1.
“It was her…”
I don’t know why I picked her… or, shall I say, she picked me. It all started downtown. I was somewhere in my forth week of dancing at the second club I ever stepped foot into, ‘K.O.’s’. Thinking then, that I was still the newest kid in town, I found it funny how I had not noticed her before. According to her, she had already been there one-month; same as me. I further became skeptical by her claim on things adored, which only seemed to be revealed after I initiated the idea in the first place. For instance take the ‘I.C.P.’ song I was dancing to; literally. Sure as I was, to know I had not yet heard it in the club, I easily released it from any future engagement in order to slightly relieve the suffering that a musical taste must endure while discovering that of another. She was a business woman. Her business pertained to getting you out of the way, so she could get on with her way toward the next victim, or; such as my case; lure the next victim in. She was my ‘partner-in-crime’, so to speak; only, I didn’t have to do too much speaking. I guess that’s all there is to it, beside “Here’s to it…” of course. That’s all in the past now, but I will say this… she looked like an advocate for the Devil; acting sly while trying to hide behind Betty Page bangs and cat-framed glasses. The innocence of her tattoos and pigtails were well betrayed next to her sexy, vampire fangs, and lip-piercing. Her plaid skirt was well equipped next to a “just one ‘D’” sized, double-pierced, w/ matching-nipple-top. Her black combat boots only made her look more feminine and exceptionally cute next to her white socks and beat-up wife-shirt. I myself chose not to break the rules, all 20 eyelets on my 8” heels, black-shirts only. I had to triple up on the stripes and fishnet on order to hide my bruised and skinny legs. The only things I could be proud about were my pole-tricks and the plaid skirt I wore… the one that ‘R.K. Sloane’ had given me... a skirt made famous in a painting of Matilda, his majorette. He told me, “It really went to Catholic School,” and eventually, even that ended up stolen. I only bring her up because, somehow, she must have complimented me. We were opposites. She was the ‘Evil/Good’ and I was the ‘Good-Eval’. My music- Satanic/ hers- sucked… but I did rather the fact that she listened to ‘Lords of Acid’ over the rest of my satanic shh-t(uff) that everyone else was trying to R.I.P. off. Anyway, this honorable mention is just to say that she started it, and that’s that.
Why do I blame her? She was the one who introduced me to you… but who you are has yet, to be revealed. At this point in the story, I was just beginning to feel inspired, as if I had fallen a bit down a rabbit hole… all of a sudden, my life was a story. The funniest things started to happen. First, I recall an average day at work turning into one of those days where you were ‘simply the best’... only, the better my day got, the worse I felt. For some reason, I remember getting the impression that this was my last day alive. For ‘failure-not’, to sound conceited, the movement just began to flow out of my body, as if, I were, the very being that inspired the song. Ok, that sounded even worse the second time. But seriously, no matter how bad I pretended it to be, it just kept getting better, or worse. I decided it was time to go home, and when I got outside, I did feel better. In fact, I’d never felt so great in my life. The midnight sky was blue-black… yet, I could still distinguish the green of the leaves on the trees. It’s not to say that the earth was spinning beneath me, for the treadmill was I…ugh-um, at least I lived through it. I decided I liked/lie- life… yes life, I liked the feeling of life. Did I just taste death? Ah, yes… this is where I wanted to start…
…You said “Smell this.” It was a Black rose. It smelled nice because it was made of leather. You said it was a ‘Gothic rose’ and that it would last forever. Then you talked about your industrial band, the tour, and the show you were playing down at “the club”, who’s name you didn’t even bother to remember; which is why, I can’t stand you freaking vampire’s… by the way, you gave away this story about a girl that was my life. It must have been from that point, forward, that I found myself applying new meaning toward my existence.
I was never the kind of person who enjoyed daydreaming. I only mention this so you don’t get too confused as I try to explain. Not that I’m trying to get into some sort of debate over anything, I will only say this: “It’s all good.” It doesn’t really matter if you believeth in negative over positive, or positive over negative, everything is a balance. We just needed to have a place to do it… you know, co-exist… and since there is no such thing as a place, where we know of for certain, that we could even get to; not in one, single light-year/ not ever, at the rate we’re going; with the exception of here, I just wanted to make sure it would always exist.
When ‘She’ left me, so did they all. I guess they were all disappointed when they found out how enlightening a table-dance could be. I wasn’t the kind of dancer you could just pay money to and enjoy yourself with; unless you didn’t know that in the first place. I was Jezabel, Anarchist/anti-Christ, extra-ordinary, and out to prove a point, “…No really, a line is the distance between two points and a point can be anywhere… so really, there’s no point.”
“I don’t get it. So you’re saying that money is pointless?”
“No, I’m saying math is dumb. The point of money was convenience. It’s just no longer convenient when it comes to the things that are necessary… like air, food, water, and shelter.”
“Ok, I love the planet too, but get over it.”
“Is she like this all the time?
“All of the time… Let’s go dance.”
“Yeah, I have to get rid of some of these Hard-earned dollars. Some people don’t know what that’s like though... HARD work.”
“You're right… I don’t work that hard.”
~’dah-na_na-na-nah_na-na-na_nuh…’ (Pitch of excitement in…3, 2,)