![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Is that all there is?
Aug. 2nd, 2005 01:38 pmYou can blame chance or other people all you want, but eventually you have to look at yourself and realize that a lot of what happens to you is within your control. I was ready to write Saturday off as playing with a hangover, or "bad dice". But when it comes down to it, a lot of my games that day boiled down to putting myself in unfavorable situations. Bad dice can be off-set most of the time with good decision making. It's like playing the odds when betting. It can be very romantic and dramatic to throw caution to the winds, but you shouldn't expect that things will work out. Lessons learned for next time.
Despite how I was feeling about Friday night and my day/luck in general, I decided that I would regret not going to ManRay One Last Time. We arrived early again, wandered through the vastly different crowd: varied ages, varied clothng, varied levels of rudeness. The club began to fill and fill, the air grew hotter and wetter. The music began to change, to pick up. I remember the cool bliss of cold drink pressed to my neck. I snared some room on the right walkway with Feather_brain70, and we eventually grabbed spaces on the blocks as people left or grew tired. I was able to clear some space for spriggan and sarcasmchasm when I saw them, and our little posse bumped and gyrated for hours on end. I could wring sweat from my pants. Looking over the crowd from the blocks was staggering: the club filled to capacity, the haze in the air, it felt like seeing NIN or Oakenfold or Insert Hot Band Of The Moment here. The roar of the crowd when Chris played his Figures on a Beach song. Hearing Transmission as the swan song of the night, of the club. The thunderous applause. The encores. The long, last walk through the doors into the blissful cool night air. The end.
We all laughed and shared stories from the night, over bacon and cider and breakfast sandwiches. Exhaustion at last creeping up on me, a cute girl's head pillowed on my chest. The short drive home in the grey pre-dawn sky. The promise, down the road, of new nights, new clubs, new adventures. It's not the end.
Despite how I was feeling about Friday night and my day/luck in general, I decided that I would regret not going to ManRay One Last Time. We arrived early again, wandered through the vastly different crowd: varied ages, varied clothng, varied levels of rudeness. The club began to fill and fill, the air grew hotter and wetter. The music began to change, to pick up. I remember the cool bliss of cold drink pressed to my neck. I snared some room on the right walkway with Feather_brain70, and we eventually grabbed spaces on the blocks as people left or grew tired. I was able to clear some space for spriggan and sarcasmchasm when I saw them, and our little posse bumped and gyrated for hours on end. I could wring sweat from my pants. Looking over the crowd from the blocks was staggering: the club filled to capacity, the haze in the air, it felt like seeing NIN or Oakenfold or Insert Hot Band Of The Moment here. The roar of the crowd when Chris played his Figures on a Beach song. Hearing Transmission as the swan song of the night, of the club. The thunderous applause. The encores. The long, last walk through the doors into the blissful cool night air. The end.
We all laughed and shared stories from the night, over bacon and cider and breakfast sandwiches. Exhaustion at last creeping up on me, a cute girl's head pillowed on my chest. The short drive home in the grey pre-dawn sky. The promise, down the road, of new nights, new clubs, new adventures. It's not the end.
