Archive | January, 2010

The Holy Trinity: Weed, Drum&Bass, Sex

19 Jan

2009 started off on a not so fabulous note: my car had just been stolen and I’d had a major “woopsies” in my love life. Now I think it was the best year I’ve had in a long time.

In 2009 I became a pothead. I started taking better care of myself, became a little more selfish (in a good way), made new friends, discovered new passions, rekindled old ones… I was happier. I think I became a little bit nicer of a person. I’m still a bitch deep down inside, though.

Appropriately enough, in this calmer phase of my life I realized I liked electronic music.  I had never cared for it before, not even after the effort my friend Mitya exerted, in vain, to get me to appreciate it. Once he tried a remix of Beyonce’s ‘Ring the Alarm.’

Please turn that shit off. It sucks! It’s repetitive and annoying!

He and I stopped going out dancing together for a while because he only wanted to listen to house/trance, and I would be yawning after the first hour.

After my relationship ended, I wanted nothing more than to go out and see people. Just… people my age having fun. So I tagged along with Mitya even if he was going to house music nights. His brother had also started DJing at clubs, so with the added exposure, I learned to like it. I think, in fact, I first learned to understand it. I had to grow comfortable with a new freedom of movement. There aren’t necessary steps or ways to move in order to dance to electronic music. It’s not about choreography. EDM is an internal experience; you dance as your limbs choose to move and each person can interpret the experience entirely differently. It’s fluid because it’s a fruit of the mind that is in sync with the music.

Last year brought me the discovery of an untapped little world of sounds sometimes a polar opposite of what I used to listen to. I still love my 90’s rock and always will. But dancing to hip-hop music became much less interesting. I’m just sayin’…

My newest obsession is drum&bass. It gives me a sustained level of calmness and alertness, simultaneously. It’s timed fast enough to make me want to bounce my head and tap my feet, but the melody is a bit creepy on top of it, or even uplifting and soothing. And it goes on with songs interlacing, maintaining me content, alert, calm, maybe playful or curious…

This is why I cannot wait to have sex while stoned and listening to drum&bass. The drum&bass shares with weed the calming and contentment-inducing effects. A raw energy is crucial for the quality of both the music as well as the sex.  And everyone knows weed and sex go together like rice and beans. It’s a love triangle made in heaven. Or hell, I’m not sure.


Spout on Summer Sunday at Six

8 Jan

Rewind. It’s 10:30 on Saturday night. I took a nap and walked the dog, Brian’s still in the shower, so it’s Burger King fries because fat is still fuel. At Brian’s house, Ian’s found. Cups in the car and demon friend in tow (lunch bag style, my unwavering companion). At the venue we meet our friends and dance, dance, dance. Trance and bud move seamlessly through my system. He has a joint, no one else wants it so we go outside, and a roach is spared in his chest pocket. Back to dance, we make new friends. Two go home, we are Brian, Ian and me for salmon, crab legs, and eel. Back at the apartment we require a bigger apparatus, and take care of head. When restlessness kicks in, I get to church for rock n roll minus the sex. Bar manager and me plus joint, then it’s truly quite late. We agree we’ll meet outside the lot, but I get lost. Inside the garage, I try to pay for my parking, but the machine gives me a freebie. Find my way only to realize I have no gas. 24hr tow truck directs me to an open gas station; I’m saved. Inside I get a sandwich and a coffee, only to come out and see the truck driver waiting for me. He followed me. “My name’s Julian. Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything, at any time.” “Hey, can I call you now? I can’t get the gas to pump.” He does it for me. Good night forever, Julian. I’m driving away as I notice a kid standing on the side of road, in the rain, exactly where he was when I got there 20 minutes earlier. Shit. He looks feeble. “Excuse me, are you waiting for a ride?” “Umm I’m hoping for one.” “Where are you going?” “Allston” “OK, I’m going there too. Wanna hop in?” Hesitation. “I don’t want sex or money, I’m just offering you a ride.” “Yea, of course, thank you.” He’s 19 years old, plays bass in a band, but can’t seem to name a single musician as influence. I drive him home, turn around and get to Ash’s place. Waiting outside, Russell from apartment 1 and I become friends over a shared cigarette. Inside, karaoke machine doesn’t work, but hunger speaks loudly and we make: a hummus, baby carrot, tomatoes, cheese and olives wrap. One by one they drop, drool is complimentary but the delivery arrives and finally the mission is accomplished. I am fed. Drive home here I am, it’s 6am.