Rack and Ruin
2003-01-11 � 1:49 a.m.

There's just something about a rock and roll club that is both freeing and repressive.

The music was good. My ears are still ringing. The company was...odd.

I recall things. Like Willow, Aubrey and Tracey standing with their backs to me, each looking back at me at various points, their gazes communicating very different things.

Willow: "Who the fuck are you?"

Aubrey: "You asshole."

Tracey: "..." (Actually I'm not sure about his one.)

It's become quite clear that Aubrey is pissed at me for being emotionally (and otherwise) unavailable.

Most of the others don't know what to make of me. I'm like some sort of secondary auxilary to the group. I get the nod, the "Hello," even the "How's it going?" But that's it -- I'm that guy who is always with the other person that they know.

(There are, of course, exceptions. I live my life through exceptions.)

That's my wisdom for the evening. Oh, that and that I found out a bunch of major things about my roommate (and supposed best friend!) from a random guy at the bar tonight.

Great.

-t

Currently Aurally Inducing: At the Drive-In, Cosmonaut
Selection of the Lyrical Vocabulary: "Is it heavier than air? Tell us, is the black box lying?"

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