Dazed and Confused

Everything you know is wrong
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2001-11-25 15:37:18 (UTC)

Underground drun 'n' bass

fun fun party last night. Or so I'm told. People were
dancing and talking and drinking. Thus they must have been
having fun. But I was doing all that and having a pretty
grim time. As far as I can tell the only attraction of
jumping around on a dance floor is proving that you are the
kind of cool person who jumps around on dance floors.

That's a little unfair. There is a certain amount of
exhileration from losing yourself in the dance. But
is 'losing yourself' a good thing? It certainly seems
fundamental to 'popular culture': drinking certainly serves
the same purpose, and all too often protests are the same.

What is the difference between dancing, protesting, and
following a charismatic leader? I can't see that much.

One good thing about last night was that the music was
turned down low enough that I could almost hear what people
were saying. Almost, but not quite. And even if I'd been
able to hear perfectly, I probably wouldn't have joined in
much. Because I never do. Again, I feel conversation is the
kind of thing I should be enjoying, but I can't actually
get any kicks out of it. Whenever I do enjoy conversation,
the main reason is the thrill that I am actually having
social interaction.

Pretty sad life, isn't it?

The thing about discos (using the word in the most generic
sense possible - I have no idea whatsoever how to
distinguish different types of dance) is that from a
distance it looks like everyone is having fun. But if you
concentrate on any single person, the chances are they'll
look pretty miserable.

Another question about discos: are they actually a form of
social interaction. I mean, there are times when you're
dancing with somebody and it feels like you must have some
connection to them, since your bodies are moving in time
(I'm brushing aside the usual comments about simulated
sex). But then they move off, or you move off, and you'll
never know anything more about them, or have any connection
on a deeper level than synchronised gyrations.

Bitter? Cynical? Moi? It could, of course, just be that
this was one of the nights when I couldn't get G out of my
mind. But that ends up as a chicken and egg thing - perhaps
I began thinking about her because I was already agonising
over how awful my life was.

Enough ranting for now - I'm off to read about Fidel Castro

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