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Jan. 27th, 2006 08:53 amI suck. I made a late night post after returning from alch. I went to alch more to buy tickets for prodigy than anything else. I promised myself I'd just say hi, maybe have one drink, and leave. I did that first part, but Kirstin was playing really cool OLD STOMPY music in the main room, 1984 was playing on the big screen (pubic hair isn't gross when it's grandfathered into your brain), Jay did that trick where he either really did recognize me or made it seem like he did (either way he's a sweetie, good at what he does, and makes flamable drinks), Steve played cool shtuff on the little floor and damnit I danced to the Cure. I was not dressed to dance. It was not danceable cure either - that kiss me song off the album where all the songs sound the same. Kim said I looked like when I was in college (only not as bad, but soon...soon I will infuse myself with more spirit of John Basedow)
Why do I suck? Because I had a 2nd drink. It's not a lot, and I stayed longer than I was going to, but I said I was going to have one and had more. That's not a good thing. That's not why I suck - I suck because I felt this huge burning urge to have more. I didn't just want more, I didn't just want more time, more people, more music...I wanted more of less. Less thinking. Less pain. Less weight on my shoulders. I was burning with a lust for escapism. I cared far more for what I felt right then than anything else - and what I wanted was to feel more. Less. I knew that I could find solace in those cups. I wanted to feel the pain on my lips, in my throat, into my gut and through my brain. I wanted it to feel like poison. I wanted to talk to people, to use them. To listen and follow their thoughts not because I was interested but because it was somewhere else. I wanted it to be dumb, shallow, to follow an easy path. I wanted memories of things that don't matter. I wanted to see nothing - it's not a warehousek, it's a spooky black club. It's not a smoke machine, it's atmosphere. The floor isn't sticky. Let it all become a blur, let it be the illusion and let me disappear in it. The music is loud so I feel it and I can't think. You shout and I don't hear what you say. I dance with my eyes closed. I didn't care that it wasn't real, I wanted it to not be real. I wanted the illusion more than reality, and I wanted the illusion as an illusion, the dream a dream and just that.
Oh, I suck coz I made a short cryptic post on this subject and then deleted it this AM. I hate deleted posts. I am proud that when I do something stupid or make an ass of myself or make an ass of myself doing something stupid I fess up to it. Here, I deleted something I wrote because I thought it might make me look bad. So here is my penance. My penance and my task. The wall is dangerous.
Why do I suck? Because I had a 2nd drink. It's not a lot, and I stayed longer than I was going to, but I said I was going to have one and had more. That's not a good thing. That's not why I suck - I suck because I felt this huge burning urge to have more. I didn't just want more, I didn't just want more time, more people, more music...I wanted more of less. Less thinking. Less pain. Less weight on my shoulders. I was burning with a lust for escapism. I cared far more for what I felt right then than anything else - and what I wanted was to feel more. Less. I knew that I could find solace in those cups. I wanted to feel the pain on my lips, in my throat, into my gut and through my brain. I wanted it to feel like poison. I wanted to talk to people, to use them. To listen and follow their thoughts not because I was interested but because it was somewhere else. I wanted it to be dumb, shallow, to follow an easy path. I wanted memories of things that don't matter. I wanted to see nothing - it's not a warehousek, it's a spooky black club. It's not a smoke machine, it's atmosphere. The floor isn't sticky. Let it all become a blur, let it be the illusion and let me disappear in it. The music is loud so I feel it and I can't think. You shout and I don't hear what you say. I dance with my eyes closed. I didn't care that it wasn't real, I wanted it to not be real. I wanted the illusion more than reality, and I wanted the illusion as an illusion, the dream a dream and just that.
Oh, I suck coz I made a short cryptic post on this subject and then deleted it this AM. I hate deleted posts. I am proud that when I do something stupid or make an ass of myself or make an ass of myself doing something stupid I fess up to it. Here, I deleted something I wrote because I thought it might make me look bad. So here is my penance. My penance and my task. The wall is dangerous.
