We do what we like and we like what we do

I have a dream.

That dream is a party.

A party of such scale, such class, and such beauty that it becomes the thing of legend. The kind of party grandparents lie to their grandchildren about attending, just to see that wide-eyed esteem when they tell them they were really there.

There are two things needed for my vision. Two things in short supply, in our day and age.

1) Generosity.

The Beautiful and Talented Planning Committee is generous almost to a fault. They, and they alone, have given of their time, money, and their very souls to make this party what it is. What it shall be. They give, and they ask nothing in return. It’s a beautiful thing, and please hear my sincerity when I say I’m honored to call such people friends.

2) Audacity.

You can’t throw a party for three hundred people. You can’t throw a party in a mansion. You can’t fund it on committee member generosity alone. You can’t find DJs and caterers and decorators who’ll work for free. You can’t get custom made shotglasses and vinyl banners and King and Queen sashes and a prom photo booth. You can’t.

Bullshit we can’t.

You can’t. We can.

We have. Audacity, friends, audacity.

————————

What is a masterpiece, exactly? Is it a tangible work of art? Is it something you can hold in your hands, or see with your eyes? Something posterity can appreciate as much as we do?

Or is it something more…

Can a moment in time be a master work? Can things come together, planets and souls align in such a way that, fleeting though it may be, that moment becomes a masterpiece?

I think it can.

The fact that it’s fleeting, that it’s fated to end… that only makes it that much more poignant.

This party is our Sistine Chapel. This party is our Venus. This party is our fifth symphony. Behold, the Winter Ball is at hand.

See you all tomorrow night.

-T.

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