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So I didn't meet Shawnna or Chingy or some guy from Lil Jon's Eastside Boyz, but it was fun to think for a minute that I might. Especially when DYA asked what I would make conversation about if I attempted to network with them in the VIP area. And I actually had some ideas.
Um, yeah, I went out dancing last night. Ok, maybe I'm supposed to be home either recuperating or writing my big great american novel for my last school packet, but I wanted to see Tre & co., wanted to support their big night as the official Shawnna concert after-party venue, and wanted to just get out of the house and move and have fun that didn't involve a couch and a DVD player. After lots of outfit changes and consultations, we were dressed and left the house and got to the club around 11. I danced a bit, chatted a bit, felt good, then just dropped. I sat in the corner for a while, trying not to fall asleep, trying to will myself to find a second wind. I drank some more water and the DJ played good songs and I was on the dance floor for about an hour. We left just after 1 am, before the VIP room got set up, so I missed my chance to sip Cristal with second-tier rappers. Or maybe third-tier. Depending on whether the tiers are based on skill or popularity, I suppose.
Last night was my first official outing wearing merely a t-shirt. Too bad that most of chest is still fairly numb so it kind still felt like I had on a binder, except my back and belly were virtually naked. Or so it felt. It felt so erotic and obscene to wear merely a t-shirt -- there was barely anything between someone's hand and my skin! I probably spent half the night unconsciously molesting myself. Such is the life of a person who's spent most of the past 5 years mummifying my torso before going out in public. The t-shirt I wore was one I acquired about three years ago from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
limenal's former roomate, a grey ringer T that says "requiem for a dream", and I held onto even though it was too small, because I flippantly swore "this will be the first shirt I wear after chest surgery". So when I saw it in the closet last night, it seemed appropriate. Plus, it matched my kangol hat.
Alright, back to writing. For real. Last packet. End of semester. Almost there. And I'm leaving the house in a couple hours to hopefully see DJ Spooky at the MCA.
Um, yeah, I went out dancing last night. Ok, maybe I'm supposed to be home either recuperating or writing my big great american novel for my last school packet, but I wanted to see Tre & co., wanted to support their big night as the official Shawnna concert after-party venue, and wanted to just get out of the house and move and have fun that didn't involve a couch and a DVD player. After lots of outfit changes and consultations, we were dressed and left the house and got to the club around 11. I danced a bit, chatted a bit, felt good, then just dropped. I sat in the corner for a while, trying not to fall asleep, trying to will myself to find a second wind. I drank some more water and the DJ played good songs and I was on the dance floor for about an hour. We left just after 1 am, before the VIP room got set up, so I missed my chance to sip Cristal with second-tier rappers. Or maybe third-tier. Depending on whether the tiers are based on skill or popularity, I suppose.
Last night was my first official outing wearing merely a t-shirt. Too bad that most of chest is still fairly numb so it kind still felt like I had on a binder, except my back and belly were virtually naked. Or so it felt. It felt so erotic and obscene to wear merely a t-shirt -- there was barely anything between someone's hand and my skin! I probably spent half the night unconsciously molesting myself. Such is the life of a person who's spent most of the past 5 years mummifying my torso before going out in public. The t-shirt I wore was one I acquired about three years ago from
limenal's former roomate, a grey ringer T that says "requiem for a dream", and I held onto even though it was too small, because I flippantly swore "this will be the first shirt I wear after chest surgery". So when I saw it in the closet last night, it seemed appropriate. Plus, it matched my kangol hat.Alright, back to writing. For real. Last packet. End of semester. Almost there. And I'm leaving the house in a couple hours to hopefully see DJ Spooky at the MCA.
