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I just got done with a long day at a major online advertising conference for work. My main job there was to hang out and meet people. That’s a tiring job when you’re on your feet from 9-6. But afterwards our company put on a party at a nearby night club. My co-workers refer to that type of gig as a “schmooze party,” and it went on ’till midnight. I have to admit; that kind of party is not exactly my bag of chips.
Not to say it wasn’t an experience. I met the guy responsible for the popularity of the McDonald’s Happy Meal, as well as a couple of CEOs. And for some reason the boss, who used to be a party planner, likes to partner with modelling agencies for his parties, so there were a number of models and photographers there too. All very interesting people.
But, while it’s an interesting opportunity to meet people, it’s absolutely impossible to really get to know anyone. Everyone puts on their happy face, whips out their business cards, and then moves on to the next person until they get drunk. Then they act like morons, spouting the first things that comes to mind until they’re dead tired, and then go home, never having invested anything significant in anyone.
Being a writer, some time things pop into my head and I have to write them down while the writing’s good. Here’s what I sat down to write right in the middle of the party. It’s unedited, and it’s so rought I’d hardly call it a poem. I haven’t even taken the time to break it down into couplets like I usually do. It’s a brief snapshot of my collected thoughts, straight from my notebook, at that particular moment:
I am Gatsby, the great undertow on the tides of fatal misfortune of surface-level Dreams. The peace of the Deep eludes me. The calm of the Hurricane is beyond me, and all I can see is fading foam–here one minute, and gone the next. Who shall sail my shallow ocean? What ship of shallow draft exists on this present Earth can navigate my currents and eddies long enough to reach the steadying shore? For I am the very light of social ambuguity. All who lack substance come and bathe in my bright and glistening waters. All who seek sustenance in my waters will find only meat of sugar and drink of dust. For I am at the very soul of the one who thinks he knows no limits, and yet runs aground. I am the deep ocean’s cousin–the prodigal brother who stays at home and dreams of grandure.