constant narrator

I accidentally found myself in a club tonight. I wasn’t dressed for it and hadn’t meant to go, but the group I was with was going, it was literally on the way to my car and there was no cover. I went in. It was very red.

The last time I was in a club I was in a Santa suit and surrounded by gay cowboys and a hundred other Santas. That was a while ago.

Straight clubs are alien to me. I’ve danced in a lot of strange places, but since college not in many alcohol-centered venues. They’re terribly weird. People, couples, arrive and buy drinks, sit down and watch. Many sort of stare out from their little cubbies onto the dance floor. Then it seems after about 2.5 drinks, the girl might convince the guy to get up and dance. Then there is some awkward dancing and maybe a little grinding, and then more drinks are had. Most people don’t seem to be there for the dancing, but I can never tell exactly what they’re there for.

I think I’ve never understood, nor felt I had the money to enjoy, social drinking at bars and clubs. Now that I have even less use for alcohol, these places just seem bizarre.

What I did enjoy was taking over the club with about 20 freaks who obviously didn’t belong there and dancing to the poor Duran Duran remixes. Goofy is beautiful.