Flip a God Damned Coin

I'm a bad friend

Or

I hate being in the wedding party

Or

Really don't want to miss a moment of DEMF

Whatever it is, it's the knife cutting my heart in half. I'm their daughters godmother for fuck-sake. I also was just in her twin sisters wedding, so this is pretty much (a better version admitting) of the same wedding. At the root of it all, is the simple and maybe selfish fact that I DO NOT want to be away from Detroit for a fraction of a second when that bass drops on the first day of DEMF. The music is my medicine, the sound is my siren.

DEMF, the Detroit electronic music festival, is one acronym that pretty much sums up everything that makes me happy. Booming speakers, masses of half-naked-wet-colorful-party-hardy-animals, substances, energy, beautiful girls, sexy men, and parties that don't stop. Old friends, new friends, single serving friends. Ohh and the booty bouncing. The pop, lock, and drop. The dancing yourself into a frenzy until you're dancing in a puddle of your sweat. Dancing until the sun burns your eyes as you emerge from whatever dark after party cave you crawled into.

When I get depressed, I day dream about DEMF. When my heart is breaking, I think about DEMF. When work makes me want to walk into traffic, I tell myself DEMF is only a few months away. I will work on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and New Years just to get that weekend off. DEMF helped me realize I didn't need that abusive relationship I was in. It was there that I cut and cauterized that malignant growth I call my ex. DEMF was the last time I got to see Amber before she passed away. Hart plaza during that weekend is my sanctuary.

So now I'm torn. Her wedding is the first day of the festival. I'll make it home in time to catch the after parties if I dip out immediately after the reception. It all gets so complicated because my heart is not in it for her. I'll be there, but I'll be so sad. So sad I'm missing the festivities of the first day of the festivals 10 yr anniversary. That guarantees party kid enthusiasm all across the board. Oh God help me, it pains my heart to think I'll be 5 brutal hours from my city.

If I could go back in time, I'd kick Tiffany and Luke in the ass. Kick 'em hard. Some how move their wedding date to the 26th, 27th even! That way I wouldn't have to rush to pack the car after a weeks worth of camping and race back to make it to the after parties. This means I have to pack the night before the wedding. I'm going to be so distracted the whole day. I'm not going to have an appetite or the spirit. Dear god help me if I have to listen to rock 'n roll for a millisecond longer that I have to.

Glacial melting of an ice qeen

Living between days, no longer within days. Floating. Without boundaries my organs fall out of place, a body without skin, without bones. Thoughts bubble out, pushing everything aside. And pop. Gone again. Catching thoughts like butterflies. Chasing the ever evasive insect of idea, only to watch it escape the net.

Where is my mind? Not here. Lost in the summer time. I can remember where and when - without making sense. Images in my consciousness, the front seat, long hair, and cold beers. Did that happen here or from some invasive dream? No, it was shaggy hair and bright moon nights. It was dark streets. It was your hand in mine. It was the prologue to our reverie.

It was a crowded field. It was helping a cute drunk girl piss. It was your kisses, your hands, on me. It was the heat, it was exhaustion. It was poor impulse control. It was your lips, telling me where we go from here. It was just you and me, among a million other bodies. The dots, the lines, the colors, the blurred images of three days four nights rolled into one memory. It became us, not them, not her, nor him.

It was road trips, it was artists, it was after parties. It was one huge stain on the passenger side. It was that hot, hot tent, no cover, and PB&J crackers. It was that freezing knuckle numbing shower. It was the fireworks on the water we missed. It was taking a 25 dollar cab ride in one big circle. It was a straight marriage in a gay part of town. It was hallucinogenic, it was raining, it was my doe eyes and please. Asking please, could we just do what I felt like.

and it was you sighing, but saying yes. Its you sighing enough of the time, but still saying yes to me. It's my heart, just a puddle at your feet.