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dotintheskyI got home at 6am, slept for a few hours, then woke up. I am mighty drunk, and sick like fuck. My dream was about sucking cum to make the illness go away - it sounded like a good idea. I had plans of reading about my cyber friends, but I have oh so little concentration.
We hit a gay bar that looked more like a dungeon made out of styrofoam. You know that woman that used to turn into a gorilla in the 80s, in fun fares? I know what happened to her. And you know that club where the toilets are more popular than the dance floor and every stall fits 3 or more? I know what happened to it. And you know that DJ who was kicked and punched and spat on because he played bad techno and all the kids hated him? I know what happened to him. And you know that transvestite who was once a little boy with an Adam's apple, and she grew up to have a thick neck that concealed it and made everyone confused? I know what happened to her.
Two caipirinhas and a half later, we went to Madame Sata - top goth club in Sao Paulo. Everybody in black, of course. The dance floor dark as a a goth's bung hole, with strobe lights unable to break through the drench. The DJ played 10 Smiths/Morrissey songs, to the screams of the ecstatic and fanatic, followed by The Cure's Just Like Heaven (my favourite Cure song.) I dropped my beer can, it spilled everywhere. Like a lady, I picked it up and continued drinking from it. I swayed, stepped on people's toes, got very very drunk and had some discussions about how living in 5 different continents really doesn't make me all that special (I think.)
Then we hit some bakery full of Fags and Butts and ecstasy casualties. I stepped on some girl's foot and I think she got mad at me. I ate a sandwich called The Chagall, with a cappucino.
WE DROVE HOME SINGING TO MORRISSEY AT THE TOP OF OUR LUNGS! And we almost crashed.
Now I can't sleep, I feel I should try to puke or something. Or maybe eat. I can't find a goddamm aspirin in this forsaken apartment.
We hit a gay bar that looked more like a dungeon made out of styrofoam. You know that woman that used to turn into a gorilla in the 80s, in fun fares? I know what happened to her. And you know that club where the toilets are more popular than the dance floor and every stall fits 3 or more? I know what happened to it. And you know that DJ who was kicked and punched and spat on because he played bad techno and all the kids hated him? I know what happened to him. And you know that transvestite who was once a little boy with an Adam's apple, and she grew up to have a thick neck that concealed it and made everyone confused? I know what happened to her.
Two caipirinhas and a half later, we went to Madame Sata - top goth club in Sao Paulo. Everybody in black, of course. The dance floor dark as a a goth's bung hole, with strobe lights unable to break through the drench. The DJ played 10 Smiths/Morrissey songs, to the screams of the ecstatic and fanatic, followed by The Cure's Just Like Heaven (my favourite Cure song.) I dropped my beer can, it spilled everywhere. Like a lady, I picked it up and continued drinking from it. I swayed, stepped on people's toes, got very very drunk and had some discussions about how living in 5 different continents really doesn't make me all that special (I think.)
Then we hit some bakery full of Fags and Butts and ecstasy casualties. I stepped on some girl's foot and I think she got mad at me. I ate a sandwich called The Chagall, with a cappucino.
WE DROVE HOME SINGING TO MORRISSEY AT THE TOP OF OUR LUNGS! And we almost crashed.
Now I can't sleep, I feel I should try to puke or something. Or maybe eat. I can't find a goddamm aspirin in this forsaken apartment.
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no subject
on 2004-02-25 01:15 am (UTC)hello dear ollie, I miss you too.
:)
no subject
on 2004-02-25 07:15 am (UTC)♥