I went to a party last night. As I stood there enjoying the gratifying numbness of a bourban, I couldn't help but feel a vast disconnect between myself and the scene at hand: ridiculously loud music with the bass at three times it's normal level, sweaty bodies smoking with abandon the filthy weeds between their fingers, people coming in the door shouting a barbaric "WHAT UP!" Someone's on the porch getting sick. It's 2:30 in the AM and nobody seems to care.
No, not me. I'm not a "party person." Give me a drink and a dialectic with some Miles Davis in the background any day.
Anyone else feel like an anti-partier?
Bradley