Saturday, March 08, 2008

The memories pounding through me

I'm getting ready to go dancing, and I keep shitting. Maybe it's because of the B12 supplement, or black beans -- sometimes black beans make me shit. Or maybe I'm nervous. I mean I am nervous -- I'm nervous that there will be smoke, and then I'll have to leave right away. Although that would be much better then if there’s smoke, and I don't leave right away. I'm nervous that I'll dance too much and then everything will hurt. I'm nervous that there won't be any cabs around afterwards, because the club’s kind of out of the way, and the sweat on my body will dry and then everything will hurt. I'm nervous that I'll have to keep shitting the whole time I'm there.

I just hope there's no smoke -- I really really hope there's no smoke. Even if I don't dance, I just want to go to a club and listen to the beat, feel the floors shake, see if the bathroom’s cruisy but it probably won't be because I think it'll be very straight and so even if it is cruisy it'll be cruisy in that annoying way where you don't exactly know what's going on. But it's funny -- earlier I started thinking about the terrible clubs I used to go to, just because the bathroom was cruisy. Well, no, I was there for the music too, but definitely the bathroom was an added benefit -- I couldn't really talk to the people in the club -- I could either dance, or cruise the bathroom. Pleasuredome was a good example -- it was this really scary Sunday night club with a bunch of gym queens, but around 4 a.m. suddenly the club freaks would show up because everything else had closed Pleasuredome was open’ til 7 a.m. so they could make money when the bar reopened at 6. And the music was actually great after 2 a.m., pounding and layered and funked-out and bouncy just like I lived for. I can't remember the dj’s name -- I want to say that it was Dennis Cunningham, but that was a civil rights lawyer who represented me once. Maybe Something-else Cunningham. Suddenly he was gone from the dj booth, I wondered where else he was spinning but someone said he’d died. Of AIDS. I think that was before Pleasuredome closed, and then it wasn't as much fun. I mean it was never fun, but sometimes you can have fun at a place that isn't fun at all, right? Sometimes I would get their way earlier than the 4 a.m. club kids, just for the bathroom.

Tonight I just hope there's no smoke -- I don't even care if the music's terrible, at least I can watch people and get that flooded sense that I get whenever I go to a club, all the time I've spent in clubs but not anymore I just want once a week, once a week with all that music and the memories pounding through me.

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