radfrac_archive_full

So: Rocky Horror Picture Show. Bulletproof New Year's idea, right? And it was, except that about fifteen people turned up.

This *town*. And what then were all the uni boys doing in the dress section of Value Village the afternoon before?

We had bonhomie, though, as the criminologist would have it. There was a Positive Collective Energy for Perversion. We were the only people who dressed for dinner, and I was the only gentleman in tights. Others remembered toast. Rain was prohibited thus discreet.

The print was old and scratchy, and I saw all kinds of details in it that I've never noticed or had forgotten. The flaws in the lips' teeth. It occurred to me that I founded much of my adolescent ideal of queer bohemian lifestyle on Frank's castle.

Actually, I still believe life should be like that. Though with less anthropophagia.

The drinking came later, and it was quiet but sincere, so I am somewhat weathered this morning, and I did *not* make it to yoga, which grieves me. I am therefore, and otherfore, not of a resolving mindset, though I mean to be resolute.

Maybe I'll do that LJ-year-inn-review-meme instead.

{rf}