The Walls of the Cave

There is something on my face resembling freedom and when stared upon by others generates a large sense of jealousy and disdain. How could have know I would be chosen to wander the ends of the earth if for no larger reason than it seemed like quite an entertaining sort of idea. So after a trip, I have to re-don the skin of liquid bubble to insulate humanity from my weird reasoning. Why does it seem stupid to drop everything and take off to Munich for Oktoberfest this year? How can someone have the luxury of living so spontaneously, what gives that person the right to skirt the urban professional lifestyle, so full of VIP tables with over priced liquor menus and legions of flesh bots who gradually sicken with the quicksand slowly working itself up their legs. It is the invisible drowning of witnessing graphic suffocation, eyeballs start to swell and their faces take on a joker like appearance. The caravan will end, then what shall be left, where is the soft landing all these beautiful people have been promised, it is the birth right of the beautiful to demand entitlement in all facets of life, a get out of jail card free for eternity.

So being amongst the masses I find an interesting pleasure in watching them come together en masse, as the luxury sedans begin to file into the valet, no one could ever be to over dressed here, dark wrap around shades adorn every face. I feel like the janitor whenever I go into high end nightclub, usually due to the fact that some my friends DJ at these super clubs, whatever the term, I am not sure what is so super about them. These new mega clubs have warnings about drugs possession and usage. The signs are in the bathroom, the hallways, nailed to the VIP tables; I remember when all the old clubs did everything to encourage self indulgent drug use, shit some of these places had to be in on the action, because I can remember watching deals going down in public view. No one hid anything back then, people would just toss the stuff out on the table and honk away, what did it matter; everyone else in the club was doing the same thing or melting their brains out on the dance floor high on ecstasy.

Something changed or someone changed, now flesh bots line the floor tonight; the last of them zipping up their black go go boots, when just minutes before they were all walking around in little pajama like furry slippers. I felt for them, having to walk around for six or seven hours in those things like a sexy black leather spiders, looking to nearly walk over the customers as if on a pair of velvet stilts. Bearing down on the crowd like junkie with the serious case of withdrawls, quite a terrible sight indeed; spent the past half an hour pretending to be working while flirting with some woman who set off something that makes my eyes glaze over and dumb down to that everyday run of the mill fairly uninterested in education kind of guy, just give me a fucking beer and some hallucination of my perverse imagination to come to life. So there she appears before me, from England, has the accent, hypnotizing looks, almost teetering into creeper mode, but some how pull it together enough make a few amusing comments to get the interest rolling.

This is how I spent the majority of the evening, attempting to gain her favor, how dumb does that sound, almost mid-evil but not in that demonic sort of brimstone and hellfire manner, but more like the knights of the round table comes to my mind, yet why care really at all, except the fact that my humanity always catches me off guard, just because it sort just decides when it wants to come out and go into weird high school love mode, those emotional years of riding the rollercoaster of teen romance. Do not miss those crazy years, except for the intense caring of another person, I feel like such piece stone in this age, almost afraid to offer an real feeling for fear of compromising some other component in the process, time to wrap this up, just weird thoughts tonight after another round of the corporate free booze after party, but usually we would be twice as hammered at this kind of event, where the main sponsor happens to be a liquor maker, what are the odds, against all odds, damn windfall here, nothing like sanctioned alcoholism to take the edge of a long day the office, just does not seem fair to all the other stiffs out there who have to actually grind out a living and at times I can sort of feel the old Vegas flow through my veins that no limit, take everything, and live it aura seems more like a film than reality, when I can drink into a blackout mode, who can't get behind that kind of throw down.

People would be lining up around the block for their chances to get a piece of the action, run with that junkie narcotic of complete bliss, regardless of how short that high lasts. Ghosts of that lifestyle still haunt me, then occasionally possess me, manipulating me into spending way too much money on booze I can buy at a liquor store for at least a tenth of the cost, but it is all the flesh bots, the bright lights, and sonic wavelengths coming from the audio speakers that everyone in this super club are paying for tonight, just for a brief moment, a total recreation of that decadent uber-rich Miami Beach party scene. It is where the word no does not exist, everything and everyone has a price, I just sit down and watch the night unfold then try to bring it back to you.