some crazy dude predicted that the world was essentially going to end on may 25th when a comet or aliens or aliens riding a comet slim pickens style crashed into the atlantic and set off some volcanotsunamicalypse that would wipe out the east coast, the one i love the most. fitting, i thought. that's the day i'm going to prom a year late.

it's all in extremes. we had to stand outside in the courtyard of the high school, a massive blob of formally-clad teenagers in the blazing sun, quickly burning, quickly becoming angry at the wait to be announced. it all seems like such a big deal to some people. i remember one girl several years back saying that the semi in dracut is like a prom and the prom is "like the oscars."

even before that: extremely awkward social situation. arrived first at the house we were meeting at to depart for the school. all dressed up with a very specific place to go. i don't know them, they don't know me. nicole was still an hour off at that point. but everything worked out.

omnibus. "bus" is a shortening of omnibus didn't you ever wonder.

everything worked out. the dresses, especially hers: a victory for poofiness. the dance floor: fits in the scheme of extremes. so hot. guy in bathroom at the hyatt commented to me about it. why are you talking to me? i don't know you.

who are you? who are any of you?

saw kelly, saw heather, saw people i didn't expect who also didn't expect to see me. why would they? remembered grad night last year, the hour-long pool game with kelly. still haven't developed the pictures: cues at awkward angles, speech slurred by weariness, hypnotically induced lesbianism a distant backdrop.

few slow songs. mostly techno, rap, fast. i danced. first time. didn't expect to. jacko danced. should have expected that. california, let's have a party.

available light photographs. screw flash. the room wasn't that bright and your photographic remembrances shouldn't be either. keeps it more real that way. no one took my advice.

the cruise: my mind struggles internally with its physical rival: the anti-pill gag reflex. it's a boat, i've never been on a boat. there will be motion sickness. there's one of those doors with the wheel dealie on it in the bathroom that leads to the engine room. dramamine? didn't end up taking it, didn't get sick. everything works out.

stayed downstairs or downboat or downship or whatever all night, which passed quickly. karaoke, the classics. all night. chairs hastily and strangely arranged, some couples trying to sleep. didn't even try. that was later. unlike the name of the boat, the cruise part wasn't so much of an odyssey. we drank shirley temples laughing about how it was after midnight and the world didn't end. good try, crazy dude.

but a world was ending, because that night quickly passing was self-contained, a state of mind. it doesn't make sense elsewhere, it only comes through in moments and pictures and words and thoughts stripped of context and meaning. it's intangible like all other times, but unlike most other times in life it feels like it would be worth holding on to.

"memories." won't you let me see...?

early morning off the boat, cloud-dappled red sunrise. so early. all one long day, no night to speak of in a way. light rain. standing, waiting again. in the rain. extremes. but not the rain, just the arbitrary wait. then we moved.

falling asleep on the bus early in the morning driving back, her body against mine, drifting, eyes closed, her sleeping most of the way while i only lost consciousness for a few minutes. still, the equivalent of a night of sleep on a red-dappled sunblazing ultralong day such as this one, so the first thing i wake up to is my head on her shoulder and the calmness of her sleep. indescribable glowy-ethereal beauty of a single moment. movement of the bus, occasional bumps: still she sleeps. bless yourself in motion.

then parting, home: slept nearly all day, got a message from mary at some point while i was sleeping for the first stretch, a kick back into the other life. back to sleep, then up, then maybe back to sleep again. not fully myself until six, maybe later. talked to becky, wish she'd write; listened to certain helium songs over and over:

--sitting on a p-i-n-s-t-r-i-p-e glowing like the ocean...

nicole finally called and several of us were out again tonight, still feeling like one long day. movies this time, more familiar territory, people-watching. it's friday night so let's take a moment and look at all the junior high kids. were we ever...?

driving back tonight: foggy, thick, so warm all day. windows open. more helium.

'cause she's sweeter than a honeycomb...