Wednesday, 23 January 2013

Cake and Tequila


Last night we partied. It wasn't a giant one, no more than twenty of us. We set the Lodge up simply–some lights, two turntables and a mixer, a little sound system, the right people, and the right music: everything from the Velvet Underground, Le Tigre, Crystal ArkGolden Teacher, to YACHT. It started at eight in the evening and just kept going. There was very little effort on anyone's part beyond creating a platform with all the right elements thrown on top of it, then just letting it grow into whatever it wanted to be. When it finally sprouted, the people screamed like Holy Ghost revivalists and danced like they do at secret warehouse parties in Berlin, Montreal and Brooklyn. From way out here in the woods, far from the nearest city (let alone a maintained highway), up an icy road deep in the mountains we could feel them–all the other people out there eating cake and drinking Tequila, liberating themselves through disco and falling in love with their own autonomy. Sometimes, when we're doing nothing more than allowing ourselves to create and experience collective joy and goodness, it feels like we are doing the most important work we can, that a new paradigm is being born just by the way we live in this one, and that it is possible to dance this mess of a world around. My friend E often says "A good house party is one of the only things we have left. They've taken everything else from us." I laughed the first time I heard him say this, but I think he's on to something. A good party is like a dose of freedom, one that is strong enough to make people believe that life never has to be anything less than wonderful ever again. 


photo: Whisky Rae


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