An Invitation: A:"We're Alive!~!" B:"We get it, we get it"

America America. There aren't many ways that make me feel as if I am not American. Happy Thanksgiving. I just got invited to someones for food and sitting and more and talk and birds. I thought that this would be a year of thanksgiving with no one but me. I am thankful for me, ha, but I am also thankful for the me that is involved in more than me. I know that, I am living it harder than I have before, and I feel like I am actively devising ways to be involved with new others. In some ways its all still brewing, still formulating...like making technology mean more in other places, this bizarre interest of mine I can't say enough about, literally, I lack the words, so I use words like involved. Anyhow, there's a yes and no to the way I am living my life in thankfulness for others. But its more on the front of me than it has before. So sure, I am withdrawing myself for turkey. My initial plan being to take myself to a dark corner, a restaurant where the floor is so dark that you can't see below your knees, wade over to a big ass table and say how much $, bah it's thanksgiving, I'll take 6 or 7 of your courses, red velvet cake to boot.

But then a friend throws me a line, a wrench really. Come over and be around your kind! That should be everyones invitation to everyone. I should really be reminding myself to say that to more people, come and be with me, we are chilling on mutual wave lengths we haven't even begun to recognize with one another. I am so sorry that I haven't said it before, haven't worked it before, but oh person I am ready to feel more like we are people together, hence the word person. That's what is so great about it, that we are parts you see, different parts, but we fit somehow, I can't believe it but we do, let's fit this out. Come on over and eat some turkey. Holy FUCK! What a wrench. Little do these so called people know about spewing this stuff over them. I wish I could eat the social parts of the feast along with the stuffing and the cranberry and the potatoes meet giblets, stuff myself on people and just say it, "Boy, I feel so plump after gobbling up your commentary on your week, the highs and lows. I am so stuffed of the way you listen to me, the way I can get you to elicit weird face tics and movements. This is enthralling, almost as tasty as this food, which is also keeping me alive." HAHA It's a shame I just can't fly off the handle in front of someone in such a live and direct fasion, and then make it there turn, and we just standsitlay in front of one another and spout all the stuff that we can find in us, perform it so brutally. Sometimes I think that people are convinced that drinking is the closest they can get to that feeling. But drinking is just a facilitator, if I can do it while frantically typing with a stuffed nose, with enough sustained attention between people we can all certainly enact and witness our lives right in front of one another, all at once!!

I am certainly going to make my way over to an unexpected friends for a feast, I know I would find so much in a 24 hour alone session, thinking so hard about what's now, what's next. But today I am going to live it out loud, right in front of your face (whose? yours you fucker! who's yours? It's everyone, the ready and the unprepared, the still kicking it everyone. Believe me, we've all met before). Happy Thanksgiving, I am going to flood us all with thanks for the weird expressions of now that surround us: the food, the booze, the smokes, the breaths, the parades, the hairs, the snow, the eyes with books and screens and words and sounds and hands, the plugs, the claws, the water everywhere, the smoke, so on, so on , so on, SO ON. SOON SO ON SOOOOOON

So much can be so great sometimes.