On Cassavetes

So I heard about the craziness in Kingston due to Queen's homecoming and here is my feeling on the matter:

Bitter, blind jealousy. These are the moments that really make life. Sure, sure, love, sex, good friends, all that, those are mostly the things that make all the time inbetween crazinesses worth passing. The craziness is what you live for; declining forthwith into Magritte-esque pretenses and pastel pictures of figures on cars dancing and screaming. Sure, the anti-war rallies that almost faded into riots were great - a cause you believe in is something pretty wonderful, but these people had something even better: no cause. That is, except for causelessness and insanity while I was at home Saturday night mulling things over endlessly and how typical is that when "come to Kingston!" she said knowing it was too far by then already but I should have given up all the money and friends I made for a whole night of it. One of the largest, craziest street parties in our country's history! How can I ever live with having missed out on the disappointment?