glitterstruck

I worked all weekend, and as well as having big plans to head out to Gurlesque on Sunday afternoon, I agreed to let a woman interview me for a paper about something I had something to do with a while back. This meant bolting home from Chatswood (ugh, Chatswood) with 30 minutes to eat something and find an outfit, which meant I wound up going out to Gurlesque in a slightly dizzying array of black & white stripes. Striding up King St to meet the interviewer in a cafe I felt sincerely sorry for anyone with a hangover who glanced my way.

Gurlesque was a good time as ever- not all the performances were ecstatically wonderful, but some were, and all were in some way interesting. But who only goes for the shows? The crowd was luminous and lovely. Early on in the evening I was trying to explain something-or-other to a friend while another one danced around behind me, nibbling my elbows and shoulders and waist- eeek! Somehow my arms were bound (this speed bondage thing is a marvel!) then released and I was free to continue the conversation. This playfulness thrills me to bits- it's probably trite to say that I feel blessed, but it's true.

Later (later, later, much later), at another location, a dancer wrapped her arms around my waist and said: "You're intoxicating", to which I said "You mean intoxicATED!". Progressing from sidewards dance-floor stares to actual interaction is always thrilling, last night was no exception.

I joined this site because it seems like the slightly lazier version of this, and besides, I don't own a GPS handset.