sitting pretty pointless

Sad little Sophie in her pretty prom dress.

She was forgotten, an “oversight” and not on the list. We left without
taking a step. I never even saw the room full of prettied people
waiting. I sat in the foyer, an empty twenty minutes sitting on a
bench, before she came out crying. Her graduation into real-life
bitternes a moment too soon. I know the feeling, the forgotten. I eat
my disapointment. I swallow it with it’s spikes and nails like hard
glittering candy.

With her and her friend, *she who has seen terrible movies of which I
can only dream*, we went to Blenz. We met a man with a wonderful name,
Burton Samograd. He joined us for coffee and went with us after to
Tafs. I think for us, he may have saved the evening slightly, though I
don’t know. He also left us with his bill.  Afterwards, we
fractured. Splitting at the Skytrain station. I waited at Broadway with
Sophie for her mother before getting on a bus filled with drunk people
having fun.

So no prom tonight. No prom for me nor Sophie, though perhaps she will
be along with someone else’s. I ran into T. Paul while getting her a
corsage to pin to the bag. He saw the irony of my going to such a
thing. he laughed a bit before walking on. It seems somehow destined,
in a bitterself way, that the evening was not to be. A pity as well, in
a way, for no SinCity tonight, no dancing at fetish night. I will have
to wait until next month and I need to go move.