| dewy decimal |
2004-01-04 - 9:09 a.m.
I'm ringing in the New Year with a thud. A sound dense and trunk-sturdy.
Twan and Lee and everybody are like, "Yeah this is the year that I get my shit together." And I don't know whether to be feel encouraged or discouraged by these statements. I could be indifferent. Whatever.
Last night when I went out to Hulas and the windows were all closed up and the walls were draped with tapa, I get seriously dizzy. I get the sensation that people are spinning around me, that a centrifugal force is pulling me outward and I'm flinching as if I just hit the height of the roller coaster before the big drop down.
The night never caught it's beat and by 1:30, I had satisfied my quota for feeling hurt and unimpressed.
Sometimes I wonder why we do this to ourselves. Why we patronize these "hit or miss bars". And sometimes I know why, hit or miss.
One night, maybe a year or two ago when Sarah, Amy and Keoni were all still living here, we all were drunk and fed up with the bars so we walked to Waikiki Beach, the sand crunching under our gin-induced wobbles. We look out and Waikiki is stretched out exactly like the post cards. Palm trees and carpets of moonlight reaching from moon to shore. Whispers at talking volumes. We climb the hotel walls and skinny dip at the Ilikai Hotel. The Hilton Hawaiian Village. Then the Halekulani. Naked, wet, drunk; the hushed joy of being young.
a hit! a hit! a hit!