05.09.05

If you heard an unholy shriek coming from the environs of the American Pacific Northwest this morning (local time: 0630), that was me. Four hours of sleep. Cigarette smoke headache. But I'm at work, damnit. Could someone give me a Victoria's Cross, or something? Hell, I'd settle for an intense shoulder rub, and a cot with fluffy pillows and a blankie.

I've got Tom Waits on the shop's cheap CD-player. The grey sky and spring rain add to the atmosphere of post-celebratory dissipation.

Oh yeah, it's Monday morning after a late, event-filled night. This morning, as I prayed for a Act of [insert deity of choice here] to somehow make going to work impossible, I felt every nanosecond of my time on the planet.

Last evening was great fun. Everyone was on their game. I'm pissed that I had to leave before everyone read, but filthy lucre calls.

**Warning: Girly exposition of outfit worn along with gratuitous self-congratulatory ego-gratification** I found a fabulous little black dress at a discount shop last Friday. It's one of those body-skimming, sleeveless, just above the knee dresses that stage whispers "Watch out boys, your heart's gonna be breakin' real soon." Along with my heavy eye make-up, glitzy earrings, and my long-haired fall I barely resembled my Chuck-wearin', jeans and t-shirts self. With understated, vintage, black suede pumps and a minimum of jewelry--well. It made me look good. *grin*

Before I knew it, it was time to change into bellydance drag. I opened the evening with some thrashing and flailing to bouncy bhangra (I know, I know, not Middle Eastern in the least, but oh-so-fun to dance to), then the poetry began.

Did I say that everyone was on fire? Because they were. I got up to read, still in dance drag, but wearing reading glasses (talk about a weird disconnect), and got a nice reception.

The Vinos played after the second set of poets that included Treyluv, Chatterbox, BB, JB, and the fantabulous Mlle.E. (Gosh, I hope I didn't fuck up and dis' someone.) The new drummer and sax player brought another kind of energy to the mix--that was good. I played the part of the Secret Vino, and Weapon of Mass Distraction, dancing the last couple of songs in their set. It's fun to dance to the band, catching grins back and forth. I enjoyed catching the drummer's eye as we finished Come On with a flourish.

And finally, my nigh-insatiable ego wiped its mouth, pushed back from the table, patted its belly and said, "I'm full."

Well damn.

*cackle*

I'm going to crawl to the coffee stand and refill my mug. If hot coffee going into veins didn't hurt so much (I assume it'd hurt like a mo'fo'), I'd request an IV and stand.

Go. Be fabulous.

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