Out of towners have invaded. Ernie, Min Jung, Bertie and Brian. Imagine my delight when, upon returning from a visit to my family's house, I was delighted to discover that the terrible asian trio (Bertie, MJ and Ernie) were complemented by my own reside Rokk star. Pleased for all of six minutes, which was the time they afforded me to say hello before promptly leaving for dinner.
After which, I received a call from Bertie. "Hey, my roommate just got sick, so we've got an extra ticket to Oakenfold. You got plans?" I didn't, my plans for the evening dematerialized in a fit of midol (no, I wasn't taking it.)
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My DoctorGrosz impression



Ernie with the SIGN!! (Yes, it's back)



Bertie, MJ, Dingo,
Swerdloff as Rock Star, Ernie (front row)

So off I traipsed to Exit, one of the only superclubs in New York that I've been to (I usually stick to smaller, less Jersey venues, like my apartment, or a local bar, or work) and went to see the show. I'm very sheltered, I think, living in Manhattan. I saw about a half dozen women that looked like dead ringers for my most recent fling, she-who-shall-not-be-named, but none of them were her. There were also a whole lot of women that looked straight out of the Vivid Video catalogue lineup. It was eye opening.
In another life, I might've been a club kid. Instead, I'm working towards making the requisite mark on the world to recuse myself of the requirement of going to clubs, and instead having the super-talented play at private parties. It's an extremely high bar, but hey, it's good to strive. No, that doesn't mean I'm going to start going to the Hamptons, especially after that miniseries farce.
The Oakenfold set was excellent, but my question remains about the popularity of mega-DJs - can't you just pop in their CD and have them stand there smiling? Why have them spin live? Are we just waiting to see them make a mistake? Most of their material is canned anyway.
I mean, I understand the draw to rokk shows. I can understand wanting to get close to Moby. What's the rest? See if they'll put on a different record than what you're expecting? I know I'm igna'nt of this stuff, avowedly so. But hey.
Anyway, the Okenfold set was inspiring, the rooftop bar at Exit was inspiring too, and the porn-star-looking-girls, well, they were inspiring in a different sort of way.
I left the party way too late but way before closing, and felt really damn good about things. I like being happy. I know that sounds silly, but she-who-will-not-be-named left me because I was "unhappy, in spite of being amazing and beautiful" and some other stuff. So I decided to try happy. It's like trying Chocolate when all you thought was available was vanilla.
People see me smiling more. I'm less James Dean and more... well, I'm still James Dean. But I'm happier about it. The crasian invasion continues tomorrow (today as I write this post) with a mammoth my-blog-is-cooler-than-your-blog party.
This blog is the blog the bloggers read, while the rest of the world reads theirs. I feel very Yoda.