Party

Saturday.
Dinner, downtown movie, a last-minute invitation -to go or not to go.
Queen Anne. Strangers. Surprisingly smooth merlot. Lapses of boredom. Meaningless chat in the midst of pseudo bohemian decor -a red ribbon and holes in the walls. Rich, thick, porter. Signatures in a door-frame, #11, a humble servant. Exchanges about who knows whom from where.A friendly surfer-turned-bureaucrat. Outstanding jambalaya. City-planning, friendly people. A ridiculous lamp, the source of the red ribbon discovered. Serious doubts about wasted time in empty socializing for no reason whatsoever. Suddenly, Sunday. More conversation. Fashionable outfits blurring the lines of poor taste. A pretty but too skinny architect. Wigs laying around for no apparent reason. Silly camera phone photographs taken in the spur of the moment. An Ethiopian delicacy -a jar full of tasty seeds, and talk about relationships in an Ethiopian-Italian family with a Spanish last name. A too hard to uncork bottle of something carbonated, passed around until the jubilant climactic cork-shot. Taking a load off on a too-low couch. Fatigue catching up. An art documentary playing in an old laptop screen. Unidentified glowing ornament, intriguing but not enough to take a closer look. Lemon scented chocolate cookies. The occasional exchange with one of two acquaintances. Winding down, slow good-byes. Going home.