i woke myself up to rest my weary head from all the work i'd done in those dreams i'd had

pride was this weekend. i say that i was really disappointed in the affair. sure. my first dykemarch--wow, that was...cool? i think? the coolest part? when we accidentally intersected with the plunderathon folks (for yous guys in MS and elsewhere--lots of people dressed as pirates on a mission to pub crawl and drink. a lot.) and that was really funny.

"We LOVE dykes!"
"and We LOVE Pirates!"

after the disappointment came slight redemption:

later saturday night we ventured out to Queer Rebellion, a dance night at Acme, a place we've gone before for similar dancing. many drinks later (for my friends), i am sober and outside heatedly chatting with someone i could sincerely go ga-ga for considering her understanding of community, revolution and exploration. we're talking about organization and what pride really means. my dance partners are inside, moving along to beats that don't stop, yet transition awkwardly.

and then, minutes later--j and i slide into the opening beats of 'yr mangled heart' and suddenly beth ditto is wailing and we're pushed to the middle of the crowd. we're surrounded by writhing bodies and pumping hips and moving with each other. the heat and the lights and the sharp smell of sweat becomes overwhelming with each...

I don't want the world, the world
I only want what I deserve

and then, just like that, it's over. next song. i sit back into the shadows, watching and searching and wondering why my body can't respond to those around me.


enough of that.

sunday night i joined my housemates for julie doiron and calvin johnson. we are sitting among about 100 other people in a basement at an artist commune. we sway along to one of the most enchanting voices (julie, with heavy, dark bangs and eyes that concern you) i've encountered. then for a weird little dance from calvin. his clear baritone (and at times, a solid, resounding bass) echoes off the walls and we breathe him in. we take the blues he slides from his guitar and we are silent.

and then i realize it all over again:

i just want to be alone. i am phobic of the world beyond my own nose, yet am fascinated by what people encounter in each other. how do i reconcile this? i have no idea.

i think i'll start with samurai rebellion.