Thursday, June 4, 2009

Timing your movements so accurately...

I'm done with clubs for the time being. I'm taking a break. I'm sick of the people, sick of the alcohol, sick of the lack of awareness that people have when it comes to the physical space they occupy and the sheer self-centeredness that that lack of awareness shows.

People stopped in doorways.

People stopped on the stairs.

People stepping directly in front of you while you're watching the floor.

People walking into your dance.

People trying to dance with you in a scene that is about individual style and, really, did that guy walking by need to run his hand over my lower back like that? I know you like the way I move, but come off it already. I'm not here for you.

If I wanted to pick someone up at a club, I would have done it in the last seven years.

And, sure, there was that one guy. The one club guy I ever took home. Who still continues to text, call, AIM, and myspace me into the ground trying to get me to sleep with him again. That was last November and he's still trying and I'm sitting here going, "How many different ways do I have to say no to you?"


I'm done with the overcrowding, with the smoking patios where you have to constantly be on guard against low-flying cigarettes because I'm not going to let someone burn a hole in my clothing again. Clothes that breathe are good, clothes that are ventilated because of someone's drunken asshattery... not so much.

Yes, I know. Every six to eight months I get sick of the scene and drop out until I feel like going back, until I have to dance and the population density no longer bothers me.

It's why I go. To dance.

I remember walking into my first club, no idea what to expect. I started college when I was 16, so all of my friends were older and waiting for me to turn 18 so they could take me out. We drove up to Hollywood, drove up to The Ruby, and parked beneath in the structure.

Pushing aside those heavy black curtains and entering the main room for the first time... that was it. That music, those people, the dancing. It was a world I never imagined. It impacted my life in so many, many ways over the years. No matter how long I leave, I always come back.

It's not home, but it's peace, in a way.

Watching the music change over the years, watching the dance styles change as outside influences were brought in, the shift in venues, promoters, friends becoming DJs and flyer-kids.

Hearing triphop played in a club for the first time and becoming rapidly hooked. This was dance music with an elegant sexuality to it. This was something that induced gliding turns and undulating hips in a way I had not seen before. It shifted my style so fast as I adjusted to this new fascination.

If I could find a good triphop club, I'd probably never leave.

I should look for one soon, since my favorite club temporarily shut down a few weeks ago. Tragic tale that it is.

I want to dance. I want a smooth, hard surface and a soundsystem to blow my mind. I want to set in the perfect play list and roll my hips for hours.

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