extra solid

then we went to a party on the lower east side. this was after I had fallen asleep on the couch and after id been woken up by the phone ringing (I said hello and without any greeting whatsoever was instructed to get dressed and to be ready). it was after the ride over the manhattan bridge, where I saw the lights at the top of the empire state building shining white and wondered to myself why there was no colors, and it was after we got to the bar and realized the door was running scams so then hopped in the car and sharp u-turned through traffic into a parking spot on the corner of 4th and avenue B.

we were invited by virginie, a french gal, extra solid, that works for us at the Dangling Carrot. she assist in the the international affairs. virginie (pronounced: ver-gin-NEE) speaks five languages and throws a frisbee like a dart. shes young and brave and quicker than the city. She moved from paris to new york to work for a company with shaky feet and three heads, all delirious. she rocks jeans and running shoes and sometimes skirts and high heels and laughs when we cry about how broke we are. you gotta love her for that, or at least we do.

you could hear the party from half a block away, and it was eight fucking floors above the street. by the time we stepped off the elevator it was like we were in the center of the dance floor at crobar on saturday night. the party was mostly french people who, as described to me in a hush, were from the "financial world," wherever that is. the place was two floors, the upper one with the patio, where the Dj and soundsystem were at, and the lower one where the living room and, more importantly, the bar were at. I mixed myself a rum concoction while on the latter level and made my way up the stairs, to where the music was. drink in hand, pocket full of nicotine, I was ready to make a go at it.

the deck could fit at least 20 people and had a view of the manhattan skyline that would make stars in the sky jealous. I kept having to remind myself that I was in the lower east side, where most bedrooms are boxes and most kitchens are walls attached to them, where most stairs only lead to your front door and most patio decks are really fire escapes. this spot was a palace. a true achievement in downtown living. as darth vader would say: Impressive. Most Impressive. (and then he would slice of your hand with his light saber. he was cold like that).

but the music was an entirely different story, in a galaxy even further away. it was so bad, im not sure i can describe it. this is what it was like, imagine if you hired an ex-rave dj from ibiza (who was now so far burnt from lines, pills, and sunrises that the very bags beneath his eyes could smuggle a kilo of ecstasy from glasgow to atlanta without the feds ever knowing what blew past them) to play at your wedding. well, what I heard that night was the set that he would play.

so here we all were, the only americans at the party, in a circle by the ledge, dancing to a Shakira song (or at least the paul oakenfold remix of one) and really getting sweaty to it. hips are swaying, drinks are sloshing on the floor, its a full on party where the americans are at. but everyone else sat on stools and chairs, drinking their cocktails, speaking into one another's ear. they smoked cigarettes by the Dj booth. they laughed at jokes I couldnt overhear. no one talked to us though. no one introduced themselves to us. they all just clocked us from the corner of their eye, like they were waiting for us to wage war or something.

and to be honest, I was considering it. it had to be the worst dj set I have ever allowed myself to hear. his track selection went like this: bad euro trance song, earth wind and fire wedding song, bad euro trance remix to a madonna song, crappy 80s new wave wedding song, bad euro trance classic anthem (dark dub horror core mix), shitty spanish pop song, cher, in that sequence. and i loved it. we ate up every melody with a ravenous salute. it was so bad, I was shivering in anticipation of what he would play next. would it be a euro trance song, or the euro trance remix to a black eyed peas song? maybe it would be a failed single from a bollywood soundtrack. quite possibly it could be a soft ballad from the compilation starved Dungeons & Dragons inspired soft rock genre. who knew when it came to this guy? he could surprise us all,and play something good. you never knew. thats what was so exciting about it.

so we tolerated the tunes for as long as the well stayed wet, but once it dried, we said our good-byes. on the street a girl danced to music booming from the trunk of cleaned up buick. her hips alone could crush the rooftop of the party we'd just left. I didnt recognize the track, but it sounded like some new york mix tape type shit. raw and grimy and thundering from the streets. it wasnt a radio joint, but it would bump in the club. and this girl moved like she was in the middle of a crowd, dressed in a skirt with high boots and thick eyeliner. I almost walked up and starting getting my grind on behind her. but paul grabbed my arm and shoved me towards the ride. we all had to pile in and go home, it was crazy late.

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instead of reading this you could have been reading Hermes or Tony or The Great Queen Bees or something, but you didnt. chumps. haha. gotcha!