I wrote this piece a few months ago. I was trying to create something that was artistic or cool. Unfortunately it just sounded whiny. So it pretty much belongs here because I don't want to work on it again.
I don't know why I go to the bar. There is a certain level of denial in the whole process. I am denying my past, my lack of funds, my lack of smoothness. I don't do well in crowd scenes. In fact I loath being with a bunch of people that I don't know.
This is a goth bar. Lots of black, lots of dancers being paid. A whipping couch for the S & M crowd and not a little hint of irony in it all. There are a lot of observers. I think that is what I am. Fuck, I am wearing my yarmulke when I go. It doesn't particularly say "Take me home and fuck me and make me your bitch, woman" when you are wearing the symbol of your newfound faith, the faith that doesn't like men and women to be alone in the same room together without marriage much less whipping each other. I can always say that I haven't converted fully yet so any nasty thing is par for course, but I am wearing the thing. There is that minority of women that go after repressed guys, you know the ones that are saving it for marriage because of religious reasons. But once I open my mouth, I reveal myself to be the same frustrated horny person that I was when I was 20 year old neo-pagan trying to make sex a religion. It was a solo practitioner religion.
So I am going to the bar tonight, because it is Saturday and a little drinking never hurt anyone and I am going to watch immodestly dressed women dancing and hanging out and not say anything. I don't talk to strangers. I don't talk for the most part. See me on the first week of a job and you'll think that I am a serial killer with the quiet loner vibe going. The next week when I do start talking I'll never shut up and that's when I get strange. Since it takes me a couple of days or weeks with people that I am working 8 hours a day with, how the fuck do I think that I am going to start talking to people in a bar where I have a certain level of frustrated horniness going. It's no good.
Tonight I am going to go to Ground Zero. With a book. It's a William Gibson book so I got at least 15 minutes of fun if I can find the light for it, although light is not something that you get in a Goth Bar. The Vampires would have their zits showing in that case. No good. No good at all.
Ok, this last part was after I came home and confirmed my suspicions.
Never wear a yarmulke to a goth bar. People comment. They think that because there are dancers simulating sex on stage that somehow your presence is going to ruin the whole thing. They impose their will upon you, thinking that you must be shocked, saddened and horrified to see people in various stages of undress. There is something almost touching.
I spent 3 hours alone in that bar. I drank. I didn't talk to anyone. A few people talked to me but they didn't have anything for me. I felt more the outsider than ever before. I shouldn't have worn the yarmulke, although I don't think it would have helped either way. My ears are infected.
When I got to The Hard Times Café it was cleared out. No one to pick up. One night stands are a drag but they are certainly nicer than being alone in your room, writing about doing nothing. The doing nothing portion of the evening.
Ok, what else is there to say about this stupid thing? I guess I was lonely and desperate here. Stupid, really. Actually that doesn't really have to be said. The four years that I spent with my ex-, we never went to bars or dancing or anywhere near Ground Zero. Maybe I was looking for someone who was not her. I don't know why. I kind of liked sitting at home on Saturday, eating pizza and watching television as long as she was there with me. All that about faith and piety is second.
Still this was a whiny Kitty Vomit article. I do apologize. Right now I'm listening to Debussy so I am really really happy at this point.