22:59, I walk in off the slippery streets and the crowd turns to look me up and down and there's a girl in my line, throws up smoke in my face like a hooker and my space is feeling all cramped up and noisy and raced but it's ok. It's ok.
23:23, I'm on beer number two or three and feeling more comfortable and as the band plays a rumble she asks me to dance, or at least a semblance, I say thanks, but no thanks, that's not why I came here tonight. She says ok, that's ok.
23:55, some guy looks me in the eye like he knows me or someone who looks like me or knows me and starts talking like he's in a dream, lips dance without sound even when he shouts. It's about this time I become thankful I can lip-read.
23:56, I walk back onto glimmering streets looking for something to eat, not hungry, just scared and in need of some air and the rain feels good on my skin, cleansing, like some kind of late night, polluted baptism and I feel like I'm going to be ok.
23:57, if there's one thing I remember, it's to keep repeating over and over, over and over, it's ok, it's ok, it's ok.