It's Just That I Wanted to See Blood

One of the Professor's lovers had a party, the theme of which seemed to be "Let's get most of the Professor's lovers together in one house." Some snuggled on the couch, some gathered in the kitchen, some stood on the porch pouting. Very few of them were interested in me or my fabulous bra or my boob freckle. Fine, Nashville. I didn't want to talk to you anyway. I wanted to drink cheap beer, walk down some dark back alley, knock twice on on a dimly lit door, and enter some big room where a small audience milled about waiting for... Something. I don't know what. Hardcore wrestling where ordinary men drop each other through barbed wire onto broken glass, maybe, or burlesque dancers with intricate tattoos shaking their hips to old Dixieland jazz, or an exotic pet auction or a drunken nun fight or something. I want to be distracted from my ordinary life by some kind of spectacle. But I don't know where you find that.