To keep going when I don't wanna.
February 14th (which is today/last night.) was my friend zoltan’s memorial psy-trance party in *secret.*. I, of course couldn’t miss that, because I got involved in Mansy’s band, and I as the pianist – again. But I also couldn’t peel myself off my own couch until 6:30. So I got to the party by 8 pm, and the saddest thing was they don’t need a pianist for that night because Mansy tricked me, just to get me into the party. lols. Bad girl Mansy! I danced myself SILLY for 3½ hours, and then got back on the 1-ish am car ride to go home.
That was an INSANE party for my lovely buddy. He was a non-conventional person who left no instructions, really, as to what he wanted to have happen to his remains before he was “shipped back” to where-he-is-suppose-to-be, so my loveliest Flora found an appropriate vessel for him - in what the crew started to call the cosmic bowling ball. Which is exactly what you’d think, except a lot lighter.
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So his ashes were right there in front of the mr.DJ’s table the entire night, soaking up our love and our howling cat calls and the throbbing beats on the dance floor.
Wait a second. I should explain something. Psy-trancing looks a lot like “raving” (you know, the zoned out kiddos with soothers in their mouths or what have you, who are snorting coke off each other and just acting like idiots.). Psy-trancing involves a lot of the same deco-fluo paintings and the like - and has a certain subtype of trance, but for my ganggs, and a lot of others out there, there is a spiritual bent to the dance. An attempt to raise energy, for a certain purpose; an attempt to get into a spiritual trance through dance.
Yes. A lot of energy was raised that night. It was beautiful and inexpressible.
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My night was lovely, for the most part, I think. Flora and I are lovely. We pretty much always are. (: We drank lots (her idea, at first I was like, “hell no! Where the hell is the juice store?! oh yeah, not montreal. Things close here.*apakann*”) and so we chatted. I saw lots of a good friend of mine, apart from Faris-the-playboy who I haven’t seen in probably 3 years.Faris invited me to dance along but pity him that I was so-uh damn tired. He then again asked me to get inside a room he initially booked, for oh-uh a chat. whatever mister. He was trying to be the “mr.nice guy” and “loving man” with me (he was just pretending, peepo. seriously.), I said “no touching, okay? dream onnn. and go away.” And you peepo have no idea how many bloody times Faris wanted to exchange roses with me (exchange roses is part of the party’s program, it was valentine’s day btw. And generally you exchange yours with the ones you admire/secretly in love with.), I only wish I could just have stepped on his roses with my feet or simply tear it apart. sighs.
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I crashed early lots, zoned out a bit. Yet I felt disconnected, or disjointed. (It could also have been a bit of the tobeyweed.) Because wafi wasn’t there. =’( I shook it off. I missed him.
And the next day I was EXHAUSTED, much.
the diarykeeper,
‘ my charliegirl.
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