1 13 pm pdt   [ exculpation ]

"I wish I had kept a diary back then."

I would have, if I had known how much I would forget, how many small instances would be lost, if I didn't take the time to write them down.

And yet it always feels a bit dishonest. I can never share with you the entirety of what happened. I can only share chunks, which remind me of the full bodied experience, but are all you ge.t I'm sorry. I wish I could give you a straight memory download. I'd have to charge people to relive last night.

I spent yesterday spoiling myself. I ate what I wanted. I blew off my work to have a day of relaxation. I tried to enjoy every minute. When I woke up, I didn't feel well. I think I must have felt guilty that perhaps someone didn't like my behaviour at the party or maybe I'm just to silly for words. But a few hours later I found myself on a natural high. Phil and I had plans to go dancing in the city. I called and warned him that if my mood lasted I was going to be feisty all night.

I was going to get all dolled up, but then decided I didn't want to deal with looking fancy on the BART train, so I threw on some jeans, packed up a book, my favorite dress and my dancing shoes and made my way to the Mission district.

Phil lives with Chris (whom I had met several times before), Ira, and Ira's girlfriend, who was out of town. So I asked the two boys to join Phil and I for dinner and dancing. We ate a scrumptious Ethiopian meal at Axum and then headed to their friend's place.

9 56 pm pdt   [ exculpation II ]

[After having slept most of the day away, I shall continue.]

We picked up H. and A. (both girls) to join our merry bunch and headed to The Top. Shortly after arriving, we met two friends of Ira, Phil II and John, who both had delicious British accents. Phil II was at least 6'5 but I dragged him onto the dance floor anyway (I'm 5'4). He had me in stitches. He was doing some dance that I'm sure is hip in clubs in Liverpool, but looked so Euro and out of place here. Soon I was dancing with all the boys, trying to teach Phil I to dance, and convincing a wallflower named Alexia to join in. She also had a very unique was of dancing.

I can't really describe the passage of the evening. I can say if I was digging the singles scene I would so certainly be living in SF and going out every night. I miss meeting so many new people at once.

Things of note about the evening:

• there was some unstated drama occurring between Phil I, A. and H. which I'm sure he's had to deal with today
• the two Brits had woke up early that morning to spend the day skiing, so they were quite exhausted
• one of the members of our merry band apparently peed on the floor of the club (gross!)
• I took off my bra in the middle of the evening and made Phil I hold it for me in his pocket
• I discovered much to late in the evening that Ira was an amazing dancer, and we finished off the evening grinding

After the club closed, we headed to Phill II's and John's place. Seeing all these different SF pads (3 during the course of the evening) I feel that I really need to clean up my crap and finally get stuff hung on the walls.

It was readily apparent that everyone was sleepy, and Phil II immediately fell asleep in a love seat. So Phil I, Chris, Ira and I headed back to their place. I had already been planning on staying the night, because BART closes at midnight -- a phenomenon which I'm sure I'll never understand.

Ira said something about how Phil and I could never "prove" that nothing happened if we shared a bed. I found that statement to be especially odd coming from someone who's girlfriend was out of town, so I asked if that meant that he had no trust. This launched a discussion about the vast gulf between trust and proof. Interesting fodder for thought, but who needs proof if you have trust?

Back at the apartment, Ira and I let our conversation morph into myriad other topics. There are few things I enjoy more than a new mind to explore -- an entire foreign existence of memories, experiences, opinions, and knowledge. After an hour or so we took turns reading to each other from a wonderful anthology of short stories and poems by classic authors. Most memorable were Mark Twain's "Journalism in Tennessee" and Rudyard Kipling's "How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin." I'll have to get the name of that book.

Ira was really good at reading out loud and had a lot of the rhymes memorized. I've realized that my reading-out-loud style has evolved from reading to the kids at work. It surprised me to discover the evolution.

We hadn't gotten back to the apartment until 3 30 am, so it was really late when I crawled onto the couch to try to sleep. My body was convinced I wanted to stay awake, so I read for a while until I finally dozed off for a few hours. I am reading Kiln People by David Brin which is absolutely superb and I am sad to find myself coming to the end of the story.

Phil also woke up early, so after he showered we curled up on his bed and talked for an hour or so. I can never go for too long without yapping about Matthew.

Before noon (and not realizing yet that clocks had gone ahead for Daylight Savings) I headed for my BART ride home. I kept thinking about all of the images I would have taken in the course of my adventures if I had schlepped my camera with me. My skin tingled all over from the delight of my exploits. It still does. There's nothing like the natural high of moving your body and feeling alive.

Did I mention that I worked out yesterday? I'm only a bit sore today but will surely be quite sore tomorrow. Oh, but dancing felt so good. I've got to get out more often!

I really have a fat face. I can't figure out why anyone would try to convince me I don't.