blizzard

home
12:59 a.m.

this, unlike most of my posts, is live. the snow is swirling, shooting, hurtling down. it is finally starting to stick. i am tired. of these parties, of these people, of my life.

on the way back, i emerge from the subway. it is bright, too bright. i try to remember the night- dinner, in the east village. japanese kids with spiky hair. a "medium" vodka drink. a bar, nearby. two lovely, lemony hot toddies. a party. tall, tall people. a vodka drink, with ginger ale. or two. or, three. at midnight, the birthday girl and i go out to get more ice. on the way back, i ask her -

"how long do you think you'll stay in new york?"

"I don't know," she says, cheerful and chipper, clutching a bag of ice. "I met this guy, Ben..."

And though I met him earlier, and her Ben is nothing like...well, you know. Her Ben is sweet and loving and kind.

We return to her party, and I pour myself a drink. More vodka. Now, at least we have ice.

Two sips later, and I look around. Who are these people? Why, dear God, am I here?

I leave.

On the way home, I cross Sixth Avenue. I look North. More snow. More lights. I look South. Taxis, waiting. I stand there, in the crazy fast cold wet snow, and I think

god

help

me.