Making it to Homeland’s scored one for dreary arrivals;
soaked through, it was still raining and of course totally muddy. There were
guys prowling before the entry gates (likely scalpers/drug dealers), and when
four of them confirmed she was on her own, from Canada, the f***ers offered she
could sleep in their van if she just sucked all four of their cocks.
Encountering the people initially on the inside proved just as bleak, the same
complete avoidance of eye contact, a mill of everyone avoiding everyone where
everyone looked shoddy. She always showed up at these things way too well
dressed, in her best boots, which were going to get a s***-kicking, but the
right footwear for dancing was of course important. The canteen was such a
deplorable mess she’d never set foot in it, and there was a line-up of about 30
women for a porta-potty. And then in the first arena it was pretty much
standing room only on a lawn mash, with so many beer cans and water bottles you
could not move without stepping on them. In short it was everything she hated
about dance festivals and raves. The lights and the dance music were great,
though. In terms of standing room only, the next arena was even worse; the
third had room because the music was crap pretty much, but thanks to the room,
she duly packed her coat in her knapsack, put it in sight over the rail, and
used the space granted to warm up, just ignoring the fact that she danced way
different than everyone else. It was going to take a long while to acclimatize
but tonight she’d have all the time in the world. In the beginning she was
joined/hovered by a raver goth who would have been a natural fit performing
with Sisters of Mercy.
When the music got too appalling she began to float, heading
back for what she could now see was the Lush Arena, which was marginally less
crowded. She liked it when the crowd wore off. By the time she made it “Home”
there was room on the margins there as well, and she worked her way up to get a
closer look at the DJ, where it was still standing room. She leaned over the
rail, looked to the left and saw the Edge dancing off to the side in the VIP
section. She wished she could have danced there just for the sake that it
granted the space to do so. The consideration that Bono might be there bothered
her even more. She wished she could show them her in action, but of course she
couldn’t. The point of perpetually being the outsider was driven home by the
succession of cute little tweeny raver nymphets she saw being let into the VIP
section by security. She walked away in disappointment.
Next it was the Orb, and you had to enjoy their hijacking of
Belinda Carlisle’s “heaven is a place on
earth”. She laughed at Oakenfold’s hijacking of “Living on a
Prayer” even more (though memory does not serve whether this was indeed
Oakenfold or the Orb). She settled in and began to enjoy “Home”, thinking in
irony of the song by Depeche Mode, but the further the evening progressed, the
truer it became. That was when someone offered her some hash, and she learned
the hard way why the Irish always smoked it with tobacco; it was too harsh to
smoke otherwise, besides which this Irish didn’t know how to smoke it, so she
didn’t feel too guilty about abandoning him; he wasted more than he smoked.
When the music got bad there she floated to Lush, which had a good female DJ. She
floated to the third large arena, and on the way back found a perfect little
space where she could hear the sound emanating and blending from all three
arenas at once. -Great for indecisive types. She couldn’t make up her mind and
hit a bad stretch where she kept ending up in each arena just when the music
was about to turn bad, but back and forth and back and forth again, she got
into a groove in each one, going straight through the center of the crowd in
Lush, vibing out and engaging lots of them. It was actually good enough she
felt she wouldn’t have minded if she missed Underworld. When she got into a
groove back at “Home”, she was startled when someone behind her cried out
“Jesus!”, and turned to see a large set man who walked right up and hugged, her,
which she didn’t mind at all, hugging him back. Then he back off and said,
“Don’t Stop! –Don’t Stop!” which was very sweet. In Arena-3 she hit it off very
well with a man named Richard, to the point that they were clinging and holding
hands; they kissed. But on the difference that she preferred Home and he
preferred Arena-3 (2FM), they parted ways. Ah, raves. And so it goes. The next
encounter (he literally jumped and grabbed her to force a kiss) made her skin
crawl so much the vibe scared him enough to make him back off. But in the
course he’d interrupted she fulfilled her purpose in finding out what she
needed about the Dublin Buses, that she could buy a return ticket, and that the
last departure was at 3:00 am. Then she headed “Home” and stopped, transfixed
by the moon, which had been full the night before and still looked it; it was a
full dog moon. She then met another
striking bloke named Eamon who was stoned out of his mind. They kissed too,
went back to “Home” and danced together.
When she drifted off on her own and was sitting on a speaker
platform she recognized Underworld; it was the opening of “Pearl’s Girl”, and that was when the night
went through the ceiling; she actually felt like she was levitating. Oh yess.
Once more, it was a totally different ball game in the moment. Underworld were
a different entity live; with lots of changes and adjustments to the new songs
from Beaucoup
Fish, an album she hadn’t been quite sure what to make of at first. She
loved all of the tracks here. And Karl Hyde was such an awesome stream
of consciousness ad libber live. (He liked a slow shimmy that singer. Hips were
in.) He injected crucial key changes that changed the consciousness overall of
the songs. The view on the speaker platform was excellent and she danced there
briefly before being ordered down. So she worked her away around the perimeter
to where there was enough space to dance. She was floating in her own
awareness, a completely different context borne by the shifts in her mind the
day before, riding on her interior growth. She was one with this awareness in
the knowledge that she bore it, and the moment she thought that was when “Space Cowgirl” started, with “I’m
invisible”, repeat, repeat, repeat, and then Karl shifted that one word; he
added, “I’m in everyone”, -YES!!! and she soared on the inner
knowledge she existed beyond her body; it was truer in no one else. Exactly, that was it; that was the
progression I just made in my thought. And with that there was lift-off,
because it was in the now. She knew she hadn’t been crazy to get herself locked
up in USIT, that she was supposed to have written it all the night before, that
she was here, now, developed exactly to meet this moment. The consciousness
meets, revives, notches further. The man who was dancing just aft of her began
to watch, and after observing her a while he said, “Dancing is the best, you
know, it’s better for you than laughing even. There’s no better stress relief
for getting rid of anger, tension.” She just looked at him grinning from ear to
ear, and he said, “You make every move like it’s your last, you better be the
best that you can be, ‘cause it don’t get better than this, and it ain’t gonna
happen again, and you’re here, and that’s what you came for.”
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