It was gloomy inside the Sound Factory. Part of the problem was that everyone was wearing black. Parties these days resemble funerals. I blame it all on Donna Karan.
My suit and shirt were black.
"Cuervo Gold, beer back, vodka tonic."
"Yo."
"Thanks."
"$15."
"Fuck!"
The crowd was dense. It was like a student party. We had come to "network".
No-one to network with.
"Pick out a suit."
"Can't find one."
"I'll flash 'im my tits."
"Flash ME your tits......."
I gestured at a post-modern, rural, techno-hippie couple. One of them sported a visible brand, the other a huge nose-ring. Gender was indeterminate.
"See 'em at Paradise every Saturday............" snorted my friend.
Christ! Was I in the wrong place, or what?
In another room, 35 lawnmowers were running. Something was shooting something else. The air reeked of gas fumes and cordite. We moved towards the cacophony. Crowded forward. Couldn't see a thing.
My friend started talking to a guy in a suit. At least I wasn't the only one. While she chatted, I let my eyes take in the post-industrial mayhem around me.
She reappeared at my side.
"Nice watch he had," I said.
"Nah! Just a SWATCH."
"Don't say it like that! I've got a fucking SWATCH! Who was he, anyway?"
"He produced this show."
"Has he got any money?"
[Stare]
"......and?"
"They first did it in Germany. In 1984."
Great! In the midst of the WIRED universe of kewl links and hot cyber-dudes and dudettes, we had a pre-post-modernist exhibition of post-modern techno-monsters fighting it out. In San Francisco. In 1996. And no-one could watch it.
I wasn't sure why I was trying.
That, as they say, is entertainment.
I glanced over my friend's shoulder.
The woman sitting on a bar stool across the room was the only one (apart from my friend) who wasn't wearing black. Unlike the rest of the crowd, she didn't look as if she tested video games for a living, then surfed until the wee hours. She looked quite elegant, in fact. Chanel suit, if I wasn't mistaken.
Our eyes met.
"Catch you later. I'll find you,"
"OK. Hey!..................careful! It's a two-seat car....."
"Fuck off!"
continue
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