on playing house (literally)

Justice Pub, happening now – House Music:

7 times back from the dead

I think perhaps the Universe is joking around with me: days before my birthday, almost every year, the same, strange, seemingly arbitrary actions and forks in the road become suspiciously deliberate – or seemingly so.

Clue: if I leave your house/apt./et cetera in the middle of the night like it is being incinerated, I am not planning on returning.  (Thankfully, everybody has a code name: they are so much fun to make up.)

Strange enough, right?

*

How fitting:

lessons on business casual

[or “16 Reasons Not to Fuck Your Weed Dealer”]

1. When you pay for it, you don’t know what you’re really paying for.

2. When it’s free, you wonder how you’re really paying.

3. Time becomes nonexistent; television becomes endless.

4. Most weather patterns feel like the jungle, or the tropics – and either instance is, somehow, mercilessly sexually appealing as background.

5. You never know when something that is barely detectable is intended to feel incredible – or vice versa.

6. There is a flow of people frequenting the apartment, causing the bedroom to become the only social fallout shelter.

7. Volumes are constantly either too low or too pounding.

8. You’re never sure how long either one of you has paused in between stories, or how long the actual stories last – or afterwards, how you may or may not have affected the other person in either direction of mood.

9. You think because the sex is great the company should feel the same: it doesn’t.

10. You are always aware of, and against, staying too long.

11. You remain totally stoic or searingly turned on by the seemingly slightest physical behaviors and or topics.

12. Obvious jokes easily masquerade as seriousness.

13. The remedy to everything (fatigue, lack of rigidity, a wandering mind) is smoking more.

14. Every temperature becomes the perfect degree count.

15. All the car stereos outside distract you.

16. You end up going back for more.