(no subject)
We hit the night, colliding through the lights reveling in our freedom. Wrong turns prevailed, but all was made good with some Double Cheeseburgers and Orange Juice. Devouring this concoction of the gods, our heads raced harder with each street we hit closer to our divine destination. We give our names, get our tags and head into the throng. People move like candy-colored neon snakes, writhing and twisting through each other. Men, with their garish display of neon feathers, attract potential mates with hypnotizing moves. We hustle through the participants in this night of lights, looking for the spot to watch and wait. The clock moves to the beats of the DJ, he controls time here and we are powerless. Like gods they control our every move, they say when to move - to stop - and when to dance. They are our puppeteers and we are nothing but toys on a string when they spin their beats. But we don’t mind, no one does.
We head upstairs and choose our poisons with the kinds of abandon that can only be made in the dark with strangers. “Anything with Hypnotiq” says the goddess at my side, showing the true enjoyment of the moment. I choose mine and we clutch our liquid pleasure tightly as we wash through the sea of expensive shirts. We down our drinks as if we were dying of thirst, the slow burn hitting our throats long after the drink is gone. Small threats of inhibition slowly work their way from our bodies, and we move deeper into the crowd. It is the true night now, midnight, and the real reason we are here is hitting the set. They move with the simple fluidity afforded by those who know their course better than they know themselves, and the beats hit. The crowd rocks insane, movement from every direction and of every type. Slow mourners, fast killers and liquid sex fill the small floor and we cannot help but get caught up. We move to a combination of our own feel and the DJs instructions. Fog billows in like ghosts looking for souls to possess. Eventually though, even we start to feel the wear of the night.
Pounding floors and screaming speakers start to invade our vibe. We have been here long enough and decide to slip back into the quiet inky night. Still pounding in our ears, we talk about the night.
Definitely worth the lack of sleep, all for a bit of sanity to return…it was a good night.
We head upstairs and choose our poisons with the kinds of abandon that can only be made in the dark with strangers. “Anything with Hypnotiq” says the goddess at my side, showing the true enjoyment of the moment. I choose mine and we clutch our liquid pleasure tightly as we wash through the sea of expensive shirts. We down our drinks as if we were dying of thirst, the slow burn hitting our throats long after the drink is gone. Small threats of inhibition slowly work their way from our bodies, and we move deeper into the crowd. It is the true night now, midnight, and the real reason we are here is hitting the set. They move with the simple fluidity afforded by those who know their course better than they know themselves, and the beats hit. The crowd rocks insane, movement from every direction and of every type. Slow mourners, fast killers and liquid sex fill the small floor and we cannot help but get caught up. We move to a combination of our own feel and the DJs instructions. Fog billows in like ghosts looking for souls to possess. Eventually though, even we start to feel the wear of the night.
Pounding floors and screaming speakers start to invade our vibe. We have been here long enough and decide to slip back into the quiet inky night. Still pounding in our ears, we talk about the night.
Definitely worth the lack of sleep, all for a bit of sanity to return…it was a good night.