| Sept.13 Client's Party |
[Sep. 21st, 2005|10:25 pm] |
The client’s party, with a huge that’s Beijing emblazonment and a whole bunch of our magazine ladies, went extremely well. I acted funny due to a terrible cold that allowed me to sneeze three times in a run, aching through my head to my eyes. But it’s my party, so I’d better steer the boat good. Inner poise, I was rationalizing in my new theory, which I learnt from a book ex love gave me. Oh he’s sweet with that new beard and I wondered what he was doing then. Gosh, carrying too far there… And gosh I was sweating like mushrooms after the rain. One more sparkling wine—I needed all the bouncy bubbles to cover up my pinkish cheeks from the damned fever.
“It’s such a nice place!” My client said, all sweet smiles.
I parroted, feeling like a swaying beer bottle. I yearned to go home. Bed bed bed, my warm soft pillows. I felt like yelling.
The music drowned in silence, the speech long. They lined in beautiful pattern and they dined elegantly. Such a lovely evening, I signed at the corner. High class atmosphere, sophisticated food and significant conversations. All seemed visually gorgeous.
In the end I was too tired to go home, too sick to be good. I went to a friend’s, smoked weed and felt empty. After sent a colleague home, I was in the cab, crying. I didn’t know why; I talked too much there. My sadness was of no genre, but strong, so strong that knocked off my heart. Mom, I started to miss you again. I was so much wanting to give you a wonderful life but I felt like a loser this minute. No place I belonged to. I was a freak carrying a thing called grief. Fuck fuck fuck! |
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