"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>palavrion in my body

>the rain won’t keep us in. julia and i meet at zurich’s hauptbanhof, apparently the meeting point of all of swiss youth. fervour and colour, costumes and boots and cigarettes tongued til black.

we roam through the indefinite swiss rain that showers us like an unfortunate niagara falls to a bar to gab over men.

emotions.

positions.

power.

girth.

haven’t seen her since berlin, and the anecdotes and sex-and-the-city quotes fly like indirect baseballs.

the hour passes like a stampede, run off again, huddled close though the downpour that attempts to silence us. meet up with april, another aussie with impeccable german and chic-style coming outta every swoop.

enter palavrion, ready to make a spectacle of the night.

i do not drink, the girls down shots, green and sweet. they are amazed as the night passes how excited and invorgated i am without a drop of alcohol.

the bar is surrounded by a crushing dancefloor that reverberates our organs in a crowd-jump. latin makes my hips tell a story. trance makes my feet fly into air. hip hop makes my torso throb.

and they throw in some bryan adams, joan jett, rolling stones, and rush for good measure, just so that we all sing along every once in a while.

men in three-piece suits swirl around us with hungry eyes. they buy us drinks without us knowing. suddenly alcohol is in our hands. i pass off the rum to julia and april, the night will infuse my heart, not the falsity of alcoholic obligations.

i am grabbing my own body in a swirl when julia and april turn to me, “men love you! they’re all looking at you.”

“they are?”

“you’re hot!” april vociferates over the rendition of flashdance’s what a feeling.

decide to pander to my audience. grind up against the girls. homo-eroticism never fails.

local men, berlin-men, oklahoma-men, and all men in between try to strike up our night.

but this a girls night, and nothing can stop the fervour shooting through my veins, sizzling my skin.

i hit the pillow sometime in the early morning, ears ringing, body aching like a goodnight kiss.

today is the uncontrollable zurich street parade. images of toronto’s recent gay pride parade follow me as i run through the colour-streets. fish nets and bells and whistles and wigs and extensions and techno bouncing off the walls and flames and fetish gear and leather and piercings and mowhawks and cocksuckers, and dancing in the streets. floats and shots and hoots and hollers and an infectious energy that attacks everyone’s will.

…and i didn’t even know about this parade when i booked zurich! thank god i reserved it when i did, because the entire city is booked up completely.

off to dance in the streets and rage like a rave. like a riot in the heart.

sing.

don’t stop.

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