I have to play catch up as the events accumulate and clog up the hourglass.
My ears are playing that game where you can swear you just heard something only to turn and find empty air; the most barely audible of buzzing bass lines, so inescapably loud just a section of hours ago, taunts my ears with the dim recollections of darkened living rooms washed in the neon blues and greens of synth punk. Of glitched out footage switching the focus over to keyboards bewitching the casual observer with minor chords.
My hips are still in full sway from the pull of fuzzing speakers reaching hands out and firmly manipulating my body in to movement.
My ass... is bruised.
But now there is rain, in rivulets streaming, and beer. Food.