Monday, March 10, 2008

The way this simple song brings me to a different place

There's a part of me that just wants to let dancing go, but then I'm listening to this Herbert song, my hips shaking that gentle sway I'm staring at the window pane for a turn, back to sway and just a few minutes ago I was telling Gina I'm going to get ready for bed, even though it's 10:30 and I know I won't succeed at going to sleep for hours I'm just going to start getting ready and maybe then I'll start feeling better. I guess I was right, or maybe it's just that Herbert song when I start to sway, oh. And then everything’s different, I mean my head clears and I can actually function.

It’s true that I could learn just to dance in my apartment, in my apartment where it's kind of safer although usually I start to hurt after two to three minutes maybe eventually I could get to that endorphin rush when all through my body it’s just pleasure I mean I get there, I get there just briefly at Mighty and maybe that's worth it. Maybe. It'll take me a few days to know whether the scratchiness in my voice progresses to the sinus sadness, whether the burning in my shoulders gets worse, whether my sleep gets back to the place that was actually better, until last night.

The endorphin rush really hits me at home where it suddenly becomes a sexual frenzy and I'm on the phone sex line until I realize I'm too tired, which is good because it's 4 a.m.. Let's summarize the club, the club experience -- the sound system is so loud it's almost ridiculous, and for some reason everyone is just standing on the dance floor, I mean standing. Standing around. It's so packed you can hardly move, so hot it's suffocating, With all these people standing around. I can't even remember the last time I went to a big club like this, the music's pretty good I mean it's pounding and layered and bouncy and funked-out but it doesn't build although with four DJs in six hours, how can you build? I've been asking that for a long time -- I mean, two hours is just a warm up, not a set, right?

I'm thinking about the way clubs like this are set up for straight guys to dance with other straight guys, a mating ritual of sorts and someone in the bathroom says: your tie is almost straight. He means it's the only almost-straight thing about me, which is kind of funny. Much funnier than the woman who says: I almost wore that outfit tonight!

Did I mention that the smoke stays outside, I mean it comes into the entryway but we’re all the way in the back -- Randy and me, that is. Randy's having a hard time dealing, and I'm trying to get to the point where I can let go, but I'm already in pain, and the music isn't building, and the second DJ isn't as good as the first -- now he's doing that thing where you take a terrible terrible song and give it amazing beats, but it's still a terrible song. Like the one that goes my tits, my crack, my apple juice my back -- or something much worse. Then for every song the whole beat changes, which I guess is kind of interesting to listen to but it's annoying for dancing -- at least it gets me to stop, let my weight sink into the floor like Donna always suggests: take a break and get grounded, okay?

Oh, did I mention all the effects -- like wait, was that the space shuttle taking off? Or an explosion? Just another breakdown, as far as I'm concerned, or a build that goes nowhere. The sound system is amazing, but all these videogame movie tricks feel invasive -- I wouldn't be surprised if the DJs aren't using any records, at least it sounds that way because everything shifts so fast and dramatically but it's not mixed in a way that links one song to the next the songs just hit you one after the other. Randy's ready to go, so then I decide to just go for the music I mean for the rush and I'm doing all the moves that I probably shouldn't be doing, then stopping and going slow, then fast again, and then I get that feeling like I'm invincible I can look through the walls I can dance like this until I fall down I mean I'll never fall down I'll just keep dancing. That's when I say let's go. It's the perfect moment, really.

I didn't mention the smoke machine -- it's perched maybe 25 or 30 feet up, pointing away from us, so I'm hoping it doesn't do too much damage. It's pretty overwhelming with everyone's cologne, but eventually I sort of get used to it, going to the bathroom to fill up my bottle of water and then back to our special corner, the only place where we can feel some sort of air vent coming from the ceiling way up there, maybe it's air conditioning but at least it's air. I'm hoping it helps, especially the next day when it's almost like I can still feel the beat the sound was so loud I'm thinking of all those straight people standing around, why standing around? And I'm thinking of other places to go, other places to try if this doesn't destroy my life too much -- there must be someplace without smoke, without a smoke machine, without so much cologne, because really I'm not ready to give up dancing. Even if I have to learn to bring it all on in my apartment, all by myself jumping up and down and sweating it all out I just want to get to a place when there isn’t so much pain when everything doesn't feel so risky. Sometimes I'm ready to give it all up, but then there's the way this simple song brings me to a different place I mean I'm experiencing space and movement in a different way and I can suddenly write I mean dream.

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