After the torrent of last weekend, I suppose it's somehow a fitting balance that this weekend, I've written almost nothing here. Haven't done a whole lot either. There are, however, a few bits to relate. Let's start with Thursday night.

Hacking Society. At Caffe Sole, I saw Jaeger, Zan Lynx, and the rest of the usual crowd. At one point, I stepped outside for some fresh air. There, I chatted with the on-duty employee while he took his break. The music that was playing at that moment was very familiar, so I asked him about it. I knew it from the scene when Neo appears for the very first time, but I didn't know the artist or song title. The coffee shop dude helpfully informed me that it was Massive Attack's Dissolved Girl, from the Mezzanine album. Now I have a copy of the whole album on my hard drive in ogg format. Sweet.

I also talked for a while with a friend of his who happened to be sitting outside on the bench; a dude with some very interesting and unique theories on the ways of things. We'll leave it at that.

Friday evening. I really didn't feel like sitting indoors all evening, nor did I want to waste money at a theatre to see any of the current crop of releases, none of which seem particularly exciting.

Surfing to the website of Club Onyx^H^H^H^H 314, I was delighted to find that apparently, they have finally come full circle. After changing the Friday format seemingly countless times since the name change 3 months ago, lo and behold...

The legendary alternative Fridays are reborn!

Synthpop, Industrial, Alternative

FREE cover before 11pm ($5 after)
$1 wine, well & draft from 9-10pm
21+ only

So, for the first time since Onyx died, I ventured again to the same location for music, fun, and excitement.

Impressions? The first big thing to notice is that all the walls in the bar room have been painted a pale shade of hideous blue. What could they possibly have been thinking?!? Ick. It's like the color of hospital surgical gowns. (The only reason I draw this comparision is because at one point, somebody actually did walk in wearing a hospital uniform, and his pants almost exactly matched the walls.) My God, what an abomination.

The nice black leather couches had been replaced with beige beds and other oddly placed furniture. I can only assume they thought these would become good makeout spots. However, this assumes you and your partner are not vomiting due from the rest of this train wreck excuse for interior design.

Thankfully, the dance floor room, where I tend to spend most of my time, was kept palatable. On a couple of the walls, giant anime-style female faces had been painted. Those I could take or leave. Ditto for the fake paper fire covering the wall below the DJ booth.

The staff, almost all of whom I recognized from before, while still friendly and courteous, obviously weren't in top shape in the morale department. The girl who waited on me at the bar wasn't even trying to fake a smile; nor was anyone, it seemed. Once lively and spirited, the place was now dejected and depressed. But this was not the worst of it.

I got in at 21:30, and was one of maybe 3 customers at that point. I figured (and hoped) that as the evening went on, more would come in, as they always have. Well, a few did. Emphasis on the word "few".

Before I left at midnight, the most people on the dance floor at any one time had numbered 6. More typically, it was 2 or 3 throughout the evening. 3 people dancing at Eleven-Fucking-PM. On any normal Onyx Friday night by that time, the place would have been jamming. Not necessarily packed, but buzzing and alive for sure.

At one point, I found myself chatting with the owner of the place. (The very fact that he had time to chat with me (a nobody) in the middle of a Friday night says something about how non-busy things were.) I asked him if it had always been this dead since the name change. He said that actually, they had gotten some pretty good turnouts on nights when techno was featured (but it attracted an entirely different audience).

I asked why they hadn't continued with the techno if it had been working. He said that getting deals with promoters was tougher, and some deals had fallen through, so they were reverting back to the tried and true. Not that I have a damn clue about what's involved in running a club, but my unspoken reaction was, "whatever."

He must have sensed that I wasn't convinced, and talked about the need to take risks in business as well as life in general, and how you never know if something will work unless you try. I agreed, and couldn't argue with that. I wished him luck with the endeavor, and that was that.

Though the format of the music was vaguely similar to past Onyx Fridays, there was a lot I didn't recognize. I was in the mood for more familiar stuff this time. When the DJ (different than before) pointed out to all 5 people in the room that he would be happy to take song requests on the sheet next to the booth, I jumped for it. (In the past, on the few rare occassions when I have written requests there, they have gone ignored, probably because I tend to ask for stuff that's either too obscure, or not in strict keeping with the format of the night.)

Feeling uncreative, I wrote, "The Sisters of Mercy - More." But what I really meant was, "Remind me that this is still the same club I used to come back to week after week." Dammit, if they couldn't play that, there really would be no hope.

Sure enough, right at the instant the song that was playing ended, the opening bars of "More" started belting out over the speakers. There was hope. (Incidentally, this did bring a whole 5 people out onto the dance floor. A new record for the evening at the time.)

After that, the DJ followed it up with some VNV Nation, which was also fine with me. Then he started spinning it off in a bit of a more metal-ish direction. With almost nobody in the club anyway, why not experiment with something a little random? I followed the music, and even managed to make my neck sore with a little head banging. (Greater hair length required.)

I rotated on and off the dance floor, as did several other odd little souls.

Two girls wearing hip huggers and tank tops hung out for a while, danced for one number, and left. Generally speaking, I have nothing against hip huggers; but fuck, what happened to Onyx? The ancient, regal beauty that once characterized both the club and many of the former patrons who attended it was now gone.

I left shortly before midnight. Nothing more to see here. Unless I hear word that things have turned around significantly, I doubt I'll ever go back there again. Better to leave the corpse alone.

Maybe one of these weeks, I'll check out Rock Island Sundays. Or Club Vinyl. One of these days...

Yesterday, I experiemented and made sesame chicken. Granted, it was based on a recipe printed on the back of one of those little prefab seasoning packs that's been sitting around the house for ages, but on my first time making it, I figured a little shortcut wouldn't hurt. It actually ended up tasting pretty good. Next time, I'll try using only pure ingredients.

Mom is going back to Chicago yet again. Apparently, the situation there is worse.

Meanwhile, I'm contemplating my trip to Lincoln, scheduled less than 3 days from now. I'm looking forward to it.

Today was a lazy day. I went through and organized a bunch of my stuff, gathered a small stack of books which I concluded 1) would never be read by me again, and 2) bear no sentimantal value whatsoever. I sold them to Black and Read, and felt good that I'll have a tiny bit less clutter to worry about in the future.