peleus

WELL, the weekend has certainly let the wind out. I awoke Saturday full of vinegar, prepared to finish the week and get on with the rest. A breakfast of sausages and a pot of coffee, three cigarettes and a shower and I was out the door to wander a bit before work.

Although there is a lake just out my window with winding paths and a nice spot with trees, I find myself drawn to the clamor of the boulevard. Perhaps it is the passive anonymity of the crowd, the mass that washes past; one by one, two by four, each vectored slightly askew to keep the whole machine running not running into each other. I think it also has something to do with the girls in springtime skirts.

Baudelaire wrote of the flaneur, an idler and passionate observer, and this notion grows ripe in the sun of a spring afternoon. The flaneur surrenders to the intoxication of the community around. Alas, Mssr. B. found himself slave to his revolutionary times and tied this noble idea to the material, to commerce. He didnt realize, it seems, that to define ones disobedience in terms of the material, even in rebellion against it, is to subjugate all further decisions to that same artless rationale, reducing the stock of life to a demi of absurdity. Still, his spirit fills me this spring afternoon.

I like to combine flaneur with voyeur, not least because I get to purse my lips twice. It is a small step from passionately observing the entirety of the crowd to focusing on girls in skirts and girls in tank tops and girls in shorts with Bucky on the back. The humming symphony pauses and the strings emerge. And so I continued my promenade, falling in love seventeen times. Flah-neuurr. Vwah-yuurr.

AS I worked my way up and back down State Street, I noticed a flash of red to my right. Always bemused by the chance of a bauble, I turned toward it and into three girls walking the opposite direction. I lowered my headphones and smiled, apologizing for my clumsiness, all the time scanning the crowd across the street for that splash of color. The three walked on and I stood at the curb, each face across the way one form with the next and not a drop of red. I idled on.

A block further down, I paused to look in a shop window. Two mannequins sat at a low table, one holding an empty martini glass. To the side was a small love seat on which another mannequin sprawled out, a Champagne bottle leaned against her leg. The table held an ashtray complete with cigarette butts, a wineglass stained with lipstick and a small square mirror topped by a rolled up bill. Each wore a somewhat plain sweater set in the grays and browns of a tony suburban office. In the glass of the window I saw it again. The red, reflected from behind, with a streak of white cut right beneath. I turned as quickly as I could, but it was gone. The crowd followed by the crowd after the crowd, but not a stroke of red. Realizing I had fifteen minutes before work, I turned in that direction and walked.

AFTER work, we went out for a few drinks and soon it was bar time. My week over, I was not yet prepared to return home and I sought out a co-worker, Ellie, who was busily dialing her phone. A couple jokes and a bit of lingering as the others left and we were soon on our way to an apartment building near campus. Im not sure what to expect, she had confided. They said they have a case of Champagne and weed, so I think it will be fun.

The apartment was in a new building of the type sprouting up with some regularity these days. A few stores on the first level, balconies on each unit. They likely advertise high-speed internet access as cable television is so 1999. After a short elevator trip we were at the door, and soon we each had our own bottle of bubbly. We bounced around, meeting new people and laughing and laughing. It was quite nice.

The music seemed to get louder as the evening wore on. Thumming rock turned to thumping dance music and the general demeanor of those in attendance rose with the beats. I believe Britney Spears was screaming out over the speakers when the door opened and I saw a bright swatch of red cut with white as two people dressed as the University of Wisconsin mascot entered the room.

I had drunk a good amount by this time, and I must admit I was rather high, so I burst into giggling and stepped back to the wall. The two badgers threw their arms into the air and bounced into the center of the room, Britney giving it her all as they began to dance. Soon girls from the party were dancing with them as those of us on the perimeter met each others eyes to confirm this was all real. Time lost its hold of us as the surreal spectacle played out. The Buckies were booty hopping, the Buckies were booty stopping, the Buckies were dropping and doing the booty wop. One girl found herself between the two Buckies on the ground, one beneath her as the other slapped her ass and ground into her. There were Bucky kisses.

It was around this point that time seeped back into the apartment. I stepped outside to the balcony and caught up with Ellie, who had begged off one of the Buckies when he approached her. Do you know these guys?

No. She began laughing again.

This is fucking awesome. Thanks for bringing me.

Two of her male friends wandered over. The taller one leaned in, Um, this is starting to get a little out of control. Who are these guys?

I dont know, I spoke up. But the girls dont seem to be fighting them off.

I dont like it. I think we need to do something.

I lit a cigarette. I dont know. Im just gonna stand out here and smoke my cigarette and keep watching.

We should take their heads off, Ellie proposed and reached a hand out for the buttons on the Bucky who had backed up to the balcony door. Come here, you! She was laughing again and grabbed my cigarette. The bucky dove back into the center of the room.

Yeah, come here. The tall guy followed.

I turned toward the skyline downtown and leaned on the railing. Stars are more visible in Madison than in any other city Ive visited. I took a breath and leaned out further. Ellie leaned out next to me. So are you having a good time?

Oh yeah. Thanks again. This is definitely more than Id imagined.

Good. Im glad youre having fun.

She smiled and touched my hand as I heard a crash behind us followed by a girl screaming.

Kevin, what the fuck are you doing?! Another scream.

We both turned around and went to the room. The door was open and only one Bucky remained. He was splayed on the floor in the entrance way and a foot was in mid swing toward his ribs. The taller guy stood just behind his regular-sized friend who was delivering the kick.

What the fuck, Kevin! The girl who maybe lived in the apartment pushed the tall guy. Paul, stop him! Hes being an asshole! Bucky was pulling at the carpet, trying to right himself. The girl grabbed a glass on the counter and splashed the last bit of Champagne in it on the three. Get the fuck out of here!

Bucky made it to the door and fell forward, trying to run before he was up. He hit the wall and steadied himself, then turned down the hallway and fled.

Ellie grabbed my arm. I think its time to go.