visiting an LA nightclub, Bliss, at Melrose and La Cienaga
all ordinary people
here skin wrapped like sausage
the waning days of a "hot" club
conscentual hallucination
exclusivity creates status
I pause during my second ginger ale and sit on a couch and wait for my date: soon after i'm surrounded by red velvet ropes and told i'll be asked to leave when the reserved party arrives
people too cool to be friendly?
a race to defrost through chemistry to reach for warmth
only out of reach from fear
a massive economy build on the fear of rejection
shaping of self for others who are all busy morphing themselves
what is sincere - the hunger
and maybe play
these are mostly willing, witting participants in identity drama for fun and profit
and maybe its their blustering confidence, their embrace of insincerity that is so defying
what do they know?
how did they choose?
what was their opening move?
this kind of analysis ignores the individuals involved
david and liz gathered for a birthday party - babysitter with their four kids out in suburbia.
two young women from beverly hills but finding this place a bit "boujy"
j.maxwell - fashion designer with "anton" - caught in a self-designed ostrich skin coat and abrupt to depart after explaining his career path
I must either be coarsened or withdrawn
or bemused I guess
alternately talking and taking notes
in search of a sense of humor
recalling stories of patti smith on the curb at max's kansas city in nyc
- suburban poet longing for a scene connection
here I see nothing to long after, no new culture fabrication
only the enactment of old mating rituals
roddrigo from brazil, manicly encourages me to realize its all an illusion
these people are all plastic, and fake, he says
that, and he hopes I get laid tonight
one effective strategy for fun here seems to involve ready traffic in small lies
what's the difference between this and a sock hop?
booze, silicon, standards of beauty