aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - it was the perfect night for it, i suppose - face paint and cheap props left no room to doubt that everyone sought to lose themselves. and so did i. but my first stop held nothing new, just the same sweaty desolation with a desperately quirky wig. i had to get away the second i stepped inside; even the poor fools outside who couldn't stand were better company than the fearful orgy within. so i moved on, and it was such the right thing. the lights were low, mic open, stools stacked everywhere but our table. there we played better at other faces and we closed the place as if we did it every night - for that night, the ten of us strangers were regulars, chatting and shouting and kidding and confessing. for those two hours, we were all in our right place, juggling joy and weight, sadness and camaraderie. and then it was closing time so i gave steve a ride and got home and was sick in the lawn because i didn't have a reason not to 5:51 p.m. - 2011-11-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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