Originally Posted Sunday, March 17, 2013
Such a night, the stuff of dreams. The day was gorgeous, but the night was enchanting. A party in a tasteful home filled with art, a life of art. As the sun set and the lights came on, I went with two friends, having waited all year to sit in front of "The Cook Trio" and listen under moonlight and stars with food and drink to thisagain. The night was a carbon copy of the year before as if it were sacred, as if you had entered that sacred time and place where all things are repeated endlessly as they were once and forever, a place and time transcendent.
I won't count on it ever happening again.
But last night was a perfect tonic for the woes of life, for the tedium of humdrum things. I was quiet and tried to lose the taint of the evening before when I soiled myself in public. But that had been the Ides of March, hadn't it? And certainly allowances must be made for such behavior on such an auspicious calendar event.
Today is St. Patrick's Day which means. . . I haven't a clue. Snakes or something. I think it is the day when the Pope drinks beer, but I am treading a shaky religious foundation there.
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