june 18, 2000.

Sleepy & headachey from getting up too early. It's my own fault: we were out until 2:30 & awake still later, but I don't want to spend all of Sunday asleep, just half.

It's funny how time compresses when you're in pain. I could've sworn that it's been ages since I had a good time, but I'm really not that deprived lately. This, however, does not affect my assessment of this weekend as bitchin'.

I could talk about Friday (going to bed early) or Saturday (staying inside the Bachelor Pad all day), but there really isn't that much to tell. We managed to squeeze in a good hour of chat with Paris & St. Stephen, the latter of whom has been very much like a rumor lately in that he's difficult to pin down & never quite in the place you expected. Well, Paris too, but that's Paris in a nutshell. Many times I've heard Paris swear to abide by the straight & narrow, the reliable & practical, the sane & just - only to see him take yet another road to his madness. That's just the way he is.

It's sorta funny. I have all these stockpiled stories about Paris that I pull out when I get tired of talking about me, and they're all varying degrees of insane good fun. When I told some to Marcie (our gracious host in Edmonton), she would laugh & say, "I have to meet this Paris." When she finally did, something clicked, and they'll be together at my wedding. The funny thing is that I see the stories as warning in a sense, but if you asked me what I warn against I couldn't tell you in so many words.

There is this: sometimes I stop & think about myself 4 years ago, and I marvel that Paris is invited to the wedding while Alexi will have no part in it. This is perfectly correct for the present I am living, from which grows the incredulity. Huh.

Saturday night was fun stuff. If this year was a movie, Saturday night would be in the commercials. It was my second fetish masquerade, and this time I had loads of fun. The theme was B-movie kink, which is easy for girls. There isn't a B-movie extant that doesn't have girls in their underwear, and that's kink enough for the door nazis. I wore a leopard print slip, fishnets & boots. At the Boy's house, I discovered vast deficiencies in my makeup array, so I did my best with corpse-purple lipstick, clotting mascara and a pot of black eyeshadow without an applicator. Fortunately, I wanted sincerely to look like I'd smeared charcoal on my face.

Thus I filled the Primitive Girl niche - I could've been in a time-travel movie or a space exploration movie or even a jungle pic. I would've liked going barefoot, but there's just too much potential pain & dirt so I stuck to my oh-so-comfortable 8-holes. As Stacy pointed out, continuity errors work just fine in B-movies (which is how she convinced me to keep my watch on.)

We had a table this time, which is infinitely more comfortable than migrating all night. Having a refuge & a seat helped my mood enormously, as did the live entertainment: a goth surf band called Vampire Beach Babes that was so incredibly cheesy that my hair stood on end, but so rocking that we all pledged to be at the CD release party in a month. Their go-go dancer smoked the whole time, the drummer's kit included a severed head and the lead singer's favourite method of punctuation was a slightly panicked "fuck!" while he sang about vampires hitting the beach ("SPF 99!") It was like Dick Dale on downers or, as I quipped, "Peter Murphy...if he had a sense of humour." They pieced out their set with numbers from the Rocky Horror Picture Show & I ended up going home with two of the carelessly-flung cards stuck into the tops of my fishnets.

And the dancing. My lord, the dancing. I don't know if it had anything to do with being essentially in my underwear, but I found myself in a purely automatic trance at several points during the night. There were times when I couldn't sit still to hold a conversation at the table, when I just had to get up & dance. It was exactly the way I wanted the rave to be in that the bass invaded & compelled me to movement & celebration. Stacy & I would lock eyes, grinning madly, then turn slide pivot away without a misstep. Glorious glorious glorious. I'd like to say that the night was wonderful because I stopped waiting to be entertained & took the matter into my own hands, but the truth is that euphoria is a gift from an unknown source. I'm just glad that I managed to throw myself in its way again.