I witnessed this during a 4th of July party at a house named Ghost Gardens. The owner of the house wanted to . . .
You know, I don’t think an explanation is fitting here. While it’s sort of a cop-out to rely on the bizarreness by not giving an explanation, I’m not entirely sure that explaining exactly what is going on would help you understand it any more. Just know there were goats around the stage, doorknobs sticking out of the ground, and baskets filled with spoons nailed to the walls.
“Nic, what the hell are you doing?”
I stopped spinning in the chair and looked for the source of the question. My friend was standing in the doorway to her living room, her eyes droopy, still tired. At least I assume they were, I couldn’t actually tell at the time. Not only was the room still quite dark (it was 4:30 in the morning), but my head was still reeling from the swivel chair, in which I had been spinning for the past twenty minutes or so, and I could not focus on her face.
“I got up early and decided,” I said, pausing to give my mind some time to come up with a clever answer, “to go for a little spin.”
My friend stared at me (once again, I assume she was) in horror. “Yes. But for heaven’s sake, why?”
I stared at her. I tried to think of an answer, truly. Even taking into account my dizziness, I still had nothing to offer. I merely started to spin in the chair again, gently chuckling as I did so.
Sometimes, there are no viable answers to the queries of life.