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Queers Defy ID
Mar. 7th, 2005 01:51 pmWithin a few minutes of arriving at Stay Beautiful, I notice a random is staring at me. Later on, at the urinals, he asks me why he recognises me. Am I an actor? I toy with the idea of going into a spiel about how we are all actors, myself more than most, but then realise that since he's a bit foreign, and very random, it will probably be lost on him.
There's a lot of randoms about. At times the dancefloor will be full without anyone I know being on there. Even the guest DJ's a random - he looks like a sechs offender and Gets Indie Wrong (STOP MIXING, MAN!), and too many of my people are missing. Still, no SB is without its charms, and tonight my perfect moments belong to Annie, the Bravery and LCD Soundsystem.
A variant of Plan A for Saturday night has been re-instituted, but Plan B features![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
violentbec's veg spag bol, so we stick with that anyway, and drink a litre of wine each. Indeed, shouldn't I have a new icon to emphasise this, atommickbrane?
Sunday: Love Your Enemies. Scottish promised to disappear up his own posterior when given the early slot, but instead the bounder plays a poppy set which fills the floor - leaving me to clear it. We hate it when our friends become successful...
( On the decks is where I want you )
In the DJ booth one graffito says "FRANK DIRTY IS STILL ALIVE". Anyone who's been reading 2000AD over the last month will understand why I liked this so.
Thanks to all of you who came, drank and/or danced. Oh, and to our guest. I didn't recognise much of what he played, but everyone else seemed to. I'm sure it's not meant to work like that, is it? I am pretty much dead before I even arrive, but still have a wonderful time - I feel like the skeletons from the 'Tanz Mit Laibach' video, deceased but still dancing. I am engaged to DJ a wedding, the problem being that while I can put together what I consider a perfect wedding set, it would actually see me murdered. And the worst of that is, I wouldn't even get to finish it. Ah well, back to the drawing board.
And then, as you may have gathered, I died in a bin.
This article discusses why Gloucestershire terrorist Saajid Badat didn't actually blow anything up. Those defending him say "When it came time to plant the bomb Allah came into his mind straight away and reminded him that the Qu'ran forbids you to kill people". The police suggest he was just waiting for another chance. Nobody suggests theanswer which to me seems most obvious: he chickened out.
There's a lot of randoms about. At times the dancefloor will be full without anyone I know being on there. Even the guest DJ's a random - he looks like a sechs offender and Gets Indie Wrong (STOP MIXING, MAN!), and too many of my people are missing. Still, no SB is without its charms, and tonight my perfect moments belong to Annie, the Bravery and LCD Soundsystem.
A variant of Plan A for Saturday night has been re-instituted, but Plan B features
violentbec's veg spag bol, so we stick with that anyway, and drink a litre of wine each. Indeed, shouldn't I have a new icon to emphasise this, atommickbrane?Sunday: Love Your Enemies. Scottish promised to disappear up his own posterior when given the early slot, but instead the bounder plays a poppy set which fills the floor - leaving me to clear it. We hate it when our friends become successful...
( On the decks is where I want you )
In the DJ booth one graffito says "FRANK DIRTY IS STILL ALIVE". Anyone who's been reading 2000AD over the last month will understand why I liked this so.
Thanks to all of you who came, drank and/or danced. Oh, and to our guest. I didn't recognise much of what he played, but everyone else seemed to. I'm sure it's not meant to work like that, is it? I am pretty much dead before I even arrive, but still have a wonderful time - I feel like the skeletons from the 'Tanz Mit Laibach' video, deceased but still dancing. I am engaged to DJ a wedding, the problem being that while I can put together what I consider a perfect wedding set, it would actually see me murdered. And the worst of that is, I wouldn't even get to finish it. Ah well, back to the drawing board.
And then, as you may have gathered, I died in a bin.
This article discusses why Gloucestershire terrorist Saajid Badat didn't actually blow anything up. Those defending him say "When it came time to plant the bomb Allah came into his mind straight away and reminded him that the Qu'ran forbids you to kill people". The police suggest he was just waiting for another chance. Nobody suggests theanswer which to me seems most obvious: he chickened out.
