Dancing

Last night, we went to Verboten in Williamsburg to meet up with my two younger cousins — two brothers. I’ve formed a bond with the 22-year-old over the past several years and have become a mentor of sorts (can’t believe I’m 14 years older!), mainly because of our shared love for underground dance music. While my scene is gone in most ways, it remains in others.

After Verboten, we went to Output around the corner, and after dancing for a while on my own, a man came up to me and said, “I was just watching you. You’re like a little ship in a stormy sea.” He was polite and appropriate — not some sleazy guy trying to pick me up — and I smiled and said thank you. He gave me a kiss on my head, then walked off.

I love these random moments. And I thought his comment was on point. That’s exactly how I feel sometimes — in the middle of a crowd, in chaos, at 3 am when things may no longer make sense, but holding my own, bound to the sound.

Old Yelp reviews: the jaded ex-raver edition

I used to write a lot of Yelp reviews, nearly 10 years ago. Some of them are funny. Most of them make me cringe. I was either too cool, or tried too hard, or suffered from cut-and-paste copy writing syndrome.

Here are a few. They are also quite telling — each one a tiny bit of memoir.

SHINE (CLOSED)
1337 Mission St, San Francisco

Free photobooth. Crowded Dirty Bird parties on Friday nights. It’s easy to get loaded here.

Dirty Bird Party in the Park
25th and Fulton, San Francisco

Dirty tech house beats, interesting trips to the port-a-potty, liquor brown bagging, watching little dogs and their gay owners frolic on the lawn, dancing, dancing, dancing.

Oh, and dancing.

Been doing this shit for years and years and years. Never too old for it.

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