Monday, February 15, 2010

Last Nights Party


Self Censorship
You dance and dance and dance because you remember that you are alive. It wasn’t so long ago that you danced to forget but whatever it was you wanted to forget is underneath your feet right now. You are young, and sometimes you feel like you have nothing. But the music is loud and everything that matters is already yours, and anything else is attainable if you should ever seek it. It’s crowded and you are sweating and you close your eyes and you realize that you’ve never heard this song before, and you’re thinking “who are these people?”, but you act like you’re Alanis in the “Thank You” video where she’s hugging everybody. You’re even hugging the boy you had a crush on last week (but you’re immune to his stuff, oh yeah). You feel like you’ve just come out of heated yoga or like you’ve just received communion. That’s not vodka in your flask tonight. The photo-bloggers are tired and they keep coming back to you so that you can make them look good. Even blurry, you give good face. Even over-exposed. Even when their lenses are misty from the condensation. You are Crystal Castles’ Alice if she was Michael Jackson in ‘Billie Jean’. The girlfriends aren’t even jealous of their boyfriends staring at you because they don’t even notice. They’re staring too. Like the “I want what she’s having” lady in ‘When Harry Met Sally’. They’re dreaming about their single selves and wondering if they’re still being 100%. That DJ! He is choosing songs as if he’s flirting with you, and at this rate he may just end up proposing marriage by the end of the night. You’re dancing like there is no tomorrow as it becomes… tomorrow. The owner walks up to you while you’re drinking from your flask and catching your breath, and he asks you if you want to promote a night at his club but you just laugh and take the drink ticket and his card. Tonight you really heard those Arcade Fire lyrics in a completely new way and that’s the melody you’re still humming as you get your jacket from coat-check and as you get into the cab totally in love with no one or anything but yourself.

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