Night Report: Invite Only

on a secret, "exclusive" night out

I, Anderson, was invited again to a relatively new club, because, for some reason, the universe seems to be recognizing and acknowledging what I've been trying to express for years now, namely that I am experienced and potent in the realm of partying, and also that I have some rare skill in describing just what makes a night uncomfortable but unforgettable.

Tonight as I write this on the dance floor it is a Wednesday and I am feeling spoiled and surrounded, as it were, by shadow, secrets, mystery, and beautiful women. I've been thinking a lot about this bacchanalic ritual of mine. I am dancing within the 12th House from which taunts my true self. Sun, moon, everything obscured even to myself. The living is the discovery of who I really am. And here no one is thinking to reach me, no one awaits or expects me, I am only appreciated, barely seen. I have a place on the dancefloor, a purpose no one can take from me. A blessing indeed.

Red is the color at the heart of the sun and recently it has been in my world and where the white should be in my eyes. More and more red. More secret stares. More bass. I can see the emptiness in the walls around me — but this time, tonight, seeing the hole in the mirror reminds me that it will be filled once more. I left you behind, but you're still here alongside me. I dreamt of you, but you're still embedded in my past, or so far in my future that I can’t hold you yet. When you dream, do you see my eyes thinking of you? You're so beautiful, I can't look. I limit the time I spend reminiscing. I clench one eye shut and look at you from behind my nose.

Hearsay, Meatpacking District.