It's displayed all over the social network, each time i spy on my contacts i see a new advertising for the event, it's spreading like a plague, and the easy going girls clicking "i participate" more and more, it seems so easy, you take the train, you cross the gate, you sip a beer, then you mess and mix and rub to the others, you sway around, get unconsciouss and "bite", but i don't feel to "participate", i'll be, i have to, in the corner, bare feet on the white tiles, black pants and loose shirt (losing shirt), i'm part of the event, part of the show, i'll play for them to be crazy, and slap their worries away, i'll be covered with stares, and reaching hands, push me, pull me, i'll make them cry then crave, and bang their heads side to side, we are the entertainers, there is a place for me in that fuzzy bar, set like an attic, with posters and flags hanging on the ceiling, between the weary wooden tables with calls for love engraved in, filth!, there will be a plate and a beer for me at the counter, thanks to mister "Bear", i'm expected fondly, roughly, there is a place for me and still i don't feel to set myself as "participating", i can't click as easily as others, i can't let my preoccupations out the gate, i will be there, i will be so honest, fragile, as an offering, as a sacrifice, i will be the best of prey, i don't feel to "participate", let me enter that trance and keep my mind away,
And play for myself alone.
I understand you're humble. They are all going to have fun, to hear you play. I guess seeing is just as big as hearing. People just want to have fun. You don't have to be drunk to have fun, you get high on your music anyway.
RépondreSupprimerI'm also going to a bar, for one of my classes I have to compose a thick research paper and the professor invited everyone to meet in a bar and throw that sucker on the table. I'm not attending my graduation, so I'll go to this thing at least for my farewell.