Clubbing

from to club

       verb;

       To beat with a heavy stick, usually thicker at one end, suitable to be used as a weapon.

Good to know, but certainly not what I mean.

Remeber Pac-Man? Little round chap, wandering about dark rooms filled with bright white spots where loud, electronic, repetitive music could be heard, avoiding phantoms like entities? I can empathise abit right now.

My head is buzzing, but not swimming. It might account for any unusual degree of uncommoness about this post. Bear with me. Like you always do, friends dearest.

There's this friend of mine I've known since... 1995! Feels so long ago now, but I still remember how we first met and how we became such friends. I mean, such good friends. We kept really close until about 2002. Then college, the best thing to ever happen to me though it may be, put an end to many good things I had going on. It did make us a bot apart, but it takes more than a highly (un)organised and quite powerful teaching institution to break such friends apart for good. This week I thought I'd look him up and get together. We did.

Tonight, he invited me to go clubbing (no, not bludgeoning) with him. I did. It was (is, really) so not me, to go clubbing, and to that point, we realised, each holding a glass of crushed ice, lime and liquor that in the 12 years we've known each other, we had never gone for a night out together.

And what do I have to show for it? The music reminded me of my Philosophy final paper, back in 2001 (long as hell, but saying barely anything. Worth an A-. 19 out of 20, that was). The people around I had never met, might never meet again and if I do, I won't know it, and I don't much care for drinking; two shots to make minimum consumption and a Caipiroska (lime juice, sugar and vodka, shaken with crushed ice, in the very odd chance you're wandering) can't really make my head feel lighter or any such effect, but the music did a bit of a number on my ears. For a while, that was.

My final account? Best night of the whole Summer. As per Austin Danger Powers, KBE's immortal words, "Yeah, baby!" So I'm pretty tired and I feel somewhat "busted up", mainly beacuse I was feeling a bit under the weather to begin with this morning, but I don't recall ever being happier these last few months year. Sure, I could not be going to bed alone, but, then again, I could be obscenely wealthy, live in a white marble manor just outside London with a full complement of serving staff waiting on my hand and foot for my every desire, have a British Racing Green Jaguar XJ8 Sovereign LWB (for a quiet, comfortable drive) and a Plate Jaguar XJK (for a spirity drive) in my garage and shelter a dozen gorgeous and sculptural raving nymphomaniacs head over heels in love with me, but often that which we most ardently desire might stop us from enjoying that which we do have. (meaning, of course, "Not going to happen, old chap, carry on".)

Pax vobiscum atque vale.

ArabianShark wishes to apologise for attempting to mislead his faithful readers into shedding some e-blood for his own profit. But you're all still welcome to keep donating.