Because I have recently fallen into the habit of declaring things that are probably good for me to be for suckers, I went out again last night instead of staying home and sleeping.
You know what I'm going to start using in conversation more often? The word "pulchritudinous." Be on the look out.
After Josh and I missed the fashion show at CHAC we wandered over to Chop Suey to catch the Divorce and an impromtu dance party by some people wearing what 80's fashions would look like if you traveled forward in time and tried to describe them to someone. This includes but is not limited to a blue felt hoodie with clip-art diamonds all over it. No joke. It was Chop Suey's fourth anniversary party, featuring The Spits, who turned out to be a bunch of middle aged guys in costumes tossing firecrackers. Which isn't to say that they were exactly bad, just...unexpected. Unexpected in a moshing-and-firecrackers-and a hat shaped like a bug sort of way. Y'know.
And anyway, most of the time the best part of going out is clomping home through empty streets, a familiar ache in my right calf because that's the side I tend to rest my weight on and accidentally kicking myself in the ankle every third step. It's in those brief walks that I feel most myself, content and untouchable, ready to walk into my empty apartment and fold myself into my rumpled blankets. I'm still rocking the heck out of my twenties, and anyways, playing it safe and staying home is for suckers.
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