Went to an art party yesterday. We get onto one of those old tourism trains that run from Waterloo to St. Jacob's. We walk through the cars as it proceeds -- at a snail's pace -- between the terminals. Each car contains an exhibit: A silent art auction where you pay in charity hours, a train where you are accosted by improv comedians, an cinema, burlesque, and the unfortunately requisite set of snakes with you can handle under supervision.
We were asked to wear nametags, because these goddamn art exhibits always involve an element of goddamn socialization. Instead of filling in our names, we were asked to supply a topic on which we would happily expound.
I thought that was a very good idea.
I chose "Open Data", because I'm too old and beaten for pithy nihilism.
I have social anxiety. Walking through a train of socialites, I spent 8.5% of my mind wondering if I can jump off the train at this speed. The train rocks and rolls and I feel drunk. I wonder how the drunks feel (on their $5 cups of wine.)
I hide in the burlesque room because it's not crowded (I'll admit it wasn't mind-blowing, but the attitude people talk towards pointless art is disturbingly short-sighted, their attitude towards nudity is even worse.)
Breast does not titillate me, only because it's not the kind of breast that titillates me. I stare at a penis. I am neither repulsed not aroused. (nor ashamed of how my penis compares in comparison.) I am repulsed at the knowledge that I am looking at people, that people are seeing me look at other people. Looking at people always struck me as invasive, even though I celebrate eavesdropping in almost every moment. Why? I dunno. I really dislike staring at people, it freaks me out, but it's how people talk so I dunno. I must look strange.
I enjoy eavesdropping on people as they spawn their guided conversations. I learn interesting tidbits. I don't enjoy speaking when asked. I feel like I spend too much time expounding. I do, because strangers at parties frighten the fuck out of me (parties do in general.) I should ask them about their topics, but I then feel like a creep. Cognitive dissonance overload. I feel like I've invaded their time.
I try to half-heartedly about their topics, but they've usually turned away by then. I love it when they force themselves upon me, take my speech into areas I did not intend. I depend on other people in conversations, I cannot be trusted with them myself.
A man tells me that my hat is (paraphrased) "spectacular" and that I (not paraphrased) "wear it well." I am delighted and amused, for I still feel self-conscious about my ulterior motives for wearing a hat (I don't know what they are, but I suspect they exist. Who am I trying to fool?)
I carry rtehmiss
' purple polka-dot umbrella because she is off stuffing fish balls into her mouth. Tim of TriTAG tells me that he loves the ensemble (I have my black straw hat and also a tri-blue hexagonal sweater. Incidentally, it would be great for war-gaming.)
I love carrying an umbrella. I use it like a cane. I don't wish I was crippled, but I wish I was the Penguin of Batman's world.
I was supposed to go to Toronto today, but there was no good reason. Instead I stayed up till 5am, cam to MoT, and have been combining Getting Things Done(tm) and Pomodoro(tm) to handle life. Now I see Catherine for a Vincenzo's sandwich. Then I see whether Kitchener has interesting people about.
I will jig down the street to Public Image Ltd's "Metal Box" until I get bored, then I will decide between Mission of Burma and some other post-punk formula.