on the other voet

i meant to write foot, but i'll leave it as is anyway.

my friday night was most certainly interesting. i visited bt at work on the way to ze germans, nobody had arrived yet and we had a drink and chatted arbitrarily.

we ended up playing shabbas poker at the irishman's place, to which i lost all my money (at least i hadn't arrived with more than a 50), but i lasted quite a while so i'm okay with that.

the graduate was on in the background, a classic movie that i have yet to see. i'm horrified that they overused simon and garfunkle tunes to such an extent that scarborough fair became jarring.

i came home, crashed for an hour, and then made the mistake of heading back to bt. she'd told me to arrive around 3am, and a cute friend of hers too, and the two of us sat having awkward conversations until 4am. her boss introduced me to richard cheese - closer, a brilliantly tragic rape of a song that made rape something to sing about.

we walked around for a bit, then took a taxi to dizengoff center and entered the club across the road along with bt's boss. a proper club, replete with odd assortments of strange people in various stages of sobriety and decay. the music was half-speed electro-funk, and quite a lot of it was pretty groovy.

the thing is, when there were four of us it was quite enjoyable, dancing and drinking and bumping elbows with strangers, but at 6am her friend left and a short while later the two of them abandoned me to go dance fairly intimately on the other side. i tried to be patient, but i'm not and i went to say goodbye. the boss made himself scarce, and i was kissed tenderly and begged to have a seat: "i'm sorry, i'm a bit problematic".

there's nothing worse than being in a situation that i've put a few girls in before, oft-times when i'd decided that i wasn't particularly interested. we had a short, uncomfortable chat, and after making my exit i spent the half-hour walk home driving myself absolutely nuts with bi-directional bullshit.

i woke up in the same headspace i went to sleep in (and i slept pretty badly), and spent the first half-hour to an hour abusing sketching d onto a canvas... extremely badly. my plan is malformed at best and it didn't really help me to work out my frustrations, although some of them were included in the draft.

so i put on my blades, put on tool, and went out to forcibly eject the cigarette i stupidly ingested on my way out of the club in the most brutal fashion i know how. it was an emotional run, with me flying past hundreds of picnicking people breathlessly belting out the lyrics to songs like push it.

that was a bit therapeutic. when i arrived back home i sat on the doorstep cooling down and crooning along, sent bt an eloquent sms ("coffee?") and went for another round. the negative response didn't touch me, which i think is quite sad as i was finally starting to relax a bit and now i'm all walled up again.