Tonight I needed to go out and so I did, I went out to a club, sort of an obscure place out on East Nord – around there anyway. The music was soothing; punk and industrial, but the most curvaceous selections from the genres. The beats made you want to dance and ooze a little while you did it. Dancing, oozing. There were men wearing tailored suits, finely cut white, yellow, beige and brown. The women were… in the shadows they were watching. Their eyes on everyone.
Abigail cornered me and yammered at me for a long while about a $4000 ambulance ride and the ‘economical DUI.’ “Shit,” she explained to me. “I could’ve gotten in my car and driven the bastard to the emergency room – even if I get pulled over and popped it’s what? $2500? The fucking ambulance was four grand! Plus the $3500 for relocating his shoulder. Four hours in the goddamned emergency room sets us back almost eight fucking grand!” I shrug, ‘what are you gonna do?’ and eventually get the hell away from her.
These scenes, they kind of get you feeling ill sometimes. But this is what I came for, the music and the atmosphere. There is hair everywhere. I am glad that it is dark in here. The room is really explosively dark and I hit my thigh on a table on the way in. But my eyes had adjusted eventually. Now it’s a faint glow against red, the silhouettes of human interaction. Drinks and smoke – gyrating bodies and strobe lights now as the dance floor erupts into a frenzy of limbs and hair-dos. The energy is infectious.
“DANCE!” “DANCE!” “DANCE!”
But I skate back to the rim of the orbit of light; the edge of the kick drum is softened just slightly. There I turn and collapse into a padded booth. Just as I manage to right myself, sit up, and make an attempt at looking reasonably sober the waitress, a shiny red sequined dress with a gal wrapped up in it, smiles and asks me if I’d like a drink. I respond in the affirmative and she seems unaffected except for something subtle in her demeanor. A reaction maybe. Louis leans over next to me and says “it’s the whole ‘need for penetration’ thing you have that gives you away.” I look straight at him as if to suggest ‘go on’ and he does. There’s no stopping Louis when he gets on a good theory. “You think you can make it appear to everyone that you’re just casually giving that young waitress a little kindly attention when you are in fact only thinking of penetrating her in some way or another. Think about it, the world is viewed in terms of penetrators and penetratees. Those who fuck and those who are fucked.
“Cause a woman who shows some sack is a woman who has balls and an effeminate man is a pussy. When something bad happens “I was fucked” and when you conquer someone “I fucked them!”
God Louis is crazy, where do they find these people? “Think about it!” he always ends up screaming at me and I always end up running away, usually stumbling to the nearest drink and trying to assimilate the bizarre sentence fragments he had just flung at me.
“GIN!” I bark at the guy behind the bar with the scissor cut and stubble. His jaw is locked and he eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t seem offended and I breathe a sigh of relief as he (finally) pours my drink. Generous on the gin and I tip accordingly. My mouth is watering now as I think of it.
God these days, these days…
A man swam the entire length of the Amazon River averaging fifty miles a day for more than nine weeks through waters infested by piranha fish and cavity invading parasites. The sheer complexity of the vision is amazing; then the follow-through and execution is just astounding. What a madman. Slovenian Martin Strel swam the entire 3,000 + miles, while dealing with, in addition to the wildlife, diarhea, delerium, and horrific second degree sunburn over the course of his 65 day epic.
Speaking on the adventure Srel had this to say: "it was the toughest expedition by far… The Amazon river has no barriers like locks, so the current is constantly flowing. I didn't expect so many whirlpools and so many currents."
Goddamnit Strel, here’s to you. I tip my glass back and let the gin run down my throat, then yell at the bartender for another one.
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