By the river Nile, I stood and danced..
In attempt of an entente, or a "cease-fire", Kiki Jr. coaxed me into going to the hottest party in town, and one of the highlights of the season.
She told me, "all of Cairo will be there", little did I know that this prophetic statement will be all but true.
As usual, I had no idea who the host was, and as my bourgeois upbringing made me feel a little self-conscious, Kiki Jr. reassured me that she personally knew the host and that he personally invited her. I conceded and decided a little distraction is due.
I am a frightful night owl, who enjoys staying in my tree, but why not go out every now and then and take a feel, have a glimpse of the so-called "scene".
As usual the place was by the Nile, in one of those ex-colonial resident buildings, renovated, updated, sexed-up, just overlooking the Nile. A gorgeous view and a spacious place enough to host an entire gay club along with the dark rooms.
Much to my good fortune, the host was kind and warm, sincere and with such a cheerful temperament, it was hard not to like him on the spot.
For he gave us the chance to create a space within a space, and in that miniature of "our world" we acted out all our desires, fantasies, fears, anger, all of it, it was all reenacted in that miniature of a space.
There you have it, "a party".
One would think that gay people host the best parties, because they have the best music.
Wrong.
Thats what happens when you leave the job to a bunch of queens.
The tracks are lined up wrong, there is no sense of what goes when and why and the random choice of music almost killed my buzz twice.
And after enough Vodka and a little Rum, I decided that the night, the view of the Nile, with its sliver sheen, and the music will do it for me.
I will dance, I will celebrate my own Self and the joy I get from the music.
And the impulse of responding to a rhythm overtook any inhibitions (with help of the booze of course) and self-consciousness and decided to "hit the floor".
But I was not alone on the dance floor.
Ghosts from the past, present and future kept making apparitions here and there.
Suddenly, violently taking me back when I was 15, a ghost I have long forgotten, locked somewhere deep and threw the key along with my adolescent memories.
There he was, very much the same, the ever elusive Cancerian, vague, distant and completely oblivious to the little history that lies somewhere at the back of my head.
(This part was also removed pertaining to violent censorship and patronizing moralism)
And then there is the (this part was removed pertaining to copyright and censorship issues).
Then the ghost of the future, the thirty something sex pot, who would shag anything with two butt cheeks.
A favorite of Kiki Jr, and someone she has been singing his praises among other things.
But I couldn't see it.
He was crude, superficial and downright annoying.
There was something perverse about the way he looked at you and touched you.
Big penis or not, this is one ghost I have no intention of dealing with.
And I looked around, the stuck-ups, the wanna bees, the thirty something years old who still think they are in their twenties, the gym rats, and I realized in the entire place there were only two or three people I genuinely liked.
Maybe I am not made for parties. Maybe I am not a party girl, as I once thought.
Or liked to believe.
Yet, I was there, and so was the music, and at particular moment, I stopped listening to my head, or to the people, I just thought of the Night, the Nile and the music, and for a fleetest moment, I let go and just moved.
Was the "choreography" right or not, I didn't really care. And it didn't matter.
It was a very basic response.
And the scene didn't matter, the stuck-ups didn't matter, the ghosts were all far away.
There was the moment, the exuberance of the dance and music.
But there are things that even Grey Goose Vodka can't fix.
And the exhilaration of the moment can only last for so long..
And while the Nile, was calm and placid, dark and unfathomable, and the music raged on, and smoke and clamor filled the space all around, I walked out.
I was grateful to this experience, to have had this access to this space, with everything in it, and everything that it represents, and before my morbidity sits in and colors everything blue and gray, I decided to go with just the right balance of bemusement and regret.
She told me, "all of Cairo will be there", little did I know that this prophetic statement will be all but true.
As usual, I had no idea who the host was, and as my bourgeois upbringing made me feel a little self-conscious, Kiki Jr. reassured me that she personally knew the host and that he personally invited her. I conceded and decided a little distraction is due.
I am a frightful night owl, who enjoys staying in my tree, but why not go out every now and then and take a feel, have a glimpse of the so-called "scene".
As usual the place was by the Nile, in one of those ex-colonial resident buildings, renovated, updated, sexed-up, just overlooking the Nile. A gorgeous view and a spacious place enough to host an entire gay club along with the dark rooms.
Much to my good fortune, the host was kind and warm, sincere and with such a cheerful temperament, it was hard not to like him on the spot.
For he gave us the chance to create a space within a space, and in that miniature of "our world" we acted out all our desires, fantasies, fears, anger, all of it, it was all reenacted in that miniature of a space.
There you have it, "a party".
One would think that gay people host the best parties, because they have the best music.
Wrong.
Thats what happens when you leave the job to a bunch of queens.
The tracks are lined up wrong, there is no sense of what goes when and why and the random choice of music almost killed my buzz twice.
And after enough Vodka and a little Rum, I decided that the night, the view of the Nile, with its sliver sheen, and the music will do it for me.
I will dance, I will celebrate my own Self and the joy I get from the music.
And the impulse of responding to a rhythm overtook any inhibitions (with help of the booze of course) and self-consciousness and decided to "hit the floor".
But I was not alone on the dance floor.
Ghosts from the past, present and future kept making apparitions here and there.
Suddenly, violently taking me back when I was 15, a ghost I have long forgotten, locked somewhere deep and threw the key along with my adolescent memories.
There he was, very much the same, the ever elusive Cancerian, vague, distant and completely oblivious to the little history that lies somewhere at the back of my head.
(This part was also removed pertaining to violent censorship and patronizing moralism)
And then there is the (this part was removed pertaining to copyright and censorship issues).
Then the ghost of the future, the thirty something sex pot, who would shag anything with two butt cheeks.
A favorite of Kiki Jr, and someone she has been singing his praises among other things.
But I couldn't see it.
He was crude, superficial and downright annoying.
There was something perverse about the way he looked at you and touched you.
Big penis or not, this is one ghost I have no intention of dealing with.
And I looked around, the stuck-ups, the wanna bees, the thirty something years old who still think they are in their twenties, the gym rats, and I realized in the entire place there were only two or three people I genuinely liked.
Maybe I am not made for parties. Maybe I am not a party girl, as I once thought.
Or liked to believe.
Yet, I was there, and so was the music, and at particular moment, I stopped listening to my head, or to the people, I just thought of the Night, the Nile and the music, and for a fleetest moment, I let go and just moved.
Was the "choreography" right or not, I didn't really care. And it didn't matter.
It was a very basic response.
And the scene didn't matter, the stuck-ups didn't matter, the ghosts were all far away.
There was the moment, the exuberance of the dance and music.
But there are things that even Grey Goose Vodka can't fix.
And the exhilaration of the moment can only last for so long..
And while the Nile, was calm and placid, dark and unfathomable, and the music raged on, and smoke and clamor filled the space all around, I walked out.
I was grateful to this experience, to have had this access to this space, with everything in it, and everything that it represents, and before my morbidity sits in and colors everything blue and gray, I decided to go with just the right balance of bemusement and regret.
Comments
I'm still itching! lol
lol anyway i was the DJ ... sort of actually had no choice about the matter when i just heard only abba playing i had to take control and in my defense of no rhythm of the music... all i can say i did not have much of a library to play with... didnt have a good mixing solution and had dozens of people through at me different IPODS, nokia phones with mp3 enablement and not much good music, it wasnt about britney or madonna, it was the fact that every He/She/It wanted to listen to something at the same time... so yea i didnt do well underpressure!!!! but next time i shall bring my own music collection with me ... god i am sure my 10s of gigs of music must stand for something after all :)
Cheers Q (previously known as S)
Gee, I wouldn't want you at one of my parties. How can you complain about the 'set' list? This isn't a nightclub on 5th Avenue. Just be thankful to the host for their hospitality. Didn't your mother teach you about a little thing called MANNERS? lol
I think this blog has served its purpose. I'm not going to bother reading it any more. Got enough negativity in my life without your happy thoughts E.
hmm i dont have that much ghosts. the party was interesting experience for me especially with that variation.
u always welcomed to my parties.