So I was in the middle of the dance floor in four-inch heels wondering what the hell people were doing in this club that was more important than dancing. Seriously though, I know so little about clubbing because I have a preference for gigs…but I’d really like to know what keeps people going to clubs. The people and the music don’t seem to change. While walking to the parking lot, Carina hinted that maybe we didn’t have as much fun because we didn’t have as many friends (or any at all besides each other) with us. Or was she hinting at the number of people? I can’t seem to remember.
For whatever awkwardness clubbing might bring up, I can’t seem to shake off the joy of having danced (seemingly—because of those damned shoes!) all night. I love it but I doubt if it’s worth all this stress. You pick an outfit, a hairstyle, a few lines to make while random people try to converse with you over music meant to be danced to–all of this just so you can swap names in the haze of artificial light that mixes with cigarette smoke. It’s a party and it isn’t meant to last. Neither is your make-up which begins to fade in the dance floor and before you know it, you’re back to being your ordinary self–the monotony of which you thought you had lost just as you penned your name on this guy’s hand. I swear, in this digital age, I can still be embarrassingly passe. Imagine writing down my name on someone’s hand just because stupid insisted on talking while the music played. Sometimes I think their true intention is to gauge the effect of their raspy voices on young things like me. Don’t worry, I’d have been honest and said that I really liked the accent plus the way his nose would touch the curve of my ears but screaming into them might’ve done more harm than good.
So what is it that keeps us going back? Or going at all, even? My excuse was the magazine because I’m obviously head over heels in love with their spreads but seriously, other than that, to club is rather awkward. Also, if I may hint at the political, isn’t it odd how establishments built for clubbing are always ornately decorated and distinguished by names that evoke politics: Embassy, Republiq–even the Establishment. Perhaps when I’ve found the clues to this one I’ll find a better way to discuss this but i really find it interesting how places made for recreation seem to necessitate an existence akin to the state.
Blah blah, too sleepy.