bohemian slapfight

I realize I talk in generalities and theoreticals, in wishes and fairy poops, mostly.  Not because I aim to mystery but because I actually mostly think in wishes and fairy poops for all.

So it’s kinda weird for me to discuss actual stuff.   Like real stuff that really happened to real me, so bear with me.  

There was once this place that I incubated in, that I came to myself in, and died a million times in.  I loved and lost and loved again.  I mopped up blood doing it and punched out people doing it and danced and cried and served up a billion drinks.  It was a dark little asshole of a place in Calgary called The Warehouse.  It entertained every effed up incarnation of me I could lay on it.  It had seen it all, and much more before, and my bs attempt at shock was nothing. It was the most amazing place I’d ever been.

I finally wasn’t strange.  I finally wasn’t weird.  And for this reason I kind of…became me.  I got a job there.  All my friends worked there.  We were this weird, odd little family. 

I didn’t go to University until much later.  I didn’t even finish high school, technically. I hated every single fucking moment of fucking high school.   I couldn’t relate and no one could relate to me.  The only official explanation was that I was weird or unstable.  I caused my parents terrible grief but still I was monumentally, suicidally sad and alienated and bereft.

Until this one wonderful place.  This one accidental place.

It’s over, the Warehouse.  It’s finally closed.  After 25 years it’s over.   I knew it had to go, of course, eventually.  I’d snag my arm sometimes on its many metal risers and immediately begin checking for flesh eating disease.  Its warped floorboards reeked a sweaty, boozy smell even in bright moonlight.  Its time was coming.  

It went through many owners.  The first were Ed and Darrell, a masochistic  though prominent club owning duo with a fetish for money.  Think Mr Burns.  Except there were two of them.  They sold it eventually to a close friend of mine, who managed to die like a fool in a car accident the night before the sale took place.

Everybody say Limbo!

It may sound sad to some of you but my life, my worldview was shaped by this underground web of people.  Instead of going to college, this is where I went.   By the black punks and the asian goths and the girl gehys and the Indian drag queens and the trans bears and the ladyboy ravers and the burly geeky smartypants.  We brought each other up.  The place changed as time went on; people eventually wanted to capitalize on the weirdos.  When it was good though, it was like some dingdong heaven; we all accepted, and encouraged, each other in spite of our differences. In that building we were all fucking outcasts, didn’t matter what type of outcasts we were, we just knew we all shared the mutual affliction of being different.  We came together as freaks and ‘others’ . We looked out for each other and defended each other because we were actually all really unique and bright and fucking ridiculous.  We bore the shame of not being ‘normal’ well most of the time and sometimes we even laughed about it, because we had people to do that with.  It was a really cool, awesome place to learn about life and to grow up.  It created me.  And I’ll miss it like an old friend. 

Even now, so far removed in time and space, I already miss it terribly.