Jinked

Last night I went dancing with Marisol, her friends and some mutual friends at this Hispanic club in Chicago called La Pachanga. We took a limo up there (Marisol and her husband were friends with the driver) so we didn’t have to worry about driving later on. We smuggled in a bottle of tequila. There was food and Spanish and so much music.

There was some English music, but most of it was, what sounded to me, like Mexican polka music. Maybe it was. I have no clue. Besides, I don’t know how to dance with a partner.

Usually when I go to clubs I dance alone, which I love and enjoy. La Pachanga was mainly for couples dancing together. Marisol and her husband looked good. Berenice and the limo driver looked good. Everyone looked good! I think Mexicans just have dancing in their blood, and in this club I was purely the white girl with not a lot of rhythm.

However, the didn’t deter guys wanting to dance with me. At the end of the night I had five different dance partners (or maybe a more apt word would be “teacher”), one of which was a clown who later gave people business cards saying he did children’s parties and divorces. I guess there are all kinds of reasons to celebrate.

One guy spun me around a lot. I liked that.

We stopped for tacos in some Hispanic area in Chicago at 4 this morning. I had no idea where we were, but I felt good being with everyone. I liked the tacos, and they were tiny, had lots of cilantro and cheap. Marisol always gets this rice milk stuff when we eat Mexican food. I think is pretty gross.

I didn’t get home until 6 this morning; I was up for almost 24 hours. I took a shower to rid myself of old, dried-up sweat and promptly went to bed, where I didn’t wake up until 2 this afternoon.

I wrote today. I had promised a friend I would try a little fanfiction (Voltron for those curious) for her. I used to be really active in fandom about three to four years back. I kind of lost my soul after awhile.

I have 1200 words so far. I hope to finish it later tonight. I got the idea in this weird flash of other ideas. I like writing about food and making the experience of eating different. In this case, horrifying. Toni Morrison uses food a lot in her works. So does China Mieville. Snippet for you:

“Tonight is a celebration to you,” Zarkon said and the officers answered their king’s generosity with another round of cheer. With a broad smile and a look to the slave at his side, Zarkon spoke his final words in Basic. “So please, whet your every appetite. Eat and drink and indulge in all I have provided. It’s yours for the taking, men. You’ve most certainly earned it.”

Holding out his empty glass, Zarkon watched his highest ranking officers tear into the food. They were savages, ripping through large pieces of raw meat with wide, feral grins of satisfaction and entitlement. No human liked to watch a Drule eat. No silverware, just claws and fangs and lots and lots of wine. Even the most basic of Drule needs was a huge play of sadism.

The woman standing beside Zarkon, however, filled his glass without so much as blinking.

Time to make dinner.