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Monday, Jun. 23, 2003 / 1:18 p.m. ~And Upon Reflection�~ I'm remembering a few things about Saturday night that I'd previously forgotten soon after they occurred. Like the guy who asked to come dance with me, but I didn't realize he meant 'with' me, and after all, I was really into being by myself. I can't focus on feeling the music if I'm looking at someone trying to dance 'with' me. But I thought he wanted to dance in the little corner area to the side of the platform, which I'd taken over for my own, along with the woman with the cool skirt all slit up to there. I'd forgotten that he seemed sort of sweet, showing me his new tattoo (men seem to like to show women their tattoos at clubs, like when Kukla and I went out a few weeks ago - "Look at my tattoo, I just got it, 30 minutes ago, look", "Um, yeah, unh huh, nice"), and I kept leaning in, trying to make it out, dark lines on dark skin, in mostly darkness, "What is it?", "It's a Saint, Saint� blah, blah, blah�", "It's WHAT?". And later, when he went away, after I realized I was turning my back to him, then turned to see he was sort of dancing 'with' me after all, and don't men know how to actually hit on women anymore?, he thanked me for letting him dance in my little area, 'with' me. I'm also still stuck on the not being hit upon thing, and it's not that I wanted to be, exactly, but I wasn't, and it seemed odd, and then I realized, or remembered, I was there to dance, and I was high, and I danced, and I was in tune with the DJ, I was amazed at some of what he played (at one point people even shouted out, and applauded his expertise at controlling our bodies with sound), and I sequestered myself in a very danceable spot, a dance area, a spot that held only the diehard dancing fools amongst us. The two times I stepped, or stumbled away (like a sailor regaining her sea legs) to the bar for water, I swam my way through the throng, mostly men actually, and touched each one on his arm, "Excuse me, excuse me, sorry", and the looks, the stares, the smiles, it was all there. There was a whole bar filled with people too, and tables to the side, and nooks and crannies, and that other room with the other dance floor, the other DJ, a cavernous array of interior underground spaces, all filled, overflowing. And truthfully, to be honest, nothing but the truth, I was not in the mood to mingle amongst it, them, I wanted to dance, I did, and why was my ego so bruised? You can't win the Lottery if you don't play. Reminds me, someone in Maryland won that $185 million Friday night. Sucks. Not for him/her, but for me. I had a horrible dream this morning, one of those dreams that's hard from which to extract one's self, one that is lingering after waking, disturbing, and leaves a person feeling truly lost and alone. I'm just glad it's over, and I'd like to delve into why I dreamed it, but overall, and in the end, and ultimately, and after all, and any other way I can say it, it was only a dream, and now I'm here, at work, in my little cube, cozy and comfy and thinking about Chinese leftovers for lunch. When I exited my abode this a.m., yet another Chinese restaurant menu fell to the ground, previously stuck in my door jam. Crap, it's all crap, there is NO good Chinese food in my area, nothing REALLY Chinese, it's all this food that suburbanites think should be Chinese food, the Moo Goo Gai Pans and Mongolian Beefs and Wings (?!?!?!), they now have WINGS. Can you tell what my neighborhood is like, that Chinese restaurants serve Chicken Wings to gain customers? Horrors. No, I had real Ma Po Tofu last night, and I could've eaten bowl after bowl of it. Oh, wait, I did. And Fried Stuffed Tofu With Roast Pork and Shrimp - orgasmic, truly (the dipping sauce is to die for). I have leftovers! I'm so excited. And Garlic Chicken with whole cloves of roasted garlic and onions. Oh my god. I'm drooling just thinking about it. In general, as I was driving into town, both Saturday and Sunday, I was thinking that life is intown. I just live and work in the suburbs, but any eating, good movies, clubs, anything worth doing that is not working or living at home, is intown. Brent said I need to move back there, and I know he's right, but I'm not ready to change my life that completely. I think I like knowing the proximity is there, but I live far enough away that I'm away from it when I want to be. I'm sort of halfway between all that is good and exciting and Cosmopolitan, as can be down South, and the mountains and countryside to the North. It's not bad really. One last thing, I suppose, I watched "White Palace" again last night, not that I'd ever sat and watched it beginning to end before, but more in snippets here and there, and I think I was disappointed that the story was not so much about Susan Sarandon being 43, almost 44, and James Spader being 27, and fucking like rabbits, eventually falling in love, but about her character being working class and undereducated and sloppy, and his being a successful late '80s Yuppie, sort of "American Psycho" neat and orderly, and educated and Jewish, with snobby friends. As a woman of a similar age, quite often attracted to men of that similar age, and currently considering somewhat of a 'relationship' with one just a bit older, I wanted it to be more about the age difference, but that seemed a moot point. Good, I guess, but that movie is not as good as I want it to be, and each time I catch it on TV I tend to watch to see if it's going to get better. I think I've officially had enough of it. (P.S. I am really digging the 'new' computer - with the new external modem hooked up, it's connecting at about 46K, which is not bad at all, compared to the 14.4 I was using with the old computer?!?!?! Whoo!) Cost of the War in Iraq
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