Today at work I got an email from a friend suggesting I meet him and some others at a club I hadn't been to yet. I'd mostly quit shooting for the past couple of weeks so I could catch up a bit, but this venue only plays the first Friday of the month, and it has a reputation for drawing the dancers from the other places when it's on, so I figured I could float a couple rolls of film.

I got there early enough to meet the promoter and cage admission because I'm shooting for a (couple of) website(s), and got the woman who was going to meet me there on the list too. Folks starting trickling, then pouring in, and the DJ and EmCee began playing jungle with bass that shook the building and rattled my fillings. With $1 Kamikazis and a $5 drinking budget, about 30 frames to expose and a nice feeling to the music, I positioned my self between two speakers, where those with unimpaired hearing dare not go, and dispatched myself periodically to shoot individuals that seemed photogenic, or bunches caught by the (only) two mirror lights or the strobe. A guy kept coming over to me telling me about some "geisha" dancers that were going to take the stage directly, encouraging me to make sure I got them on film.

John, Jennifer and Russ told me they were leaving for the Friday night Goth/industrial venue I usually attend, that was being held at a different place due to facility renovations at the regular place, but I hung on for a bit wanting to see what "geisha" dancers in a jungle club would be like.

The crowd at this place actually wore colors and some had hair not black. Most wore sneakers - not the boots I usually see. This was a whole 'nuther kind of place. But I lost interest before the stage show and drove over to Therapy, the Goth/industrial place.

Because this facility is an 18+ place that houses the Saturday night thing too (but I've avoided going to because I figured I'd get there next time Danielle was down visiting) it had some kids I hadn't met before. There was some pretty good style happening, and the music was a comfortable mix of sublime morbidity and volume, but the place had really bad lighting and the infernal fog machine so even if I wanted to I couldn't use any fill flash to mix up a bit of freezing with motion. Sigh... And the promoter asked me to shoot some clear pictures of the clubbers. Try explaining what happens to flash in a room filled with foggers to a guy who's never owned a camera.

But I ran into a bunch of friends, including Kat here, who'd painted Maori tattoo patterns on her Marine boyfriend's face for the club. He complained to me about her beating his face with a really soft thing and the powder all over and having to wear a towel over his black shirt during the process, and I just nodded, being somewhat familiar with all of that.

These Goths have style. Most of them studiously avoid talking to me (I'm sure some still think I'm a narc) but others came and asked if they could download pictures I've made of them or friends at other places.

This girl is a wonderful dancer. She secures a sphere of influence precisely an arm's length radius around herself with limbs everywhere, though this picture certainly doesn't do her justice. I'll have to find that other scan somewhere and put it up. I think there's one with her and a few empty glasses on one of the pages, and I should have one with her long skinny legs from tonight if I'm lucky. Anyway, I said she could of course download anything I shot of her for her own website.

But eventually I ran through my film budget and said goodbye, climbing into the white Bronco (remarkably like the ones used by law enforcement, no doubt fueling more rumors) and left to drop off the film, and come back home. It's funny, but every time I think I'm done shooting something; every time I think I can't get any more blood from that turnip, and I go back and try, I get excited all over again. I KNOW there was stuff in the viewfinder that has never been there before. I know I climbed higher to make the horizontals of the dancefloors covered with random light, and I know this time I got the right glitter on the black vinyl pants, and I can't wait to see the slides tomorrow morning at 10. Maybe it isn't any different, but it felt like it was.

Well, I just thought I'd write this up here because telling my cat doesn't seem to make an impression on her. She mostly just wants to shed her hair on my photo black uniform and purr.

So that's what I did tonight. And I enjoyed it.

-Don