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Eighteen hours later
Feb. 15th, 2003 12:26 pmWhat started off as an innocent discussion over IM evolved into a spontaneous and epic adventure in far away cities, where the lame and the limber danced until the dawn in a converted church, reality frayed into dream, and unpleasant traditions were turned on their heads.
Annabelle mentioned that Astral Projection was playing in NYC last night at the Estate (formerly the limelight). This was a band I first heard online on IPM radio and was really impressed by. So, I said I'd drive down. An hour later, I couldn't believe that I did that. Drive three and a half hours to NYC, dance all night, and drive back?
Cut ahead to forty five minutes after midnight. Annabelle, Winfield and I are standing outside an old cathedral, with the soft thump thump thump of techno coming from inside. We play Chinese fire drill until her friend arrived, the one who informed us of the show in the first place.
Cut ahead half an hour, and we are inside the Estate. My God. It was a movie set; I expected Wesley Snipes and the ManRay Hockey Team (credit to eye_abstains for this one) to come swirling through the crowd, trench coats billowing and guns blazing. There were mazes of steel and iron stairways. There were mirrors set in the walls, and lights spearing down from the vaulted ceilings like the lances of angels. And there was trance: liquid fire spilling all over you and the dance floor, getting in your hair and skin and soul, possessing you to dance. And dance we did, first among the crowded dance floor in our fine Boston style, then just bobbing up and down as the dance floor filled up, and then dancing on the catwalks in the corners so we could move again.
Astral Projections set was amazing, they played and mixed their tracks live for about two hours.
I remember dancing and losing track of time. I remember watching the seething masses from on high. I remember someone trying to sell me "Albanian acid" at $10 a dose. (for the record, I declined.) I remember seeing people who obviously didn't make the same choice as me. I remember that frayed feeling, not quite tired, but slightly unraveling. I remember a lot of terrible dancers, and some humblingly good ones. And I do remember that I'm easy to spot even in the crowd, due to my own style.
The ride back was hazy and spotty, and a few wrong turns were made here and there. But I stayed awake ( I apparently can stay awake much long as a driver, rather than a passenger Heatray!), got everyone home safe and sound, and managed to write this entry.
As I type this, I've been up for 27 hours. Soon there will be dinner with friends from near and far. But for now, as I end most of my journal entries.... THUD. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Annabelle mentioned that Astral Projection was playing in NYC last night at the Estate (formerly the limelight). This was a band I first heard online on IPM radio and was really impressed by. So, I said I'd drive down. An hour later, I couldn't believe that I did that. Drive three and a half hours to NYC, dance all night, and drive back?
Cut ahead to forty five minutes after midnight. Annabelle, Winfield and I are standing outside an old cathedral, with the soft thump thump thump of techno coming from inside. We play Chinese fire drill until her friend arrived, the one who informed us of the show in the first place.
Cut ahead half an hour, and we are inside the Estate. My God. It was a movie set; I expected Wesley Snipes and the ManRay Hockey Team (credit to eye_abstains for this one) to come swirling through the crowd, trench coats billowing and guns blazing. There were mazes of steel and iron stairways. There were mirrors set in the walls, and lights spearing down from the vaulted ceilings like the lances of angels. And there was trance: liquid fire spilling all over you and the dance floor, getting in your hair and skin and soul, possessing you to dance. And dance we did, first among the crowded dance floor in our fine Boston style, then just bobbing up and down as the dance floor filled up, and then dancing on the catwalks in the corners so we could move again.
Astral Projections set was amazing, they played and mixed their tracks live for about two hours.
I remember dancing and losing track of time. I remember watching the seething masses from on high. I remember someone trying to sell me "Albanian acid" at $10 a dose. (for the record, I declined.) I remember seeing people who obviously didn't make the same choice as me. I remember that frayed feeling, not quite tired, but slightly unraveling. I remember a lot of terrible dancers, and some humblingly good ones. And I do remember that I'm easy to spot even in the crowd, due to my own style.
The ride back was hazy and spotty, and a few wrong turns were made here and there. But I stayed awake ( I apparently can stay awake much long as a driver, rather than a passenger Heatray!), got everyone home safe and sound, and managed to write this entry.
As I type this, I've been up for 27 hours. Soon there will be dinner with friends from near and far. But for now, as I end most of my journal entries.... THUD. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
