July 25, 2003
Metropolis
This evening last found me drunk on bottled water, rhythm, and Mike's grin lit up in strobe; eerie, sexy. Our clubbing experiences never turn out quite the way we would wish them, but I console myself with the fact that we had ten beautiful, exhilarating minutes of pure techno, the two of us suspended between the beat and our bodies. I'd close my eyes and there would be Liberation, open them to find Colour, Light, Coloured-Lights.
Long gone, it seems, are these days. I was alluring, and sexy, and mysterious, and one of the few girls that wasn't just grinding against a pole/a guy/another girl. Mike's grin widens when I tug on his shirt, pull him closer to me. He half-shouts in my ear, over the music:
"I just love watching you dance."
So much so, it seems, that he will pause in his own exploits.
Next time, we'll pick up some finger lights, and fly to Germany, and we'll both get smashing drunk and dance all night.
I still have the black X's on my hands for an Under 21, and I relish their presence. I don't want to wash them off. I don't want to wash last night completely away.
And Kels? I do have hips. They just suddenly appeared, with the potential for moving of their own volition. It is a Great Day.
astera at 1:11 p.m.