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Feb. 22nd, 2006 08:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vicarzDamnit. Oh I wanna club.
Mood inspired by http://www.friskyradio.com/
Fuckity fuck. I'm happy now, quite happy here. It's early gray morning, a cold and dreary day. I have a million things to do, more minor problems than I can count, and a giant weight of long-term projects coming due. I have many happy things in my life I'm not used to, very happy, and some things that hurt like hell. I feel like stew, stew full of stuff. Some of it's good, some of it's crap. Oh I want my club.
Things are good but I want an escape. I want time, down time. I want a little blur. I want a club, big club, and a large dance floor. I want sticky floors. I want walls that reveal cinderblocks if you stare past the paint. I want to pee my drink out in a urinal. I want to be mildly annoyed by smoke. I want a room of pretty-at-a-distance strangers, like I went to Baltimore or Philly. I want to be accountable not. Music I like but haven't heard before. A steady spooky beat. I want to catch a stranger watching me, take it in and move on. I want to feel the beat thumpity thumping. I want dark with colored lights. I want all the moves to come naturally. IwantIwantIwantIwant
While I'm capable of doing and handling all this, while I have it easier than many, still I want more and less. It's stuff I can do, but there is no rest. It's just thing after thing with things waiting in the wings. A constant juggle and I forget what is flying.
Dancing I think of nothing and everything. Sitting by the side I watch others, appreciate some, revolted by others, thinking of nothing. Strangers are eye candy, being one myself. I'm just some guy, not him, not Vicar, not José, just that body, hair, shirt, and movement. I have no history nor future.
Dark rooms with bright lights and noise so loud you can't hear a thing. I let the thoughts invade here, sip on them and let them burn like a drink in my mouth. It simmers, the mind feels the burn and then stops feeling it when it becomes normal. I take the pain here where it is safe. The thoughts become motion, motion another burn. I make it burn and savor it, choosing what I can't escape.
Mood inspired by http://www.friskyradio.com/
Fuckity fuck. I'm happy now, quite happy here. It's early gray morning, a cold and dreary day. I have a million things to do, more minor problems than I can count, and a giant weight of long-term projects coming due. I have many happy things in my life I'm not used to, very happy, and some things that hurt like hell. I feel like stew, stew full of stuff. Some of it's good, some of it's crap. Oh I want my club.
Things are good but I want an escape. I want time, down time. I want a little blur. I want a club, big club, and a large dance floor. I want sticky floors. I want walls that reveal cinderblocks if you stare past the paint. I want to pee my drink out in a urinal. I want to be mildly annoyed by smoke. I want a room of pretty-at-a-distance strangers, like I went to Baltimore or Philly. I want to be accountable not. Music I like but haven't heard before. A steady spooky beat. I want to catch a stranger watching me, take it in and move on. I want to feel the beat thumpity thumping. I want dark with colored lights. I want all the moves to come naturally. IwantIwantIwantIwant
While I'm capable of doing and handling all this, while I have it easier than many, still I want more and less. It's stuff I can do, but there is no rest. It's just thing after thing with things waiting in the wings. A constant juggle and I forget what is flying.
Dancing I think of nothing and everything. Sitting by the side I watch others, appreciate some, revolted by others, thinking of nothing. Strangers are eye candy, being one myself. I'm just some guy, not him, not Vicar, not José, just that body, hair, shirt, and movement. I have no history nor future.
Dark rooms with bright lights and noise so loud you can't hear a thing. I let the thoughts invade here, sip on them and let them burn like a drink in my mouth. It simmers, the mind feels the burn and then stops feeling it when it becomes normal. I take the pain here where it is safe. The thoughts become motion, motion another burn. I make it burn and savor it, choosing what I can't escape.
