April 25, 1999.

"I never wanna leave this place!"

- alice cooper in g n' r's "the garden"

Two evenings at the Garden in one weekend. This is a new high for me...or low, depending on your feelings about club-happy goth girls. As per usual, the Saturday crowd was sprinkled with regulars, friends and interesting people that I don't know but find fascinating. The really cute blonde punk with tattoos on both arms was there again, but not dancing. Drat the luck. In addition, there was a sulky looking older woman there who had Anne Gwish's mysterious look down to perfection. It's strange to see a comic book come to life in so many ways in such a short period of time.

Lucy & Ethel were also there...i.e. the two girls who accompanied me home with Gomer last time, although only Ethel saw me home this time. I found myself less amused with the industrial mix this week, possibly because I'd been there the night before. You can only dance to "Cuts You Up" so many times a week before it gets tiresome. But watching everybody dance was amusing, especially when Stacy's outline started to blur. I've never seen anybody dance that fast in vinyl pants. It was blinding.

We spent a rather long time before and after the club chatting in my living room, and despite the time I took getting all gothed up, this was the highlight for me. We tried to map out the adventures of Stacy as Vinyl Girl, but couldn't think of many useful things for her to do. This caused Dav to reminisce about the Colour Kid, a comic book character who can change the colour of things. He was rejected from every superhero organization in existence. Eventually he met up with a guy who could sneeze fire.

This sparked an entertaining debate about the lifestyle of such a figure. (sparked! get it?) Would he want to sneeze? Would his snot be gasoline? If so, would he help out people who couldn't get to the store to buy fuel for their gas-powered lawnmower?

"Oh yeah. Like I need another reason to stick my nose in a lawnmower."

"Richard had noticed that events were cowards: they didn't occur singly, but instead would run in packs and leap out at him all at once."

- neil gaiman, neverwhere

I'm in a rather peculiar position right now with this diary. I'm pretty happy with my life, on average...but it's not really bringing out the best in me in terms of writing. The last thing I've been really proud of is the Cosmo bit at the end of March. I expressed this concern to Dav last night, in my typically awkward way.

"I'm not writing about what I want to write about."

His response was standard. "So write what you want to write about." Good advice, but I can't exactly spin gold out of nothing. This is, as I've mentioned, ironic. I'm having a great time lately. Lots of sleep. Interesting situations. Time to walk and read and look in stores and talk to people. Rambling phone conversations with Scherezade. Quiet time with the Boy. Lots of evenings at the Garden. New pajamas. It's just not being fashioned into A material. I guess I'm having an off period. Yuk.