in the army now

i have always been reticent to 'compartmentalize' myself, but i am most assuredly not a fucking 'goth'. wtf, aka d, aka t, 'is'. last friday we went to his friend astro's birthday party at the mercury, a member's-only Goth Club. because it is a 'club' and therefore not regulated by the state LCB, one can smoke cigarettes inside. hilariously enough, i ended up squashed at a banquette of about twelve surly assholes in ill-fitting garb of varying shades of black, only two of whom i knew, of which at least six were smoking cigarettes at any given time. i felt like a fucking dork, but i actually went outside for fresh air. once in the alley, i got into a very entertaining and nerdy conversation with someone about his camera.
i asked wtf if astro would mind me taking his picture. "are you kidding? he'd fucking love it."

but you know what? 'goths', or rather, people who 'self-identify' as anything at all, are fucking jerks. i was reprimanded by the wench of a mute boy who resembled the character 'powder' for using my flash in the light-free club. "he has photosensitivity" she said curtly. i apologized. he ignored me. it was so cliche as to be comical- ooh, pussy-whipped goth boy adverse to light! how dramatic! why don't you lay your pale hand across your beleagured forehead?- but i'd had two drinks by that point and the time i'd spent in that depressing hellhole had made me surly and intolerant. "i have to leave NOW" i hissed to wtf, who had my keys in his apartment. he agreed, once we were in the fresh air, that a lot of the people there were dickheads. he cross-dressed for me for the first time that night. he does not pass at all, but he certainly took a long time to get ready.
i didn't wash the eye shit off before going to bed that night, although i was very careful to change my clothes. i put my sweater on the deck to desmokify. it has since been rained on.
*
i finally finished 'confessions in a golden eye' last night. i recommend it. it's not great, but it is a slight mindfuck.
i am currently siphoning wifi at a place that hosts drag queen revue. i have heard 'the boogie woogie bugle boy' more times than i know. they are rehearsing behind a half-drawn curtain. i have stumbled upon a private eschelon of hell. i can never listen to this song again.
*
'don't focus on what the world expects from you. focus on what makes you glow.'