Is it weird to go to a notorious gay/tranny/drag club by yourself (when you are straight), dance (also solo), drink large quantities of hard liquor, and remain silent the whole time? Oddly, it felt kind of inherent to me, which sadly and officially signals my return to lurker status. I’m not gonna sit back and let my friends (who have no interest in going out) prevent me from being detached and creepy in places that I don’t necessarily belong.
Lately I’ve been thinking deeply about my presentation on the dance floor. I really wanna know what I look like when I dance, cuz sometimes it feels so innate, but alas, it likely looks very unnatural. I’ve danced in front of a mirror in my room, and it did not look very fluid, so I doubt that when I am out that I am somehow channeling Crazy Legs, James Brown, and/or Gregory Hines (which is how it feels in my mind). Not that it matters, as the shirtless guy in the sport coat with the cowboy boots had no problem giving my ass a squeeze, despite my raucous movements. As violating as that was, it played into my insecurities like a college girl with an absentee father.
T La Rock - This Beat Kicks
T La Rock - Bass Machine
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