Photo by Hobbes313
I’m sitting in Temple, falling asleep in my skull. Try to leave but someone’s parked in front of the car, making me angry like a proper Sri Lankan Buddhist. Last weekend I was too hungover to go, so I guess this is an improvement. In between the checkpoints you can actually have a little fun in Colombo, like a small college town. Normally I hate the nightlife, I hate to party, but going out with a few attractive girls makes it all OK. There’s a cold pressure to the scene, reducing complex personalities to what you’re wearing and who you’re with. It’s like a genetic mixer where reproductive fitness is all that matters, be it money on the curb or birds on arm. Transparently so, since places like R&B charge men Rs 500 at the door. A pack of single men is generally useless to the human race (unless they’re killing other single men), and nightclubs let you know it. If you’re with a girl (or two), however, you can clear that hurdle and sorta enjoy yourself.
Had enough scotch and bought enough margaritas to behave somewhat innappropriately, but it’s all amongst friends. ‘Girls Just Want To Have Fun’ has been my favorite song since kindergarten and I’m OK with that. The deep cultural relevance of ‘Summer of 69’ is beyond my ken, however. Was with a lovely person to dance with, and she generally makes me feel all right. She’s got a boyfriend in UK and I’ve got ADSL, so it’s harmless as well. At one point I find her friend leaning heavily into me (or vice versa) and I wonder if its OK to kiss that one, but that’s just the booze talking. Sometimes its just nice to dance with someone and have nothing come of it.
Lately I feel a little like James Frey, that is, a boring and moral person pretending to be all hard and rebellious. Alcohol makes me sleepy and casual sex scares me shitless. I can’t hit on a girl without actually listening to what she says and if I anyone tried to pick a fight I’d probably cry. indi.ca talks a lot of shit, but Indrajit is really a big dork. But that is, to me, the whole club scene. It’s this universe of parallel morality running counter to everything faith and community teaches you from when you’re young. It’s all about drunkeness and sex and it’s a place where I fully don’t belong.
One time I got lost in this ginormous Toronto warehouse and I was like ‘where the fuck am I?’ No one was even smiling at each other, like, everyone gives you the ice grill if your trainers aren’t white enough. I was really lost but it seemed like the staff were just paid to be dicks to you. And for the love of God I would love to know what people say to each other in clubs, cause I can’t hear anything. It’s like a big altered state where you dull your senses both internally and externally, entering a more atavistic space where only the most basic things matter. Sometimes I’ll feel very much alone and look up at the disco ball, wondering if God is here, admist all the noise and illusion. I always feel that he is, but then he slips away into the self-consciousness of the moment.
I used to work at this club Katrina’s on Crescent Street – busing tables, emptying ash trays and shit. One of the waiter’s was a former male stripper in leather pants. The one piece of advice he gave me was ‘fat chicks, there’s a lot of money in fat chicks’. Hear the same pounding music every night, same gino’s buying bottles of Grey Goose and same girls acting like drunken fools. Entirely different when you’re sober and working. I remember one time someone puked and I sure as hell wasn’t getting paid enough to clean it up. After a while the dancers kinda moved it around and it disappeared. That, however, is an overly negative view.
What make the nights fun is friends. In that low transmission atmosphere all you get is the affection you have for each other and it’s actually quite nice. I remember Frappe after graduation, saying bye to Merit and Tracy and sobbing and tripping down St. Laurent in a soggy mess, feeling so very much alive. Surrounded by those people you don’t worry if you’re funds are low or if you’re alone, though I guess that’s the same for any place on earth. It’s also a lot of fun going out with a girl, ideal in fact. It’s nice to dance with someone, and holding someone in that space between public and private can feel altogether different. But I’m exagerrating and looking for patterns where there are none. Maybe clubs are like anywhere else, that is, an experience entirely dependent on who you’re with.