Well, a gaggle of gals kicked it in the kitchen of Blake et moi. Krissie, Sophi, Mercedes, Beatrice, Maria, Blake and myself. We gabbed and gabbed, sipping vino, talking A.P.C. jeans and discovering our thick web of connections. When we went next door (literally next door!!You could see our kitchen window from the party’s bathroom window!), !shock upon shocks!, it was the Philly DJ crew from Transit! Yes, the same Transit evening where Blake, Maria and I were the brunette babe crew with Lester in tow. Only last night, we were in a small second floor room, white walls, tile floor. The occasional white cube provided a leaning place or purse rest. A smoke machine filled the air, and Alexandra appeared, as promised, from a blend of blue and green light.
“Heyyyyy girls…..’
“It’s all the girls!” I yelled, feeling festive.
“I see…..,” Alexandra made a cat-pawing motion. “What’s up ladies, hehehe….”
The beat was pulsing, and our crew dispersed, rhythmically. A few wandered off toward the makeshift bar, a heavy plastic portable merch table, stocked with a jug of Georgi vodka, a jug of Evan Williams whiskey, and various mixers in two liter bottles. Sophi, Maria, and I jumped into the beat right away. I was swaying and raising my shoulders to the beat, when I turned and saw Shea’s chin-length black hair. I could see dark eyes and shaggy brown hair with gray wisps behind him…. Gerard.
I gave them both the ‘You…? You…!’ with my eyes and brows and added a wink for fun.
“Charliiiiiii!!!” They clobbered me with hugs and we fell into the beat.
“Charli! What’s up girl?? How did you find out about this??” Gerard asked, tossing his head back in a laugh.
“From Alexandra…. I live next door, though!”
“Ohhh, you know Alexandra too?”
“Yo, I want some of her acid!” Shea surveyed the room. “Wait, why is Krissie here? Charli, did you invite her?”
“No! We were all at Daddy’s! Alexandra invited everybody.”
“Well, I gotta go.”
With that, Shea turned to leave, and Gerard followed. They passed Alexandra on the way out, and she followed them into the stairwell. They lingered in conversation for a few moments.
I did not take any acid, but I entered my own blue-green world and had the time of my life, dancing. Sophi and I swayed to the beat and bounced and jumped. Maria and Blake and I rejoiced in being reunited, bodies in motion. The night seemed to go on forever (4-ever).
Around 4:45 a.m., things began to quiet down, and we all gathered outside. The air was still warm, and the quiet of the block inclined everyone to linger, chatting.
“… No, but seriously, we threw this party tonight because the people who are opening Studio B were working out of here,” said my old Philly DJ acquaintance who threw the party. “It’s opening tomorrow.”
“Wait, what’s Studio B?” Blake fluttered her eyelashes and gave a dreamy look.
“It’s a new club, right over there on Banker Street.”
I don’t know how or what drew me to this odd pocket of connectivity, but it’s alive, and I am surrounded by it. Thinking back to last year, I was in a totally different place…. So happy to be me and free and surrounded by these people, these possibilities, these clubs next door.
deux mille six 