I think I'm in West Germany1—there's no signage.2 Too cool for that. Just a door covered in stickers & a graffitied stairway up to the first floor— Sitting here while everyone else is dancing to 'The Way You Make Me Feel' (I wished it was 'Leave Me Alone'3), I notice that some hot sauce from the falafel I had for dinner has dried on my left pant leg. [Biro rendition of beer mug.4] Now I have to wash the bloody things. The crowd is fairly mixed, in age & gender, to a lesser extent race. I'm hot but I don't want to lose my jacket, where this notebook lives. I'm gonna have to do laundry anyway so I may as well sweat the fuck out of it. [Over page.] I'm not sure anyone here can dance. I say that as someone who knows he can not dance himself. They're hopping from one foot to another, with a wide gait—& I'm the twat against the window writing about it. / Could probably participate in this dancing business & not stand out, but no— Pointing—that's when you know you can't dance, when you point. I wonder if I could get kicked out for just sitting at the periphery w/ a notepad. Goofy, loping steps, side to side—throw away those inhibitions. Are inhibitions so bad that they must be thrown away? [Over page.] I'd like to keep some of my inhibitions. Seriously—loping about like they're doing the fucking twist / It's hot & smokey—some people now doing the 'air maracas'—"You Know You're a Bad Dancer When..." Are there no more bands?5 But what about the band with 'Anus' in the title that I saw on the setlist?6 Surely I haven't missed them?7 Were they the half-naked middle-aged punks playing when I first got here?8 They're moving like there's no tomorrow. But I know there's a tomorrow. I'm acutely aware of it. It's a Saturday. Easter Saturday. The 16th.9 The 16th is tomorrow.10 [Over page.] Three loping steps then let's mix it up with a spin.— Where the fuck are the toilets. Somehow everyone's dancing at a different tempo—even though there's a clear fucking beat—I'm still sick. My eyes feel dry & weary, my nose is threatening to run / I just remembered there's dry hot sauce on my pants.
1 It was actually The Monarch.↩
2 There was. It said "The Monarch".↩
3 Not because its sentiment mirrored my own at the time of writing; I just prefer it.↩
4 Cubic-comic.↩
5 No.↩
6 They were the half-naked middle-aged punks who were playing when you first got there.↩
7 Well, you heard half a song.↩
8 Bingo.↩
9 Actually Easter Saturday was the 15th.↩
10 Ibid.↩