2001-08-24 || 2:08 p.m.

|| lions and antelopes and bloodthirstiness on 14th street ||

last night: locking the car with the keys in the ignition, playing hangman with elka in the parking lot, 5 blocks from the bar, 5 blocks from the xboy's apartment (who, if the elements of the universe were a bit different, or rewound a bit, would have walked around the lake with his hands in his pockets in three minutes flat to cross the street to the parking lot, smiling and flashing the spare key in the moonlight): shoes proxy elephant nebulous. the tow truck driver showed up on nebulous. he pried metal strips into my car's unmentionables, wiggled them around, got a little sweaty, and. click. the door was open. we drove over to the ruby room and walked in slow motion past the droves of kids and heat and cigarette smoke. a girl dancing in a tiny leather skirt and gogo boots. the boy with the obnoxious emo haircut i always see on telegraph. we clamored to find people we knew and drank our drinks too fast. we danced to two songs. i talked too fast, trying to keep under control the feeling of being swallowed up in a red lit cave with absolutely no air, compounded by the squinty peering of all those people seated at tables in the dark. it is funny going to a place like that now that i am not a girlfriend. being conscious of who is looking. being conscious of how i am standing. being conscious of how my hands are shaking a little under the pressure of it all. it is all a part of this big scary sleazy game. or a wildlife documentary, with lions biding thier time at the bar and antelopes prancing around wide-eyed on the dance floor.

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