Halloween

I always have the worst costume on Halloween. Probably because the idea of dressing up in costumes seems so very strange, and yet--I do it every day. I wear three costumes each day. I go to school dressed as a college student: Jeans. a hooded sweatshirt, and a pack on my back. At work my costume is that of the corporate slave: black slacks and a colorless button up shirt, and absolutely no facial hair. And finally my bed-time costume: baggy flannel cotton pants and a t-shirt. I guess form follows function. But there is no real reason why I should wear jeans to school and my professor a corduroy sports coat with leather patchs on the elbows. Humans function best in groups. Groups form indivuduals, and indivuduals have an amazing drive to get drunk and form groups.

Like I said, "I always have the worst costume on Halloween." Last night I dressed as a partial birth abortion. Everyone else had such nice costumes. Real works of art. I threw mine together 5 minutes before the party. I wore my sweatshirt on my legs and my pants on my chest. A straw was glued to my head. Just like the year I went dressed as an electron, nobody understood my costume last night either. Quick observation about last night--every girl was dressed like a slut. The one girl that wasn't, I wanted to marry. I asked each one of them, "what are you supposed to be?" "A slut". "And you?" "Slut." "You?" "Slut" (Hmmm... Say that word a couple times. I wonder what its origins are). I wish people would be honest about thier costumes during the other 364 days a year. Most people answer, "I am a unique individual", or something identical but fancier sounding, even though the guy wearing the black hooded sweat shirt looks exactly like me, and so to, all the people wearing old navy cotton billboards on thier breast look alike. Costumes.

But all observations and cynisism aside. I had fun last night drinking keg beer at my neigbors house, which was also dressed in costume--a haunted house costume. It was pretty psychadelic. Some DJ's even showed up but they communicated only with music and i didn't see either one utter a word.

After the party I happily stumbled home and climbed into bed. I had one of those dreams that makes one wonder what is more real, waking life or dream life. In the dream, I told my friend that I dug her and we ended up getting together and living out our lives in bliss. When i woke up at 4 AM, my life of happiness swimming in fountains sculpted of bronze with my lover, had dissolved completely. It took me a couple seconds to remeber who i was. When i got up to walk to the bathroom i discovered that i was drunk and had lost control of most of my motor skills. I pissed like a race horse and got back into bed. I tried my damnedest to get back into the dream that i had been so violently ripped out of by the needs of my body, but i couldn't.