I went to a party last night; it was a rambunctious affair and the faces of the majority of guests appeared to blend and merge like puddles of oil. One man looked alike another, their shapes and posteriors morphed as they moved; to compliment their natures, that were heated and libidinous and aggrieved the cool night air. I went on a journey to sojourn with the company of others who were ill-fitting upon myself; my friends and I, remaining ever debonair as we transcended sense, and in the days and nights before I read Keats.
Hyperion taught me that the Gods could feel a magnanimous sadness, I wondered if the Gods, being what they are and capable of so much more than man, could feel so much greater the sorrow; being that they experience so much greater the loss. It took me to become what I was not, to see what I could not before see; and then I saw the stars and life for all it was; which was nothing more than an inebriated ride on a train to a place I did not know.
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