Stunner Glasses and Awkward Questions

Another couple weeks have passed and I’m just feeling older and older. I’m honestly starting to realize that this clubbing thing is not what it use to be. I’ll never get back the days of the Dirty D or Taboo. So odd to think that the couple years I was dancing in Tacoma can’t be beat by a Seattle experience. Then again maybe it’s the people I’ve taken to hanging out with. I have to keep reminding myself of my original intentions. I love dancing and I love watching DJ’s spin. I love hearing that new remix that just blows me away. Deep down, I love the music and feeling it on the dance floor but for the last couple months I can think of only two nights that were all those things. Two! Meanwhile I’m dropping ten to twenty dollars a week in parking, and twenty dollars or more in alcohol when I do drink. The amount of money I’m blowing out the door each week “hoping” to have a good time is down right sad. I’ve lost myself somewhere.
It’s paid off in little ways, driving my drunk friends home I was able to be the better person and I got a demo CD out of it. Music is the best gift of all for me. Nothing would suit me more. But the fact that it wasn’t even given to me willingly really cheapens my deviousness. I want to tell myself that he doesn’t remember that I have it, but I know he does. He just didn’t want to listen to the Trance music I had while I drove HIS drunk ass home. Think I’m bitter much?
Earlier this month it was just Scott and I and in the end I really had a good time. I think it’s because Scott is so straightforward and honest. Yes honest. Honest in his dealings with everyone he meets. I can appreciate that. If something is on his mind he says it. He doesn’t act all rude or shifty. The things that come out of his mouth are what he actually means, not what he thinks the other person wants to hear so they’ll think the way he wants them too. Scott and I can communicate and I never thought that would mean so much to me.
I think I had tendonitis in my foot all due to a new pair of expensive work shoes. It would figure. I buy cheap ones forever and never have a problem. I buy a nice pair of Sketchers and boom I can’t walk for a while. Dancing on it didn’t last very long, but I wanted to go out anyway. After text messaging back and forth, and we left at different times and live on opposite sides of the same town, he still ended up behind me as I drown down James St toward Second Ave.
The music that night was electronic and emotional, but it was the kind that builds and dies in a strange formulaic way. I never noticed the formula until the DJ Scott and I both said looked like Captain Jack Sparrow from the Pirates of the Caribbean movie played about an hour of this stuff. I tried to get out and dance several times but I got tired of the ramp up to die down again. It was like being on a kiddie rollercoaster. Up and down, up and down. You just get sick of listening to what seems like the same song with different noises.
Some guy in a hoodie seemed to be stalking the DJ’s individually because he kept rushing over to talk and putting his fingers together to make a heart shape. Over and over he would try to catch the DJ’s attention so he could pantomime that he “hearted” them. Weird.
Scott’s girl-trouble wandered in and out of his life that night and he and I had a chat about it. I really was getting the vibe that he felt weird about hanging out with me, without the rest of them. I was trying to be as bro like as I could. I didn’t want to crowd him or cock-block in anyway, but damn it was nice to dance for a bit and have a conversation about the evening if I had something to say.
I ended up heading back out by twelve-thirty. I had plenty of good reasons too. My foot was starting to ache again telling me I had pushed too hard, there had been a ring of guys thrashing around behind me with their plastic cups of beer which just ended up getting spilled on me, and then there was the couple on the other side of me that weren’t dancing any more, they were just sucking face. Why do people get drunk and suck face on the dance floor, but still try to move around like they’re dancing? After getting smashed into several times I was done. The combination of Hyperfunk and Flave was a little too weird for me too. Their styles are totally different. In a 2 X 2 I was surprised that neither of them changed their styles to accommodate the set. Nope, they kept right on as if they were each doing their own thing.
Last week Scott and I both agreed we were staying home. What cracked me up was how blown away he seemed by the decision. Apparently he hadn’t missed a single week in six months or more. The idea of not going out was both liberating and worrisome it seemed. Deep down I was glad to know that I wasn’t “missing out” on anything if the crew wasn’t going to be out.
This week was a little strange as well. I got it into my head that I was going to dress up like the old days. Maybe I would have more fun if I felt more attractive and in a party mood. Dressed in a red velvet corset and some tight black pants I felt a little bit more like the old me. The guy I’ve been seeing took some great shots of me before I headed out the door. I was in high spirits until I walked in the door. This was not a well-dressed crowd most of the time. Thursdays is for the casual fanatic. As I did my walk around looking to see if I knew anyone, I could feel eyes on me and none of them made me feel pretty. I was more like a funny looking animal that had just wandered in and people were trying to judge what my deal was.
Some how I managed to keep my “fuck-it-all” attitude that had gotten me out the door in my outfit in the first place and took to the dance floor. If I shut my eyes and danced maybe the bad people would go away. From experience I knew well that when I’m dressed up men avoid me like the plague. I’m not sure if it was the intimidation factor of a pretty girl or if it was the high-maintenance factor. Either way I could feel the guys around me deciding whether I was worth a shot and deciding against it. I didn’t honestly care. I had gotten all the attention I had wanted from my man earlier that night. He’d taken a bunch of cheesecake shots of me and I felt pretty enough with that.
I was having fun, but I was still watching the door for someone I knew. FW was bouncing between the Go Go platforms and the floor, dancing in her usual expansive fashion. She and a larger blonde chick were trading off it seemed and I just couldn’t figure out why FW was still wearing her sunglasses. Some trend I was out of the loop on.
Scott did show but I was in no hurry to rush over to him. I’m really trying to break my need to have a friend around, in order to have fun. I use to go out all the time alone with only the staff of the club to talk to if I felt like it. Now I seemed to put myself on hold till I had a buddy. I also knew that if Scott wanted to talk or hang out he wouldn’t hesitate to come find me on the dance floor.
Out of the corner or my eye I caught the awkward entrance of Scott’s girl-trouble hand in hand with some guy. My gaze immediately went to Scott who had also noticed. I hovered closer when she stood talking to him and he kept shooting these pained looks over her shoulder at me. The poor guy had fallen for a girl who obviously didn’t give a shit. Not that I really knew her side of things. All I knew was what Steve and Scott had said in the past.
When she walked away, he seemed so down that I went to stand next to him. Sarcastically I asked if he was having fun yet. “I’m always having fun at Last Supper Club” was his response and I remember thinking that he was trying to convince himself more than anything. Maybe he was getting tired of the bullshit too? I’m a people watcher and it seemed that there really was a large number of the same people that came out every single Thursday night. All those people had plenty to say about the other people and I was starting to really think they were all just shallow people on the whole. No wonder I clung to people who I saw as having some substance. I honestly didn’t think I’d find another intelligent conversation most nights.
Out of the blue I got it into my head that I wanted to walk over to Heaven’s and see DJ F’s new project. He and I had emailed back and forth in the last week or so and I had sent him a link to my music profile on MySpace. At the time I had been so proud of the music that I wanted to share. In his usual fashion he was positive without being committed. Asking if Scott had been to the new club yet, I promised to introduce him to the entertainment director if he went with me. I was sort of using Scott as a buffer. I really didn’t want to face DJ F alone, but I was so curious as to what the place would look like.
The bouncer at the door was a little too friendly. He had something smart to say about everything that bordered on rude. The descent to the club reminded me of the place I had spent my twenty-first birthday. Wide, steep cement stairs that made you feel like you were going to the center of the earth in order to reach the music. I was actually unimpressed when I spun on my heel surveying the front bar and lobby. Very minimal and industrial seemed to be the new trend. Cement everything with metal accents such as furniture and handrails. I’ve always been drawn to the lush places, like Trinity with the velvet curtains and electric chandeliers. This seemed so cold and impersonal. All I could ever think of was a self-cleaning club. All they needed was a drain in the floor and I envisioned the staff turning the sprinklers on at night in order to wash away the mess.
I immediately spotted DJ F. He was standing off to the side of an empty dance floor watching someone else spin in an amazing looking booth. The outside was completely lined with flat screens. It was like “Pimp My DJ Booth” and seemed so out of place with everything else in the large room. Scott recognized the DJ as Nigel Richards who, I was informed, was a big timer from back east. As we moved toward DJ F I had a momentary change of mind. He hadn’t noticed us yet, I could still split. But in that moment he seemed to sense my thoughts and turned to welcome us.
Just like every other time, I don’t know why I was surprised to go through the motions as if we were the best of friends. We hugged and I introduced Scott. They made polite conversation about the DJ before he turned on me filled with questions about my music. I was totally blown away. For several years he was a God to me in music. Receiving his praise in this area meant more than I was willing admit.
His praise seemed unending as he asked who was producing me, where had I done the recordings? He refused to believe the truth, which was a simple apartment living room. Over and over he kept asking why he didn’t know I could sing. I could only shrug at him. I was having a hard time remembering a time when he and I had talked about anything relating to me in the past. This was where the conversation took an odd turn. Apparently he had followed the music profile to my personal profile and had some questions as to past relationships I’d had and why he didn’t know specific details about my personal life. It was strangely overbearing and creepy all at the same time. If I hadn’t known better I would have labeled him a jealous ex-lover.
The more he pressed for explanations and details, the more bothered I became. I tried to change the subject several times by pushing Scott as the awesome DJ that he was. Some how or another it got turned around again with a “Why didn’t you tell me…” statement from DJ F. When he excused himself to go use the restroom Scott and I got the hell out of there. Walking back to LSC I gave him the background story on DJ F and he could only shake his head. I was glad I wasn’t the only one that had thought the conversation was strange.
Once back inside I felt almost displaced by how packed the place was now. All these people had showed up and filled the dance floor while we had been away. If I was going to continue dancing I was going to have to fight my way back in. Most of the time that was like trying to swim up stream, tough and usually not worth it.
I did my best to carve out a new spot to dance and for a while I enjoyed it. But after a strange encounter with a guy, also wearing sunglasses, on the dance floor that tried to dance with me and then ask to go with him to a concert, it was time to go home. I hugged Scott goodbye and promised him I would be there next week to see him spin.

Every Way I Lose

The most I can really say is that I have been going out and technically living the high life. I can’t say more than that. It hasn’t been fun on the whole and it hasn’t even been surrounded by friends. Two weeks ago was the longest night ever of me being completely caught up in my own retarded need for validation by attention from one specific person. In the end I was ferrying drunk boys safely back to their home out of the goodness of my heart only to know they would forget their well meaning words of gratitude the minute they were uttered. I have allowed other people to make me feel unattractive and unwanted which is completely against my reasons for wanting to go out dancing.
More and more I find myself relying on that need for someone I know to be in the room in order for me to have a good time. I hate that I want to be as care free as I use to be when I was younger but things are changing. I don’t like being in a room full of strangers any more. I want people to talk to and share the experience with. But with the people I am leaning on now I don’t even get that.
I officially have a music profile on MySpace now. It debuted on the 28th and I was so pleased that Cale designed it. Writing lyrics and making music thus far has been just incredible and I can't want to see what happens next. My songs will be posted. MY music will be up there for the world to see! I’m so incredibly excited. Maybe this will be the next stage of my life; instead of dancing to the music I will be creating it. Maybe my so-called friends will come in handy yet. Will I create something good enough for the dance floor? I’m willing to try.
I saw a new club was opening up the other night. It was called Heaven’s and I figure that was the spot that DJ F was talking about when he first asked me to be apart of the marketing team. What a demeaning waste of time that whole experience was and yet it still angers me because I think I would do a damn good job in a position like that. He just doesn’t know what he’s missing. It’s sad to think that the Underworld had corrupted him so much that he could only do business in such a manner.
While noticing that I wouldn’t be involved in that club’s successes I saw a little too late that I wasn’t getting into LSC either. Benny Benassi was spinning and a hugely famous person at that. Why I had assumed that I could hang out with under aged friends until eleven at night and still get in the door to see the man suddenly seemed all the more ridiculous. It wasn’t going to happen. I had paid parking like a tunnel versioned rat and was stuck now. Calling Steve and Scott repeatedly only got me the awesome news of them being securely inside thanks to Hyperfunk sweeping them past the crowds. I was so angry that I had wasted ten bucks to park in a place I wasn’t staying. In retrospect I should have sold my damn ticket to someone else, people were hovering for spots in that parking lot like vultures.
So now here I sit looking back at past outings that I had said was fun and realize only that it wasn’t. This life style is a money drain and using up time I could be spending with people that might actually care about me in the light of day.