(no subject)
if this were the end, this is what it would look like.
by erin baird
black converse, dark denim jeams, covered by a white knee length hippie skirt, tight black tank top, and a beanie on my head, with my hair [now long] poking out from underneath. a few black bracelets on my left hand, walking into the joint like i own the place, big trooper glasses fixed, cigarette in hand. the club was loud and the people were ugly and couldnt dance. i stood in the back, being a snob, and some guy who should've never tried to go blonde comes up to me, says, dont i know you from somewhere? i shrugged, still looking forward, "Yeah, you're my boss."
"oh yeah, right, right. Convergys, huh? Huh huh. I get to shut people's cable off and i live in a victorian house and ownlots ofcoolstuffandi'mtryingreallyhardtoimpressyoueventhoughi'mobviouslygay"
I nodded, flicked my cigarette and said, "excuse me, i have some unfinished business."
kicked my purse underneath the chair [next to the "water" some drunk mexican guy on x tried to give to me, probably some rufie floating in it].
my song came on and i danced. danced until i sprained my right big toe and came back. the fake blonde was gone but the mexican kept his eye on me. i pretended to accidentally knock over the entire glass of "water" and said oh shit, but instead of going to get something to clean it up with i just left. my ride was still dancing, would be for a few more hours. nothing to do in this part of town when you're bored and sober and tired of guys who deal drugs hitting on me.
After i lit up another cigarette I noticed Kimchee, the other backlit snob who dances to certain songs outside too. she had hair like billy idol. she bummed my light. i told her this place was getting old and she said yeah, yeah it is.
by erin baird
black converse, dark denim jeams, covered by a white knee length hippie skirt, tight black tank top, and a beanie on my head, with my hair [now long] poking out from underneath. a few black bracelets on my left hand, walking into the joint like i own the place, big trooper glasses fixed, cigarette in hand. the club was loud and the people were ugly and couldnt dance. i stood in the back, being a snob, and some guy who should've never tried to go blonde comes up to me, says, dont i know you from somewhere? i shrugged, still looking forward, "Yeah, you're my boss."
"oh yeah, right, right. Convergys, huh? Huh huh. I get to shut people's cable off and i live in a victorian house and ownlots ofcoolstuffandi'mtryingreallyhardtoimpressyoueventhoughi'mobviouslygay"
I nodded, flicked my cigarette and said, "excuse me, i have some unfinished business."
kicked my purse underneath the chair [next to the "water" some drunk mexican guy on x tried to give to me, probably some rufie floating in it].
my song came on and i danced. danced until i sprained my right big toe and came back. the fake blonde was gone but the mexican kept his eye on me. i pretended to accidentally knock over the entire glass of "water" and said oh shit, but instead of going to get something to clean it up with i just left. my ride was still dancing, would be for a few more hours. nothing to do in this part of town when you're bored and sober and tired of guys who deal drugs hitting on me.
After i lit up another cigarette I noticed Kimchee, the other backlit snob who dances to certain songs outside too. she had hair like billy idol. she bummed my light. i told her this place was getting old and she said yeah, yeah it is.