boundless energy

It's 2am on saturday night/sunday morning, and i'm in the basement of The Crown in Bristol city centre surrounded by dancing fools. I am one of the dancing fools. What am I doing here? By rights I should be in bed, having only had 2 hours sleep since friday - instead I am going wild to the sounds of 60 girlgroups and classic indiepop(tm). As they start to play Belle and Sebastian for the fourth time this evening I decide enough's enough, and collapse in a corner to contemplate the actions of the day.

The afternoon's private hire (bunch of guys on a stag do watching Indiana Jones - at least they didn't hire a stripper) was made paletable by the arrival of Roz, for what became an extended discussion on various topics - mainly the emergence and development of feminist film theory in the 1970s and the significance of the shower scene in Hitchcock's Psycho. All to a soundtrack of Sonic Youth's magnificent Washing Machine which, having rediscovered whilst beating my brother at Scrabble the other day, I picked up in Fopp for a fiver.

Realising that I hadn't enough time to go cook dinner AND be back in time for the evening's entertainment at the Cube, I invariably end up at Cafe Kino eating Thai Green Curry and rinsing the week's abandoned G2 crosswords. Foolishly telling the staff of the cafe my whereabouts for the rest of the evening, I am two hours hence dragged from the Cube (and the fairly dull drone performance that has sent me into a semi-lull) and into the indie basement.

I suspect that when Belle and Sebastian finish I will get up and dance again. I suspect that I will stay til closing time. I suspect that afterwards we will go to the Cube and continue the party til the sun comes up.

I predict that at some point I will collapse from exhaustion - but that's the future. Right now I'm dancing and so long as i'm dancing i'm no longer thinking about the absurdity of living. And, right now, that's what counts...