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We jumped into the VW Boxback after we finished the funky mess the Kettle served. Rachel already showed signs of the Thumbs Up. When she opened the door, she fell on her butt in the parking lot. After a slight giggle, she plopped into the back squeezing onto my arm and giggling wildly. Alex pumped Dead Prez all the way downtown. The bass rattled creative, abstract thoughts from all of the passengers. No one spoke, we just watched the downtown lights swallow each thought with liquid distance closing as each lane stripe passed.

We passed around a liter of bottled water, before we left the car. Dehydration corrupts many experiences on the town.....no hydration, no movement. At Ruta Maya, we hung in the smokery waiting for Javier to arrive. A cocaine white Altima shook the ground with the Beatnuts as it pulled up. Javier and Kung-Fu graced the bystanders with a 78704 strut only matched by yours truly. Kung-Fu's pressence reminded me of the warm glaze slowly removing gravity from surroundings. Love lingered as my lone thought, but Kung-Fu always brought the variable. A cool fellow at times, Kung-Fu is someone you want on your side. But tonight, we didn't need the action he brings. He claimed to be a karma vigilante, trouble comes from this title. I felt better when I learned he came to see the show at the Mercury. Staring punks down and machismo weren't planned into our evening, and they left with Kung-Fu.

We arrived at the Club later than we planned. The drink prices doubled at midnight, and we rolled up around 12:10. Our intentions and desires reflected from the lasers and mirrors sprawling around the dance floor. The light system inside recieved the nickname "Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test." Caused by a Halloween LSD excursion we tripped four years ago where four of us dressed as day glow freakies. We all met Ken Kesey that night, you know what I mean. Tonight differed in a new way. Namely, Thumbs Up instead of white blotter. Alex held on to the back of shirt as I ventured across the dance floor trying to make it to the staircase. But the love and the bass jarred my mind into a frenzy of movements unified by the room's dancing and my own. My loosened memory felt the first sting when I got upstairs. The neon clock pulled my vision to the attention of 2:30. Only an hour and a half remained within the club. We'd hit after hours at someone's house, but that's a different thing altogether. I found Alex, Rachel, and Javier chilling on the leather sofas indulging in each others grips and textures. Behind them stood a sweet little Latino shorty. In the same state as me, we both moved our way around the couch and OH CURTAIN! A silk, off white hanging curtain grabbed me and begged me to touch. Touch I did with love and happiness. I forgot about the shorty, but she remembered me. The curtain became obselete when her nails dug into my the middle of my shoulders. They clung to my skin in an understanding fashion releasing endorphin after endorphin as they reached the bottom of my back. My attention caught up with my body......greeted by the sensation of her moist lips on mine. A physical tracer strayed across my back while a new wave of senations came from her lips and soft skin my fingers pulled across.

Heaven abruptly ended with a surge of force throwing me over the couch and onto the floor. Yelling became more and more audible when the feeling of the carpet and coffee table left my mind. What seemed like a blurry demon of sorts restrained my soulmate and delivered a left hook. A sharp amount of pressure spread the right side of my face into my eyes and through my hair folicles. Had I been punched or did the demon want to touch the curtain? The disorientation of the second punch tipped me off. I stumbled back happily into a couple sitting down. They gladly accepted my presence with heavy petting and fogetful whispers. Two people with love grabbed me and dragged me downstairs. They propped me up at the bar, and Bisset placed water in front of me. I jellied back with the sensation of coldness filling my insides. I lit a Camel when my friends found me. Boxback home to a bed waiting for a silly suckapant.

I woke up the next day with a black eye and a memory of the Kettle. Over the next week, I regained the events of that evening through interaction with several of my friends. Mostly the bar staff from the Club. Slim and Crunch informed me how they saved me from a beating I seemed not to notice. As a rule for myself, I don't touch Thumbs Up or its relatives anymore. Honestly, it gave me one of the coolest memories I've had, but the memory came back from conversation, not my mind. Well, some of it did.....

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