Last Friday was an odd day. I’d spend the whole day at Chalmers with Ana and Juaqim (an architect from Barcelona who’s at the course as a guest tutor) going through what the students had done. The video-course stuff is interesting, and being forced to verbalise what you know is always challenging.
Ana’s train didn’t leave until well after eight in the evening, so we spend the interim hours at Bazar where I once again cemented my position as a connoisseur of internet perversions knowledge. Tired as hell, I saw Ana off to the tram and went home.
Or, rather, I would go home as soon as I’ve checked in on friends at a bar. I mean, the bar was on the way home and a beer would help me sleep even better. As tired as I was, my sleep deprived carcass just wasn’t able to do much but stare into space. Besides, a backpack heavy with laptops and such was a last straw of sorts.
Turns out that I tossed that straw after a while and drank from the bottle. Anna and Petter Jan has told this drunk girl that I’m the second best chess player in Sweden and was left by a girlfriend during my latest tournament; Petter is a world class taekwondo champion at the moment, and we’re both being hit upon by this economy assistant who’d just dismissed her boyfriend (he’s skulking nearby). At one point I launch into a monologue about killing and eating Jan. I might have tried to make a vegan point.
Dignity-wise, it goes downhill from there. I start speaking English with a heavy Polish accent. Ponglish is not a language made for singing, something that becomes apparent in the karaoke-taxi we take to Röda Sten. I absolutely maim whatever respect the driver might have had for East-European people, and how they combine with ABBA. Someone in the backseat is screaming “Bitches and hos, bitches and hos!” into the microphone, and I’m explaining something to someone.
The mood has reached a fever pitch, where every movement takes on colour. Everything you say is potentially funny and you are acting on a meta-level where your behaviour is a choice rather than something personal. The philosophical term for this is “shitfaced” and we are all very charming and fun. We have become the party and expect everyone else to know this as well.
We demand that the cab stop with open doors outside Röda Sten so that we can finish the song and entertain the people, perhaps improving on their lives so barren of joy. A woman has taken shelter against the rain, and for some reason we are all pointing and shouting; In each of our minds there are hundreds of reasons for why this is hilarious.
Intermission. Arts and Ideas: The quiet carriage. 4 minutes.
[audio:https://monocultured.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/the-quiet-carriage.mp3]
We march past the queue and get in without paying. Attitude can take you past two guards and a cashier, no problems. We take Bloody Mary by the hand and sit on the stage; Someone suggests I help steal a microphone cable because it’s really expensive and fun. What fun, I don’t know, but it must be fun because we thought of it. In the end, someone was whipped with the cable and that was that.
Jan suggests another jest for the evening, and I upset a young man by telling him that I kill and barbecue dogs, selling them as mystery meat. I can’t for the life of me remember this, so I imagine that my brain has long since gone to bed. On the dance floor, I dance like there is no tomorrow. I’m Kali the destroyer and my flailing arms create a space I promptly occupy with a butt as lively as any butt has been. If you have seen people in voodoo trance – trashing about, throwing themselves all over the bloody place – you might have a grasp of what is happening. I am the snake man. Petter has a grainy video to prove it.
Once again joining the others outside – I’m still not smoking but enjoy the company – I take a picture of one of the guards. He gets upset and yells at me to erase the image. This is the point of the evening where I decide that civil courage is called for and I tell him to call the cops if he wishes to press charges, but I’m not erasing any images, thank you very much. I get pushed into the street and yelled at a bit more, evoking sympathy from standers-by.
Four minutes later, he comes up and apologises profusely. He didn’t know that I was a freelance photographer for the largest daily, and surely I wouldn’t want to publish the image of him, and the job of a bouncer is a stressful one and he didn’t know that I was only doing my job.
Anna has convinced him that I’m actually doing an undercover story on the secret life of bouncers and have to take candid images of them in order to catch the real person behind the badge. Anna played him like a really thick brick, creating the most beautiful music of explanations and excuses. I don’t know how any of this happened, and Jan can’t believe that I didn’t get the shit kicked out of me. The image wasn’t even all that good.
Intermission. Arts and Ideas: Studio Shehrazade. 2 minutes.
[audio:https://monocultured.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/photo-studio-story.mp3]
Well, whatever. Three of us are left, everyone else has dropped off during the night. The place is boarding up but we manage to get three more drinks to celebrate my narrow escape and Annas’ talents. We leave after only I am left standing on the dance floor, shouting and battling invisible monkeys.
Two guys try to pick up Anna outside the club. It’s a lazy attempt and we’re laughing it off – things are still in meta-space where nothing is really happening – and I mimic their accent to the great enjoyment of myself. I am my own biggest fan at the moment. They give up, seeing as I might be insane; I’m encouraging them to make camp and sleep under the bridge, and laugh like a maniac.
There’s a heavy mist enveloping everything, and our sounds are muffled as we’re making our way home. It’s a short walk, and soon we’re all drinking Resorb in the kitchen.
And there it ends. The evening that was supposed to have seen me in bed before ten, had me running about like a nappy mythomaniac. I don’t know if this happened exactly because I was tired and certain that I wouldn’t go out, or if I’d just temporarly gone around the bend, but it was a learning experience.
Should you like to fill in the gaps there’s always the comments section.
