"a woman, a dog and a walnut tree, the more you beat them, the better they be." -george sanders

spent the day sweaty, watching couples with their arms around one another, hands lazily gliding up backs, giggling smugly into warm necks. i am not bitter. perhaps slightly nostalgic and rueful... or still residually revolted by the clusterfuck crowd at the show last night. went with a coworker and her friend to see hell's belles (the female ac/dc cover band) in tacoma. they are amazing and i wholeheartedly recommend anyone with the means to see them immediately. but NOT if they are playing in an area near an army base, for the crowd will be rife with thick-necked groping fools. the first man to fondle me was, truly, all of five feet tall. he followed me around, stroking my arms, my torso, until i finally told him to "please fucking STOP right now", or something. then there was an older man with a MOUSTACHE who kept trying to put his arm around me... it's never the appealing guys. perhaps that is what makes them appealing.
my coworker was drunk and in a very good mood. i was sober, fresh off a long shift at work where i was squinting into a microscope all day (interrupted by the exploratory on the dog who'd eaten a rock... the rock was in the colon... i got to glove up and dig it out through the anus... such a glamorous career). her friend was also pretty sober. we stepped outside for a cigarette (no longer can one smoke indoors in washington, bastards) and agreed that it would be a much better show if it was all-female.
today: bought sunflowers and a suzanne vega cd that i used to obsess over when i lived in fremont. played 'headshots' repeatedly. the moon is almost full, the air still heavy. everything up to this moment has a path, a story. the onus of being in the same general vicinity over the last few years: i have a clear recollection of what i was once thinking, doing, hoping, and where it's gotten me now.
okay, fine... i want to get thrown down and ravaged. i want a novelty fuck.