The Calling was horrendous, despite the best efforts of some very lovely people to make me feel better. I did dance a little, but wished I hadn't, and generally for the evening wanted to turn to stone in a convenient corner or creep off somewhere quiet and gut myself. It was, in short, not good. I think the absence of nisaba actually made a very big difference. But hey. I'll live.
As I will live despite many people I know and love going off to Whitby today. It hurts more than I can cope with so I've pretty much shut everything down. ~shrug~ Whatever.
In between times there was a film-watching afternoon/evening with wildeabandon, grahamb, dmh, surje and excelsis, which was surprisingly enjoyable given that the films were the three about Hannibal Lecter and I should have been hiding horrified throughout. Well, I was, a little, but never alone. ~g~ So I didn't feel so bad about hiding. This was followed by a trip to the pub where the jukebox played appalling nu-metal for hours...~shudder~
But you know those odd perfect moments you get from time to time? Just thirty seconds or a minute when nothing, not someone talking loudly or someone's phone going off or even possibly someone tipping a bucket of water full of eels on top of you could break or change or mar the tiny, tiny crystal of perfection in time you've somehow managed to catch hold of?
There was one of those at the pub last night, surrounded by awful nu-metal and people I was jealous of and people whose voices it hurt to hear and strange drunken men playing pool and goths and corrugated iron.
Just for a few seconds.
And I am grateful for it.
But bloody miserable all the same, so I shall go try to get hold of music now. Let's see, there's stray NIN, London After Midnight, The Horatii, The Chameleons, Kylie...~g~