Some Day in November
Some Party Some Saturday
Some Absurdly Late/Early Hour

HOW DID THAT ONE SONG GO

THE ONE SUNG BY MATT DOYLE

“I’M SO SICK OF PARTIES.

I’M SO SICK OF BEING DRUNK.”

THAT’S ME RIGHT NOW.

ANOTHER PARTY DIDN’T GO HOW I WANTED IT TO.

I WASN’T QUEEN OF THE UNIVERSE AND I WASN’T BEAUTIFULLY DRUNK

NO ONE WAS BEAUTIFULLY DRUNK

TURNS OUT THERE’S NO SUCH THING

WHO KNEW?

I’LL FORGET THIS BY NEXT WEEKEND AND GO OUT SEARCHING FOR BEING BEAUTIFULLY DRUNK AGAIN

AND I’LL IMAGINE THAT MY FRIENDS AND I WILL ALL BE BEAUTIFUL DRUNK AND WE’LL LAUGH AND SING AND FALL IN THE DIRT IN A STONER’S UNKEMPT BACKYARD

I’LL LOSE MY PHONE OR JACKET OR GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE IN THE COLD AND COMFY DARKNESS OF THE SOIL AND THE VODKA

OR MAYBE I’LL GO HOME WITH SOME BEAUTIFUL DRUNK BOY

AND WE’LL BE BEAUTIFUL DRUNK TOGETHER

FULLY AWARE THAT THE SEX WOULD BE SLOPPY AND HE’D NEVER CALL AGAIN

BUT IT’S BEAUTIFUL IN THAT WE FOOLED OURSELVES INTO THINKING IT WAS

INSTEAD I WALK IN MY BEDROOM AND THROW MY BAG ON THE FLOOR AND COLLAPSE ALONE ON MY BED WITH THE LIGHT ON AND MY MAKEUP FUCKED AND MY HOMEWORK UNFINISHED.

THERE MUST BE A BEAUTIFUL DRUNK WAY TO BE, I FIGURE, BUT IT IS CERTAINLY NOT THIS. AND IN A BEDROOM LITTERED WITH ART SUPPLIES, IN A BED TOO SMALL FOR TWO, WITH A LAPTOP DYING IN THE CORNER, IT WILL NEVER BE ME.