Went to the Turkish baths today for massage and steam and salt water Jacuzzis. Ooo yeah. 

Then we went to the clubs tonight. Not rock clubs, or cool clubs or scene clubs, but regular clubs, dance clubs, mainstreamers’ clubs. Top 40 music type places. The kinds of places where you see the people standing in line in the front waiting to get in. I always wondered why those people stood there like that just to get into a club, and who would want to get into a club that didn’t want them in there, you know, if they’re not smiling from ear to ear at the door and shaking your hand because they are happy to see you like is the case in the kind of clubs me and my boys have been going to for years, then why would you possibly want to go in? Well I wanted to check it out. 

Pretty wild and crazy. This is where all the short-hairs hang out. All the guidos, and the chicks with the short dresses and low cut jeans and the ‘you’re not going to fuck me” frowns on their faces. Every one is dancing like crazy and getting drunk. Total hedonism. Fun stuff. if you can bear being in this kind of crowd for long. And not actually talking about anything important or intelligent. And of course the music is dreadful. Combination top forty mixed with dance. They’re just dancing and drinking and trying to pick each other up. Again, just a totally different trip than when you go to more of a scene type of place where people are listening to more underground stuff and talking about this or that, politics, what documentaries they are working on or whatever. Just a very different crowd of people. These crowds are just dancing to the latest “50 Cent” tune or whatever dance song is happening in the moment.  

So less than an hour into it, I find myself on the dance floor just totally making out with this chick from Spain. And my friend comes over to me and he’s like “dude, now do you see why we come to these clubs?!” and he high fives me. and I’m like “dude!” 

Yea and then like three hours later we see her making out with some other guy on the dance floor. And I’m like “o.k. so about this whole “free love” ideal I have. Its not so easy as I thought. 

But then we’re whizzing down the highway at 5 am in the morning listening to Dean Martin sing us home. And all was well.  

Current Spin: Dean Martin, the capital years.