I need to get back into the form of writing. So I’m dusting off my Writer’s Block book that I picked up after a recommendation in a Damon and Jo video, to put this sucker to get use. And what is my first prompt? What is my favorite date?
Funny, because I am coming up an anniversary of that date and all the things that date meant no longer stand, as a shuffle through how to feel about that. It was a trap. A scam. A manipulation that sought nothing more than to unload a vat of trauma onto me and still…such a beautiful moment that I need to let go of.
An Ellai Mae concert. Me, nor my date were fans. But he had friends in the band so we shuffled into the Filmore and made a beeline for the bar to commiserate about how not good the songs are but the quality of the band was a saving grace. Static affair for baby hair singers. Nothing special happened. But something special happened. It was a vibe. It emminented off of us. You should have seen how the picture from that night, my favorite of us, burned under the Scorpio Full Moon. We talked about music, drank whisky, held each other, enjoyed that one song that I still don’t like but I get it…yeeesssss, Boo’d up. He sheepishly informed me his best friend, a woman, was coming to stay at his house. He wanted to know if I was comfortable with that. I laughed at how well he acted out nervousness, it was fine. He asked me to roadtrip to the Atlanta Jazz Fest with him and the best friend. I agreed to the good time and we returned to a night that was magically simple.
The show ended. I went to use the bathroom and ended up calling my homegirl because I had to share the laughter of after I unglued my seamless underwear from my ass realizing how soaked they were. Bish did you pee yourself? Oh no…a much bigger clown move then that? Are we *that* 💦? We’re in trouble sis.
We were absolutely in trouble.