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Dancin'? Askin'? Askin'. Dancin'. - A Most Illuminating Tale
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters
Date: 4.11 am, Saturday 19th July, 2003
Subject: Dancin'? Askin'? Askin'. Dancin'.
Security: Public
Music:Invader Zim
I've been dancing. Full Tilt, 11-3, Electric Ballroom, Camden. And I didn't stay off the dance floor.
I'm exhausted. My left knee is fucked. I have cramps in my right thigh. I'm sick to my stomach. I have blisters on my feet. My neck and shoulders are absolutely locked up. I can't actualy look up. My face stings where I've shaved today. My hair is knotted. I smell of sweat and smoke. I'm covered in scratches. I'm sexually frustrated. I have a headache.
I'd forgotten what a good night out felt like.
I feel good. I've worked a lot of the anger out of my system. I think I've been looking back too much. Like Willy Loman.
There was a girl tonight who danced with everyone in a crazy way. She was beautiful and had such effort and verve, but you got the feeling she was taking the piss. But when she stopped dancing she looked so pissed off and couldn't stop moving and you could tell she had only stopped to get her breath back. She cared about the music. She couldn't not dance. I could have watched her all night. Why didn't I say anything?
I'm going to crawl into bed. listen to the ringing. think of the lovely people. try not to cry.
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