Los Angeles Tag

December 6, 2007
Everyone around me is dancing. I am a dancing. My body is lightly clothed, and covered in sweat. We all smell terrible. The reality of the weather is chilly with a slight breeze, but I don't know it unless I step outside the sea of dancing youths. This has been going on since the sun was shining, and now the sky is dimming. It's the time just before street lights replace natural light. Occasionally an airplane from the LAX airport will shoot across the empty Los Angeles sky and cast a shadow upon us. When I look directly up I see blue, when I look around me I see some friends but mostly strangers. I barely see the stage; my height has given me the view of guy's backs and girl’s chests, rather than the DJ sets. Most of the time my eyes are closed, I breathe like I would if I were running. In the nose, out the mouth. I need to stay healthy for this sort of thing, water is 3.00 dollars and I'm not ready to pass out.

I don't realize just how tired my body is until I take a break, the song slows down. This causes our bodies to move into a slow swagger, our bodies drag. Again the beat picks up, but I am still in slow motion. My eyes are open, they begin to wander. To the left is Melissa, dancing with her head up, body spinning, eyes shut. I came here with her, but I could run away right now and she wouldn't even notice. To the right is Luke, we haven’t seen each other in months, but to him my presence is minor. He is with a miscellaneous crew of friends, together they are all shouting with excitement and chain smoking. Every other angle is a bright dressed teenager, a pool of hipsters from Southern California. At times someone will stand out, but for the most part everyone appears the same. It gets boring. My eyes hit the ground. I am barely picking up my feet at this point; they are tired of dancing in an ocean of trash. No one even noticed that I've stopped dancing, I'm too little. No one looks down at these events. My focus has been caught. There is a girl who doesn't fit in right before my eyes. I didn't notice her before. I'm not sure where she really belongs at, but by the way she is dressed perhaps the best place for her is bent over a dumpster in a back ally. She is a little heavyset with poorly bleached hair. Her denim shorts are crawling up her butt, and her angelic white top has orange stain on it, mixed in with wet spots. Sweat, beer, drool; all of the three I assume. Some accessories to pull it all together as her make up melts off her face. She is dancing like she belongs on a nice neon catwalk with a pole awaiting her at the end. My guess is that she is drunk, because she won't get that snaggle tooth grin off her dumb looking face.

I notice some others are watching her, there laughter is only visible, not heard; my ears are blown from the speakers. One of Luke’s friends, who I just met maybe 20 minutes ago but his name is a mystery, begins to dance with this blonde-out-of-place-scag. All of his friends are laughing at him, he is laughing too, and she is smiling. Even I am laughing; this girl thinks that she is beautiful, and desirable. She thinks he desires to dance with her, when really he just realizes she is an easy target. I would love to stop the blaring music to tell her they all think she is a joke and the foulest thing on the street in LA right now. They continue to dance in unison; it’s hilarious to everyone, but no longer a joke to the two of them. They get lost in there own world of greedy sexuality and forget where they are, and that they are a display right now. Her shorts are riding up more than I could’ve imagined and grinding deep into his pelvis. His hands are wandering all over her junky body, grabbing all over. They share a few repulsive slobbery kisses, as if they know each other. Luke is taking pictures and videos and turning red with laughter. I watch her turn around and motion to her friend that she doesn’t know him. I get the idea she doesn’t like it, yet she still doesn’t have enough respect for herself to push him off or walk away. She lets him dry hump her denim wedgey ass for at least 10 minutes more as her gropes up and down her body. The joke of it has ended, now anyone who looks into there direction is shocked that the two of them are practically having sex here, together, with her, in front of all of these people.

He pushes off of her before the music breaks, it would really be his worth nightmare to have to hear this girl speak. He scatters off with Luke and has probably wet himself to his liking. And will never have to see her again, also to his liking. After he gone the girl stops dancing, and yells over to her friend. These yells are whispers though, hidden behind all of the music. I haven’t been dancing for awhile, and I’m parched and disgusted. I grab Melissa and shell out 3 dollars for a little h20. As we relax curbside, we bash the girl with some dirty names from the pit of our stomachs. We get over it, and go dancing elsewhere.

I later saw her again, and I witnessed a new guy pull into her hips once more. I figure he saw how easy it was before, she allows it. She allows herself to be ridden on top of by any anonymous guy that may grab onto her love handles tonight. I now think of how I am dancing. I know I am a terrible dancer; rarely does anyone even try to dance with me. I’m pleased with it though, I feel good when I am dancing. I know I don’t dance in a manner that may lure a guy into thinking he can just use my body for a few minutes and run off when he’s “done”. My dancing is to be ashamed of for being bad, but she is to be ashamed of for being a dog.

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