filling the freezing air

Entry Text I have a headache but there’s no real reason to complain. The apartment is always freezing. I realize it’s hot outside, yes, but the roommate feels as though the home must remain at an icey degree. why? maybe it’s because he’s a fucking moron. but mostly I think it’s because the sun hits his window. Last night the girlfriend and I, decked out in 80’s attire and elitist attitudes, attended our dear friend’s birthday party. Invitations were sent out on myspace stating "open bar, live dj, dress to impress". Quite the occasion. Since the initial party had been broken up we went straight to the "after-party" where there were a fucking shit load of people in a cramped, hot, beat drivin home in west phoenix. I drank. Barely mingled. Was meek and quiet. People danced. I took shots of hypnotic with pablo and cheap vodka with jane and talked shit with my girlfriend. A girl, obviously in a fundrunkdancing frenzy busted open her chin and was bleeding all over everyone’s gucci shoes and chanel sunglasses. I thought, perhaps I could make my mark and the phoenix scene by being remembered as the fucking stupid drunk chick who fell at the one chick’s party. genius! a drunk couple was fighting in the backyard while there friends mediated, "he called me a hoe! did you hear him call me a hoe!" j&b, incidently, started fighting too. an ex showed up. there were exchanges. I was sitting wide legged upon a stool gauking at the dancefloor crazies and drinking my keg beer when jane appears, stone faced and teary eyes, "will you take me home?" yeah, because, I mean, when your best friends are being fucking drunk and stupid and fighting you can’t say no. on her cell phone in the back of our car she was screaming. and I had never heard that kind of scream in her voice. and I felt. bad or something. I don’t often attend parties. I’m not well versed on the party "scene". What I will say is that I think it’s a lame grasp for attention when couples put on fight shows at parties. Like, we’re bored with getting drunk, we’re bored with making out, lets fuck with our emotions a little and get mad for excitement. lets have no regard for anyone else because right now our fight is waaaay more important than you having a good time or taking a risk driving intoxicated. lets have our friends circle us, baby us, comfort us while we rant and cry in a horrible emotionful frenzy. lets be the center of fucking attention cause our relationship is just that complicated. I sit back and watch, and was much more entertained by the chick with the bleeding chin. What do you do though, right? You go because what else are you going to do on a saturday night other than smoke a joint and surf myspace. why get drunk alone when you can get drunk with a number of different people. gay boys and hispanics and 15 year old bisexuals on antidepressants. I’m game for a good party but am never really "at the party". I stand in corners, in shadows, up against the weight set, close to the keg. I don’t approach you and if it wasn’t getting so hot I’d have my hood on. I wear a red button on my pin striped jacket that says "FUCK WAR" but no one says anything about it. I mumble, I’m stoned, I don’t make eye contact. I don’t dance or flirt or fight or mingle. I stand and watch and sometimes smile. I’m shy and alone. And I can’t help it. The cops came right before we were leaving. A bad ass bitch regulated, "I’ll throw you all to the pigs I don’t care, get the fuck out!" A bowl of irony can be served up considering at home the girlfriend and I fought ourselves. the girlfriend and I is another blog entirely. oh, relationships, how we enjoy. how we meet and mingle and fight and all that. how I become fearful and anguished by you. hooooooow you exist everyfuckingwhere I go. It’s still freezing in here, colder than before.