12 to 6

in a strange twist, i found myself in refurbished warehouse last night.





even stranger was the literal way the place was put together. the "ware" part was on the bottom floor, but if you trot up your way up one flight of stairs...you'd find yourself in a house...of sorts.




i was bombarded by rampant music. it was repetitive and driving, though some of it had it's charm. on the outside there were no apparent signs that anything was happening in this place at all.





it was desolate.





the frosty fall(?) air lent to the feeling of loneliness...a morgue of a city block, laying asleep in the stillness of nighttime. nothing ever happens here. this neighborhood only hears the juicy details of events happening on streets more important than this.





walking through the unlabeled door (just following the sounds in the air) one could mistake this for a college kid's frat house. maybe him and his roommates are having a little shindig. i walked through the narrow threshold...flashing lights for ultraviolet dreams. one fellow checks my i.d and takes my 10 dollar cover. a lady wraps a band around my wrist...then i walk into a scene that's old for my friends, but new to a poor kid who lived on an avenue not far from here-




i've seen a few things in the past couple of days.





while the place did pop for a brief stint in the early a.m. it was never packed. it was interesting though. here, the 2-step is a relic from another dance scene. at this bash the "basic" step looked like brazilian martial arts.



what characters!





i danced some. i talked more. i grew tired as the grinding thump of the bass drum meddled with my gray matter. i played a knight in shining armor to a damsel in petite frames...her glasses, ironically, don't seem to grant her any clarity-


if they did, she would see me waiting (perhaps in vain) for her to get her shit together and notice me. i hope she isn't so self-absorbed as to think i'll always be a phone call away...or perhaps hindsight will be 20/20 for her.



either way damsel, it was nice to hold you for a bit. sometimes a man can lose his recollection of what a tender moment feels like.







end of the night: cheek kisses for the ladies, firm handshakes for the guys. as i raised my index finger, i said "one" aloud and sauntered off into the fog without looking back. if it were my last moment, a person who valued such a thing...could spend his whole life chasing that kinda cool.





but what can i say?





some people live as if the camera's on. until i'm cancelled...










custamato~