For a few short days, we were kings. The Party took hold of us, gripping its most inappropriate grip around whichever part of us lead us here and tore us away from the mundane, dragged us from triviality and the day-in, day-out and sent us hurtling out of control towards THE WALL, sometimes running, arms outstretched towards our inevitably messy ends, sometimes falling, flailing impotently, sinking and trying to swim back to surface to get some air.
Everyone's going to come away with a different story to tell because we've each lived enough in the last few days to make up for the increasingly apparent reality that the rest of our lives may be spent trying to relive and trying to forget what we did here. A few short days and I couldn't tell you how many times the cops busted this thing up, how many times the music stopped and the crowd dispersed only to reform somewhere else doing something new. But it's different now...
Now we're coming down and trying to make sense out of the mess we've made, sorting through the debris and trying to determine what this place looked like before we happened to it, trying to determine what we looked like before it happened to us. There's an awkward self-awareness and a sad communal understanding that we may not rediscover the abandon we knew last night.
Shake hands. Say your farewells. Promise to look each other up on Facebook.
and then try to forget.
Raaaah! We pissed in inappropriate receptacles and puked over infeasible trajectories. Nobody remembers who lit the tree but everyone remembers watching it burn as we stood there, mesmerised, chanting, our holy totem blazing in effigy. We danced in a frenzy and spoke in slurred tongues, our drugs a communion. Taste the wafer. See the lights. And we met our gods, on our knees, in the bathroom, with our best friends fingers down our throats.
In one night we loved a lifetime and fought a dozen wars. And next weekend we'll do it all again.