So, I think I MIGHT be moving the blog over to LiveJournal. I love my url here (thank you Freeverse) and I totally dig the look of this blog, but I really like the LJ posting interface and the fact that people would be able to easily post comments to my LJ blog.
The LJ URL is: http://wiredgoth.livejournal.com/
What do you loyal readers prefer?
So, there's this guy who frequents two clubs here in Tampa, Czar and The Castle, people call him The Senator. Basically, he's this bizarre older fellow in his 50s who wears nothing, save for a thong and a little nighty while flitting around the clubs. Why is he called "The Senator?" We don't know. He's simply The Senator and we accept it. I know that when he was around, the room became a bit more magical. Which got me to thinking... Wouldn't it be amazing if The Senator showed up EVERYWHERE? I mean, it would make even the most mundane outing into something spectacular, worth recounting to loved ones! I was waiting in line at the eye clinic earlier today and thinking, "Wow, wouldn't it be great if The Senator showed up RIGHT NOW?" It would've turned something totally boring into something totally incredible! Perhaps, one day, the world will be ready for such joy...
Well, I just got in from my first club experience and it was... interesting. Throughout the evening I had a running internal conflict. On the one hand, I loved being out on the dance floor with Sara. She was so beautiful and incredibly sexy. I loved the way she looked under the hazy purple club lights; so mysterious and alluring. I really dug the entire atmosphere of the place; sort of quasi goth/techno. I mean, I'm a sucker for that look. Club scenes are always my favorite in movies. Really, I'd love nothing more than to BE Deacon Frost from Blade. I'd love to spend every night bathed in dark-roomesque lighting, listening to music while lounging about on decadent leather furniture and drinking blood. Remember, Frost is a vampire... So, that part of me totally dug Czar.
On the other hand, there's another part of me that's completely paranoid about not being able to communicate in loud situations. For starters, I went in without having my battery fully charged, so I was fairly (albeit irrationally) paranoid that the battery might go dead, nobody would notice and then I'd be quite lacking in a little thing I enjoy; the ability to breathe. It's a dumb, stupid worry, but it was really hard to shake. I felt better plugged into an actual electrical outlet. In fact, while I was plugged into an outlet, the Deacon Frost in me would wake up and say, "Hey, fucker, you're at a club with a hot girl and you're tethered to a stupid electrical outlet with a silly orange extension chord. The battery's fine and you know it! You're just being stupid. Sara wouldn't let anything bad happen to you, neither would Steven. Go out on the dance floor, you paranoid piece of shit." So, I'd unplug for a bit and then the nervous idiot in me would make his triumphant return. I also get really uneasy about the idea of not being able to leave somewhere, even if I REALLY had or wanted to do so. I had a flashlight connected to a switch, which was a signal that I needed something and that helped. Still, I had a hard time trusting that it wouldn't fail.
I was actually doing pretty well for the first 2ish hours. I was digging the atmosphere and Sara and the DJ was playing stuff I liked. I was surprised at how many people there knew me. A bunch of stylists from my salon were there. One of them was actually an official go-go dancer. I loved that I was in a club wearing black nail polish and eye-liner. It felt soooooo Subbacultcha.
This is a song about something there
there is something about this song
we did the clubs what ass
i was hoping to have her in the sack
i was looking handsome
she was looking like an erotic vulture
i was all dressed in black
she was all dressed up in black
every thing was fine down here
what you call it here
call it what you will here
way down down down in this subbacultcha
her warm white belly in the life i'd lived had seen nothing
finer she shakes and she moves me or something
she's like jellyroll like sculpture
i was wearing eyeliner
she was wearing eyeliner
it was so good down here
saving for my scrapbook here
way down down down in this subbacultcha
now we live on the sea and relax and ride the tack
drug running on this panamanian schooner
she walks the deck in a black dress
and me i dress up in black
and we listen to the sea
and look at the sky in a poetic kind of way
what you call it
when you look at the sky in a poetic kind of way
you know when you grope for luna.
I was kind of living a Pixies song and it was pretty fuckin' awesome. The best part of me knew it was awesome. However, as the evening went on, I got a bit tired, little low on blood sugar... which didn't help my unease when I hit the big dance floor. Between the stupid paranoia about the battery and the the super loud music and the multicolored lighting hitting me right in the face and my NOT wanting to girl out in front of Sara and various other people, I kind of buckled. It felt like Room 101, my own little circle of Hell. Soooooo, I had to go outside. Not a complete failure, but it wasn't ideal either. I was outside, in the cool night air, trying to will myself into going back in. I told Sara I'd meet her back on the dance floor. Anyway, being outside, looking out into the black expanse of the universe, I realized something... At that moment, I would've preferred to be punched in the face than to go back into Room 101. Thus, Steven and I hung out on the sidewalk until Sara came out again. It wasn't that long and the club was winding down anyway, but still... I didn't want to wig out at all, yet I did. Next time will be flawless. I already have a bunch of ideas to eliminate the parts that bothered me. I won't be dictated by things that make me uneasy. I'll be a totally fabulous club kid and OD on heroin as any respectable club goer is wont to do. It'll be bitchin'!
So, tonight I'm going to Czar, a dance club in Ybor. Now, I've been to 2 concerts and didn't wig out, but this is different. We'll see how it goes.
So, after watching the Living Dead Girl video for the zillionth time, I've decided that I should take to wearing a cape.
Yet as we walked back to the Home of the Street Sweepers, we felt that we wanted to sing, without reason. So we were reprimanded tonight, in the dining hall, for without knowing it we had begun to sing aloud some tune we had never heard. But it is not proper to sing without reason, save at the Social Meetings.