everybody comes to a party
expecting a miracle
everybody comes to a party
expecting something for themselves
yeah but this is a party
where you bring your own miracle
mmm, and this is a party
where you give it all away
underworld ~ miracle party ~ underneath the radar
There is so much potential when you arrive at a party. It's like being the first person to finish a test; you might leave in tears, or you might leave feeling like you've just been kissed by the prettiest girl in the world, and you just won't know until you get there. Being at a real party, filled with intelligent insanity, spectacle, friendship and conversation, with all the right people in just the right place, is one of the finest highs of all. You feel like you're hurtling through the world, utterly unstoppable. It's best if you know where you are going...
It was so dark I could hardly find my feet when I stepped out of the cab and into the muddy grass of the parking yard. I hoisted my bag, clinking with bottles of champagne, and headed for the lights and the music, trailed by beloved and friends.
It may be petty, but there are few greater feelings than sweeping past a long line of people trying to get into a party or a nightclub, being warmly greeted by the doorman and walking in the door. The crowd in the kitchen -- that being the first room you walk into upon entering Freak Manor -- parted for me, and a chorus of voices greeted me, saying my name, waving hands in hello, proffering vodka or beer or rum. I smiled, hugged, kissed, shook hands, bouncing back and forth between constant companions and long-lost old friends. I counted at least thirty people in the kitchen alone, before heading into the dining room/dance floor to drop off my champagne.
The meeting and greeting is part of the fun at a Manor party. You never know which old friends you'll run into, what unexpected guests might be present ("You?! I didn't know you came here..."). You can admire the handsome elegance of the men -- from bondage gear to drag to vintage Victorian -- and the fanciful creations of the ladies... I watched a friend of mine in a holo-sparkly top and short leather skirt chat with another in a thousand-dollar evening dress. And, if you get bored, there's always the naked people. Pay no attention to the couple having oral sex in the corner.
I waded across the dance floor and waved to more people, dropping off my bottles, ducking out the side door for a brief moment to fire off a magnum of champagne, and brought it back indoors to share. I then proceeded to laugh, converse, drink, and be merry...
There's nothing like dancing in a crowd to a song you love, knowing you are surrounded by other people who love it too...
Heat and moisture washed around me as the crowd swirled and dove on the dancefloor. I was at just the right stage of drunkeness when my dancing becomes inventive, I start to catch the rhythm as well as the melody (most goth dancing is melody-based rather than rhythm-based) and just the right song came on. Rob Zombie? Oh, what the hell. I felt like I was in the nightclub scene in the Matrix, or the Succubus Club in the World Of Darkness, dancing while Rome burns.
The music eventually slowed to a sexy heartbeat, a flowing Delerium mix from their last album. I lost myself in the synaesthesia that sometimes affects me when I am deeply enjoying music, watching the universe inside my head.
The capacity of a party for the unexpected is never to be underestimated. This infinite possibility is the true joy at the heart of partying: putting together a group of people where miracles can happen. And, sometimes, they do.
I'd just finished commiserating with an friend about the decay of the gaming club at Western Washington University when she appeared in the archway between the dance floor and the living room. I'd known her for years; in fact, she was the one who first brought me here. I had thought her attractive then; she was beautiful now, with the poise that comes with growth. Slender but not slight, dark hair and huge elven eyes, and the rare ability to look good in anything...
She walked up to me, smiled, and kissed me for a short eternity. A dream come suddenly, unexpectedly true. When we parted she had an impish smile on her face. She touched my face and walked away.
And there are those rare moments when you are well and truly drunk, loving every single minute of it, when you do the typical things that drunks do, like singing along to a song. It's best if I left it at that, but never let it be said that I don't love Mirrorshades.
Eventually, though, it's time to go home, and relax. It's nice to have someone to go home with, especially an old, comfortable love, one that's stood the test of time. It may not be as glamorous as taking a different girl home every week, but there's a pride in stability, and the rapport that develops is another form of miracle.
But first, find a grassy hill, alone, and look up at the stars, and wonder, and dream. And know that such dreams do, in fact, come true.
This node is dedicated to the residents and regulars at Freak Manor, in Bellingham, Washington. Long live the House!