The Long and the Short of it

People came to the Phoon- some of them I didn't want to see- not even my friends, close to enemies.

One guy got cranked on coke and was randomly talk shit to people- another guy was so drunk we had to have security take his keys and call .08 to drive him and his car and his SCARED SHITLESS date home (first "date"- friend of his roommate- I'd feel sorry for him but he is so clueless as to how un-appealling he is that it wouldn't be worth my time).

And Cynthia- on a coke rage- being loud and self righteous- I had to ask her to use her inside voice. And me- in the middle of this- sketched out- up for 40 hours, "e"-tarded, been drinking for 12 hours and hopped up on speed- and the only halfway normal person there.

Except Linda- sweet, sweet woman- gave me a baggie of weed! Love that woman- it's the only gift I got!

Went home- changed- went to stereo (second gift- free tickets from Sabrina!! Thanks, hon!) Turbo is back- we buy drugs at my house- get into the club and NO ONE WE KNOW is there.

Sure- Sara, Mel and the kids are in force- but the crowd is thin and looks like no one has actually paid to get in tonight as Morales is tomorrow and that will be FUCKED.

As this is Turbo's first night back in MTL since Europe- he's been drinking and did some speed and we have a new batch of G- he's WIRED in the first hour- which is a good thing- since he and I are the only people dancing out of the 200 peopel milling about Stereo.

It's Big Al's fucking birthday gig! And it is beginning to look like a junior high sock-hop, the boys and girls are seperated, the gays off in their corner, no one is dancing!

My body is killing me from lack of sleep and the hard work out I gave it the night before- but somehow I get dancing for an hour and eventual the crowd warms up (read: their E hits them). I vanish to the side to jsut listen to the music.

Then- I see it- two girls are rubbing water all over some guy who's convulsing near a speaker stack... then I look again- IT"S FUCKING TURBO- I run down to see what the fuck, his face is so contorted I barely recognize him, and every muscle in his body seems to be clenching and un-clenching in unison.

He's gotta sit down- oddly my first thoughts aren't about his health- it's about his pride: would he like to be known as one of the guys who's wiped out at Stereo- or can I get him off to a corner where he can G out with some dignity?

Turb's a big guy, though- I call Ian over to help- but he just laughs at him. Turbo can't speak- he doesn't even seem to recognize me. He keeps putting his hands to his mouth like he is about to vomit, which is the ony real hazard. If he inhales his own vomit he will sufficate on it...

On our way to a corner he grabs ahold of one of the pipe columns and won't let go- this is getting scary- so I relent and get security..they take him downstairs and watch him for an hour until he passes out- I leave my number in case he needs a lift or his condition changes and go hame at 6 AM- Pass out.

Sleep until Morales' birthday- Saturday- 1 AM- Stereo Bar so I don't have to wait in line. Excellent- what more can I say- God Damn excellent night- 16 hours of dancing- if you didn't see me there there's no way to describe it.

(every once-in-awhile if I was talking to someone and Morales would play a new tune I would yell " FUUUUCCCKKKK MEEEEE" and shoot back to the dance floor- amazing!)

And that was that.