(no subject)
Seafoam through my fingers. That's what it is. That's how silly it seems, the concept of condensing my current fluidity into the cardboard capsules known as "words". Words? It's like my spirit-body is skipping and cavorting far away from this too-ordinary collection of flesh and muscle. She laughs, flicks a toe absent-mindedly, and the little body-toy scratches its nose and continues typing. She gives a filly's contemptuous snort, and goes dancing off. We're still together, this feels nothing like the odd "I'm here but not here" feeling that pervaded my life for a matter of time on either side (and sometimes during) BiCamp.
Matters of time. It's all a matter of time. All these paths spiderwebbing before my feet, and getting to the next moment where I look around myself and say, "Whoah, this is my life?!? How delicious!" Except the tile to my left reminds me: Wanderer, there is no Path. You lay down your Path by Walking. Yes, I do.
For the record, there isn't the slightest trace of a substance in me. Unless oxygen and a tasty Julius-made dinner of gnocci and breaded chicken counts as a substance. I am more than I was, more than I was the last time I danced to my heart's delight.
That's what a rave is, really. Just what Luisa from The Fantasticks ached for:
I'd like to dance 'til two o'clock. Or sometimes dance 'til dawn. Or if the band can stand it, just go on and on and on!!! Just once, just once. Before the chance is gone . . .
She got her rave later on, too, but tuckered out long before the last beat dropped:
Round and round 'til the break of day, candles burn, fiddles play, why not be wild if we feel that way, reckless and terribly gay! Round and round 'neath a magic spell, velvet gown, pink lapel, life is a colourful carousel, reckless and terribly gay! All we'll do is just dance!!!!
I didn't stop 'til after the last beat dropped, this time. Took me awhile to slip into the groove, all the different DJ's and the intricacies of the space itself kept distracting me. But then I was in, and there was no leaving it.
As I was preparing to head off to this . . . event, I talked to seeliefey on AIM. Since she lives close to the rave, I invited her to join me, but she professed to not be interested in a techno rave. Are there other kinds of raves? The ones I've seen/attended have played many flavours of techno, house, hip-hop (mainly old skool), and some subtypes or genres I can't identify. One room of the rave I just went to had stuff that made me wince, every time I passed through it. There were a string of MC's whose lyrics couldn't be parsed over the bad speakers, and then some stuff that my ears told me was metal (Julius thinks I have too wide a definition of that genre), yet it had a techno/house beat.
But it would be neat if there were 90's Alternative raves! I'd go nuts at a Showtunes rave! Hell, even a Folk rave would be fun, if a bit sleep-inducing as the night wore thin. I was thinking of my Alternative section of my music collection recently, which is mainly rooted in the 90's. I think I may have to have some sort of a 90's party, just to have an excuse to mix more CD's with the fine sounds of my college days. Maybe I'll do that back to school party I was talking about so long ago. I have time to think about it. I have time for anything I really want.
*giggle* I killed the sex tonight by having a lovely orgasm, rolling over and . . . immediately posing semi-serious querries relating to our near future. A part of me craves stability, and certainly my debts would be eased if we were both in solid, permenant, steady-if-dull jobs, but . . . I'm seriously trying to get back into office temping, but I feel physically ill at the thought of sticking myself in an office doing some lame, non-graphic thing for 40 hours per week and not having an end date . . . or the certain knowledge that there will be an end date eventually. Temp jobs end, (in my experience- sure hope that ain't gonna be true for catling, since she wants the temp-to-perm thang so badly) but in a permenant job . . . I've done some bad, bad things in permenant jobs and I've never been fired. Once you're a Fixture, you tend to be ignored.
This is a perfect measure of how otherworldlyly happy/surreal/out-of-myself-yet-giddily-so I am: I got into the largest car crash of my life yesterday. Noone was hurt, car just go bangy-bangy into other car at a really nasty intersection. It's not been much more than a day after it happened: I ought to still be a shuddering wreck. My reaction? Amusement, or bemusement, or a blend of both. My conclusion? I think us weirdos with heads-in-the-clouds and a strange interpretation of reality (not to mention far less recent driving experience, thus dulled driving-senses) should not be playing with two-ton toys. I'm not saying I'll never drive again, but right now I sure don't mind biking/walking just about everywhere, and renting a car when hiking-desires or other such travel-needs reawaken. But enuff about me, time to read what y'all have been up to.
All is Love.
Matters of time. It's all a matter of time. All these paths spiderwebbing before my feet, and getting to the next moment where I look around myself and say, "Whoah, this is my life?!? How delicious!" Except the tile to my left reminds me: Wanderer, there is no Path. You lay down your Path by Walking. Yes, I do.
For the record, there isn't the slightest trace of a substance in me. Unless oxygen and a tasty Julius-made dinner of gnocci and breaded chicken counts as a substance. I am more than I was, more than I was the last time I danced to my heart's delight.
That's what a rave is, really. Just what Luisa from The Fantasticks ached for:
I'd like to dance 'til two o'clock. Or sometimes dance 'til dawn. Or if the band can stand it, just go on and on and on!!! Just once, just once. Before the chance is gone . . .
She got her rave later on, too, but tuckered out long before the last beat dropped:
Round and round 'til the break of day, candles burn, fiddles play, why not be wild if we feel that way, reckless and terribly gay! Round and round 'neath a magic spell, velvet gown, pink lapel, life is a colourful carousel, reckless and terribly gay! All we'll do is just dance!!!!
I didn't stop 'til after the last beat dropped, this time. Took me awhile to slip into the groove, all the different DJ's and the intricacies of the space itself kept distracting me. But then I was in, and there was no leaving it.
As I was preparing to head off to this . . . event, I talked to seeliefey on AIM. Since she lives close to the rave, I invited her to join me, but she professed to not be interested in a techno rave. Are there other kinds of raves? The ones I've seen/attended have played many flavours of techno, house, hip-hop (mainly old skool), and some subtypes or genres I can't identify. One room of the rave I just went to had stuff that made me wince, every time I passed through it. There were a string of MC's whose lyrics couldn't be parsed over the bad speakers, and then some stuff that my ears told me was metal (Julius thinks I have too wide a definition of that genre), yet it had a techno/house beat.
But it would be neat if there were 90's Alternative raves! I'd go nuts at a Showtunes rave! Hell, even a Folk rave would be fun, if a bit sleep-inducing as the night wore thin. I was thinking of my Alternative section of my music collection recently, which is mainly rooted in the 90's. I think I may have to have some sort of a 90's party, just to have an excuse to mix more CD's with the fine sounds of my college days. Maybe I'll do that back to school party I was talking about so long ago. I have time to think about it. I have time for anything I really want.
*giggle* I killed the sex tonight by having a lovely orgasm, rolling over and . . . immediately posing semi-serious querries relating to our near future. A part of me craves stability, and certainly my debts would be eased if we were both in solid, permenant, steady-if-dull jobs, but . . . I'm seriously trying to get back into office temping, but I feel physically ill at the thought of sticking myself in an office doing some lame, non-graphic thing for 40 hours per week and not having an end date . . . or the certain knowledge that there will be an end date eventually. Temp jobs end, (in my experience- sure hope that ain't gonna be true for catling, since she wants the temp-to-perm thang so badly) but in a permenant job . . . I've done some bad, bad things in permenant jobs and I've never been fired. Once you're a Fixture, you tend to be ignored.
This is a perfect measure of how otherworldlyly happy/surreal/out-of-myself-yet-giddily-so I am: I got into the largest car crash of my life yesterday. Noone was hurt, car just go bangy-bangy into other car at a really nasty intersection. It's not been much more than a day after it happened: I ought to still be a shuddering wreck. My reaction? Amusement, or bemusement, or a blend of both. My conclusion? I think us weirdos with heads-in-the-clouds and a strange interpretation of reality (not to mention far less recent driving experience, thus dulled driving-senses) should not be playing with two-ton toys. I'm not saying I'll never drive again, but right now I sure don't mind biking/walking just about everywhere, and renting a car when hiking-desires or other such travel-needs reawaken. But enuff about me, time to read what y'all have been up to.
All is Love.