Forget about that, let's Go.
The few times I go over my limit, I become a little too vulnerable, a little too foolish. I require taking care of, I touch people I forget about until the morning. I end up in places I'm horrified about when I wake up. Not to mention, I black out and fall.
I hate drinking.
I'm really not a club whore either, I always forget who I dance with. I go clubbing because I'd rather not go to the gym. Its just exercise. Given that clubbing comes with uncomfortable run-ins with boys I've forgotten, unnecessary groping that I'm supposed to enjoy (who likes to be handled at the gym?), sweaty males who are trying to look into your eyes with I presume their sweltering-fuck-me-now stare, group gang-ups, and the ones who think you're officially their girlfriend just because you danced with him all night, humored him a little, and the notion of the club as a meat-market. Yes, I understand that there is a social context to nightclubs and if I dont like all that comes with it or deal with it I shouldn't go, but whoever can really get horny just from rubbing up on someone else to sean paul's temperature blasting in your ears, having their halitosis be breathed heavily down in your face, and tolerate wherever a stranger's hands may end up is perhaps a tad disillusioned or extremely easily aroused? or drunk.
these two vices work hand in hand. i'll admit to participating in both, but hopefully, hopefully, with the exception of the company of bored out-of-shape girlfriends on a thursday night, this 7 or 8 year era of frequent clubbing weekends is over (not that I've gone recently, but the memory is too freshly acerbic-ly vivid for my stomach).
instead, i propose live music nightclubs or apartment cranium parties with your friends where grinding does not have to be a requirement unless you choose to.
maybe all this repulsion comes from a personal adversion to a large percentage of human touch.
if only i wasn't so prosaic. haha.
Sentimentalities of Weed
Coming home to Floral Park sometimes means just sitting in this house. Especially since I haven't talked to anyone who is a Floral Parker anymore. And hate this (bumblefuck) town with most of my body and mind.
Last night, I got a flashback to high school. Thanks to Kait who came over and rocked in my backyard swing for the millionth time. We're getting too big for it seeing that we broke it. There was the mandatory how's your life chitchat and for the first time in two years, I hung out with Pete, and John.
For the past 5 years, I have only hung out with them to get high. We'd drive to Long Beach in the middle of the night, sit on the boardwalk benches, sit in the lifeguard's chair and smoke blunts. We'd drive into Bellerose, Garden City, HIllside, Union Turnpike to avoid the fanatical Floral Park po-po. Pete always drove afterwards, sometimes blasting Offspring, sometimes some other angry white boy screaming and I remember we were so paranoid he'd get into an accident and we'd all die, or him and John were taking us somewhere shady to rape us. Rape was a big thing in high school.
Anyway, you'd think after so many years of knowing each other, a good amount of nighttime spent over a blunt or bowl together that we'd be friends? No. We are not friends. We are still awkward around each other before we smoke. I dont know where I'm going with this, except that smoking weed with strangers maybe is a waste of time, but they're not strangers... so what are the sentimentalities of weed with them? I'm not saying that there should be sentiment attached with everyone you smoke, blah blah, escpecially if its the first time, but five years?Five years of smoking as strangers?
i think... it will be the last time.