And when i came to, i was ejaculating into her mouth, intensely. But when did this night begin? Were the answers stored somewhere in my subconcious? Had i taken pictures or scribbled the highlights on my forearm? As she wiped her mouth with a satisfied smile, her face became poised and oddly unsure. Did she recognize me less than i recognized her? The sunlight angels, glided in through the cracks in the window coverings. I could discern the sounds of car horns bellowing from the streets below. Warning signals of trucks in reverse. Probably garbage trucks. New York City. I glanced back at her realizing i was trailing off again. She was slipping her red spaghetti strap shirt over her thorax, giving off vibes of akwardness and uncertainty. Her name? I did not know. I did not want to know. How could i afford a hotel in NYC? There were also tiny baggies with remnants of a fuzzy white powder, littering the nightstand. Wallet? What the fuck did she do with my wallet? I nervously reached behind my pillow searching for my tickler. But it was gone. Habit has taught me to sleep with a shiv in arms distance. Confused, she bolted for the door. Obviously shaken from my sudden and violent movements. Did i ever tell you about the first time i died? Drowning is frantic and then yet somehow peaceful when you come to terms with what is going on. Of course powerlessness and submission are quite a bit easier when you are a child. Not like us adults now who fumble and sob at everything we cannot control. Our own lives, the lives of our children. The direction our lives are going in. The rush hour traffic we know every morning we awake, but yet are some how unpleasantly surprised when it seems to be right there waiting for us, and our narrow mindedness actually believes that our god or whatever deity you take as gospel, is doing this directly to us and no one else but ourself is affected. Gasping for air, and the fear of the unknown are the worst panicked feelings whilst underwater. The moment of realization when you know you are not making it to the surface. A heavy ping seems to stab you in the lungs. And with one last attempt to respire, you flood your tiny lungs to full capacity with water. There is a brief choking period quickly proceeded by complacency. I can vaguely remember smirking. To date, it may have been the most peaceful moment of my life. Giving in to the chaos, accepting my place and no desire to change what had been predetermined. Black. Devoid of even a void. Silent universe. Space dead. My addiction to oxygen had been overcome. Floating. Paralyzed. What comes next? Will i haunt this house and pool for the next 100 years? I remember these thoughts. At a young age i was fascinated by mythology and archeology. One line of one book stuck out in my mind. About how in hinduism, i believe, the world was created from a single breath. Om. Of course the word is pronouced with three syllables with a pause making a sort of fourth. Breath. Breathe. The panic came back. I was fighting for air. Pain in my chest. Do you know how painful it is to vomit two lungs full of water? I came back. I could see the sun and the dancing trees of Long Island. My cousin looming over me, like a deity herself. From that moment on, my fear of death seemed to dwindle into its own oblivion. Ever want to go ghost hunting? Take a trip to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Just dont do it under the influence of psilocybin. Or else you may be reduced to a weeping child like i was. I always thought i could stare satan in his eyes and win a no blinking contest. But the character of a human can be tested with immediate reduction in only a few ways. One way, is to be in contact with the supernatural. Direct contact. The past has led me to the conclusion that one entity or one incident is the capacity for my tolerance. However, chasing one civil war soldier into the woods in present times seems as unlikely as voluntarily becoming a eunuch. But i swear it happened. More unlikely than that, chasing one ghost into a crowd of ghosts who are giving you the "how dare you" glare, is a shock to the system. A shock that taugh me something about myself. When i find what i am looking for i become appalled and regress to infancy. Im sure my shrieks could have deafened a banshee. And it astonishes me, that i did not slip on my own tears on the way back to the field where of course there was a mob of laughter emanating from the gullets of my three droogs. Back in that NYC hotel however, i found a credit card littered with cocaine which did not bare my name. There was a bottle of Vox vodka that stood about 2 and a half feet tall. And some groans coming from the bathroom. It was the fashion designer from Milan snoring in a puddle of hopefully his own puke. Like a flash, the night started coming back to me. The $600 bar bill uptown. The Rangers and Islanders both losing when they were ahead in the second period. The $4 a can PBR's at 604. The girl from FIT, who hailed from PA and AZ, who gave me anal sex in the scummy bathroom of Ray's Pizza. Running out on the bill at Tempest. Using my metal detector to wand everyone coming into the after hours club, which scored me points with the doormen. Got me into the vip section. Where i bullshitted with the f.d. from Milan, and helped the dj pick out the next songs. Ever snort cocaine off of a random girls face while externally tongue kissing them? Sounds strange doesn't it? But thats the best way i could describe it. Next thing i know, it was 2pm. I hadnt really slept. That song from Leonard Cohen kept repeating in my head. "I remember you well in Chelsea Hotel". Over a burrito and a mimosa, i was filled in on some of the less significant details of the night, by the man who made the whole night possible. My friend, the stockbroker of Wall Street. Its good to have friends like this. Then the Stockbroker told me he loved me, but he was glad i only visited NY once a year. That day i decided i was signing up for the Army. There was discipline that needed to be taught. And i was now 30 years old. How dare i act like a deviant anymore. Its a strange day when you realize that the day had come when you were now your parents age and uncles ages when you were a kid. Everyone has to grow up sometime.........even me.............for now that is.