flu shots and blow jobs

Why has it taken me so long to get high and have a dance party to Erykah Badu while stoned in my new apartment? This should have been the first thing I did upon moving here. This, today, is now proof that this place is home.

I need curtains for sure though.

Windows naked, illuminating me to these rows of houses I can see so clearly into behind mine, situated across short backyards untended, me dancing, making the fool of myself. I saw this muscled-up Latin dude across the way pumping iron a couple days ago. I was making food in the kitchen. He saw me looking at him. He closed his blinds. It feels too close, the short space separating my house from theirs. There is a tinge of self-concisouness even now despite this high tickling my spine, telling it to move, move to the rhythm, that this is what bodies were meant for, not to sit static ignoring this world, but to dance, to have a conversation with life, with the things around you, to show the joy, the feelings you get from New Amerykah Part II for instance, that to really live requires one to actually fully inhabit one's body, not just to hide behind one's eyes, but to feel it everywhere.

And I feel that way often, but sometimes a check is put on that, seeing an at-home club light system, orange, blue, green, and yellow lights rotating slowly around a living room across the way, thinking of every high school prom scene you have ever seen in every seventies or eighties movie you have never seen, thinking of those times you went to the roller rink in eighth grade, had your mom drop you and your female friends that were the closeted hags then to your closeted fag. I am looking at that lighting system now in the living room of one of these apartments that seem too close, or my windows too curtainless, or for whatever reason just about every single apartment behind me curtainless, that I can see these lives too clearly, am too aware that they can see mine too clearly - dancing around an apartment by myself in my underwear, really feeling Ms. Badu, in a way that might seem absurd to someone glancing at this scene from their apartment, the type of embarrassing thing that might make for an amusing viral video, "My Blazed Out of His Mind Neighbor 'Dancing' to Hippy Music - LOLOLOL".

And I know that I should be - I thought that I was; I know that my mind should not be out there, wondering how I might be perceived, trying to see myself from some other judging eye, but rather that my mind should be here, inhabiting this one body, my eyes in my own head looking at my own world, living fully, dancing to this music.