Do you call truces at parties? Is that par for the course, when the house isn’t big enough for your “I” statments anymore–you have to go out and drink a little and tell them to someone, quickly, before you start realizing that you really don’t make any sense. One time I was at a party in Brooklyn and everyone was dancing to “Common People” and I swore to the ceiling that I would never feel bad about anything ever again. There were christmas lights strung around the windows and I didn’t live there but I could have in that moment, the way I was promising myself to always be good. The night seems endless until the sun starts rising. Then it’s my new memory.