Another Day for You and me in Paradise
Right. Well, I'm thinking that I'm done with the club scene. Part of me is secretly relieved, as though I've unburdened myself of some guilty secret. It is odd that I feel this way, since I do like getting dressed up (my issues with the extra pounds around my middle is another matter), and I do like to people-watch, and I like the music, but the last few times I've been out, the scene has palled for me. I'm trying to figure out why. A large part of it has to do with the fact that I can't drink alcohol with the mediciation that I'm taking. Large bummer there; I've taken to drinking my body weight in Coca-Cola every two days. That, and I dance about as well as Christopher Reeve, which is to say, badly. I'm stuck with the head-bobbing, and, in extreme cases of "hafta-dance" music, some one-legged foot tapping. I can go out after a few drinks and get on the floor, trying to emulate what others are doing, but I can never get comfortable. Ahhh, paranoia.
I'm getting bored of writing now.
I'm getting bored of writing now.