Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Call Me Kitty IX: Stumbling Starry Night


Dave fell to the grass and must have known subconsciously that she would follow. The subconscious continues to work even when the beer has clouded the conscious mind. And the truth in the subconscious was again not to be denied as she tumbled into the grass and rolled to a stop parallel to his side. She joined his gaze up at the stars and knew why he didn’t have to say a thing. You didn’t have to be a poet or a romantic to recognize the starry night’s beauty. Either the spectacle was so rare in the lights of the city or the urban activity served as a distraction from turning ones’ eyes to the sky that the haphazard sighting left them spellbound. The same alcohol that had them giddy, loud, silly, and drunk also in a weird way gave them the innocence to lie with one another quietly captivated by the stars above. Drunken ramblings suddenly yielding to hushed tones as they finally found the power to speak. Not out of a need to fill an uncomfortable silence, but only to have documented sharing this odd, rare, beautiful moment with another human being. The lawn they laid upon was not even their own, but it wasn’t being used to its potential by its slumbering owners. Hopefully they didn’t wake their temporary landlords with their earlier tumbles more reminiscent of a rugby game rather than renaissance astronomers. It was an uncommonly comforting way to come down from the adrenaline of the evening, like the rush of a skydive free fall giving way to the pop of the chute and a long gentle swaying float down to earth. The hushed and minimal conversation only an unnecessary color commentary on the grandeur above. Almost respectful commentary. It could have made one feel very small and alone, but the touch of a hand in another gave meaning to a quickly diminishing existence and perspective. Not a meaning in whatever relationship they shared, but meaning to their existence in the tiny world they traversed that evening. It was a humbling experience achieved in an inebriated state not known for creating humility in any individuals. That was the power it had and that they had felt. But the gentle ride down from their alcohol induced high was not a bummer; instead it was an elated feeling that overpowered the normally lethargic effect of the depressants. Their hands gently lying together, interlaced and comfortable. They knew they couldn’t lie there forever no matter how good it felt. But they tried to stretch that moment out as long as possible, living more in the present than they ever had. It was probably more fleeting than they realized, as such epiphanies often slow one’s thoughts to a pace in which everything becomes so obvious.

They eventually rolled their bodies upright and continued on the short walk back to the car, quite in contrast to the running tumbles that put them on the lawn. A contrast they were both capable of and admired in each other. The mesmerizing moment slowly faded from the forefront of thought as he reviewed the evening’s activities with extreme satisfaction, but he was again reminded of the power and majesty of that starry scene after leaving her at her front door with a simple kiss.

Upon arriving home, a solitary message on his answering machine, from her, thanking him for the stars. Like George Bailey capturing the moon for Mary, he had succeeded in capturing a Frank Capra moment in the real world. Not bad for a fucking drunk.

8 comments:

lh said...

That was fucking amazing.

Wow.

Dug the last line too.

ll said...

My favorite "Kitty" to date.

Made me have my own great memory of looking up at the stars on a fresh grassy lawn.

Danke, Herr F'er.

lim said...

I was lost in your words, and I didn't want to find my way back. Simply divine.

So when is the book signing?

It is late, must slumber, perhaps I shall do so under the stars.

keysunset said...

Truly beautiful.

Thank you.

del said...

A very, very lovely CMK installment!

And loved how you featured Moist's painting! ;-)

Not bad for a fucking drunk.It may have cost him some drunk fucking, but sounds like it was worth it.

HR said...

I actually read it twice. Ok, so the second time I was imagining me and Bill Murray...

Moist Rub said...

Stop spying on me and my drunk whore asses, Sid!

Interleper said...

Loved it - Did you do that with your ear?

More proof that art happens when you strike the right balance of syphilis and absinthe. Simply magical...