i remember as a kid that sad feeling that happened when parties were over, when houseguests packed up the car, when thanksgiving and christmas and new years and birthdays had played themselves out and the house became quiet and lonely and boring again... nothing special... nothing important. somehow i understood that living was when there were people around, new people, old people, strangers, friends. and without those gatherings we entered a horrible gray foamy inbetweeness. i hated that.
i woke up around 3am thinking and feeling those same thoughts and feelings... like i could practically hear that torment made real, a chirping, screeching horror.
then i realized there were squirrels fucking in my living room, who'd come in through the gaping hole in the wall. now i don't miss that janitor and his dishrag much at all.
