Danielle’s friends gave me a going away party on a secluded section of the beach that spread below the village of Ez, late in the afternoon, the day before I left. They made a huge fire of driftwood. Brought a ton of French wine from Pinot Blanc to red Syrah and a beer called Biere de garde. We grilled French garlic sausages called Saucissons a l’Ail. When you bite into them, herbed garlic and pork juices squirt pleasantly in your mouth, a perfect counterbalance to the strong dark beer.
Someone brought a big old-fashioned boom box, which blasted out French party music by a wicked group called Rinôçérôse from an album named Installation Sonore (V2) and dozens of others whose names I can’t remember. Forget the misspelling of Rhinoceros. The Album was made by two former French physiologists and the cover is a picture by a psychiatric patient of a rhinoceros. He couldn’t spell properly even in French. They gave me a copy of the Rinôçérôse album as a going away present hoping I would introduce it at some of the dance clubs I go to in NYC. Me and my imagination, I made a decision on the spot never to exaggerate to the people that I care about.
The music played none stop, but no one bothered us. One of Danielle’s friends is the son of the head gendarme or policeman. We danced, partied, and many couples including Danielle and I snuck off to make love behind the sand dunes.
Later, as a blazing roiled sun set behind the horizon, everyone gathered together to toss me into the air in a blue beach blanket with a picture of Mickey Mouse in black and red. They cheered my name. “Johnny, Johnny, we love you,” they shouted in English. “Johnny, Johnny, don’t go. Johnny, Johnny, come back soon.”
Why did I have to come a foreign country to find friends who really care about me? Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a social animal before, and maybe Danielle has brought out the best in me. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m out, and I’m loving the togetherness. May the party of life go on forever. I don’t want to be alone any more.
My vision of life may not be perfect, but it’s better than just going with the flow. I can’t count on it bringing me redemption or joy, but confronted with the alternative of death and despair, there has always got to be a better way. I search for it constantly. I have faith that one day I will find what I’m looking for.
Some pretty heavy thoughts for a carefree kid who is barely seventeen I guess, but that’s me. That’s the different realities I live in I suppose. That’s the Game Master playing with my head again, but I don’t care.
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