Saturday, June 12, 2010
sketchbook: Capitol Mit Pride
I walk into door, the beat already pushing soul to move differently, greeted with kind familiarity in hugs and hello. Friends flash by in carnival fanfare flowing in music and liquor. Strangers hug the corners of my current moving through this sea. Pride, hook ups, dates, friends, straight folk who saw a party but didnt know, lovers, dancers - this ocean of gaiety spinning with me. I came here to get wrapped up in the dance. I don't bring a pack of smokes with me. I just dance. Sometimes I go outside for fresh air. Me and the bouncer chat about sex, gyrls, and smoking. Rather, we talk about her gyrls and my not smoking. Someone at the bar turned 30, this beautiful fairy of a lass and she tells me "30 means letting go of people who you don't have time for". Really? I look around and see her x behind us. Ahhh. We are silly things trying to make sense of our emotional plains called people. I ask myself, what does 30 mean to me? My internal dialogue snaps back "I don't know, I'll report back at 40. I came here to dance."