Stalling August 15, 2008

I only had two drinks last night, and about half way through the second one, a wave of YUCK overcame me.

My slight frame only amounts to 92 pounds these days and I'm a hypoglycemic that has to eat constantly, which is dreadfully boring. I ate before I left, but not enough, I guess.

After releasing a portion of what I drank into the unfortunate pipes that delve below the Castle, I just stayed in the stall, leaning against the door feeling that foggy urge to pass out. My head pulled down as my eyes fluttered in defiance, but the thought of sleeping right there, where I stood, felt like velvet somehow.

Until I thought of how many other faces that may have squished upon this very door; possibly less hygienic faces, or even other malodorous body parts and…fluids.

I immediately jerked back to the far wall where I imagined a CSI person snapping on the old latex gloves and black lighting said wall, nodding as they said "Oh yeah this place is just coated in jizz. This particular sample is from a 27 year old Goth named Shane, but he goes by "Dark Dildon't" in his social circles. We can tell a lot more from the samples with today's technology. We're working on DNA GPS systems, and when that's up and running I'll be able to track someone from their spooge stains".

I thought of the fetish nights at the Castle, and how many riding crops get accidentally dropped into the toilet, and how painful that would be to be fishing it out whilst donned in a whalebone leather corset (they aren't known for their flexibility).

I don't know a lot about fetishism, I have many acquaintances that are into all that, but I've never peered behind that curtain. I really love that song by IAMX though, "Spit It Out". It's one of the few songs that I know of that isn't industrial, but does sort of touch on violent proclivities in the sexual wonderland.

I would be a disaster in that world, I mean, I think I'd look ok in the garb (Do they make leather hoods in extra extra small?), but I'm a wimpy goofball with a low threshold for pain and claustrophobic to boot. I could inflict it, I guess, given the right circumstances (ball kicking available upon request?).

I previously wrote something to this effect in a sarcastic series I posted elsewhere for one of my voyeur stalkers that I guess hates me (whatever, and yes I have no life) , but I tried to turn it around and make it humorous as if he didn't and that I'd do anything for him, including the following :

"If YOU wanted me to beat you raw, I would. If you want me to roll an egg down a dark hallway with my bare feet whilst singing the national anthem, I will. If you want me leather clad and chopping onions on your back with a strobe light on, it's done. If you want me to scream Russian obscenities at you while tenderizing your giblets with a flatiron, I'm so there. If you want me to dig the fingernails of my right hand (left hand has stumps – it's a guitar thing) into the base of your scintillating scepter, then I'm your girl. I can't promise that I wouldn't laugh the entire time, but I would do your bidding whenever, wherever."

I'm serious about the latter bit, the laughing. I wouldn't be able to straighten my face in any capacity, so unless there's cackling dominatrix's abound, I best stay on the side of the fence that doesn't require any "safe" words (the Kama Sutra can be just as interesting as a ball and gag, if things get tedious in that department).

The bathroom stall – the stories it might tell (or scream). Actually, they seem pretty clean, compared to most places (CBGB's facilities were unsuitable even by third world standards), but I have a wild imagination. It's a wonder I can even check out books from the libraries, as what possibly touches them before you mentally ingest their words, might drive you to drink.

Currently listening :
The Alternative
By IAMX
Release date: 2008-05-06

Fang the DJ 4/11/08

Almost the entire time I called NYC my home, I never went to a dance club. Given the choice, I much prefer to see live bands as I like to bounce my bones around to BASS in real time. The only thing comparable to watching someone pluck the low E and feeling it pulsate into you from the bottom of your hooves is actually being the one holding the pick.

I've played some venues where the stage had loose floor boards and every time I hit that E in close proximity to my rig, I would be catapulted into the air nearly crashing into a raging drum kit. How bizarre that would've been if I had pelted into the Ride cymbal at just the right angle and got decapitated. What a fantastic tale that would be for those who had witnessed such a thing: "Dude, she hit that low E and I caught her face! It was fucking amazing! I was hoping she'd throw me a pick, but hey man, turns out she gives head - for reals!"

This last winter (if you can call it that) I had things to get over (more than one thing, mainly I needed to get over myself), so I had to get out more. Tampa is so not NYC and it wouldn't be fair to even speak of them in the same sentence, I know, but I had to work with what is available to me. Live bands are a limited resource, good ones anyways, plus it was free in NYC and it's not here so one must invest wisely.

I like going out dancing but I bore so easily and I don't always have a drink. That seems to be key in tolerating the incessant sameness that Florida so graciously offers up. It progresses about as fast as a turtle on heroin. The dance options here play songs only if there is a video available to them, and the DJ's are about seven exits behind every city north of the Mason Dixon.

I should be a DJ, the control freak in me is certain of this. Not on the radio, I've been allowed to do so as a guest, but I don't have the nicotine soaked voice required to make a go of that. Whenever my yaps cross the airwaves, I sound like a female version of Butthead sans Beavis.

No, I want my own night at a dance club that will allow me to play tunes that one can dance to, but aren't necessarily DANCE songs. You can dance to Interpol, Vampire Weekend, and current Radiohead. Just not in Tampa, at least not that I'm aware of. Where is the NEW? Why can't you play something that isn't a "single"? Not everything the record company deems suitable for video is the best on the album dammit!

I'm not feeling the dance scene here at all, and I've not been out dancing that much in the last 2 months. I dragged myself out last night as it's nice to see friends but I was so fucking bored of the tunes that I spontaneously combusted at about 1 am - talk about self entertainment.

My charred, skeletal remains are thinking that even though I'm over things, I may need some hermit time. Maybe it's not boredom. Maybe I'm just not ready to be out there right now.

Ok, where's the chocolate?

Paper Plane Evolution 3/13/08

In my last entry I briefly touched on how what a song means to you can evolve depending on the circumstances you hear it in.

For instance, the song "Paper Planes" by M.I.A., which I heard out dancing and my first thought was "Oh great another song about some gold digging whorebag". I didn’t yet realize the lyrics were about hustling in general, not just another deadbeat chick playing some fool for his money, as if that makes a huge difference.

The next time I heard it, I was dancing with Dan the man and yapping about how it clearly ripped off The Clash’s "Straight To Hell" and anyone who knows me knows I’m a little rabid about The Clash. The song was growing on me a little, I’ll admit, and for some reason I pictured Mick Jones and the late Joe Strummer being ok with it’s, shall we say, "usage" of their back catalog.

Being blitzed the next time I heard it made it more fun, plus I was dancing with blonde Robert (I met him thru Mark, who I thought was great but I get the impression he would rather drink a gallon of West Virginian trucker’s pee than be in my company). Blonde Robert is fun and friendly, it’s no shock that whenever I see him, some young chippies are all over him.

I finally downloaded the damn song and was playing it in the car when Candy, her husband Py, and I were on our way out. I’m not all into UFO’s but I swear we saw something ablaze in the sky and it wasn’t a shooting star. I have no clue what it was but it fell to the ground slowly, looking sort of like a detached wing of a plane that was on fire and reluctantly descending to earth only because it had nothing better to do. I checked the news, but nothing.

The last time I danced to the song was with this guy, whom I’ve referred to as "Perfection", and it turns out he has the IQ of a staple gun. =(

I know exposure is more likely the reason most people can even stand half the songs that are out there and this particular song doesn’t warrant any special attention as it’s shelf life is definitely limited. It has no brain licking lyrics or brilliant guitar work, just a good beat and enough character to lay some memories on. It fills in for when the great songs are taking a break as it’s hard work being a classic. They need some occasional time off, I suppose.

The soundtracks of our lives can’t always be meaningful, but it’s interesting to see where a piece has taken you, good or bad.

Currently listening : Clash on Broadway By The Clash Release date: 08 February, 2000

80 MPH Here Instead of There 2/8/08

I saw Batman and Catwoman making out an hour ago while Corey Hart yelled at me all the way from 1985.

Perfection bumped into me and I never saw it coming. It kept it's distance because I'm highly allergic but if prompted, I could sketch every detail on even the most undeserving canvas.

My eyes are still fighting with my brain on a daily basis and nobody wins. A great haircut centered atop the perfect sentence could make an attempt at brokering peace, if I believed such a thing existed.

Someone pinched my drink that contained any hopes of such a belief. The same elixir that hijacks my inhibitions also hoists an inpenetrable wall at a later date, yet to be determined.

Everyone else seemed to be so ecstactic but all I could think of was that MIA was ripping off The Clash and Linkin Park apparently have assumed that U2 never wrote "With or Without You".

This whole Goldilocks thing isn't working out for me in a disco setting. The food's the same but from different galaxies and I always feel like I arrived too early or too late.

Invisible or so unique that no one can see it? OR so common that nobody cares?

Currently listening : We Are Pilots By Shiny Toy Guns Release date: 17 October, 2006