Scribbler's Cafe

Exaultation and "oh crap not again"

Bonenkai. Bonenkai. Bonenkai. The “forget the year” party lived up to expectations. A classy, extravagant dinner followed by drunken revelry, revelations and reverberations. My co-conspirators took me to a hostess bar. I’d never been to one, and was surprised by how wonderful it was. Being a girl myself, I thought that the girls would not lavish me with the same adoring attention they give the men. Not true at all. I love the hostesses. I want of my own. She can mix my coffee just the way I like, help me on with my coat when I leave and tell me how lovely and sophisticated I look when I come home exhausted from a long day at work. Yep. I really really want one.

I love bonenkai.

Then there are things I do not love.

One late rambling evening, a dear friend lifted me up so high, that the next day, when he let me drop, it took all my strength not to shatter into a million pieces.

Another friend of my, dearer still, showed me that the ground is not such a bad place to dwell and aren’t I stronger with my feet firmly placed?

And then another friend, my sweetest of all, let me know it’s still OK to dream of lifting into clouds, even though the fall hurts me each time.

I can’t forget. Despite being asked. But I am weary weary weary.

posted by Scribbler @ Saturday, December 24, 2005