And so it goes...
A little while ago, one of the most hellish weekends of my life finally came to an end. After a very relaxing shower, a bit of food and drink, and the last snippet of The Simpsons on tv (hehe), I've decided to vent/express/unwind/etc with the long-lost e-shoulder of life, good ol' LJ.
On Friday, a couple of "friends" who shall hereafter be referred to as Tweedle Asshole (TA) and Tweedle Douchebag (TD) invited me to go with them to Seattle for a night, where they were to see a certain DJ they love spin. Being that I love going to Seattle and can really get into nights at the clubs in moderation, I was all too happy to accept. But I made quite the mistake in not delving more into the term 'circuit club' after it was mentioned in the invitation. I had a vague notion of what the circuit is, what it's all about, etc, but not much more than that. I really should've delved into it more, because my lack of knowledge about that entire scene not only bit me in the ass, it took a few other chunks and vital organs out of me.
When we started underway to Seattle, there was much gabbing and laughing, and all was good. When we arrived in town and killed some time just wandering the city, waiting for midnight'ish to approach, all was good. When we got to the club, and I began to decipher exactly what the circuit means to those who live as though it is all there is, things started to get very un-good. Quickly.
The circuit prizes, nay...demands; gay males who are tanned, hot, muscular, smooth and young. There is no desire for or very little acceptance of those who do not fit these particulars. As a skinny, white-as-fuck, plain-looking, hippie-esque guy, I think I felt more out of place there than I ever have in my life. Oh there were more than a few older men, overweight chaps and assorted others there, defying the 'mold', but by and large it was a sea of shirtless drones.
And even though I felt damned awkward in that ocean of Abercrombieness, I'm all for dance/house/trance/progressive: I love Paul Oakenfold. Ian Van Dahl is dreamy. DJ Shadow rocks my world. Dancing for several hours is awesome. But as they say; all things in moderation. Moderation however, is another of those pesky things that's just not welcome in the circuit. That's more or less because 99% of the guys there are so tweeked out on various drugs it's not even funny. You don't dance for a few hours, you dance till it's time to go to the after-party and keep on doin it till dawn and beyond. And then you don't sleep, you stay up all day long and probably beyond depending on whether you're going to keep taking more and more drugs. Well I can only stand so much endless baseline and looping but unfortunately for me TA and TD lap it up like there's no tomorrow. In fact, they only listen to that style of music; they truly hate rock, alternative, classical, and every other genre of music on the face of the planet.
Well skipping over some of the particulars (like me desperately leaving the after-party in a taxi by myself because I was tweeked out on stuff they surreptitiously gave me and freaking out over the the endless pounding bass), we eventually ended up at the house of a "newfound friend" of theirs. Things started getting better at that point because even though all the other guys crashing at this place were circuit boys, at least we were out of the club and there was a shred of individuality in several of them. Hell I even played cribbage and ERS with a few of them after I mentioned my deck of cards and crib board in passing!
Things were fun again, until Sunday evening started creeping up. To make a long story short, all of us stayed up all day long and (in true circuit tweeker fashion) they wanted to do it all over again that night, telling me "We know you're not up for it, so we'll pick you up tomorrow morning and head back home, k?". No room for discussion, no acknowledgement of my visible unhappiness with this course of action, and no care as to what the fuck I was to do all night long.
It turns out that one of the guys at the house didn't particularly want to go to the club again (praise Jeebus it's a miracle!) so he offered to put me up for the night. As there weren't any other options readily presenting themselves, I gratefully accepted and we ordered pizza and watched movies for a few hours. Unfortunately he made it obvious that he fancied me, and doubly unfortunately I didn't fancy him whatsoever, so when the need for sleep became strong things were somewhat awkward.
I can't remember the last time I'd ever felt so trapped, frustrated and helpless. Stuck in Seattle in a guy's house where I didn't want to be, drugged, while the people who'd invited me in the first place were out tweeking, fucking and not giving a rat's ass about me. I slept as late as I possibly could to avoid dealing with everything, and according to the guy who'd put me up for the night, they never once tried to call that morning, which was the straw that finally broke my back; I could deal with the fact that they wanted to go out clubbing all night long again, but when they went back to crash at someone's house afterward they totally could've picked me up along the way and didn't even try to. They were there for hours tweaking and fucking (apparently TD went into near-seizures from overdosing on GHB, go figure) and it took a call from me shortly after waking up at 1pm to finally contact them. Sixteen hours of bloody well fending for myself.
During the drive back, they never once asked if something was wrong, how my night went or how I was doing, despite my putting a decidedly stony and silent aura forward. Not that it surprised me all that much, considering the lack of consideration they displayed the night before, but the passive-aggressive Virgo in me desperately wanted them to start the 'reconciliation ball' rolling, so to speak. In retrospect I should've laid into them and let them know how hurt and furious I was over it all, although I doubt even that would've accomplished much; TA and TD are prime examples of all that I detest in the land of homosexuality- incredibly superficial, shallow, materialistic, judgemental, catty, simplistic, etc. It's a supreme wonder that I've had as many good times with them as I had until this weekend. I don't foresee spending any more time with them unless a massive apology is sorted out in the near future. Tomorrow afternoon I'm supposed to stop by their house to pick up the clothes that I'd left there before we went up north, so we shall see if anything comes of that, even if I'm not holding an ounce of breath for it.
If there's one thing that I took away from this trip, it's how absolutely important and wonderful it is to ensure that your life is filled with people who care deeply for you and just plain support you: My girls never would've let anything even remotely close to this weekend happen. Brian was outraged when I got home and told him what happened, doubly so because TA and TD have screwed him over in the past as well. Mikey would've asked what was wrong the instant a note of displeasure was detected. What it comes down to is that I need to stop associating with people that I can't honestly say are 'nice'. It doesn't matter if they've got other redeeming qualities or whatnot; if they're not compassionate, tolerant and good-natured, it's better off buried. Evil consumes itself or begets itself and all that biblical shite, lol.
Tomorrow I fully intend to contact the people who've always been true blue and express my love and appreciation for them. Or in cases where time has passed and drift has occured, do what I can to apologize for that and express my appreciation for bygone good vibes as well. Life's too short to get hung up on a couple of tweeker assholes showing their true colors, and there's far more to enjoy than disparage (of which Tori is helping remind me with her sexy upbeat slamming of the ivories). Cheers to anyone who had a better weekend than I did,
truth beauty freedom love,
Gregory
On Friday, a couple of "friends" who shall hereafter be referred to as Tweedle Asshole (TA) and Tweedle Douchebag (TD) invited me to go with them to Seattle for a night, where they were to see a certain DJ they love spin. Being that I love going to Seattle and can really get into nights at the clubs in moderation, I was all too happy to accept. But I made quite the mistake in not delving more into the term 'circuit club' after it was mentioned in the invitation. I had a vague notion of what the circuit is, what it's all about, etc, but not much more than that. I really should've delved into it more, because my lack of knowledge about that entire scene not only bit me in the ass, it took a few other chunks and vital organs out of me.
When we started underway to Seattle, there was much gabbing and laughing, and all was good. When we arrived in town and killed some time just wandering the city, waiting for midnight'ish to approach, all was good. When we got to the club, and I began to decipher exactly what the circuit means to those who live as though it is all there is, things started to get very un-good. Quickly.
The circuit prizes, nay...demands; gay males who are tanned, hot, muscular, smooth and young. There is no desire for or very little acceptance of those who do not fit these particulars. As a skinny, white-as-fuck, plain-looking, hippie-esque guy, I think I felt more out of place there than I ever have in my life. Oh there were more than a few older men, overweight chaps and assorted others there, defying the 'mold', but by and large it was a sea of shirtless drones.
And even though I felt damned awkward in that ocean of Abercrombieness, I'm all for dance/house/trance/progressive: I love Paul Oakenfold. Ian Van Dahl is dreamy. DJ Shadow rocks my world. Dancing for several hours is awesome. But as they say; all things in moderation. Moderation however, is another of those pesky things that's just not welcome in the circuit. That's more or less because 99% of the guys there are so tweeked out on various drugs it's not even funny. You don't dance for a few hours, you dance till it's time to go to the after-party and keep on doin it till dawn and beyond. And then you don't sleep, you stay up all day long and probably beyond depending on whether you're going to keep taking more and more drugs. Well I can only stand so much endless baseline and looping but unfortunately for me TA and TD lap it up like there's no tomorrow. In fact, they only listen to that style of music; they truly hate rock, alternative, classical, and every other genre of music on the face of the planet.
Well skipping over some of the particulars (like me desperately leaving the after-party in a taxi by myself because I was tweeked out on stuff they surreptitiously gave me and freaking out over the the endless pounding bass), we eventually ended up at the house of a "newfound friend" of theirs. Things started getting better at that point because even though all the other guys crashing at this place were circuit boys, at least we were out of the club and there was a shred of individuality in several of them. Hell I even played cribbage and ERS with a few of them after I mentioned my deck of cards and crib board in passing!
Things were fun again, until Sunday evening started creeping up. To make a long story short, all of us stayed up all day long and (in true circuit tweeker fashion) they wanted to do it all over again that night, telling me "We know you're not up for it, so we'll pick you up tomorrow morning and head back home, k?". No room for discussion, no acknowledgement of my visible unhappiness with this course of action, and no care as to what the fuck I was to do all night long.
It turns out that one of the guys at the house didn't particularly want to go to the club again (praise Jeebus it's a miracle!) so he offered to put me up for the night. As there weren't any other options readily presenting themselves, I gratefully accepted and we ordered pizza and watched movies for a few hours. Unfortunately he made it obvious that he fancied me, and doubly unfortunately I didn't fancy him whatsoever, so when the need for sleep became strong things were somewhat awkward.
I can't remember the last time I'd ever felt so trapped, frustrated and helpless. Stuck in Seattle in a guy's house where I didn't want to be, drugged, while the people who'd invited me in the first place were out tweeking, fucking and not giving a rat's ass about me. I slept as late as I possibly could to avoid dealing with everything, and according to the guy who'd put me up for the night, they never once tried to call that morning, which was the straw that finally broke my back; I could deal with the fact that they wanted to go out clubbing all night long again, but when they went back to crash at someone's house afterward they totally could've picked me up along the way and didn't even try to. They were there for hours tweaking and fucking (apparently TD went into near-seizures from overdosing on GHB, go figure) and it took a call from me shortly after waking up at 1pm to finally contact them. Sixteen hours of bloody well fending for myself.
During the drive back, they never once asked if something was wrong, how my night went or how I was doing, despite my putting a decidedly stony and silent aura forward. Not that it surprised me all that much, considering the lack of consideration they displayed the night before, but the passive-aggressive Virgo in me desperately wanted them to start the 'reconciliation ball' rolling, so to speak. In retrospect I should've laid into them and let them know how hurt and furious I was over it all, although I doubt even that would've accomplished much; TA and TD are prime examples of all that I detest in the land of homosexuality- incredibly superficial, shallow, materialistic, judgemental, catty, simplistic, etc. It's a supreme wonder that I've had as many good times with them as I had until this weekend. I don't foresee spending any more time with them unless a massive apology is sorted out in the near future. Tomorrow afternoon I'm supposed to stop by their house to pick up the clothes that I'd left there before we went up north, so we shall see if anything comes of that, even if I'm not holding an ounce of breath for it.
If there's one thing that I took away from this trip, it's how absolutely important and wonderful it is to ensure that your life is filled with people who care deeply for you and just plain support you: My girls never would've let anything even remotely close to this weekend happen. Brian was outraged when I got home and told him what happened, doubly so because TA and TD have screwed him over in the past as well. Mikey would've asked what was wrong the instant a note of displeasure was detected. What it comes down to is that I need to stop associating with people that I can't honestly say are 'nice'. It doesn't matter if they've got other redeeming qualities or whatnot; if they're not compassionate, tolerant and good-natured, it's better off buried. Evil consumes itself or begets itself and all that biblical shite, lol.
Tomorrow I fully intend to contact the people who've always been true blue and express my love and appreciation for them. Or in cases where time has passed and drift has occured, do what I can to apologize for that and express my appreciation for bygone good vibes as well. Life's too short to get hung up on a couple of tweeker assholes showing their true colors, and there's far more to enjoy than disparage (of which Tori is helping remind me with her sexy upbeat slamming of the ivories). Cheers to anyone who had a better weekend than I did,
truth beauty freedom love,
Gregory