All the tragedies must happen before the show.
It’s a general rule.
Magnolia and I rushed back to my place ‘cos being the goldfish-brained person that I am, I forgot to bring my CDs and her books for the event. *smacks forehead a million times*
I miss hanging out with Magnolia. She’s probably one of the best people I know who can make me laugh. I wouldn’t want to imagine us going on a roadtrip together. It will be fun but also catastrophic. We are the kind of people who repeat emo tracks to induce bitterness in ourselves. Ha! What a laugh that roadtrip would be. Especially if we’re stocked up on caffeine.
The event turned out great! My first emo song (’Honey, Are You Okay?’), as applauded as it was, bored me by the time I was in the middle of the first verse. I guess some songs don’t work as well live as they were recorded. ‘You’re the Song In My Head’, my favourite live song of all time gave me a high. The live-performance-high. THAT was good.
Magnolia’s reading was brilliant. I smiled and agreed with most of her ‘I’m not a good gay’. ‘The government censored my G-Spot gay’ is my fave.
I… am an emo gay.
Proceeded to Toca, my second home with my lesbian comrades, we drank ourselves silly and I still don’t know why we did that. The shots and the bombs. Why do we intoxicate ourselves that way? Someone asked if we usually get that violent when we’re high on alcohol; the smacking and pinching of butts/boobs/whatever we can grab.
I think, it’s a female thing. *shrugs*
Feel kinda bad I didn’t get to hang out with my sweetheart of the year much today. But we’ll catch up in the most ungodly hours at the coffeeshop in our hood. That’s how we hang. My irregular routine activities comfort me.
