(diaryland) July 10, 2000 - 20:59:43

On Friday night, I drove to the city and went to the main station to wait for my friends. They were the same friends I went and saw the Prostitute Play with the week before. We had to go to a Thai restaraunt and wait for one of us there, so we did. Except it was closed. Man, it was cold. We waited there for over half an hour in the cold, and we made "V-v-v-v-v-v-v" noises. You know; those noises you make that remind everyone else just how cold you really are. To entertain everyone, I told my porno story, and they all liked it. I listened to stories of what happened to the others that week. One story involved the appearance of a flamboyant naked man at a photo shoot on the beach. Another involved the fact that my other friend managed to get out of doing a whole lot of shifts at the service station she worked at because she was involved in an armed hold-up. She'd been looking for a way to get out of doing the job for a while now and the armed robbery she was the victim of did it. So, in a way, it was a godsend.

Finally the person we were waiting for came and we went to a gay bar for a while. All the seats were taken so we loitered a bit. Then we went to Abyss.

Abyss is a goth nightclub. It's about to move somewhere else, but for now it's located in a refurbished prison. Yes, I know; very apt. I was particularly interested in the architecture of the place because last semester in class we learned about the psychology used in the design of prisons. For those of you who are reading and don't know me, I'm doing an Architecture degree.

I got inside and some people stamped my hand with some inky celtic design. The damn stamp still won't wash off, and it's been there for three days now. There were goths all over the place. It was really dark inside, and just about everyone was wearing black. Everyone looked just great. There was teased hair and eyeliner. There were girls with feathers in their hair and boys wearing suits and lipstick. Everyone was so poised. They looked as if they were posing in photographs and that everyone else was looking at them. Which I'm sure they were. I wanted to tell them all I loved them. But I didn't. That would have been pretty naff. There were some very shiny, plasticy people around. I'm sure that if two of them had rubbed themselves together, they would have made a loud squeaking sound.

There was industrial and techno music bursting forth and hitting me in the face. The place didn't really show much evidence of formerly being a prison, but the platform they had hanged people from was still there and the beautiful old truss roof was only partly obscured by sound insulation. Yeah.

The others in my group decided to try and get out of the crowd and go upstairs to another bit. Up there they were playing older stuff, like Joy Division and things like that. My friends started dancing around. I felt kinda silly and I sat down, marvelling at all the people wafting around the place. The people who were dancing were really into it. I realised that I recognised one of the people on the dancefloor. It was the drummer for Tribal Clown, the band I had seen before Michele and I had decided to go see some porno. She was dancing with someone, and I was too damn shy to go up and say hello. Arg.

I decided to start dancing. My style of dancing is pretty much walking around and waving my arms a bit. It's not very inspired. You'd think with all the dance classes I took when I was younger, I'd be able to come up with something a little more exciting. But, no. When I recognised a guy from my uni and he came over to talk to me, I was kinda relieved because I had truly run out of dance move(s).

I went back downstairs to get myself a lemonade. The dude at the bar filled up my glass all the way up with ice, dammit. I was bummed. I drank the bits of lemonade that had actually managed to squeeze its way into the glass in between the ice chunks, and then ate the ice, determined that I was going to get my money's worth out of the drink. My jaw was killing me with the freeziness, but I had to admit the ice was pretty damn good quality.

I decided to have a bit of a dance down on that level. It was way more crowded than upstairs, and much bigger. Dancing near me, there was a guy wearing a plastic red outfit with the most perfect electric-shock hair. There were two plastic women singing at each other and dancing suggestively. They were cool. There was a dude with a leash around his neck. A lady was holding the other end and whirling it around. I saw a few other people I knew from around the place. There was only one Marylin Manson there, which was good. I was expecting there to be lots more. He did a good job of looking just like the real thing, though. There was another guy that looked as if he was a member of the SS. Urg.

All of a sudden, I saw the angry acting chick from the Prostitute Play, dancing happily away in the crowd. I couldn't believe my eyes. Just last week, I had been out with the exact same group of friends, watching her being angry at stuff. It was a cool coincidence.

Me and my friends decided to go dance on the hanging platform. It sounds really repulsive to do such a thing, but it wasn't particularly scary when we actually did it. You could see the outline of the trapdoors in the floor, and the platform bounced up and down under the weight of the people dancing on it. "More Human Than Human" by White Zombie started playing, and I danced enthusiastically. I walked and flailed with the best of them. After that finished, a Monster Magnet song came on and I decided to call it a night. Me and the armed robbery girl, Alison, walked a really long way to the car in uncomfortable shoes. I had parked very far away because I'm nervous about driving around in the city. But it was cool; we had lollies to eat on the way.