Thursday, May 26, 2005

Bolivian Marching Powder

Lorenzo over at Mercutio club remninded me of this little piece of literary narration from Jay McInernys "Bright Lights, Big city", a book I actually liked from I think '84.


You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here you are, and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy.

You are at a nightclub talking to a girl with a shaved head. The club is either Heartbreak or the Lizard Lounge. All might come clear if you could just slip into the bathroom and do a little more Bolivian Marching Powder.

Then again, it might not.

A small voice inside you insists that this epidemic lack of clarity is the result of too much of that already. The night has already turned on that imperceptible pivot where two A.M. changes to six A.M. You know this moment has come and gone, but you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which all is gratuitous damage and the palsy of unraveled nerve endings. Somewhere back there you could have cut your losses, but you rode past that moment on a comet trail of white powder and now you are trying to hang on to the rush. Your brain at this moment is composed of brigades of tiny Bolivian soldiers. They are tired and muddy from their long march through the night. There are holes in their boots and they are hungry. They need to be fed. They need the Bolivian Marching Powder."
I have an interesting (well not really, but at least less than banal) connection to the guy who wrote it actually. My aunt Allison used to date the guys brother (or maybe it was his cousin, I cant remember it was 1986); and they kind of viewed themselves as "southern royalty" though actually they were originally from Chicago I think...

Anyway, I always liked that little bit; at one point I could remember it all by heart, though that time has long passed. Thankfully we have the miracle that is Google these modern days.

Although I've never been a coke user, I have been in that exact state of mind. 6 am, all night long with god knows how many women; kissing, touching, dancing, sweating... maybe that last one wasn't a woman, but she sure looked like it; and damn could she dance...

Yeah, I've been there.

Do I miss that shit... eh.... sometimes yeah.

When I was in Ireland, after I split with my wife, and after the Lisa affair I went a bit nuts. I had weeks and weeks where I wasnt working, and I'd jsut go out to goth and metal places and just freak all night friday saturday sunday... sleeping on the floor in some girls house while her boyfriend is off in cork or summat...

But it was fun. So much fun it was work. So much work it was exhausting. Then it wasn't fun any more.

Yeah... I've been there; and it didnt take any bolivian marching powder to get me there.