Great gods of death and fire alive! There is no hope! It's withered to a measly rotten pulp in this shit hole! A freak show of silver haired barbie dolls and over weight, brandy cooked boere! A weird sensation up your spine as you walk through the rusted iron gates.. I can only try and describe the madness that goes on within these sinful walls... A mess of twenty five year old men with hair to their waists all bobbing their heads profusely like mindless zombies - all to this senseless, corrupt and talentless music that was infiltrating the atmosphere around us.
I could only stand there, alone and still. Wondering why so many of these people would try and make something to this degree of filth. I understand music. And I can't call something music when a guitarist plays a singular open string over and over again.. Then just on the far right you'll see a bassist that's playing the exact same thing at the exact same time... In the middle stands a confused and trapped man trying to portray his favourite music video.. Was he really doing this for himself and his musical message? Or was it just a minor act to deceive us into thinking that he was almost "too" similar to the commercially functional band productions of the first world... At that moment, I couldn't really care - especially when their long awaited finale breakdown hit.
I tell you now they're barely standing straight on stage because they're trying to reproduce an orgasm of some sort.. Why? - unfortunately, that you and I will never know.. Expressing one's self doesn't seem to exist in that sort of sense.. Then while they are deeply tuned into this moronic behavior you can hear a pre-recorded quote in the background that had obviously been stolen from some Quintin Tarrentino movie... Was this their message?! Was this their reason for singing in a whiney American accent?! I shudder to think so.. However, this was all part of the act.
I listened closely... And as the last, noisiest and rowdiest build up of song collapsed into feedback. The crowd was let loose.
A wild frenzy of women screaming to their heart's content and men pushing and shouting as if they were trying to prove a point.
The frontman stands still while his band mates soak in the last few seconds of applause, he grabs his microphone, wraps the cords between his fingers, gets to his knees and speaks in a cat-like screech "Thank you yeah!" The applause only dwindles into nothing, he has finally realized his error and now he plans his escape towards the exit.
The only thing intelligent people like us can do in these situations is just get drunk... A very ironic statement for some but once you tend to go over the edge of the unknown and travel into the dark and filthy world of psychoactive substances; a recurring thought revolves aimlessly in the depths of your mind... Drinking is for the numb.
But to numb pain without fault is a tough decision, which usually ends in a horrible climax.. A strong and sturdy whip is needed for the liquor and its slaves. Luckily, I cannot call myself a slave... Yet.. It's all in the moderation I like to think..
Drinking is for when things get on their edge.
When you're in the depths of this sick and twisted battlefield. Every soldier needs his fix...
I left the scene and took route downstairs.. What would face me would haunt me for the rest of the night.. A behemoth, pounding some lovestruck woman against the wall like a cheap prostitute.. It was something out of a fucking horror movie, she was bent low, screaming in awe while he held his drink stiff in his right hand. They were both clothed of course, but that still didn't change the idea of the gesture that they were pulling off. And that still didn't seem to bother the locals from drooling all over them...
I couldn't stand these sights any longer so I migrated towards the bar area. For some reason that I'm still not sure of, I was drawn to look towards the corner of the facility. There stood a woman in her late twenties across the bar. She looked like a character out of some cliche' film... Tired eyed, slurred speech and barely standing. She was looking straight at me, and I somehow knew this fucking idiot was going to come talk beer to me...
She stumbled into me, pushed her breasts against my arm, stroked my head and started to speak next to my ear over the loud music. Her face was constantly brushing against my own. I didn't trust any of it...
A few moments later, I find a man that looks to be her accomplice, he was coming towards me from where she was sitting before.
Mid thirties.. Black hair with a goatee. Typical douche bag... He proceeded to stroke my shaved head, somewhat similar to what the woman did. I explained to him that my haircut was better than his, and that I recommend it with contempt. "After all you're old, and you'll soon feel the bitter revenge of aging when those receding hairlines start attacking the rest of your head.."
He laughed and rubbed my head a little harder.. I took a sip of my drink, smiled and said "You know it's the truth.." The woman was still standing next to me afterwards, laughing at the man with the goatee... He walked off and took a seat five or six metres away with a perfect view of us..
I didn't like any of this. It didn't seem right. It almost seemed as though she was looking for a scapegoat to hide her problems. I was that scapegoat...
After her friend turned away she continued to do what she did best. Slut herself against random young men... Random young men that are just looking to get some form of drink in their system. Some form of drink to handle this fucking madhouse...
Suddenly, to my right appeared an ogre. A giant of a somewhat obese beast... This was my turning point. I kept my pokerface strong. No need to tell them what you're really thinking. This will only compromise your position and get you stuck in a hole. The lady from the bar leaned towards him. His hands; each finger so fat you would be surprised if he could even use a cell phone, grabbed her. He smiled and turned towards me, "You know this is my future ex-wife, right?" I just smiled and laughed under my breath... These were the type of idiots she was here for.
She carried on the small talk.. I was desperately trying to tell this freak to fuck off without making it obvious.. Having two middle aged men watching your every move is a dodgey situation, especially when the three bouncers outside know that there aren't any rules in disciplining the rowdy... These weren't your normal bouncers, they were the scum of the earth..
Low life lolly lovers. I left the scene and took a turn towards the mens room, in there I could hear the local drunks screwing a few metres away from me in the cubicle. It makes quite a fun atmosphere to tell you the truth, especially when you're in the mood to cause trouble. I was about to start throwing ice and wet paper towels inside their cubicle when a man walked in.. Mid forties's, looked like a typical heavy drinker.. "You good mate? Fuck the wife just let me out tonight so it's gonna be a good one! And you? What's your story? Waiting for the cubicle? It's gonna be a long wait I'll give you that..." His grin drops to frown in disgust... "Hey! Find a fucking room!" He proceeded to laugh uncontrollably after that. He even dropped his beer bottle onto the floor, and as it cluttered against the white tiles, he lowered himself quickly to catch the bottle while in mid-air - "Jesus..." I muttered to myself.. There was no way in hell that anybody could pull off such a feat while hooked on the liquor. This was obviously a joke, this guy was just looking for a friend. A misconceived portrait of the typical Rugby lover drooling over the braai meat with his beer at hand - it's the proud middle aged South African man. I could see it in his eyes... And to lie so blatantly like that about something so stupid only makes the man's ego inside look like a child.. Let alone it's creation: The fool...
Fuck this, I couldn't wait to pull the prank. I'd rather leave and forget about all of this. This whole night has just been one strange and subtle message... A message that I'll never get to understand to it's full and proper potential.
I finally got to the realization that this wasn't going to change, that this wasn't the place I thought it was.. It was a filthy cavity in our beloved world.
To walk outside and find a fully dressed man in leather with bunny ears poking out of his gimp mask, it can only mean one thing... He was the sender. And god alone only knows who the receivers are...
I shudder to think of what sick and twisted sights will be waiting for us around the corner..
Until then.. Wait for the signal