I woke up to much screaming this morning, Eric the Gray had flooded his apartment again, the sludge is seeping thru the floor and wall into my apartment and into old Dolly's. She was shreiking in hysteria when she found a trail of sludgy garbage-food leading to her door. Some Housing Dept inspectors had come for the 1000th time to eyeball the mess and when Dolly tried to show them the desolation of Eric's lair he came roaring out like a trapped wild animal and tried to hit her. The poor guy lives in a parrallel universe and the rest of us are so many shadows lurking on his periphery. The inspectors were much ruffled and hurried off to hold urgent meetings with the Health Dept, maybe, just maybe, he finally might be put in a hostel where he would be looked after, and we could get the rest we need in our dotage.
My muscles are acheing all over, I must've danced my blues loose at the Sleaze Ball but I dont really remember. The trouble with "trance dancing" is you get extremely high and time whizzes by, the party's over before you know it, you think you danced a lot as there were such yummy moments, like moaning in ecstacy cause the music and crowd were fucking you so dam good, and the gates of 'paradise' swung back and forth, but you can't quite pin it down. I rarely take drugs and my body is very sensitive to foreign chemicals, the pill was too strong and I danced too fast and hard, I spun out and my guts heaved, I found myself lying on the floor dry-reaching, finally I had a slight Ecky spew, psychedelia vomited from my third eye and exploded out the top of my head, the extra poison leaping out of my system, enough remaining to get my body/mind as high as it could go. A sweet old poof rushed over to make sure I was still conscious, I sat up quick and reassured him, and then partied on.
Virtually nobody followed the "Sleaze"encouragement to dress up in costumes as of old, most wore the gear they'd gone to the footy in, the men mostly stripped to their jeans in sexual display, but hardly a nice pair of tits in the hall, if only they realised they looked like soggy dough-nuts, a hot shirt is much more alluring. Lots of het couples were there teasing and snogging, the girls really dressed up sexy, almost the only eye-candy available, except for the cute ghetto boys in their hip-hop gear. But 'dance' ruled, it's what we were there for, 13,000 punters can't be wrong, I wasn't loking at the others, I got lost, I'm pretty sure they went to the max along with me, it felt like a collective orgasm at times.
The live acts were fabulous, sexy girls singing sleaze while a dance troupe of hip-hop boys and pop-ballet girls backed them up, hot excitement surged across the crowd, we jumped to the funk, it was a mighty cool show. I moved to the beat for 7 hours and by the end was exhausted, like stuck in honey, could hardly move a limb. I sat in the blessed bleachers to relax and go inside myself to where the kaleidoscopic lights open up heavenly vistas. I saw a fat s/m blob approach with a young surfer gronk in tow, the blondie had only his board shorts on, he swayed his long hair about as if he were Brad pitt, his tanned flesh pudgy in my face. The bumless gay blob fell drunkenly upon me and I had to shove him off, then they sat beside me, the surfer edging closer to me and touching me up. The psuedo-macho fairy suddenly rushed off and the blonde gronk got closer, leaned upon me and put his arm around me. I knew that in years gone by certain deviants actually had sex in the bleachers with everybody watching and maybe that was what this guy was after. Why he picked grizzled old me I'd like to know, maybe the mirror sun-glasses turned him on, giving me an air of cyberpunk mystery, it was supposed to be a masked ball after all.
He had zeroed in on the wrong cyberpunk, I was too out of it to consider entertaining anybody else. I shrugged him off and asked him, "what's going on ?" In a miopic stupor he pulled away and said nothing but within a few minutes he leant close and tried to embrace me again. The fat pick-up returned with drinks, much displeased to see his fuck for the night was now trying it on some body else. Maybe they were planning one of those 'group sex' pig-outs I'd read about in the gay press, for it was the end of the night and some were probably desperate, but for this little piggy it was the stuff of nightmares, again I pushed the surfer gronk off me and shouted to the laser-light storm, "Ï'm out of here!" I bolted thru the writhing crowd, scoping the freaks, the dykes stood out as the most attractive of punters, they bothered to look good and show style, the poofs might've well have been at a sauna for all the designer gear they threw off. I was so happy to make it home in the mellow dawn light to the safety and quietude of my bed. I'd melded with the Universe in one more glorious celebration and I was satiated.
Then it was back to the existential challenge of Northcott Housing Ghetto. This week the Dept is coming to replace our lovely shower-heads with new gadgets that only piss out steam, as if we were sci-fi space cadets living in a rocket. The whole building is refusing to give up their lovely showers and are going on a collective strike, no officials are getting in our doors, it'll be the Paris Commune all over again, let's hope we beat it and Big Brother backs off, I need peace and solitude, life is too exciting.
