Music, Dancing and Clubs

I spend time in clubs. Dancing was probably my first religion.

The music, electronica. House, trance, techno. Know it? Ever hear it, really? All those instruments. Each instrument a different level. All those rhythms, in and among those levels. All those time frames. Interwoven. Progressing. Converging. Climaxing. The dance. Being thrown in real time, both concentrating and relaxing, full body-mind-soul... at all these different levels. How we danced, those days, in Beijing? What we learned and taught. It was palpable.

What the dance, this attention, does to one's consciousness ... to one's presence ... in real time. What one does TO time, being thus.

#1 In a club, high, in alcove, near VIP suites. A black guy passes, on the way in. I know him, this me. He is Young's crew. Drug lord. I greet him. He looks at me, dream me, strangely, angrily ... like I'm a bit crazy. Just then, a lady cop comes up. Gently, no confrontation. Perhaps I'm a bit out of hand. Someone says, "they're the _real_ cops." "Great!" "Wonderful!" I say. "Which way is Mecca?" down on my knees, I go.

#2 A house party. A seaside city, familiar from other dreams. Driving up in a taxi. Upstairs, spinning. Not so well. I put on something to dissonant, don't mix it well. Embarrased. Vivid views of the controls. Buttons and nobs are ... not familiar, to equipment on this earth.

# 3 A small cafe' or diner. A performer, doing his thing, strumming guitar and singing. Elvis? Eh. Something like that. Feels like a command performance. Playing for some old farts, sitting in a booth, bobbing their heads lamely to the otherwise pretty swinging beat. I look at the old fart, and he gives me a nasty look.

#4 A performance space, like a mall, with different rooms for different styles of music, off to the sides. Hip Hop room is jumping. Up ahead, rock & roll is somewhat less well attended. But the performance is awesome. Next scene, I am with the lead, almost like interviewing him. He is NuBreed. Not simply human. A bit hairy, on his face. Wolfensohn Crew? He has been castrated, maybe... shows his square valve patch, in his crotch.

#5 After busy night moving around these buildings, exploring, getting lost, I go up to terrace. Again, a city not of this earth. They all are, usually. A nice party going on there. Good people. Untouchables. Good to be there. Much to convey.

#6 Sometimes, I get pure computer interfaces. I am in the camera's eye, see the scene as through a lense, one step removed. I hear curious playful music as my view goes inside the front of a city bus, driven by Chinese girl. In there, a type of person, entity, I've come to know. A multiple, either time- or space-wise. Maybe just very old. Wrinkled skin. Big nose. Blonde. Caucasian.