Some of you may be spending time with your loved ones and doing the family thing. Some of you may be arguing with your seven separate personalities, who can't agree on how to make fudge. And some of you may be wondering, "why the fuck is the Taco Bell closed?!"

You know what I'll be doing.

Barriques stays open until 5pm. After that I will wander the city, not unlike Mary and Joe back in the day, trying to find a caffeinated manger hut. Animals should be at a minimum.

I've gotta get better about updating this thing with useless stuff.

Ah, there's gospel girl singing next door. I'm surprised the angels haven't invaded her sub-woofer to crank out some madd krunkin' choir tunes.

So I finally went out to the Inferno this past saturday. The post-doc, Bird, and her husband Ben hadn't been able to get their usual baby-sitter for friday, so no gothtastic Klinic show. My ass was at Barriques and, try as I might, I couldn't convince myself to reverse course on being chill. But despite a little reservation, when she called up and said saturday was one of the goth nights, I decided it was past time to go.

Prior to then, Ben decided we should stop by a place called the Opus to get some martinis. Hadn't ever been, it was close, and getting the training grant was still making my wallet really hot.

I'd momentarily considered wearing a trenchcoat with the slacks and clingy shirt. Trouble was: 1) It was actually warm outside; 2) The thing did not fit me anymore by any stretch of the imagination. I mean my sports jackets look just silly on me now, but this was ridiculous.

So I walked/jogged over, sat down, and admired the pallidly warm lighting as a young thing in black cotton quietly bubbled at me. No, no drinks for now. I was taking in ambiance. It reminded me of a hooka bar in feeling, with ambient lighting enough to make sure you didn't trip but not much more. There was a fat guy and some middle-aged folk at the bar. He was the joking-all-the-time wife-beating type. You know: easy to laugh, easy to anger. But the conversation was kinda funny.

My two goth liaisons then arrived. Bird was fishnets and a white-black something, while Ben had gone for this capri cargo pants Clockwork Orange vibe thing. I hadn't met Ben before. He was quirky. I liked him near instantly. Kinda seemed like I'd known him before.

This was your 8-10 bucks a drink sorta joint. I had one chocolate-banana thing and counted myself good. We mostly talked about what the scene was like in LA, Madison in general, what those two were doing, stuff like that. A set of females by us seemed intent on listening. I guess they were bored.

In around 45 min we got into their car and went to the upper east side. Conversation consisted of my advisor's disposition and what I thought of various people. Office gossip talk.

(I remember Shu (my UCLA lieutenant) telling me back in the day that I needed to pay more attention to office politics. Oddly enough, recently, they've cropped up a lot.)

We pulled into a near vacant lot. Ben pointed at a cat factory or pet store or something and said, "we're here!" Funny, true, but I wouldn't have been surprised; clubs are curiously situated. And speaking of which, the entrance to the place was--quiet. There was a simple blue (?) sign indicating the establishment's name, a stony facade with nothing on it, and a door. No reams of black-clad stalks, doom whales, or even those guys who wear ties and dark business suits a la the Ventrue or something.

Just an entrance.

The place itself was more low-key than I'd expected it. In my former life on the coast, multi-raised stages, cages, and no lack of black curtains were the norm. This place was by comparison non-pretentious:

Initially you had the extended check-in counter, flowing out to near where the two dance floors are: one small thing in the back, and a ground floor pole-infested darkness in front. Over at the far end was the DJ's nest, exposed but upraised and neatly behind metal, I guess to keep people at bay in case someone railroads VNV Nation and Beyonce or something. Pulling around you had the first bar manned with anti-politics rhetoric, more alcohol types than nations on Earth, and a complete sound board in case a DJ wants to mix while mixing--maybe. Out from there on the right was the lone pool table, and to the left a set of chairs and a wall niche for drinking behavior. Out toward the upraised back were two bars facing off. The altar piece was a raised pedestal of penis-shaped glass mushrooms, right underneath a white screen where 'King Kong' of all things was playing. Ubiquitous bizarre shit was in the back.

It'd been years, but the Goth scene really never changes. Out on the floor was a Frankenstein's monster sort, an old dude carved from gargoyle reliefs. He rocked out slowly, took a frequent breather, then did so again. You also had your occasional discrete transvestite; almost always likeable sorts, actually. Around the ring of bar tables crescenting around the dance floor were your drink and stand sorts. You know, the guys with black leather dusters and selective patches to make them look like SS officers. Oddly enough, though, there were some olderish folk who had more of a biker/working class vibe going on. Even around the 1st bar were some folk in blue jeans.

There seem to be way more doom whales here than in LA. That's the sort of chick that fits some very selective criteria:

1) Very overweight. Very. If they're just kinda chunky, they're probably just wiccans (I'm joking--mostly)

2) Wearing a corset or something tight. Cleavage like a football field is an absolute must.

3) Almost always some combination of black or red, or a red accessory of some kind. If no red, something else to make them stand out. Drawn mascara that would make the baby Jesus weep is a good one.

All of the business suit goths were over near the DJ's place chuckling and looking important.

And of course there were your whirly-girl dance types, semi-rabid germanic folk, anorexic aristocrats wearing what I make in a year, and just a complete range of every sub-type you can imagine.

Except rivetheads. Not a single cyberpunk or cyborg type.

I detail most of that because I spent most of my time scoping out the place and people. I like to take stock before I can feel comfortable/able to dance.

Bird and Ben introduced me to a couple of friends. Trouble is they were both DJ's. I love music folk, but I know fuck-all about what they do. So I got to stand there like a dumbass, occasionally say something like 'wow', and try not to feel awkward after they both left and I was amongst near basic strangers. I appreciate the gesture, but you kinda wanna leave someone be when they've actively found common ground.

Cat was kinda neat. She's this 6ft something chick that has the same ancestry as Selene/Caesha. Short cropped hair, English, kinda large teeth. Hill commented later she was probably a transvestite. Hee. She had to in short order begin a really good set.

Bob was starting out a band. Bob was a drummer. Bob wore black and talked about his gigs. Typical musician. Trust me, I was raised around them.

After awhile I headed over to near the dance floor and watched people. Another dude nearby had the same notion. I almost felt like dancing at a few points. Meanwhile, Bird and Ben were majorly getting down in a spell-bindingly naughty way. I had another drink meanwhile.

Toward the end Bird caught my attention. Apparently Butterfly was around. She and Ben had tried introducing me, but when they turned around I'd been gone. I guess that was the point where I wandered back up the screen area. I saw the chick first before them. She actually reminds me of bob haircut version of Della, though I couldn't see well with the purple and blue strobes. She did appear distinctly less mannish than that horrid photo.

But we ended up leaving before I got a chance to talk to her. (I'm less in the mood to get laid nowadays and more looking for random people to occasionally complicate my life.)

All in all it was great. The place wasn't pretentious, it was dark, and it made me feel comfortable. I'd been meaning to go this past wednesday or yesterday, but I didn't feel in the mood. Takes a lot for me to go out by myself, but I figure this wednesday is best because there'll be like 12 people. Good excuse to sit at the bar and soak the drinkslinger for gossip.

And quickly: I went over to Lindsay's place yesterday for a cookout/bbq. Her mom, a gracious southern woman from Kentucky, was there. Brian, Tat, Jared (her b/f), Katie, Dan, several people I'd never met, and dogs. Like 4 dogs. There was a cute nerdy chick that came in late-ish, but she never came down to where the fire was or talked with anyone but one person.

I got to go in a canoe for the first time. Might be worth the half grand to get one.

I never know how to interpret when people say stuff like, "now that you know where the house is, you can stop by anytime." I mean, what does that mean? Is that something one says to be polite? I'm guessing. I like Lindsay, might be fun to hang out, but I'm not sure we have enough in common to be friends friends. Still, might try it. Maybe if I invite Brian along (since the two of them are really good friends).

Damn I feel like I'm rambling. Actually I'm anxious to get out of here so I can get an iced tea and 4 hours of reading down. Maybe then I'll head over to Willy St and try out the 'Coffee Shop'. That's the name of the place. Coffee. If anyone'll be open late on easter, it'll be hippies.

Speaking of which. I want your opinion. Ok.

Does eating tofu make you a hippie? Note or guestbook me on this. Cause I wanna know.

{Later} I decided on E. Royale by the capital. It's like home--and it stays open 'til midnight, so fuck Barriques for today. Only potential problem later is getting some food. But I can just come back later.

previous - next