There is a table, a chair, and a computer, of course. I am partially obscured. I am partially obscure, but Brian and Sheila see where I’m coming from. I make a frame, a lens. I am an analogue camera. My hands shake. That’s a first. Brian, Sheila, and the others are in a row, watching.
I go for the pocket. For Sheila: a massage and Portishead. For Brian: bourbon and Stars of the Lid. Brian has a fever and can only manage a sip. That’s a first.
It’s because of you that I have this chair to stand on. Everything I plant here grows.
We head next door and start up the grill. Sheila serves potato salad and puns. Brian’s fever is an asset to his deadpan delivery. JR snaps up the butter.
We all drink too much, as usual. We’ll pay for it, as usual. Even as late night becomes early morning, we pretend there’s no tomorrow. People keep asking about documentation. We are the documentation. We are here, together, witnessing.
That’s exactly what I’m saying.