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In My Veins

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In My Veins – a story of sight and sound inspired by


You couldn’t tell by looking at me, but I’m socially awkward. It’s not because of degenerative social skills or nature giving me an “unfortunate blessing”. It’s because I find it hard to relate and care for “superficial pleasantries”.


It seems the older I get the harder it is to walk among the riffraff or as they are sometimes referred to “people”. I don’t like hearing them speak or standing in line with them or watching them drive their cars slowly in the passing lane giving me the finger for passing them on the right or watching them eat fried food dripping in ketchup. Call it a lark; it’s just not my thing.


Contrary to the burden to which it is to live, I find there is a place where all of my prejudices and intolerance melt away like a Bomb-Pop in August. I’m speaking about a most fabulous place, appropriately named ‘Club Spread’.


‘Club Spread’ is a techno-dance-bar. It’s the kind of joint that wishes it was ‘Studio 54’, but only gets to around 14. Despite it’s lack of trying ‘Club Spread’ does offer a very ritzy atmosphere shadowing of a fancy New York rave from the ‘70s, (minus all the perks). This doesn’t stop me from enjoying it though. In fact it’s my home away from home.


There’s something that is beyond words about the feelings I get when I’m at the club. The music pulsating, the sweat beading up and running down my body, the heat, the lights and the massive amount of narcotics coursing through my veins take me to a place that most fiction writers struggle to comprehend.


It has often been said that dancing alone is the saddest of activities to do alone, (second only to sex). I for one couldn’t disagree more, (about the dancing alone).


Sometimes when I’m out on the floor and the bass has penetrated my chest and my heart is moving in perfect synchronicity with “my song” it is like I have transcended the plane of existence and found my soul mingling in the twilight of energy and light. The lasers moving across the dance floor in random patterns, teasing with their movements, are dancing on my shape shifting body. I sometimes imagine they are alien probes dissecting me or electrocuting my body as I thrash to rhythms that make preachers clutch “blankies” in the night.


There’s something to be said for being in a room with hundreds of people sweating and gyrating their blood, engulfed genitals that would make Roman and Greek deities proud.


I once passed out on the floor from exhaustion and no one stopped dancing. Hard core.


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster


Written by Ramblin' Rooster

May 17, 2009 at 5:50 am

2 Responses

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  1. Wow. Excellent post.

    I’m also honored to have inspired something other than the usual, “See. Here’s what’s wrong the internet.”

    I’m a big fan of raves, moreso the music than the crowd. I’ve been disappointed at several to find that most people are into the scene for the drugs.

    While it may be an excellent way to convert unbelievers (headful of Ecstasy), it certainly doesn’t fully convert them any better than heading to church only during religious holidays (Easter, Xmas, Winter Solstice).

    It’s always great to run into another person who loves the music for the mantra-esque transcendent repetition.

    The Fall has it figured out years ago:
    Repetition in the music
    And we’re never going to lose it
    Repetition, repetition, repetition

    Capitalist Lion Tamer

    May 17, 2009 at 2:57 pm

    • Capitalist Lion Tamer, I was recently listening to some trance music while driving my car and my passenger said, “They just keep saying the same thing over and over.” “Well, trance music isn’t really for listening to,” I said, “it’s for when you’re out on the dance floor sweating bullets and dancing till it hurts so the lyrics aren’t being tracked for their poetic substance.” That shut’em up fast… You be funny, you be good writer, I could write twenty blogs inspired from any one of yours. May the lion never become unruly.

      Ramblin' Rooster

      May 18, 2009 at 4:25 am

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