Because the night...

What I would give to have all the amazing humans I have met in my life together in one room.
We would wear name tags and serve punch.
If we stayed too long
We might decide to take over the world.
All for the better.

Last night/Yesterday

I went on an epic run with my new French friend Arno. Arno is a doctor currently traveling some of America. He came over to take a course at John Hopkins. He is smart, cute, and full of unintentional English Poetry. This happens when a clever man speaks in a language not native to his own.

Example:

Arno decided to join me on my venture to Old City Philadelphia to set up Untouched Poetry at the First Friday's Art Walk. We ran into a wonderful man named Yoki who was selling fresh Lime-aid from his bike. Now, Yoki is another story all of his own, so what I speak of him will only give him some justice to his character. I ordered a limeade and Arno declined not really sure what was going on. After Yoki went into his spele about how refreshing and vibrant he felt his drinks were, and how much love and other healing items he put into the drinks, Arno soon replied(in a THICK french accent) "I thinks I will have one Finally"..... just brilliant.

The run:

Arno is quick, and does not smoke.... he is a doctor, at age 28 I believe. We decided we wanted to run to the UPenn campus to look at women while we ran. The day was hot, we became very sweaty, and we crushed that campus like men on a mission, given eyes, and catching them everywhere we went. Our conversations were great when we could understand each other, but I was most inthralled when he explained to me where the term marathon came from. http://ancienthistory.about.com/od/persianwararticles/a/MarathonBattle.htm
and after the whole story he ends with..... and people still do it. Ha!

Running:

There is nothing that puts me in a better place then running. I am sometimes lazy and I will talk about that more as my travels go on. But I know if I can pull my hungover, lazy ass out off the couch and away from whatever non-productive things I am doing and go on a run and break a sweat, that all of the cobwebs that make me feel sticky and stagnant will be shaken off . I am a runner. I have the body. I get the high, when I go on a run I see new things, and have great thoughts.... and most of all when I finish my run, I get shit done.


Philadelphia First Friday's Art Walk.


I had an entourage of men whom became family in a matter of fading words and eye contacts. These boys are just magical. The cobble stone streets were filled with local artist of all kinds. No real gallereies, just independent artist showcasing their work on the street. Jackpot for Untouched Poetry. I posted up in front of an old building with a stoop next to two painters and a guitarist. Arno went and got me tea, I waited. It was slow at first, but I was entertained the whole time hanging out with frenchie and commenting on all the great nature that was around.... I came up with the idea that women can be referred to as nature. So we had a blast with that...... we saw angelic nature, and dark nature, and angry nature, and large nature, and magical nature, and poisoness nature and so on, and so on. It was great. We laughed quite a bit. Soon untouched poetry was rocking and my brain/heart were flowing into my words. Eventually the man hosting me, the one and only Sean Glass showed up bringing new life to this party! They hit the store, grabbed some booze and they hung out behind me on the stoop the whole time making friends, announcing me to the crowd, giving more life to where there was so much life already. Sean Glass is a show stopping machine! I do not think there could have been a better host to break my first couch surfing cherry.... the only cherry he broke, just saying. The evening flew by, the wind blew, the magic of Old City Philly had my heart singing. I had found so many crushes, and devoured the attention I got. I made tears fall, smiles came in the hundreds, and mysterious eye glazes happen over and over. At one point a couple had been sitting next to me for awhile, I asked what was going on and they said they just liked hanging out and listening to my typewriter.... Jolene blushed. Towards the end, a sweet sweet girl had been sitting next to me for awhile, and I asked what she was up to. She said she was writing a poem.... but on her phone. I told her to stop, and got out of my chair and had her use my typewriter. She was a pro, though she had never written on one before I believe she said. I liked her, she liked me. I later saw her on a dancefloor and kissed her accordingly. Her lips were sweaty like mine, and I attempted to taste all of her poetic beauty within our salty exchanged. She was not the only person I locked lips with this night. As the night ended and I started packing up the energy was high, and we knew this night was going down! As we were setting to leave we chatted with a bunch of people, I met a girl who had just gotten back from burning man. She is a juggler, fire dancer, she hoops and does all that corky cook stuff so many burners do. I told her I would see her later, and I did. On our cab ride back we sang french songs and swung our hands out the window. I watched the city lights beam by me and remembered saying to myself that I was more alive then I had been in quite sometime.

After we all got ready, we hopped a trolly to go dance. We were all so pumped on life, I could not wait.  Banging house music filled the clubs, liquor filled my mouth, and I filled my soul with dance moves no one else could shake. Kisses, and sweat, and loud music, with lights that blinded.... we took to the night like no ones business. Later more friends joined, we took over the dancefloor. I danced with all the boys, and all the girls. I jumped from stage onto boys, they lifted me up and down on there shoulders as if I had just one the world cup of best life ever! I had one button left on my shirt, my hat got passed around, I kissed some more..... and we danced on, never once letting go of dream.

Late night:

People come over, wrestling happens, poetry happens, and I eventually find myself first person to pass out.... on the wrestling mat, humbling fading to the next day.

Stoned streets bound players
crystal lining shields protect the risky
The game is not being played
The game is being created.
Macho men who like their feelings roam free
The tribe is one of potentially wonderful fathers.
Flexed hearts, and beating bodies
There is no substitute
For the male, who embraces his feelings.
And shares them
Knowing there is no other way.