‘the drugs kill you
the love as well’
We watched a film-noir-inspired, transvestite, rope-climbing act on Satruday night. The ‘mysterious dame’ was a guy in a gold lamé dress, and the ‘surly detective’ tore off her shirt to reveal her bra while hanging 20 meters in the air. Sex and murder and silent condemnation, all while suspended on silk ropes.
We went to a silent disco afterwards - everyone wearing headphones and tuning in to one of two tracks the DJ was broadcasting. While my friends boogied to something by Lady Gaga, I sashayed to Perez Prado.
You could take off your headphones and listen to everyone singing the chorus to themselves. Some people simply took off their headphones, I realised, and were just singing along, taking joy in their own acapella version of this strange event.
I worry sometimes that I’m falling in love with this city - that I couldn’t live anywhere else. I tell myself I should live in other places, inhabit other rooms, while I can. While I want to. ‘Sow my suburban seed’, I guess. But I do love this town now, and I’m not sure I could anymore.
‘the drugs kill you
the love as well’
