Saturday night I went to the Labyrinth ball with K. There were tears. Lots of drama, and tears. When it was bad, it was so very very bad. But it wasn't all bad.
We had a hell of a time getting ready to go, a hell of a time sneaking past the new neighbors (I did not want to be in drag the first time I ever meet these people) and a whatever-is-worse-than-hell of a time trying to find parking. Seriously, we circled the neighborhood like a dozen times and there was just nothing, and it was getting later and later and it was really starting to look like we were gonna have to eat the cost of our tickets (40 smackers each!) and just give up and go home. K has been having a really, really rough time of it lately and she was stressed and exhausted and all of her frustrations started to boil over and... Oh, people, it got grim. So, so grim. Like, Why the fuck am I even alive?! grim.
I feel weird even talking about it. I used to share everything online and not think twice, but... I don't know, it feels weird now. Well, anyway, it was awful, but then we magically found a parking space not far from the event and suddenly we were inside. We were still crackling with tension and there were all these people in devil suits and skeleton masks hopping around us acting out their geeky little masquerade ball personas, and we were so not in the mood. This one skeleton dude started slinking around K in a little circle, trying to interact with her, and he was lucky she didn't slap the skull off his head. I mean, imagine you were sobbing three minutes ago, and suddenly you find yourself onstage in the middle of Cirque du Soleil and there's some fucking clown trying to incorporate you into his juggling act. This was like that.
Every year around 11 PM they play As the World Falls Down, and it's always very emotional for us. As we're dancing, the whole last year will kind of hit us at once. It's sort of like that New Year's Eve feeling, where the clock strikes midnight and suddenly everything is in slow motion, and in that long, strange moment you can feel the world shift around you in some weird way as the old year is dying and a new year takes it place. This is sort of like that, but this year it was a little too emotional. The song was performed by some band with sugar skulls painted on their faces, and as we were surrounded by all of these waltzing people in their ball gowns and Mardi Gras masks, it felt like the last scene of a terribly sad movie. We held each other tight and danced and cried a lot, and I wondered if this really would be the last time we'd ever go out like this. Would this be our last dance?
As the world falls down, I'll be there for you...
But then the rest of the evening went a lot better, and we actually ended up having a pretty good time. Seriously, if you can't have fun at the Labyrinth ball, just fucking slit your throat. We saw middle-aged lesbians in fairy costumes absolutely devouring each other on the dance floor, they were crazy-horny aunties and it was pretty sweet. And there was a fairy princess in a wheelchair, out there dancing (er, rolling with style) with a couple of her friends. She was so beautiful, just the sight of her got me weepy again.
The word inclusive sounds so gross and hippie, but that was the word that came to mind. The Labyrinth ball includes people, you can be some gorgeous young thing in a rubber dress or some ratty 60-year-old dude in a Peter Pan outfit, and it's all cool, baby. You see little kids running around, and furries, and hot girls wearing glitter and not much else, and somehow it all seems sweet and good and not creepy. We noticed that one of the bands had left an open satchel full of cameras and iPhones and crap right out there in the middle of the ballroom, and we were talking about how easy it would be for somebody to steal all that stuff when it hit us: that was not going to happen. I'm not saying that everybody in the building was absolutely trustworthy, but... In a building packed to the very rafters with sweaty humans, it felt like you'd have to look long and hard to find any total jerks. (And why would you want to?)
A highlight: During a lull on the dance floor, an elegant werewolf in a tuxedo sat down at a piano and started to play Don't Stop Believing. Apparently he wasn't part of the official show, because a lady rushed over to him and STOPPED him, she shut his ass down. The crowd clapped for the guy, I think we all wanted to hear the wolfman play a song. We were near enough to give him a thumb's up, and the wolfman just sort of shrugged, as if to say, "Ah, well, I tried."
I hadn't shaved in months, and now I see that I suddenly have jowls. I don't know if that's a fat thing or an age thing. It better be a fat thing, because if I already have old people jowls I am gonna burn my face off with a blowtorch. (That'll teach it.) I think I looked OK in drag, though. We took some pictures, but I usually look like ass in pictures so I'll have to wait and see if they're worth posting.
I keep thinking I'm totally done with this damn blog, and then I find myself back at the keyboard. There are individuals on Livejournal I've stayed in touch with, but more and more this blog has felt like me talking to myself. I never imagined any one person reading this thing, there was just a "presence" or composite reader I was addressing, if that makes sense. And that presence feels like it's gone now. So it feels dopey to spend the time on this, it's like writing a long letter to a dead pen pal.
But I also kind of feel like I'm maybe violating K's trust, by writing about all this. She never tells me not to blog about stuff and she never reads anything I do write, but for some reason I just don't feel comfortable blabbing about her the way I used to. Things have been very hard and I don't know what's going to happen. But I do still love her, and I still want this to work. Sometimes it feels like this world is never gonna stop falling down, but despite it all, I never want to stop falling in love with that girl.