Seeing this makes me think I will be alone forever and I feel that these pricks are doing this public display on purpose to make chumps like me feel idiotic.
The handsome Armenian (I think) and the dumb redhead make their way to the V.I.P rooms. DJ spins some Kate Bush, Running Up That Hill and I think I might actually be enjoying it but lately I’ve been getting increasingly pretentious even with myself, even when nobody is around to witness it so I probably won’t allow myself to dance to it. The song brings to mind some films I saw as a kid. I think a lot of 80’s glam rockers were in them, sporting fright hair, orange lip-gloss and multi-shaded drugstore make-up eyes. There were lots of puppets and strange creatures and everything was like a dream inside an acid trip. I feel old all of a sudden.
I look around and realize I have no idea where Estelle is. I think she and Berlin scuttled off to some scummy corner of some bathroom, no doubt snorting white gold off piss-rank porcelain. I need my bed and so I exit without telling anyone (Estelle is the only person I know so it’s a ridiculous idea that I’d need to inform anybody else here of my departure). They won’t notice anyway, at least I think they won’t. I scale the wall of Moss to get to the door, green flashes still strobe behind me onto the seizuring crowd. I bust out the front door without a stamp to get back in. Rhi and the bouncer are still there checking the huddled line of people standing in the ridiculous downpour—they’re talking to some hipsters at the front and one of them gives Rhi a big hug. They’re allowed in and walk right through me into the club. Rhi looks at me as I leave but she doesn’t smile and instead just takes a drag from her cigarette and goes back to her list.