strange_complex: (Me Cornucopia)
Pre-Wendyhouse selfieI went out to Wendyhouse last night for the first time in about two years. The least appalling selfie which I took before going out is on the right, but it is physically quite difficult to press the right button on my phone-camera without dropping it or causing massive camera-shake, so I struggled to get one which showed what I was wearing without also capturing an annoyed and frustrated expression.

The Gentlemen of Leeds were obviously well-primed to make me feel good about myself once I reached the club, though, as I got several spontaneous and very charming compliments, all of which successfully steered well clear of Creepytown:
  • One made a special point of saying that he had liked my dancing. Always nice to hear.
  • Another told me that my outfit looked very expensive. In Yorkshire, this sort of comment can sometimes be code for "Well, you're a bit up yourself, aren't you?", so I quickly denied anything of the sort, but it turned out that he meant it in a very genuine "You look like a million dollars" sort of way.
  • And a third literally walked up to me, tapped me on the arm and said "Excuse me, would you like to dance?", which I didn't think was a phrase familiar to the Youth of Today. Furthermore, when I said that actually I had been just about to go and sit down for a while because my feet were killing me (which was true), he accepted that perfectly happily, pointed out the area of the dancefloor where I could find him if I changed my mind later, and walked away. Which shouldn't be a rare and noteworthy experience for a single woman in a nightclub, but sadly it very much is. If only all chaps would follow the same approach.
As for that bit about my feet killing me, I didn't understand why that was at the time. I thought the pair of boots I'd worn were trustworthy and comfortable, but by about half-way through the evening my toes and the balls of my feet were screaming in pain, and the dancing which I'd been complimented on earlier in the night had become more or less impossible to do. I wondered if maybe it was because I've just become even less used to wearing raised heels than I was last time I wore them, but when I got home into a properly-lit environment and took them off I discovered the truth:

Sad remnants Alas for the Shiny Boots of shininess They have danced their last

That mouldy-looking grey dust stuff on the floor all around them is the remains of whatever substance used once to fill the platform soles - some kind of synthetic foam-type material, I assume. I see how that would be a good filling for platform soles in the short term, as it would keep the boots relatively light compared to (say) wood, resin or plastic, in turn making them nicer to wear and move around in. But it has obviously degenerated with age since I bought the boots ten years ago, and last night was the night when it finally gave up the ghost, collapsed in on itself and began pouring out of the sides of the soles.

This means I spent half the night with the balls of my feet supported by the sorry remnants of an empty shell, rather than a nice solid platform. But because the heels remained solid and steadfast throughout, my feet were tipped forward much more than they were supposed to be, so it's no wonder that my toes hurt and the heels seemed so much higher than I'm used to than I was expecting. Today, the backs of my calves are aching rather for the same reason, and sadly the boots are clearly a total write-off.

Alas and alack for what were once a truly faithful pair of dance-floor companions. :-(

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strange_complex: (Invader Zim globe)
Last night, I went out to Intrusion wearing chunky boots and clothes decorated with unnecessary pieces of metalwork, and danced like a fiend amidst flashing lights and smoke machines to loud and rebellious electronically-amplified music.

Tonight, I'm going out to see The Messiah in a theatre designed by Sir Christopher Wren, wearing a Chinese top and an Indian skirt, in the company of several of the same people who were out at Intrusion last night. And still with the chipped black varnish on my finger-nails.

Though I am sufficiently culturally aware to see that these are two very different events, there is no sense of contradiction or even abnormality here. Both are equally valid and rewarding activities in my eyes, both draw on strongly-felt interests and both are relatively common occurrences for me. I'm so glad I have such a wealth of human expression and achievement available for me to play with.

Intrusion )

Corrective eyewear and Christmas shopping )

Iestyn Davies )

Oh, and I have now bought my ticket for B-Movie, so that's my definite plan for New Year's Eve now. Looking forward to seeing those of you who are going!
strange_complex: (Silver Jubilee knees-up)

*does the chapter-6-is-finished dance*

It's 3,500 words shorter than when I started (about 1/6 of its original length), and a damn sight better, too.

Not bad going, considering term only ended ten days ago. See what happens when I get a bit of time to do some real work? Pity I know perfectly well it was always going to be the easiest chapter to revise in the whole book. And that the hideous spectre that is chapter 4 still awaits me... :/

Feels good, though, and my timing r0xx0r, since tonight is Intrusion, so I get to go off and dance as a nice reward. 'Scuse me while I go paint my nails!
strange_complex: (La Dolce Vita Trevi)
Saturday night in Oxford saw a bunch of us heading for Chicks with Decks, a sort of Indie / Punk / 80s night at the Cellar Bar: the same low-ceilinged venue as for Intrusion. [ profile] redkitty23 and [ profile] secutatrix sadly couldn't make it, and were sorely missed, but we did have [ profile] edling, Cat, aef, [ profile] violetdisregard, Spiky Neil, Jenny and even Hugh and Zara up from London.

Oxford nights )

So, all in all, a decent enough night, but I must say the texts I got from [ profile] damien_mocata when I got home, describing the crazy antics of the Belfast crowd, made me rather wish I'd spent the evening there instead...

An easy solution to this problem )

In other news, I'm on a big Tom Lehrer kick at the moment. I've had the whole of 'In Concert' for ages, ripped very kindly from [ profile] mr_flay, but decided that a good way to celebrate getting my net connection back would be to download some of his other particular gems which don't happen to be on that album. So I have been, and I leave you now with my current Tom Lehrer top five, as represented by couplets from their lyrics: A few seconds wasted with Tom Lehrer ) It's also worth noting that I found a flash animation of his song, The Elements while checking I had those lyrics right. Anyone who has ever grappled with the Periodic Table should click on it, now! *tootles off to watch it again*


Wednesday, 7 September 2005 12:09
strange_complex: (Default)
I'm planning on coming down to London for B-Movie on Friday night, so any and all Londony-type people are heartily encouraged to go along so that I can see you! I should also be staying overnight on Friday, and around during the day on Saturday, so if anyone doesn't fancy B-Movie, but would like to meet up for a coffee / pint on Saturday afternoon, let me know.

I'll be checking LJ at least once more before I set off, so will see comments left here, but the more reliable means of contact right now is my mobile: number in here.

EDIT: corrected 'Saturday night' to 'Friday night' for B-Movie. Doh!
strange_complex: (Fred shall we dance)
I'd intended not to do too much dancing last night at Cornucopia, after boogieing round half of Belfast in the hot sun yesterday at the Pride Parade. But who am I to resist a dance floor and a beat? In the end I danced copiously, whilst also enjoying watching a certain young lady get friendlier and friendlier with a handsome gentleman nearby. Her night ended up with snogging outside the venue door and a big grin in the taxi home. Bless! :)

It was a great night, and a great follow-on from the Pride Parade. The absence of people like [ profile] captainlucy, [ profile] davesangel and [ profile] finthecat, who are all abroad, was felt, but the music was excellent, the dancing superb, and of course we did have the addition of the lovely [ profile] kuro_ryoushi for her first Cornie as a Belfast resident. I must have looked pretty fine, too, because about ten people told me so over the course of the evening - some of them complete strangers who'd come over for the express purpose of doing so.

Yet it was sad night also, because for me it was my last Cornie as a Belfast resident. I may only have made about four out of the twelve Cornucopias (or Cornucopiae, strictly speaking) which have been on while I've been here, but it isn't just the night itself, is it? It's what it represents - a focal hub for a group of people I've come to know and love, in a city I've come to know and love, where I can do things I love to do (viz. dressing up and dancing). I spent quite a lot of time towards the end of the evening sitting watching Underworld which was being projected, silently, on a big screen, and feeling all pre-emptively achy with the wrench of having to leave.

Anyone who chose to consult my livejournal archive for around this time last year would find a series of increasingly maudlin and nostalgic posts, prompted by the imminent prospect of having to leave Oxford. Posts like this one, for instance. I remember feeling the same thing when I left Bristol after doing my degree there, too. And now it's starting here, and the fact that I'll be leaving Belfast to return to last year's object of pining and regret doesn't seem to be doing anything to ease the pain. It doesn't matter - I've invested emotionally in Belfast now, so wherever I was going on to, it would hurt to leave.

Heu, I really hope this coming academic year turns out to be the last one for which I'm working on a short-term contract with an uncertain future. There are only so many times I can go through this. :(


strange_complex: (Default)

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