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Love the Night

25. A photo of a night you loved. A basement show, sometime between '89 and '93. Photo by Steve Parkes

It’s tough to say how much I loved this night at the time. Some nights only become dear years later, so I say I loved this night looking back on it with the wisdom that comes with 20 or so years of separation. We used to play music. In basements. All the time.

Not much writing yesterday, but a strange revelation while standing outside Morseland in the rain. I have the ideas for the finishing touches on the novel. Now it’s just up to me to execute over the next five days. Think today will be a zero word count, but tomorrow will rise again. Or something like that. Standing at 41,770.

Also: Hoping everyone has a happy and healthy Thanksgiving. I am off to join (amongst others) the two people in the foreground of this photo for a friendly neighborhood dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, Sharon,” Therese said as she got into my car.

I turned the key in the ignition. “Yeah, thanks for making us spend more time together instead of just giving us cash,” I said under my breath.

“You’re such an ass, Arthur,” Therese said.

“Do you still want a ride?”

“Of course I do. How else am I going to get home?”

“I’m not sure. You might not want to have to find out.” I backed the car out of the parking space, honked twice at Paul as I passed his car and turned out onto the main road. “I hear there are wolves out there.”

“Why you….” Therese started, searching for words. “You’re just a monster!”

“I’m not just a monster, Therese,” I said. “I’m also a monster.”

And that shut her up for the duration of the ride to her house. Aside from a few mumbled directions, she was silent. Yeah, I’d borrowed the line from a John Barth novella, but it was a good one, and I felt it applied. I wasn’t just a monster. I had my moments, though. My moments of monstrosity when my inner demons fought their way to the surface, taking hold of my personality, making me, an otherwise reasonable person, into some sort of beast. They made me do things like threaten a good hearted, albeit annoying, young woman who wanted nothing more than for everyone to get along, for people to do their jobs, and for things to be okay. Unfortunately for Therese, that was against everything I stood for.