Bodies. So many bodies. Shapes, sizes, textures, height : irrelevant to the sweat and shrieks of ecstasy (be it the drug or emotion) that coated the night of the Deadmau5 concert. What is it about this mass of people that held me paralysed, for a moment? Was it the unity : the profound surrender to digitised beats and the bodily Simon-Says when he raised his arms (or weapon) and we all followed? Or the realisation that, in amongst this mass – you were nothing to everybody, but you were part of the everybody that the godlike mau5head played in front of?
I’m not sure what I was looking for when I entered the gates, but I know amongst the smoke, the tequila and the beating around me : I was left somewhat empty. As a child, I thought this was everything. This is life. Or, ‘the’ life, rather. But somehow, the temporal pleasure I gained seems presently insignificant. The transcendent experience of being a part of a mass chanting lyrics seemed to not have grown me, but rather left me with this hollow crash as I blog about my night at 1:26AM.
As I left the bathroom, there was a girl shouting at a boy about what an asshole he is. Around the food area, there were people half dazed, passed (or passing) out. There was an emptiness that Vwater, Olmeca and God knows what else could not fill. Where there’s people, there’s inevitably drama – and I probably contributed to the percentage of lacklustre hearts with fired bodies that populated the main area. Indeed, a single personal confrontation with whom I previously deemed a beautiful soul left me feeling smaller than the percentage of people that left the night sober.
But, it did help me realise something. How insignificant are these tiny moments of heartbreak, when all we do is really calculated by the raising arms of the DJ, whether his mau5head comes on or off, whether he builds or drops…and whether we choose to go through life drunk or sober, or a tizz in-between. The world is filled with thousands of bodies, all congested into a mass that excretes a single chemical composition of sweat. Nobody is perfect. Nothing will ever be perfect, and I guess all we can do sometimes is wait for the next build.
Or listen to Hannah Montannah.
Lol jk I’d rather die.
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