GUY FAWKES NIGHT (1)

GUY FAWKES NIGHT.

(First impression.)

"I think that absolute truth and statistics are two different things. Statistics for the most part suggests truth but doesn't really always tell it. Hence I'd say that statistics and absolute truth are completely independent of each other."

I never do drink at these parties mother...I really only think about how these lonely solipsistic thoughts are effervescent; like soulless and friendless clouds muttering about other sad lights in the dark, shining sadly in distress and writing things on this phone...People are around him.

And now I eat a slice of pizza, which will of course remind him of you soon- laughing about in your cute little dress while I pretend the night was restless and breathless. He couldn't hear the whispers then. They were drowning in the rhythmic and pounding vibrato of young and don't give a fuck, let's smoke a blunt.

Even the cigarettes and beer bottles were drowning as well; in the incomprehensible bass of my apparently misunderstood generation...He couldn't hear the whispers then. I however am typing now and do. I can see your smile; I can feel your hair, skin, breath, no. He hadn't even wanted to go until he saw you. He hadn't even wanted- I can read my novel now.

Everyone's gone home including me. I am now busy dawdling past midnight and finding words and stories. I obviously have nowhere else to find adventure but in dead and silent screens- why are we asleep? Are we not moved by today and tomorrow? Is no one interested in yesterday?

Though everyone had gone home except him. It didn't take much for him to start thinking. He just needed to be walking or talking. If not talking then simply just not talking- sorry, what did you say? Oh, yes, he does think those last fireworks were rather pretty. Did he mention you are too?

I think that perhaps he is still there, wandering and meandering...looking for places, looking for people.