Is it a good idea to try to write this now, or save it for tomorrow after I've had some rest? At the moment, I am feeling quite exhausted. My ears are ringing like a fucking fire alarm. When I close my eyes, I can still see the flashing strobes illuminating the crowd, imprinting mini-portraits of the action into the visual memory at several iterations per second. Spotlights swirling all around, casting their magic over the scene.

Obviously, I've been out at the club. What a great place!

I lazed around my apartment for much of the day, doing pretty much nothing. I should've been paying bills and balancing my checkbook. I'll do that tomorrow.

As the afternoon drew late, it was time to decide whether I actually wanted to go to this thing, having already missed a significant part of it. On the one hand, I wanted to check it out. On the other, I still largely feel like an outsider at that scene. Nevertheless, I am fascinated by it.

Put logically, the choices came down to: Stay at home by myself for the evening and be "safe", or head out into the semi-unknown, risking a bit of alienation and uncertainty for my trouble. I opted for the latter.

The event was to take place in two venues simultaniously, a quick walk down the sidewalk from each other. One $10 ticket covered admission to both spots, leaving people free to wander back and forth between them to whatever events interested them.

I must have arrived at Cafe Netherworld shortly before 1700. The main bar was filled with exhibits where people had gothic art and other items on display, some for sale. It vaguely reminded me of a much smaller version of the dealer room at a trek convention.

In the dance hall, a poetry reading was just getting underway. A girl, who I think was announced as a CU student, stood up and read several poems she had written. Not exactly what I expected, but one must learn to expect the unexpected.

Shortly after, Caustic Soul took the stage. A 3-piece band: 1 guy on the synth, a bass guitarist, and a vocalist / guitarist. The vocalist had a really great deep voice. A totally goth band. I enjoyed listening to the music, but not to the degree of purchasing one of there cds afterwards.

After their set, I decided it was time to wander over to the familiar Club Onyx. There too, the entire bar area had been converted into an exhibit hall. Lots of pictures and paintings covered the walls. The Dark Art Festival had been aptly named.

I wandered into the dance area, where the stage had been extended to support the bands that would play there. Some recorded music was pumping over the house sound, but no one was dancing. People were waiting around the edges, as preparations for the next band were made. After a short bit, The Siren Project were introduced by the enthusiastic announcer in the DJ booth, and the band took the stage to play.

A gorgeous sound. I was impressed. Female lead vocalist, backed by bass guitar, lead guitar, dummer, and synth player. The first song had a very tribal feel, as she sang to only purcussion. Then the rest of the band kicked in on the rest of the songs. Very haunting singing, combined with powerful yet melodic instrumentation. Cool music.

I didn't hear any announcement about where cds could be purchased. This was a band I would want to buy on cd. So after they had played their set, I wandered toward the stage, found an opening, and asked the bass guitarist if they had any albums available. He said they didn't have anything published, but he refered me to the keyboardist for a possible demo disc. So I went and bothered the keyboardist who was busily packing his gear, complimented him on the music, and asked if any recordings were obtainable. He said they had some demo discs, but he wanted to check with the vocalist to make sure they were keeping track of inventory.

I asked how much they wanted for it.

"We'll give them away to people who want them, no charge. Let me check with our vocalist. Stay right there." And he disappeared backstage.

While I waited, I ordered a Coke from the bar. (I wanted something other than water, but wasn't quite feeling ready to be intoxicated just yet; It wasn't even dark outside.)

A few moments later, the singer came out of the door, a pile of discs in hand, and handed one to me. I thanked her profusely, and blurted something about what a great singer she was. She smiled, though somewhat in a hurry (more compliments were coming from other people too), and continued on her way. I had a 4-song demo cd resting in my hand. Sweet.

I'm listening to it now. Not nearly as impressive as the live sound, but still good. Considering how much I paid for it, I'd say I got more than a bargain.

Feeling ready for a little fresh air, I walked back to Tobias, and deposited my newly acquired treasure. Now I realized I was feeling hungry. There was a Chipotle right across the street from Cafe Netherworld. I wasn't sure I wanted to bog myself down with a huge burrito (might make dancing more difficult), but it sounded as good as anything. I headed in, figuring that if it turned out to be too much, I could throw part of it away.

Had an amusing little conversation with the clerk at the register. She asked if there was some sort of show going on nearby. "I keep seeing all these people wearing all black clothes come in, and they have those white wristbands like the one you have [proof of admission]. They've been most of our business all day."

people wearing black. lol. As far as flamboyant eccentricity goes, this goth crowd would have to be comparable to the trekkie cult. Invading Chipotle all day long. But anyway. I told her that yes, there is an all-day event Dark Arts Festival happening at the two clubs, and a bunch of bands are playing and other stuff happening. I don't think she knew what to think.

Sure enough, right as I was eating my burrito, the guy who looks a lot like The Reverend walked in with his girlfriend, also patronizing the otherwise quiet burrito joint.

After eating, I returned to Club Onyx, and caught the tail end of the last fashion show of the day. An amusing event. Basically, a fashion show, with a very gothic flavor. Not only were catcalls and cheers from the audience accepted, but strongly encouraged. Well, those beautifully dressed girls certainly deserved it. Revel in the attention, they did. That was fun.

Up next, the band eROTic took the stage. The last band to play at the Club Onyx location. A local band (Fort Collins area, I believe), their stuff was thick and heavy. The singer took swigs of beer between songs, and utterd primal shrieks of torment over the near-white noise in which melody was buried somewhere. I didn't understand most of the words, but I was definitely groovin to it. Potent stuff, with an emotionally powerful delivery.

After that, the stage gear was disassembled, and the scheduled DJs started to spin music for the people on the floor. Great crowd, excellent music.

At one point, one of the DJs (I don't remember which) startet to spin some absolutely totally hardcore shit. He introduced it by saying "Does anybody out there need to release some anger tonight?" What followed were several minutes of total sonic intensity. No melody, no vocals. Almost like a louder-than-loud steel grinder set to a rhythm. (At that point, I knew for certain my ears would be telling me about it later. Yep.)

The hardcore grind sound was absolutely intense mayhem for those of us who were enjoying it. We were tearing up the floor as the strobe lights hit peak frequency. Unfortunately, that number was not terribly large, and occupants of the dance floor started to consist almost exclusively of males, with maybe 1 exception. Must be that male rage thing.

As the DJ started to mellow it out, the population of the floor increased, and the gender balance returned. (How can one object to that?) Before long, an unadulterated version of Nine Inch Nails "That's What I Get" was spinning, and everybody was happy. (Hmmm... When I first started listening to that music years ago, I never envisioned a day when Nine Inch Nails would be considered part of a "mellowing out" phase.)

Oh, and another stupid little anecdote. When one of the DJ's was getting ready to play his last song, (Was it DJ Rexual or DJ Fleisch? I don't remember.) he dedicated it to the beautiful and talented stars of the fashion show. I don't know the artist or title of the song, but it began with the words, "Darling come here, fuck me up the rear." (Google tells me it was Lords of Acid.)

Now that's a sense of humor. (I think.) <g>

Anyway, this song is playing, and somehow, some twist of fate has not one, but two of the black-haired beauties who were in the fashion show dancing directly in front of me, like inches away. And they were totally hot. Totally.

At that point, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter how many other things go good or bad. I'm thinking, "This evening has been a good one for me, no question." Their beautiful bodies, ample cleavage showing, slithering next to one another, and next to me in time to the music. Why? I don't know. Best not to ask such questions.

Then, the unthinkable happens. Without my consent or permission, something between my legs starts to become hard and stiff. I'm growing a boner, right in the middle of the dance floor. To make matters worse, the kind of pants I wore were not exactly good at hiding such a protrusion. So I'm standing here, almost saying to my own self, "Calm your goddamn self down!" How embarrassing.

Well, I don't know if either of them noticed or not, admidst all the movement and such (hell, they may have even been amusedly flattered if they did, but... still... embarrassing). Doubtful, but one never knows for sure.

Eventually, my... ...ahem... ..."self"... became successfully convinced that now was NOT the time to be coming out for its own little party. We danced for the rest of the song, and that was that. Whew!

(Is this now just getting way too crude for ya'll, especially the more conservative sectors of the content solutions readership? Hmmm.... I suppose I could revamp my ramblings markup to allow for happy, family-friendly censored versions, kind of like chopped-for-tv movies. But I'm just too lazy right now.)

The music played on into the evening. More DJs. Sharp music. Mellow music. Goth music. Industrial music. Pop music. Trance music. People constantly flowing in and out of the dance floor. An endless sea of bodies and faces.

When you are on the floor, and become so entranced that it approaches the realm of a religious experience, the rhythm becomes God, and the creatures of the night, His children. The melodies are choruses of angels, whose voices you hear with joy. But always, above all else, you obey the Word of God. His voice. His rhythm. You do it with your body. Your movement. Your soul. You give every last bit of energy to the act of worshiping, surrendering your entire self to the music.

To the degree that you worship with purity, you are rewarded with fulfillment in the moment of sonic bliss -- a unity of soul with the divine. To the degree that your motives are not pure (such as allowing your own sexual appetites to supercede the Holy Mandate), you will be punished with bitterness and frustration, as a natural consequence of selfishness.

(Okaay, we're on a roll tonight with offensive content. Add one count of 1st degree sacrelige, and one count of "Bitscape is off his stoned rocker".)

During the evening, a guy went around handing out free audio cds to people, courtesy of the event. He said it was a "thank you" showing up and supporting it. A compilation of all sorts of bands I've never heard of. Cool. "Listen Nude -- New Union of Dance and Electronic Artists." Right on.

The hours go by, and the body tires. As midnight became 1:00, I had to acknowledge that I was completely and totally exhausted. I had pushed my physical limit. Having been going for nearly 8 hours, I couldn't continue (plus my already sore legs from Friday night. hah!) I was tired. Didn't feel like dancing anymore. Didn't feel like socializing anymore (or even trying to). Didn't feel like drinking anymore. (Funny, I only had 1 beer all evening.)

After one last dance to OMD's "If You Leave", I left, before closing.

Walked back to Tobias, legs and ears bothe telling me without question that they had had enough. Drove home.

Somehow, I managed to type this rambling despite being so tired. Perhaps because it's a different type of activity. Uses different brain functions, and doesn't require me to move any muscles except my fingers.

Well, that's that. Now I'm wound down. Though thoughts of returning to the club Sunday night did enter my head (I am turning into a fiend, aren't I?), I think I'll spend the evening at home tomorrow. Sleep as long as I feel like through the day. Pay my bills. (And call that stupid credit card company which STILL hasn't sent me any statement... grrrr.) Think about how this San Antonio trip is going to work.

Oh, and watch the X Files. I haven't been watching it much this season, but I want to catch the final farewell. A quiet evening at home. That'll do just fine.