Bubbles

Last night after eating dinner in our newly rearranged kitchen, I went to Heaven’s Beach bar again to meet what can be considered the eclectic first arm of friends I have hijacked from S. The time at the bar was enjoyable enough, although we were sitting close to the band and conversation was yelled or ear whispered and generally difficult. I spent some time conversing with a friend, trying to set the record straight regarding my heterosexuality. This was complicated by another friend, a gay Thai male, coming over and kissing me on both cheeks [face]. The timing couldn’t have been more comical and counterproductive.

I wish people would congregate of coffee shops more in the evening and consider that a good time. I’d much rather be able to hear myself and others talk and think. This venue was working against all of those likes, but was also a chilling vision of things to come. When the bar closed, the group moved across town to a quaint little sound and light explosion called Bubbles. The crowd mixture was about half tourist, almost another half Thai, and the remainder mysterious and seedy people that just seemed to stare at you.

I have never been in a dance club like that before, and I know why. It is like some kind of organized apocalypse. The whole throbbing pulses of bass and light are meant to drown out all internal thoughts and allow the dancer to surrender himself to the throbbing wave of human muscle fibers. More than anything, it just feels like I’m sitting in a movie: I’m a rogue detective of the future chasing down a lead, and I take the hyper train to the edge of Mars City to ask some tough questions at the futuristic and frantic club in the mutant prostitution district.

These kind of movie moments always seem lame and cliché to me, and this judgment passes to it’s real life equivalent.

I spent most of my time talking to the same girl as I was at the other bar. She didn’t want to dance either. But we did get a group of people dancing away from the bigger crowd. And I did let the rhythm take me over, if for a moment.

S. was propositioned for a night of fun.

So again, I reinforced my desire for long quiet walks over insane claustrophobic dancing. My desire for vocal language over body language.