Day: November 30, 2004

Mike‘s Dj-ing tonight at Lick.

About time I get to go dance. Tear a heart shaped hole in the eloquent tongue of my bodies motion. Language darling, of sex and death and that unsteady beat, arrhythmia. Thumbtack toes and a sticky smile, not very many people have seen me go dancing at the lesbian bars. I grind and dip, swooping in to catch the pretty girls and let them go. I collect people, I play pool on the dark uneven table, I suggestively chalk my cue and abandon it for music, kicking off my shoes in a corner to collect later.

Wouldn’t you like to see? I like to have a room of people dancing with me, we’re all girls, there’s no lurking quietly in the dark. Hard hot hands, I grab you and twist you to me. My thigh goes here, gasps to the thud of the electric drums, clarify what you want. I’m not going to give it to you, but I’ll tease. Let you lick me, let you kiss me goodbye, but you’re not coming home. Dirty dancing, I only take.

Wish I had a fishnet shirt.

I’m not supposed to talk about it. I said I wouldn’t, I said it was yours alone. I didn’t lie, but I chafe like the leather collar you let me buckle onto you, like the cuffs that don’t have the fuzz inside. I search your face every time I do it, I tense at the gasp, a tigress relax of sin and skin winding themselves around keys and locks and your eyes, dear god, your eyes. They close for me, sheathing the blinding green conciousness in little flaps of lickable flesh. I could bathe in the lines radiating from your eyes, crows feet to claw me down and remake me.

placebo sofa cinema is love
brought to you by the isLove Generator

We got out of Tijuana alive, but for our lungs. A drunk man tried to make a stumble for it at the border, walking through the turnstiles and weaving for the exit doors on the other side. “Sir! Sir!” He didn’t make it. We didn’t see the finish of his story as we were being held up ourselves by the clerk. The ID I brought with me to get into the States wasn’t apparently enough, but he let me go on my word that I would be eventually getting a passport.

Stopped at San Diego on our way back. Our impression was that it’s a friendly place, the gaslight quarter a martini blend of Seattle and San Fransisco. We were on the hunt for delicious chocolate, and we found it almost right away. A marquis sign advertising fudge caught us into parking.

exploding cell phones

This came out of thenowhere putting up an infidelity story, and slinka putting up a fridge-magnet sillything. If my brain considered simple sentence structure as this flowed out, I think it might have turned out. Cest la vie.

I suspect that at some point I will have to attempt an infidelity koan. A rather odd topic, but one that it seems every damned female one of us has brushed against. In a way, I like that. Wickedness abounds my lovelies, a further assurance that the world is as odd a place as we’ll let it awaken to. As perfect example of real-time plot twist, it turns out that our house-guest won’t be staying as planned. She’s going back to her husband, she’s a married woman now, like she was eleven years ago, half my life ago. She’s put the ring on her finger. It’s that step into blooming unknown that I like the best. Forcing myself to put my foot down the dark alley that a thousand films have told me not to. Dare me, my darlings. It’s a pity she’s going to Winnipeg in winter.

Check out the latest insanely good inking by vagrantkid by the way.

Tonight I found a local has discovered me from Warren‘s journal again. A friend this time, someone I welcome. Readers trickling in, he’s the second brave soul that I know of to attempt a full read through of this unwieldy thing. He’s cementing the approximate two-hundred number of those who drop in here from time to time to kill time. Who are you people anyways?