Furnace
Ex-Bluelighter
PREFACE: I attended this party and wrote this during my “jaded raver” phase,
As I awoke, I saw myself gaining on the horizon. The destination was the flatlands of Saskatoon. It took me 5000 thoughts to get there. I was going to “The Summit”, a four day rave. I took this trip with four others. The brash American was there with his chartreuse-haired alien girlfriend by his side. The other was a somewhat angry raver named Alice (sweet girl, too gothy), and myself.
Together, we were on a journey. Nevertheless, I was on a different journey than the others. What was in store for me?
We arrived and I jumped into party-mode. We ventured into Zombies, the local watering hole. There I was dancing in a dance club smaller than some people’s egos, and having a look at my future.
If you're wondering at all, yes I felt the vibe, cruised the wave, and did whatever people do in this scene.
The beginning of the endless amounts of remixes of the sounds of Paul Van Dyk and Carl Cox started to ring through my mind. I saw that the looks on people’s faces were beginning to change. I started to feel a little numb. It was odd. I turned to look at our venue for the night. Although it was small, it reminded me of the life. I danced that night like always.
I spent most of the next day wandering the streets of the bustling metropolis that is Saskatoon. It was the same as any town, just smaller.
It had its Wal-Mart filled with phat pants, it’s Randy River filled with phat pants, and the local arcade was filled with them too. Don’t forget the grocery store, the post office, Spatula City, the local sewage treatment center, the emergency room, the Laundromat, and the record store (Man, the record store was so bad I ended up being sick). Even the film I saw that weekend had kids in phat pants in it. Summing up this weekend by using phat pants as a metaphor, simile, or allegory would be almost perfect. Not quite, but it would have to do.
As I rested myself for our first real night out, we wondered what was in store for us. I didn’t know. So I went to the local oracle and she didn’t know squat. I also visited the local shaman, medicine man, guru, swami, and called Dionne Warwick. Well, I didn’t talk to Dionne, but Cher was there. She also was familiar with the feeling of knowing squat. Nevertheless, the night was looming on us, and I felt enormous stress from it. Was it going to suck? I certainly didn’t want that. None of us did. But, how was I supposed to prevent a disastrophe like that? I had to do whatever I could. This was the true reason for my journey. I was there to prove a point. Actually, I was there to be made an example of.
When I arrived at the party, I was alerted by the changes in people’s faces. Ghouls busted out of everywhere, and creatures from outer space were swarming around looking for victims. I sent myself outside in fear of being consumed by the madness.
I found myself on the corner of Lorne and Cartwright, which to me could’ve been the middle of nowhere. As I stood at those crossroads and I talked to Alice about how I took comfort in the fact that I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted right now, and I was kinda iffy on what I wanted in the future. So there I stood, standing around, watching cars go by. Alice joined me in my mission to think, explore, and contemplate my mind. That night we enjoyed a talk about oblivion and nothingness.
We journeyed back to the venue and I wasn’t sure if we wanted to go in. I stood looking at the doors of awhile. In a daze, I saw an elite blabbing on his proverbial soapbox, and kids tired out by the heat of the experience. When I eventually went inside, I went to find the brash American and his chartreuse-haired alien who had taken off somewhere to get away from the insanity. I eventually found them in the mighty Explorer. After spending two hours contemplating life inside an S.U.V., we decided to pack up and leave.
The brash American couldn’t drive. The alien and her friend were strange to our ways to “driving”. Therefore, I had to come out of retirement, and again, drive for my life. I wasn’t driving to go back home, I was driving to get away from it all. I danced as if I was possessed that night.
We got back and slept until the late afternoon. We got ready for Saturday night. I heard they made a movie about Saturday Night. John Travolta was in it. I think it was called “The Muppets take Manhattan”. Anyhow, we got ready again for twelve more hours of lunacy. This was the main event. This was to break me or make me stronger.
We started walking towards our venue, the Saskatoon theatre of the arts. While we were walking, we realized that none of us had any clue where we were going. Then, like a beacon in the night sky, we saw our path. It was covered in glitter, soothers, and phat pants. It felt like we stopped walking and began to be pulled towards the venue. As we entered, we were approached by security. We flashed our elite laminated passes and gained entry.
I told my friend, the American,
“You know what we need right now to make this perfect? A little person.” And as soon as I said it, some little girl in teeny tiny overalls rave-danced past me. I was in awe.
The thumping beats were slowly surrounding me, and I took them in as my own. We set up camp right next to the naked female mannequin wrapped in Christmas lights. At least, I thought it was a mannequin.
After we got settled, I walked around to scope out the joint. There were giant pyramids covered in plastic wrap with black lights inside. There was a huge swimming pool full of Styrofoam popcorn, and a large raised dancefloor. I ran into friends that I hadn’t seen in ages, and we discussed the night and what was in store for us. After a quick meeting my friend Mitsubishi, I continued with my mission. In a daze, I saw three friends at a table passed out. On closer inspection, I realized only two were passed out, and the third was bored. I felt his boredom, but could not console him because I was having way too much fun. I also saw Archie and Jughead racing towards their destination, while Betty and Veronica were exploring themselves in the back of the jalopy.
Somewhere else, I saw the devil trying to break through the contrast of red and blue. It was his prison, and I was the warden. Then, I saw a woman trying to break free from her scientific dungeon. She was trapped and I felt like I had put her there. Now, I felt tired, and needed something to keep me going through the night.
By this time, the chartreuse-haired alien felt the same way, took my hand, and we were off. We were both looking for something. As she went into the girl’s bathroom I was hesitant. The alien looked at me, and told me that it would be ok.
I was not ready for this experience.
As I walked in, I saw a barrage of girls fixing their hair, chatting, and getting ready to face the warped version of reality that lay outside. Then, out of the corner of my mind, I saw distressed club girls siting and staring at all that was around them. Their eyes looked like dead souls were trying to invade my mind through sight.
At that time, my alien friend grabbed me and we ventured in a stall to talk about the night.
“How are we?” I questioned.
“We’ll be better now.” She tweaked to me.
I walked out of that bathroom with the feeling like my voltage was cranked to the hilt. I walked up towards God’s booth, and danced. My mind was racing with many thoughts, but one just kept on repeating.
“You must go faster, harder, stronger, and longer.”
I contemplated this, and concurred with full force.
During this time, I looked to the music to keep me going. I ignored all that was going on in my life, and rose above all the bleakness a rave can present at 6:00 in the morning.
As the hour struck nine, we left the disaster area. There was spilled glowstick blood all over, the air reeked of pot and denial, and there was the depravity of seeing messed up ravers trying to find another beat to dance to. Sometimes you have to realize that eventually the beats have to end.
The final night to test the limits of my personal degradation was upon me, and I was jumping in with both feet. We went back to the middle of nowhere, and walked into a black light heaven. Eyes were all messed up, and faces still didn’t resemble human beings. I looked around, and got fed up. I didn’t feel “happy”; I didn’t feel “Peace, Love, Unity and Respect”. I felt like taking the piss out of everyone that approached me.
After being sick of being fed up, I went outside to reflect on the passed weekend. I began to realize that this might have been the beginning of the end. I felt ok with that. The scene has been the same since I joined, but it has changed as well. This life is a paradox. A paradox in phat pants.
Taz the Furnace
------------------
Infesticon #0, Murder Blah Blah, ur all Yakitty-Schmackity.
As I awoke, I saw myself gaining on the horizon. The destination was the flatlands of Saskatoon. It took me 5000 thoughts to get there. I was going to “The Summit”, a four day rave. I took this trip with four others. The brash American was there with his chartreuse-haired alien girlfriend by his side. The other was a somewhat angry raver named Alice (sweet girl, too gothy), and myself.
Together, we were on a journey. Nevertheless, I was on a different journey than the others. What was in store for me?
We arrived and I jumped into party-mode. We ventured into Zombies, the local watering hole. There I was dancing in a dance club smaller than some people’s egos, and having a look at my future.
If you're wondering at all, yes I felt the vibe, cruised the wave, and did whatever people do in this scene.
The beginning of the endless amounts of remixes of the sounds of Paul Van Dyk and Carl Cox started to ring through my mind. I saw that the looks on people’s faces were beginning to change. I started to feel a little numb. It was odd. I turned to look at our venue for the night. Although it was small, it reminded me of the life. I danced that night like always.
I spent most of the next day wandering the streets of the bustling metropolis that is Saskatoon. It was the same as any town, just smaller.
It had its Wal-Mart filled with phat pants, it’s Randy River filled with phat pants, and the local arcade was filled with them too. Don’t forget the grocery store, the post office, Spatula City, the local sewage treatment center, the emergency room, the Laundromat, and the record store (Man, the record store was so bad I ended up being sick). Even the film I saw that weekend had kids in phat pants in it. Summing up this weekend by using phat pants as a metaphor, simile, or allegory would be almost perfect. Not quite, but it would have to do.
As I rested myself for our first real night out, we wondered what was in store for us. I didn’t know. So I went to the local oracle and she didn’t know squat. I also visited the local shaman, medicine man, guru, swami, and called Dionne Warwick. Well, I didn’t talk to Dionne, but Cher was there. She also was familiar with the feeling of knowing squat. Nevertheless, the night was looming on us, and I felt enormous stress from it. Was it going to suck? I certainly didn’t want that. None of us did. But, how was I supposed to prevent a disastrophe like that? I had to do whatever I could. This was the true reason for my journey. I was there to prove a point. Actually, I was there to be made an example of.
When I arrived at the party, I was alerted by the changes in people’s faces. Ghouls busted out of everywhere, and creatures from outer space were swarming around looking for victims. I sent myself outside in fear of being consumed by the madness.
I found myself on the corner of Lorne and Cartwright, which to me could’ve been the middle of nowhere. As I stood at those crossroads and I talked to Alice about how I took comfort in the fact that I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted right now, and I was kinda iffy on what I wanted in the future. So there I stood, standing around, watching cars go by. Alice joined me in my mission to think, explore, and contemplate my mind. That night we enjoyed a talk about oblivion and nothingness.
We journeyed back to the venue and I wasn’t sure if we wanted to go in. I stood looking at the doors of awhile. In a daze, I saw an elite blabbing on his proverbial soapbox, and kids tired out by the heat of the experience. When I eventually went inside, I went to find the brash American and his chartreuse-haired alien who had taken off somewhere to get away from the insanity. I eventually found them in the mighty Explorer. After spending two hours contemplating life inside an S.U.V., we decided to pack up and leave.
The brash American couldn’t drive. The alien and her friend were strange to our ways to “driving”. Therefore, I had to come out of retirement, and again, drive for my life. I wasn’t driving to go back home, I was driving to get away from it all. I danced as if I was possessed that night.
We got back and slept until the late afternoon. We got ready for Saturday night. I heard they made a movie about Saturday Night. John Travolta was in it. I think it was called “The Muppets take Manhattan”. Anyhow, we got ready again for twelve more hours of lunacy. This was the main event. This was to break me or make me stronger.
We started walking towards our venue, the Saskatoon theatre of the arts. While we were walking, we realized that none of us had any clue where we were going. Then, like a beacon in the night sky, we saw our path. It was covered in glitter, soothers, and phat pants. It felt like we stopped walking and began to be pulled towards the venue. As we entered, we were approached by security. We flashed our elite laminated passes and gained entry.
I told my friend, the American,
“You know what we need right now to make this perfect? A little person.” And as soon as I said it, some little girl in teeny tiny overalls rave-danced past me. I was in awe.
The thumping beats were slowly surrounding me, and I took them in as my own. We set up camp right next to the naked female mannequin wrapped in Christmas lights. At least, I thought it was a mannequin.
After we got settled, I walked around to scope out the joint. There were giant pyramids covered in plastic wrap with black lights inside. There was a huge swimming pool full of Styrofoam popcorn, and a large raised dancefloor. I ran into friends that I hadn’t seen in ages, and we discussed the night and what was in store for us. After a quick meeting my friend Mitsubishi, I continued with my mission. In a daze, I saw three friends at a table passed out. On closer inspection, I realized only two were passed out, and the third was bored. I felt his boredom, but could not console him because I was having way too much fun. I also saw Archie and Jughead racing towards their destination, while Betty and Veronica were exploring themselves in the back of the jalopy.
Somewhere else, I saw the devil trying to break through the contrast of red and blue. It was his prison, and I was the warden. Then, I saw a woman trying to break free from her scientific dungeon. She was trapped and I felt like I had put her there. Now, I felt tired, and needed something to keep me going through the night.
By this time, the chartreuse-haired alien felt the same way, took my hand, and we were off. We were both looking for something. As she went into the girl’s bathroom I was hesitant. The alien looked at me, and told me that it would be ok.
I was not ready for this experience.
As I walked in, I saw a barrage of girls fixing their hair, chatting, and getting ready to face the warped version of reality that lay outside. Then, out of the corner of my mind, I saw distressed club girls siting and staring at all that was around them. Their eyes looked like dead souls were trying to invade my mind through sight.
At that time, my alien friend grabbed me and we ventured in a stall to talk about the night.
“How are we?” I questioned.
“We’ll be better now.” She tweaked to me.
I walked out of that bathroom with the feeling like my voltage was cranked to the hilt. I walked up towards God’s booth, and danced. My mind was racing with many thoughts, but one just kept on repeating.
“You must go faster, harder, stronger, and longer.”
I contemplated this, and concurred with full force.
During this time, I looked to the music to keep me going. I ignored all that was going on in my life, and rose above all the bleakness a rave can present at 6:00 in the morning.
As the hour struck nine, we left the disaster area. There was spilled glowstick blood all over, the air reeked of pot and denial, and there was the depravity of seeing messed up ravers trying to find another beat to dance to. Sometimes you have to realize that eventually the beats have to end.
The final night to test the limits of my personal degradation was upon me, and I was jumping in with both feet. We went back to the middle of nowhere, and walked into a black light heaven. Eyes were all messed up, and faces still didn’t resemble human beings. I looked around, and got fed up. I didn’t feel “happy”; I didn’t feel “Peace, Love, Unity and Respect”. I felt like taking the piss out of everyone that approached me.
After being sick of being fed up, I went outside to reflect on the passed weekend. I began to realize that this might have been the beginning of the end. I felt ok with that. The scene has been the same since I joined, but it has changed as well. This life is a paradox. A paradox in phat pants.
Taz the Furnace
------------------
Infesticon #0, Murder Blah Blah, ur all Yakitty-Schmackity.
