(no subject)
to dokument my recent wanderings visually would take the perverse dedication of a vinterberg: all grainy handicam, viewfinder blurred with sweat, lens only filtered by dust. i was trying to describe his marvelous but rarely seen video for blur's 'no distance left to run' to a bewildered film student last night, and as i pointed at my greasy hair for emphasis, mimicking damon's sleep-tangled mop, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, i should slow down and get some rest of my own? it's been a while--supposedly these past few days comprised the yearly celebration of rainbow pride, although years of assimilation have mostly turned it into an orientation-less bonfire of the inhibitions. indeed, by my count it seemed more like "get yer tits out!" weekend; when gold chains told me he wanted to treat [my] cootchie like a maze, i had no objections. i don't think i would've been able to put up much of a fight anyway.