Pretty dumb

nye. i'm singing with the cactus channel, just one song -  a sprint up the mountain and down again, instead of jogging long distance. shouldn't have worn black lipstick, white dress and i look fat, pretty dumb, gotta do my roots again, that's what i get for choosing blonde. trip up the stairs, wrong shoes, take the mic stand down about ten years and forget to put it back up again. (i wish i could draw what i sing, i always try to, i always hold it between my fingers and move it where i want it to go, but i'm the only one who knows where it goes and where it came from and even then i'm not sure i'm not sure i don't know) stumble back into the crowd. henry bends over double to speak and i put my hands on my forehead because i'm pretty dumb. caught mid-cringe an old couple pat me on the shoulder and a little kid climbs through the fence while no one is looking. the line for the portaloos is going from here to east jesus and i'm thinking about where would be the safest place to hide from the fireworks while also hiding the fact that fireworks totally freak me out and i'm pretty dumb. it's all pretty dumb. it's pretty dumb that i don't feel dumb when i think of it all, not even a little bit, not even a little bit, not even at all.