Pre-Decompression

Saturday I attended a pre-Decompression event at the Sublounge.

I'd expected The Sublounge to be a lavish technoplayground,
plush with subdued lighting, bubbling blue drinks and
flickering pop images everywhere. Instead it was a ratty,
unstylishly undecorated hole that two weeks ago probably
served rockgut to longshoremen and Hell's Angels. It
boasted two floors, but that's only because they let people
into the basement, where you expected to see rusty snow
shovels propped up against the wall. The whole thing was a
bit like, hey, kids, let's put on a party! Which made it
work, in a funny way, I guess its lack of, or utter failure
of pretention.

More than a few people had that fresh-off-the-playa look, with
luminescent clothing and goggles and golden horns. A man (I
think) in a large, furry, cat/bear/amoeba suit was giving a
massage to a braless girl in a transparent blouse. A guy
dressed as Jesus, crown of thorns and everything, stopped
dancing to come over and tell my friend Ananda that he'd
just come out of the closet.

My nod to the theme of the evening was a big Santa cap. I
figured, Christmas at Hallowe'en, that's like, whoo,
semiotic dissonance, I'm an artist.

We danced up a storm for a half-hour or so. Left for
Oakland (Ananda lives there and I was housesitting for
sister that night) only to find a massive traffic jam
leaving the city. Took almost two hours to get on the
bridge. I'm all for earthquake retrofitting, but maybe
they could rethink doing it on Saturday night????

What would we do without italics? I'd actually have to
write something shocking -- instead of just implying it!!

Do you know what I'm saying here????