The show was so-so, Nomi only sang one song. She’s sitting across from me as I type this, but she’s surrounded by her friends and I can’t think of anything to say other than she’s not as pretty as she looks in the You Belong video.
The quality of the DJing dropped off considerably…before it was immaculate space disco, now it’s just ho-hum untz-untz-untz.
I’m on my fourth PBR, and it tastes like the runoff from rotted garbage. Suzanne was here, we talked for a while, but then I lost her in the crowd. I should just go, but I’m loath to walk back to the L train. To go back before 2am will mean defeat.
The worst kind of defeat, that brings me closer to the dehumanizing, all-conforming suburb of the soul.
I don’t enjoy the things that other people do. I feel like an alien.
Neo-Luddites who can’t miss a show
Scabies-infested silver medals
Transgender superstars with bad skin
Shitty hip-hop act that just won’t end
Let’s do some free associations from my childhood.
Ahem.
I overanalyze myself into oblivion. What’s going through his head? Indifference? Boredom? The biggest insult is to not be thought of.
Also, for the record, you are pathetic for going back with him. At one point I thought you had a future. Now I know I was wrong. He isn’t a person, he’s a disease. An all-consuming disease of the soul.
I’m going to wake up tomorrow alone. And Tuesday and Wednesday and Saturday and Monday. It never ends.
I need a fucking cigarette.