Nov. 02, 2003 - 12:28 p.m.
I feel as if the residue from last night has seeped into my pores and clings to me eternally.
I love this city, and last night was ever so interesting, but there is something about the light of day and the accompanying hangover that always makes me feel dirty and fragile.
How to condense an evening of bizarre behaviors and strange personalities into a few words that will keep well over time?
I do not truly feel up to the task. Lack of sleep and lack of food tend to make me grumpy and unfocused.
There is however an instance of cruelty from last night (surprisingly, I wasn't the author of it) that stands out in my mind. Fascinated as I am with power and the exchange of power and most especially the abuse of power, it was a harsh reminder of the lengths one will go when given the opportunity.
It's an ugly passion, an ugly addiction, but for some of us bastardized souls, the sublime is a potent aphrodisiac.
Half formed images from last night are still echoing around in my head, and if I get even so much as a whiff of patchouli today, I just might puke.
The thought of my beautiful man, the soft sheets, and darkened room call quietly to me, and I am so thankful to be back in my haven, my home. So, I'll leave you guessing about last night while I crawl between the sheets and sleep another day away.
