I am so proud of myself. I was suffering such ill effects from last night’s adventures that I slept perfectly through the hour when the cock thrice cockles, that in which I was supposed to be at the studio mixing away with Inkydust. How’s that for responsible.
Since I’m home in pajamas instead of working, I may illustrate the cause of my inebriation. We were gearing up to go dancing at Chicago’s premiere goth hangout, NEO, last night, so of course I spent yesterday afternoon sewing an entirely new ensemble in pure white. Isn’t that the ultimate gothic rebellion? I say so.
It was a large party as usual because we had a plan, which I’ll explain momentarily. But first, GK, who had arranged the dinner reservations, had told us we were going to a little Italian whole in the wall, essentially making it out as though we were dining at a hot dog stand, which we were all perfectly fine with, especially because I can eat hotdog buns all night if you’ll let me. Of course, it was all an utter sham because it ended up being about as upscale an establishment as they let girls like me into, so we ended up having the most delightful dinner of endless red wine and pasta. Mine was spinach, in case you’re curious. Girl’s gotta get her vitamins, yo!
Funny how I scarcely remember drinking and yet my camera proves otherwise…
I just want you to look, really look, and note how positively demure Anna and I appear. Remember this so that you can contrast it with what is to come:
See, it’s already going in the wrong direction. A couple of glasses later and we’re already eating our spoons. I mean, why? Why?
Now we’re at the club, where a pirate lets us in with surprisingly little ceremony for a pirate. My lady leads me to the dance floor, and now you can see my new “heart on ass” bloomers. That’s true emotion, baby. You know a girl means it when she wears her heart on her ass.
Things progress naturally. I’m not sure what kind of martini it was, but it was working. The best part about club pics is looking at the people in the background and asking yourself “what the fuck?” Note the chick in the back who seems to be lifting weights:
Then Inkydust himself, lord of MVS, shows up and the plan begins. You remember the plan, right? Trick question, tarts, haven’t told you yet. Here’s a classic portrait of me with the ‘dust:
The plan. The plan is to get Mr.DJ to play secret track, yep, one of the new badass musical gems from the nearing completion “Opheliac.” I crawl up to talk to DJ and hand him the CD containing “I Want My Innocence Back,” and “Misery Loves Company.” I told DJ that if he played the first song and didn’t like it, then he could kick me out of the club, but if he thought it passable, then he had to play to second one sometime later. DJ, who turned out to be called Ryan Bedlam was a fucking sweetheart and played “Innocence,” and the guards with the handcuffs and straight jacket were nowhere to be found. It was a glorious moment…the pure evil that is “Innocence” permeated the night and made us all want to commit murder. Better still, people actually danced.
Then, glory be to god in the highest, my cellist Lady Sarah shows up. Lady S lives by the rule that you ought not to wear feathers if you can’t bring enough for the whole class, and so I was soon feathered (but not tarred) as well. Joy was ours!
More ass-heart action on the floor. Please again note the people in the background. I think you’ll find it worth your while.
We believe that the band that dances together plays together. Please note guy on the left who looks like he’s about to take somebody out West Side Story style. Sharks! Also note how long, weird, spindly and positively inhuman my outstretched hand looks. I do have long spindly hands, but that’s just freaky:
If you can figure out what’s going on her, you get a cookie. I can’t.
So now that Lady S is with me, I think it’s time we go back to our perch by Sir Ryan. Is this not the hottest band pic ever? Go on, go on and tell me it’s not. Besides being a brilliant cellist, Lady S would have gotten the job simply because she knows how to pose.
But what? Ah yes, the first bouncy bass lead strains from”Misery”…it’s funny how it takes you a minute to recognize your own song when it’s played in a completely new context…we got hot and sweaty to that, all traces of demurity lost forever. My night was made, thank you Sir Ryan from the bottom of my ass-heart, you get record credit and endless love for being the first to spin the new tracks.
Club’s almost closing. Why do all my nights end like this:
With ass-hearts and a hangover,