Under The Flattering Disco Lights
The lights flickered and balls of light skimmed the room as we danced, shifting the weight of our bodies side to side, to the sound of diva melancholia. The beats pounded in our ears and the chemicals kicked in like clockwork as they did every Friday night. It was routine for us boyz to lose ourselves to the sound of ecstatic trumpets and gospel wails from rejoicing divas. Hearts were absolutely broken and torn with the hesitant awkward affection of topless torsos. There WAS crying at the discotheque.
We were neither here nor there - or anywhere really - but we knew by the time we got back to a bedroom our bodies were ready to be rid of a working week’s frustration. I looked at you and you gave me a heightened smiled. Then the song peaked and I found myself miming the wrong words to the wrong part of the anthems I thought i knew the words to. It was embarrassing, almost shameful but we persevered and we didn’t look at each other too closely even under the flattering disco lights, because both you and i knew its never pretty. Its ugliness, toxins and sweat but it worked for us.
Perhaps it wasn’t as ugly as when we went to the bar to discuss Madonna with passion. You and i debated which years she “had it” and which years “She’d HAD IT”. To be honest i never cared for her, but i patiently watched you chew your face off enthusiastically, as you declared your love for what you claim is the underrated brilliance of Madonna’s American Life era. I said i agreed but really i was beginning to worry about what it might be like to be in room with you in the morning.
Then i brought up the topic of Kylie Minogue for conversations sake and i regretted it immensely. I was so sorry for making such a predictable move. It was far too sad. I then prepared for your next monologue. The words you produced during your Kylie Minogue diatribe were pure poetry. You proclaimed your statements in such theatrical fashion, that i was forced to tune into your almost political analogies on the Madonna versus Minogue situation. I was left speechless. I actually had no words so i gestured gapped-mouthed to the dance floor as a defence tactic, because i didn’t know how else i could move the situation along.
The song thumping on the lit up dance floor sang “Whatchu looking for baby?” and i was left to ponder the very question. I almost looked up to the sky and cried out for my mother. I was actually that high…
The Concept Of Love And Romance
I have recently opened my heart again to the concept of love and romance in my life. It has left me beaming and vulnerable and i am happy about this. I waited for two years to be able to connect to someone. Now i am feeling the tinge of that familiar feeling of wanting to hang out with that one person more than regular friends do. I am looking forward to getting to know this man and confronting fears and unraveling slowly to show someone what my heart is capable of.
The last full moon taught me lessons and prepared me to get to know someone again. I can’t say I’m not scared because i am but i am ready once again.
Back To Rolling The Dices
I have been a little quiet on the Tumblr front. I was travelling through China and was generally having a ball. I have fallen behind on my Tumblr duties which i knew would happen but like some habits it can be hard to pick up once again. I have been faithful to my naughty tumblr as its easy to maintain and is a world of images but maintaining my writing duties for The End of Romance has been harder. Sometimes we just get in a rut…
1. China is massive, amazing, complex, inspiring.
2. Love has been on my mind
3. I have watched some great movies i hope to talk about.
4. I finished studies and now not sure what is next.
5. I need to get life into some sort of routine once again. I love routine interspersed with travel.
6. Not sure where i will go next on my travels but maybe check out the coolness of Wellington, New Zealand followed by a year of Chile and then a move to Toronto.
7. Who fucking knows?
Love pt. 5
I was drunk and dancing to Britney Spears at a questionable venue before the suggestion arose that we leave and go to his place. I should have known it would not have worked, when the night after awkward intimacy i woke up with an infected eye. At night he had said:
“We don’t have to do anything, we can just sleep together. Sometimes that’s more intimate”
That morning he stood at the doorway watching me get out of his bed and giggling which i found strange. So i asked:
“Why are you laughing?”
“Nothing” he replied giggling and then walked off like a tween who’d just kicked the boy she had a crush on.
We kissed at the train station and he did the giggle thing again. We arranged to see each other after he got back from his birthday celebrations at a folk festival. He was tall, too tall and handsome which i liked.
The night he arrived at my house after his birthday celebrations at the folk festival, my eye had gotten worse and i was wearing an eye patch. I was calm, i wasn’t in love. I’d made him a mix CD and bought him a book and when i gave it to him he cried.
On that warm night as he wept, i looked at the green in the courtyard and fell in love.
Love pt. 4
N and i continued to date and i continued getting worse, breaking out in hives and wondering what the fuck was going on. The old guy that lived with him, the now-i-know-who-the-fuck-you-are ex, walked around like a smug teen, happy that our relationship was in the doldrums. I shot him daggers but i never stood up to him. I guess you could say i respected my elder. I was a mere apprentice hairdresser making the most of a pittance and was a man with a senior position in a bank.
I will never forget the time the old guy shot into N’s room as we lay in bed talking and N scolded him for not knocking. It was obvious the old guy was trying to catch us in the act but nothing was happening and instead he got a talking to from N, his ex with the 19 year old Latino boyfriend. Looking back the man was a mess like i was and the puppeteer was N, controlling our emotions and keeping us in check.
The fights got worse and we would fight in the city and then walk around and find ourselves in the same spots, make up and be back in bed. It was a twisted routine.