Aren’t my titles catchy? I’ve been saving this one since the summer and secretly wanted to name a facebook album but I never had perfect set of pictures that embodied all that the title meant to me. I’ll still use it. It’s trendy to recycle now. GO GREEN! Some recycle fuel and paper. I recycle catchy blog titles. That is beside the point.
This weekend started like most. Me trying to convince myself that I would stay locked in my dorm getting ahead of my work. And it ended pretty much the same, me watching Sunday morning sunlight through my off-white dust colored vertical blinds, with my mind still wanting to dance drunkenly to music that is hidden behind the mute button of my laptop. I fight sleep a lot. Especially, when I’ve had a few drinks. I need to see, to experience, to live, to move, to not sleep. And only submit to sleep when there is nothing left for my brain or body to do. The broken Bacardi glass on my floor was a pleasant distraction from sleep at 6 am. Not really. The thought of glass and blood scare me. Especially, when it’s my blood.
But this is not about my drinking, my insomnia, or my procrastination…
This is about perception and observation. A lobby filled with thespians. No not lesbians, although there were a few gays in attendance. Thespians. Yes, all shapes, colors, creeds. Intoxicated and floating. And me. Comfortable in corner and watching. Perceiving. Being drunk, but not unaware of my surroundings. High fives and flip cup couldn’t drown out the sexual tension that was in the air. And for once none of it was mine. I would not cling to any of the drunken and gyrating bodies in that lobby to save your life. I just watched and sipped, slowly. Would easily trade the darkness of 3 am just to see how this room full of thespians and gays would interact at noon or just a few hours past that. It baffled and baffles me. And I can’t find the right arrangement of metaphor or similes to tell you of the “looseness” that filled that lobby. I felt like I was apart of some orgy. Better yet a gang rape.
No, even better than that was like watching a hunting show.Oh, the prey. The poor poor prey. How the walk and drink and strip unsuspectingly. For them this is normal. And the hunters wait. Sip slowly. Pretending to feel the same woozy. It’s never the same woozy and its easier to detect after you’ve drank you share. There is a freedom and difference between drunk and pretending. And I am never that drunk. So I can detect and I watch as a pat on the shoulder, becomes one of the small of the back, and then becomes a few lewd and questionable comments, and this is where I say goodnight.
Well, not to sleep but to a place where the air smelled familiar. To watch a lion pounce on a gazelle is not my cup of tea. It’s best to let people animals eat in private. I would expect the same respect.
I don’t really know my reason for writing this. It’s just funny to watch people fall out of themselves or pretend to. To watch them become their loud, and belligerent, true self, to push the limits of the deceiving night sky, pretending the sun is not hours or minutes from the horizon. I can’t do it. I can’t support the taking of someone’s reality for my own personal gain. And this is more than a white lie. This is a trickery of the sense and the flesh, of someone’s piece of mind. Rape.
It’s something that I will never condone or understand. Why would you want someone’s affection under false pretenses? If someone thought highly enough of you to give their body to you why would you not want them to be in a position to remember it or enjoy. Or in the reverse. Wouldn’t only want to give yourself to someone who was truly willing to receive you with clearness of mind and body. Isn’t that what’s most beautiful about sex. Both people actually being interested in what is going on. Consenting to give the other a piece of their body, and soul, and sensuality. and all that not to say that having sex while under the influence is not fun. But without the consent or want or attraction. Its pointless. It’s sad. And you wonder why I have no faith in love. Because people are sick and flawed. Yes. I am one of them. But never have I thought of using coercion to get the affection of another. Here is another reason. For me not to drink. I just know that from now on when I go out and booze are involved. I will keep a closer eye on those who are with me. And to not party with Thespians or gays. They’re fucking weird. I’ll still with the shallow and trendy. They’re more my speed. (I know that was horrible).
Shaking my head, but not to fast because I might hurl,
KD
