Says it all. There was also some guy called Skrillex playing down the street. Boobs win.
Christ, where do I even start? My brains are still mush from the spectacle that unfolded at this coolest of venues. This was me, stepping way outside my comfort zone. I figured, "all right, I'll go, attach myself to a wall, and quietly take all this in. What could go wrong?"
This. This is what happened. (My tablet takes crappy pics, sorry. Or maybe I take crappy pics. Either way...) A whole lot of music, a whole lot of sexy... more than this introvert's brain could handle.
The night is a blur, now, if I try to take it all in at once. It was primal, visceral, made of soul-crushing beat and sweat-slicked skin. It was frenetic, careless, epidemic fun, filled with gyrating hips and a suggestive, wicked tongue. It was like fingers clawed down a spine and a breathy giggle at the base of the neck. It was... more than Lincoln knew what to do with.
I didn't take nearly as many pics as I should have. I'll probably get spanked for not following the rules, but what can I say? I'm a rebel like that.
So what happens when an introvert finds his brain in meltdown? Everything. I was loud. @lioness peeled me off the wall and I danced. Me. I went up to the stage and danced like no one else was there. What? I don't dance. I started conversations with complete strangers; I even took one to the floor. Waaaay out of character for me.
They pried me out of my shell tonight. With a crowbar. And I thank them. It was the most fun I'd had in years.
In the end, I still have no voice to speak of, bass still embedded in my very bones, and a lip print in purple on my forehead that I am yet loathe to wash off.
And tonight, I lived.
Me and @liryc... Neither of us knew which end of the damn thing to look at. At least we were both wrong. Sorry, @liryc. This was the best one. It's me. I suck at taking pictures. I am a fauxtographer.
Thank you, Suicide Girls, for kicking my town in the ass and showing us what a good time really looks like.
