Hi! Do you remember blogs? Well, this used to be one. Now it just serves as an archive for my multiple Twitter accounts.

21 June 2003

Unfit

I had a good night out (again? again!). And, now, I’m depressed and upset. Happens a bit too often, methinks. So, for the sake of this post, I’ll try to get back into my past state of mind and pretend I wrote this post six hours ago.

First of all, thanks to XIII for giving me an invitation to the gay pride night at the Tuileries: free party, free fair, free food (with restrictions; I’ll get back to that later). Since the guy who was originally supposed to give me one had disappeared, I was that close to missing the whole thing.

So that’s done. What else did I want to say? That I think too much. I should focus on the good memories, look at the bright side of things like an Aquarius is supposed to do (or so I heard), and instead, well… I’ve said it and asked for it before: lobotomy!

Anyway. I’m not easily influenced, it’s just that I need someone to push me into doing things that I’d like to, but don’t dare. (Don’t even think of using that sentence against me regarding work. It’s not the same thing. At all.) Why am I saying that? Because I’ve been feeling sick for 45 minutes after I went onto a ride I would never have contemplated trying just a couple of years ago. I only needed an excuse, someone in the group who’d insist on doing it. So… clubbing, rides… the only thing that’s missing now on my list is karaoke. If I ever do that one, I can promise you that chances are I won’t tell you. Ever. But that would be the peak of my career as a living person.

What else… Thing is, I spent four hours there (by the way, midnight is a bit early for closing; it should have started earlier, or ended later), so I have to translate that into a long and uninteresting post. Did I say uninteresting? Yeah, that’s what I meant. (You have no idea how comfortable it feels to have removed the commenting system: whatever I write, I don’t need to worry about reading stuff more stupid than mine tomorrow afternoon, as I wake up).

Oh, right, I remember (actually, I don’t, I took some notes, but they’re as much of a mess as my brain, it’s four in the morning now). I’d really like to know how the stall keepers are paid back for this. Calculating the compensation for rides is easy, but how about food and drinks? I wonder, is the remuneration so small that they have to make it last long and only serve four wafers an hour (with extra-light dough and only a few grams of sugar on the side), or are they making a huge profit by getting large earnings from the gay pride sponsors?

Last item on that messy post: what’s nice about a gathering of all gay people in the area is, you get to see people you know but, more importantly, dozens of faces already seen in chatrooms. And I’ll only say this: when I see how 99% of those guys look ugly as compared to their pictures, I feel that much less guilty for slightly improving my pictures (very slightly: I could do a lot worse). Out of the, say, thirty faces I recognized, there’s only one that looked as good in real life as on pictures. Wow.

So. Party. In short: a gay-only free party in a fun fair at night, how much more romantic can you get? That’s such a fantastic place to… spend the night alone. (Well, not alone, but with online acquaintances. But that doesn’t count as romance.)

So I did manage to write, and translate, this horrible post. Did you manage to read it all?

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