Plan B

Q sent pics from his night out with the camera.  I liked the blurry ones.  Then he went to a bar and all the pictures were of girls.  I liked those more.  It looked like one of his old places on the lower east side.  He said there had been "an after party."  

"After what?" I inquired.  

"After the drugs and before the ambulance."

Ho!

That is Q's milieu.  I remember him partying for 48 hours straight and still meeting me in the early morning to go to the MoMa when it was being housed in Brooklyn during the renovation.  I don't know how people do that.  I need to be in bed by ten.  He scares me.  You start out doing something wholesome and then next thing you know you have eaten Molly and mushrooms and are crying at the sunrise.  

When Sky and I were at the Factory Bar on Wednesday, I told the kids I'd meet them in my own hometown on their pub crawl by train.  They start early in the morning and hit all the stops spending the time between trains drinking at some pub that is on the line.  They end up back at the Factory Bar at the end of the night.  There is madness in that, too.  I had forgotten I told them I would meet them because yesterday felt like Monday after playing with Sky all week.  My calendar is all screwed up.  But I made it to the bar.  I figured I could hang for an hour or so.  I was already there when they came in.  I got the hero's welcome.  And I guess that is why I go.  They were already pretty lit, though, and a big guy with a hipster beard and full sleeve tats had me in a bearhug.  I met him when I was with Sky, but I don't know who he is.  

"You're alright," he slurred.  "You know what's going on."

"Oh, sure," I said.  "I know what's going on."  

His face was close to mine.  I could see his maniacal grin but I can't really focus on things close up without glasses.  

"I'll bet you've done some crazy things, though." 

"Well, you know. . . that makes a better story."

"That's right," he said pounding me on the back.  "That's right."

Then he wandered down the bar.  I turned to one of the Factory Kids.

"Who is that?"

"He's a bartender at the Factory Bar."

"Ohhhh," I said.  

We talked of the politics of the factory, and I said they were not pushing back, that they needed to push back against stupidity.  They all nodded quietly.  I don't think they will.  

And then it was time for them to get back to the train station just across the street.  I had parked in the lot there and walked back with them.  When I got to my car, I looked up.  Almost full, there was a giant moon.  I texted the group to look up.  It was a beautiful sight.  

Back home, I made a quick meal and ate alone.  I felt it, being alone.  I have gotten used to talking this week, but now I could feel the void.  I was ready for an early bed.

The Full Hunter's Moon is tonight.  I didn't sleep well last night and I am blaming that.  Strange faeries are up to their mischief, I'll assume.  It is time for spooks and trolls and goblins, but I don't need any more.  I have my fill.  

I'll need to buy Halloween candy.  My mother bought some, but she never buys enough.  I will go to her house and hand it out with her and keep her company as has become the tradition.  That is my life.  

It is another beautiful morning.  I have no plan other than not to go out for breakfast.  Maybe I'll take my camera for a walk.  Maybe I'll drive to a farmer's market in a distant town.  I don't know.  

"That's the trouble with most people.  They don't know what they want."

"Oh. . . I know what I want, and that brings its own trouble.  But yea, one needs a "Plan B."

I need a "Plan B."

"you don't drink enough water.  you need to drink water," she said.  

"I drank water today and thought of you."

"thanks for hydrating. i want you to live (even tho i want all your belongings)."