Into the Belly of the Machine

Still Sober.
Well, tonight I head out to a dance-club, my first time sober at such a club since 1999, the last time I attempted to quit drinking (the attempt failed). Should be interesting, I’m trying to stay positive. On the bright side, I’ll e able to avoid what may be the most irritating aspect of going to a club: getting a drink. I can skip the whole process of clawing through a mass of clumsy, belligerent idiots trying to make their way to the bar so they can monopolize the bartenders time by ordering nineteen different fucking shooters, and then lean on the bar blocking everyone else’s access so they can look fucking cool because there is nothing fucking cooler than assholes leaning on a bar oblivious to the crowd surging around them who have obviously forgotten that they are in public and there are other fucking human beings whom they should consider showing the slightest shred of respect for.
I can avoid that, which will be nice.
Tonight will also, most likely, mark the first time ever that I will dance sober. At this point I am not sure how I will react to the storm of asses-and-elbows that is the dancefloor. It could be stressful without the calming influence of booze.
Still, ah got mah fingahs crossed.