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sunday, march 22, 1998, 05:44 there are two little scraps of plastic wrapped up in the tree branch outside my window, and i can tell when it's windy even if the branches aren't moving because these little pieces of plastic are fluttering around. i wonder if they'll ever blow away. and i wonder if i'll notice. the first days of spring, so we finally get some snow on the ground. okay, yeah, so i thought it was amusing. but we didn't get to see any of it. no, we were inside. we were inside a club, at an alternative dance party. well here's the thing. it's hard to dance to alternative music. but whatever. make anything loud enough and you can't hear enough to have a conversation with anyone so you have no choice but to dance. that seems like warped reasoning, and seeing as i still can't hear anything and i just spent the last three and a half hours on the beanbags on the floor watching young frankenstein and then the news with the sound turned off, i really don't expect myself to be making much sense. this conversation really happened after i got down to the club and realized that they were frisking the guys for weapons. of course the girls can get in no problem, but guys have a tendency to fuck shit up, so, the conversation the scene begins with the bouncer going through my pockets and finding assorted wires and string and electrical tape. he then gets to my belt and finds my gerber multi-plier leatherman-type thing, and then finds my pocket knife. yeah, so i wasn't really thinking. bouncer: "Okay, so you can leave these in the box, or you can take them out to your car." me: "I don't have my car with me, can i leave them in my coat and check my coat and grab it on the way out? bouncer: "You can if I want you to. so at this point i'm thinking okay, whatever... me: "Okay, so can i do that?" bouncer: "You can if I want you to." right, i know. i got this the first time. i finally convince him that it's okay to let me do this, that i'm really not there to kill anyone, and that i happen to just be a dumbass who forgot to keep his weapons at home. "You can if i want you to" indeed. Such a weird guy. now despite the fact that the vast majority of the people at this thing must have been about 16, that didn't stop me from watching (read: staring at their bodies) as they walked past. i never thought that i'd actually get sick of watching girls in tank tops, but after watching all of the people there tonight, most of whom were to be polite not very attractive and to be crass skanky hos i really couldn't deal with any more skin. spent much of the time dancing under the disco ball watching a girl dancing up on stage. really not much to say, except that i kept watching her, and she didn't notice me, and then she left. and that's pretty much the way these things work out i suppose. and really, there's nothing wrong with that. last bit of excitement came when we were leaving and some really drunk guy came up to me and, as drunk people often do, started fucking with me. now if he was just talking, it wouldn't have really been noteworthy, but the fact that this guy decided to grab me by the neck for a bit and squeeze prompted me to run through scenerios in my head in which i would have taken my right hand balled up into a fist and planted it firmly in the middle of his nose. that would never happen. but it's nice to dream. and after tonight, still stinking of sweat and smoke and still unable to hear through all the ringing, i think i'll have some pleasant dreams after all. that is, assuming my suitemate stops snoring...
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