girlcore

so right now, i'm sitting at home on my laptop.
this will make sense in respect of the previous (forthcoming) post, but i'm listening to dillinger escape plan's 'calculatinginfinty' and it's makingsense,

i went out with james to this night that the girl he's moving in with runs. we walk, and buy beers (lech) on the way, then hang out at the george and dragon, shoreditch, talkingpolitcs,until the other girl he's mpoving in with turns up, one piece denim dress with a serious backline, then head ovwer to catch 22 for the girlcore night. downstairs is not girlcore, they're playing wierd 80's disco tunes, we go upstairs. there is hardcore porn stuck to the walls, then i realise it is cut out an darranged into the words 'fuck my cunt'. we meet james' friend off of gaydar, who is catalan and nice (i swap spain stories and conject (amnd he agrees) upon catalan being the ireland of the english and the belgium of the french). upstairs is... heavy. it's bsiaclly dance music and i'm not comfortable, no matter how many lesbians (apperently girlcore started as an exclusively female night and now lets men in)

i haven't mentioned that i'm wearing some sort of hybrid nurse/tenis player outfit. sweatbands + nailvarnish and eyeliner and that shit.

so then the other girl he's moving in with gets on the keyboard with her band and groooves away a bit - real good music. we're enjoying the black budvar. it's my round and i order everybody's drinks plus my double tequila.
BIG MISTKAE

eaten

we're downstairs now. they were playing better music - 80'ser, more danceable. some girls were trying to dance with me (bless ''em) taking photos and i really hope i can find them online, i am dressed somewhat like a nurse. i get the drinks in, james and ueldald go back upstairs where it's crowded & popular. after a fashion i follow them and eventually we go outside for a breather. i drain my liquid. some ciggerettes are passaround. it's almost ilicit, but dammit i want one. now my throat is shit. so we're all outside trying to make lighters work. all of assudden its like some kind of crzy shit currency. i'm leaving, i need to go home and listen to dillinger escape plan and throw myself around the living room, and i just want a fag for the journey home. try it, it's hilarious; "i've only got two left" or " i literally just bummed this off someone else". so eventually i'm waiting at the bus stop for what seems like ages, and eventually some guy turns up, with beer, and then reappers from behind (tramps?) with a fag. i ask him if i can bum a drag - fuck knows where this notion came from - and he, the kindest man alive, says 'sure, you can have some of my beer too', i say, 'ah, grolsch - import or exort?' he doesn't know, but adds that i can have a bus too - there just happens to be one coming around the bend. what a gentleman.

i get on the bus, but i only last a stop, the alcohol that has builit up is too much and i'm getting motion sickness. i jog home, slowing whenever i cross anyone, some black girl comments but i keep her awsay with a 'sure' and speed walk on. soon enough i'm home, after priming mslef for all these facts. 'mustn't forget to write about', 'secret of the universe discovered', &c. will that do?

so i get home and put on 'calculating infinity'; and try as i might, dancing fallsafoul of blogging. i'm now on track 10, 'weekend sex change'. a;ll i wnated to do was dance. man, ciggarettes are rubbish.and so is too much tequila. it's baaaaaaaad. no matter how fun it was in 1998.