This sort of drunk is the kind I haven't felt in a long time.
(No, I haven't had anything to drink today. Well, aside from beer with breakfast - good canajun fare, and sports drink after sports drink)
So get this.
The monstre wants a car.
Why?
Not so that I can get downtown faster. If you count the time it takes to find &%^#&$ parking, it's faster by metro.
Not so's I can get home from clubs. I can afford an occasional cab, thankyewverymuch.
Why then, do you ask, you nosy freaks?
BECAUSE THEN I CAN DO TODAY AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.... Whenever I want to.
With or without company.
I can't imagine a day more wrought with euphoria than today. (And I can imagine a lot, just ask Kaff, she's perverse, I tell you! No really, she IS - SHE started it I swear! Why doesn't anyone ever believe me...)
7am, kaffeine wakes me up, and I drag my sorry ass out of bed, lace my boots up to my knees, and grab Maria and haul ass to PIERREFONDS to grab the lady.
Discussion on the damned long drive (who the hell does less than 150km/h on a highway? ;) was frought with sex, sex, uhm, sex and more sex.
Then we get to Frank's house ten minutes early.
He's all nekkid and shit. (well, underneath a massive white terrycloth bathrobe, it's the only time I'll ever get to see him out of his well-tailored slick black garb)
Kaff and I laugh until we're gasping for nicotine, and proceed to smoke up the staircase. (after I retrieve my smokes that I, ahem, kicked off the balcony. intentionally, I swear - it was for comic relief! that's me story and I'm stickin' to it....)
ANYWAY.
Drive up - glorious. Grand company, grand music, Frank was going to lend me his "L'ame Immortelle" vynil, but I forgot it...
We get to "La Goudrelle". We disembark. The crew is all there, looking hilariously out of place amongst the screaming children and ladies in red-and-white checked gingham.
We eat. And eat and eat and frankly, I've had quite enough maple syrup for a whiles... And we drink and eat some more (SUGARPIE!!! eliminate the middleman!), and... Laugh our perverted little arses off and pick on the triplets and meet a couple of new people (and Helen was VERY surprised - "What you mean you don't know Gila?!? But she's like that game - six degrees of separation, only with Gila it's only one degree...." ahem. Apparently I blush appealingly when put on the spot. *shrug* Anything for a beautiful smile)
Then we wander outside.
And start walking.
Up. Past mud and rivulets and creeks and rock formations - through this maze of trees, and the higher we go, the vegetation changes (as well as the caliber of Ollie's musical puns and Blair Witch jokes) and one minute it's reminding me of le Vercors in France, and the next minute it's the Tundra that we used to ride through up north, and then it's....
An hour later and I'm sunburned (and looking quite silly with kaff's shirt wrapped around my head to keep from getting sunstroke) and stripped to the minimum and standing on the smoothest oucrop of rock staring down at the world...
In its entirety. Every moving particle flooded my bleeding eyes. If I go blind forever, it doesn't matter anymore.
I wandered off a bit, and just sat there, staring that acres of agricultural land, and at the hawks circling a handful of metres away from my face.
I wanted to cry, but had no moisture left in me, and besides... At some point it gets so beautiful that you can't even cry anymore.
I breathed in the shifting wind, I moved with currents of air that only hawks were born to feel. I sat there forever, thoughts meandering, but settling, settling so many glorious things.
How can I deserve to feel a life so glorious?
I thanked the hawks and the rock and the moss and the graffitti... And I turned around to find the crew.
Swathed in black, dishevelled, muddy, stooping or sprawled, scattered in one of those perfect patterns, as if arranged by the hand of some unknown goth-god, at the very very topmost ledge... Post-apocalyptica, this is where the genre must have stemmed from. From that image.
(And I think someone got pics... ;)
Then long, serene drive home, maple syrup still wrapped firmly around my tongue ring.
Then shower and change boots and pants because I had mud up to my knees. (I surfed the way back down and made it a whole nine yards! ;) Drive the delightful young kaffeine home.
Get all dressed up (skirt, since all my pants are now officially filthy), go to barbecue, get more hugs than are fair to be had. And massages, and smiles and voluptuous women grabbing my butt left and right.
(Marc was real touched when I finally remembered to give him his belated birthday gift)
Then off to fetch Maria and go Sphinxing... The new DJ is fabulous. I could have sworn he was playing one of my old radio shows...The Arch, The Chameleons, The Smiths, SoM, and on and on - there were sets where we didn't stop dancing, even though our thighs were beyond broken and into the land of I'm-never-going-to-walk-again. We gloried that we still remembered all the words.
More hugs, more love, and some with such sincerity that again, I was beyond tears.
Beyond tears.
At this very moment, thighs trembling with exhaustion, and feet too scabbed and sore to even contemplate, I am moved galaxies beyond tears and into this breathtaking new realm that I've swept across before, but tonight...
...I think I'll stay awhiles.
(and no, this doesn't mean I still won't cry with you. Maybe, though, just maybe... I'm ready for something to change.)