2002-07-28 - 8:02 p.m.

Drunk German Bitch, Part I

chop chop
stomp
grrrhhhh
chop
destroy destroy stomp
bounce

That would be rivet for: fuckin A!

Last night I went to a club called MEAT. The format is supposed to be any non-overplayed EBM song, with a focus on earlier EBM. Great idea, even if the DJs still pop out top 40 club hits like Wreath of Barbs, Smothered Hope, and Mindphaser.

OK, the venue sucks. It is in some guy's loft in SOMA (South of Market Area), San Francisco. But the decorations were great. There were meat hooks hanging from the ceiling, we got stamped with a "USDA Approved" stamp, the guy's personal stuff was hidden behind drop cloths with teen angst graffiti (rivet style), Aliens was playing in the background, and they had a VDJ also. The music was incredibly good too. It has been forever since I've heard any Spahn Ranch, but they played a track off the Coiled One, which is a great album.

Dancefloor

Anybody who knows me told me I'd love the music, but I'd be pissed about the venue. The dancefloor was a small � of the space measuring about 8' x 12'. Me and two of the other Bay Area rivet dancing monsters took shifts hogging the floor. One would start, tire, then be replaced by one of the remaining of us � interestingly the other two are bouncy chicks. While they were dancing, my friend Brickster was taking pictures of everybody dancing. He came to the conclusion that girls are easier to photograph, as with me, he had to take shots before I jumped or kicked � apparently I'm too fast. ;)

Yeah, the dancefloor rocked, and people were commenting that they hadn't seen me in months. Duh, I've been fucking in pain. Actually it was nice to be missed, and others were saying Contour is back. Bwahahaha, now I can continue stomping on and destroying synthpop girls (the rivet girls seem to dig this).

I was guest listed, which is rare. The odd thing was the politics of it. Half of the people in the Bay Area like me. Why? Dunno, but I guess it is because I'm one of the few people that is neither a DJ nor actively trying to fuck one, but at the same time I'm pretty outspoken about the fact that DJs should push the envelope and play different things frequently. So the girls working the door liked me and guest listed me.

The drama is that the guy who runs the club is the best friend of the DJ my ex left me for, and this DJ knows perfectly well that I hold a low opinion of him. In fact, everybody in the scene knows what he and my ex did to me (both my story and theirs). So the half that don't like me, tend to actively dislike me. So I ended up getting guest listed into a club of somebody who hates me.

It gets better, this girl is now seeing a guy who on and off is seeing my ex (which is no amazing feat, she sees lots of guys in San Francisco) and I know she isn't too fond of my ex, and yet her boy isn't crazy about me. It makes my head hurt trying to keep track of who wants me dead and who wants me to punch a boot through somebody else's groin. Oh well, it is silly drama really.

Fortunately my ex did not show up, which is confusing. For over a year she was surgically attached to that DJ I dislike (he once was a good friend) � but I'm not upset. I would have hated being in a tiny space with her making out with him, though I'll eventually have to get used to that. (NOTE: Actually friends have hinted that my ex and her DJ may have broken up by now too. Which would explain some things, but it doesn't endear me to either of them anymore. I wish they both would just vanish.)

Hocico Shirt

So I ended up wearing my Hocico skull shirt. I figured it was a band I like, the shirt was hard to come by, nobody else would have one. WRONG. Some chick was wearing the exact same shirt. Thankfully only a few rivetkids dare to wear urban camo BDUs, so we didn't look like twins, but I did tease the girl.

Jacket #2

So yesterday it was easily in the upper 90s in Davis. HOT! So when I left for San Francisco I made the rookie mistake of leaving my pea coat behind and taking a paramedic's jacket that my ex's mom gave me (yeah, my ex's mom loved me and was constantly giving me stuff that was hers when she was in her 20s � apparently my ex's mom and I are roughly the same size and there was another connection that my ex's mom and my dad are basically from the same town near Chicago, which scored points with her.) Anyway, towards the end of the night, this woman that was dry humping a pole, making out with some skanky guy and another woman, dancing barefoot, and trying to tear the meat hooks down from the ceiling ran to the floor where my jacket was picked it up. I was talking to my friends working the door and noticed, "Hey she is taking my jacket!" She tried to put the damn thing on and then the security guy who was escorting her out (they already got busted for the above shit) said, "Um, I think that isn't your coat." I've been wearing the paramedic's jacket for a couple of years on and off, and apparently it like my pea coat are pretty distinctive. I walked over and took my jacket with a "Thanks" directed towards the security guy and watched the woman start to scream in a broken English-German mix how somebody stole her coat.

The security guard ushered them out and I followed, feeling that I was now involved, as the guard was trying to prevent the bitch from taking something he knew was mine. The girl and her 50+ year old friend were giving lip to the guards (others were here now) and the woman started yelling in English-German-Drunk to me. I just ignored her and calmly said, "Hey, what exactly is your coat? Leather, wool, vinyl? Give us an idea so we can find it."

Surprise, surprise, she had no real good description of her coat other than "a blazer". Fortunately the security guards remembered what she came in wearing and offered to look for it after the club closed. Her boyfriend however was pissed and threatening to phone the cops � which would have been massively uncool, since this was a true underground club.

Shit, I forgot to mention that this club was running around asking people all night for a "hook-up" as in drugs, any kind.

The cool part was the security guys actually appreciated me standing outside and helping them calmly work through this situation. I spent the rest of the night just talking with the guys. They rocked.

To be continued �

LISTENING TO: Spahn Ranch the Coiled One

-=-

<< previous - next >>