started. We played pool—I actually beat Marco, which never happens—and Tomi crushed me at phone Tetris after. Then came the bottle-spinning thing, stupid even sober but absolutely unhinged when everyone’s drunk. Anne started confessing actual secrets, Sladdi was horrified, Tomi wouldn’t stop laughing, Tom barely cracked a smile (he’d smuggled McDonald’s somehow), and Mandy kept circling back to whatever was sending everyone into complete delirium.
What gets me is how convinced I became that I was actually getting smarter as I got more drunk. Language degradation as confidence. Tomi and I made a pact to spend all day Monday at trade school speaking nothing but complete bullshit. Absolute nonsense, the kind of thing that’ll be hilarious to us and incomprehensible to everyone else.
I’m sitting here eating waffles with a cheeseburger—or maybe it’s the cheeseburger with waffles, doesn’t matter—and while I was half-asleep earlier, two completely different impulses hit me. One: I want to actually read Harry Potter. The books, the whole thing, like some kind of trend-following idiot. And two: I want to burn the whole fucking city down.
Not literally. Or not entirely. It’s what your brain says when it’s exhausted and overstimulated at the same time. The night, the weekend, all of it. Just light it up and walk away. But I figure I’ll start with Harry Potter first and work my way toward that second impulse. Seems like the natural progression.