July 7th, post Independence Day, post Rothbury. The friends who came back home for celebration are now trickling away again. Solitude, after a whirlwind of interaction renders both loneliness and purpose. As I grow older I become more comfortable with my grey matter and don’t mind being isolated with it as much anymore. Art is fine company. Although, a sense of shame still lingers over my fungi consumption. That I would willingly permit leave the rationality and reason I hold so dear disturbs me. A painful compunction swept over me yesterday as I stood outside of the strip mall sushi restaurant and smoked a cigarette alone at my birthday dinner. Why detach from a reality I love and fight for, surrounded by so many good souls? I don’t know if one mere drunken indulgence is worth this self-chastisement, but I do know I feel like a pornstar: gorging on the primitive in the scene, but ashamed to see the film. This film, I hope, doesn’t have a long run in my upstairs apartment.
I won’t let it.