Self-portrait

This is me. This is me in a particular state at a particular time. Halloween. 2008. That's an honest statement. More than that would be gratuitous. Criminal. To the spirit of the moment. It was what it was. It is no more. But here it is. A snapshot in the time of a life. A story in itself. One that would prefer to tell itself through itself. A particular state. At a particular time. Wish it was video. But it's just an image. Of a man. In space. At a particular time.

Do you want there to be an accompanying story? Because I have stories to tell from that night. A wild night. A night filled with spontaneity and pleasure.

I smoked pot earlier in the day. I sobered up and drove to the bar. I parked. I walked from my car to the entrance. I opened the door and stepped inside. A short, exceptionally muscular black man looked at my ID and allowed me entry. There were some individuals I knew at the bar, but the place was mostly filled with individuals I did not know.

I sat next to a lesbian I had talked with many times previously. She was jovial. Short and rotund as well. A stout, middle-aged Native American lesbian completely drunk, high on cocaine, trying to use me to attract young women so she could hit on them. Really. She flagged down some 23-year-old vixen, introduced her to me, watched as we hit it off, me as Elvis Knievel and she approaching as a combination Little Bo Peep and Catwoman. As we danced, I sang, told tales of heroism, and enacted a one-man love scene between Cyrano de Bergerac and Pierre Gassendi; by doing so, I reconciled Epicurean atomism with Christianity. Well, until a schism developed moments later.

But the taut little vixen remained, eager to continue dancing, longing to play. I allowed Dionysus to make decisions throughout the night. Good decisions He made, if pleasure was the measure.

My costume said Liberace magic, a date with the construction worker from the Village People, and a meeting with the Pope. Still, women approached to dance, to look, to flirt, to touch. I gave of myself, gave to the mass of humanity clamoring for someone to be something more than anyone else was. I obliged. I pledged myself to the Importance of Me and became the Great Man Diva, the King and the Queen, Elvis and Elton, man and woman for all.

I was certainly not all there was to see, not on Halloween. I saw Naked Man with Chewbacca Head feeling up Little Miss Moffett while she ate her curds and whey. I watched Batman beat the hell out of the Riddler. There were no cartoon balloons with exclamations like "WHAMMO!" or "POW!" Still, it was good to see that Batman wins even in real life. Gave me hope that justice can still prevail in the cartoon world.

The height of the night was seeing Daddy Warbucks dragging Orphan Annie on a leash. He had a whip of confetti lashes and when he tickled her with it she belted out "The Sun'll come out, Tomorrow, you can bet your bottom dollar that Tomorrow--" Then, mercifully, he shoved a gag in her mouth and the entire bar cheered.