August 23, 2008

Bike Ride.

I jumped on my bike and rode 24 km (about 15 miles)1 this morning. I had a burst of creativity about a third of the way into the ride and I formulated a bunch of blog entries I’m going to tackle over the next couple of weeks. I even remembered to write down my thoughts when I arrived home.

By the way, I have discovered the bliss of no underwear under my bike shorts. w00t!

Here’s a snippet of the ride. Notice I don’t know what the date is.

1 In an effort to support my sister who now lives in Canada (most of the time) and because I am such a geek and this weird need to make myself stand out a bit, I have made a personal conversion to metric. Well, most of the time.

Night and Day.

I’m always amused when I read various blogs from big city folk and they talk about how the clubs are too busy and things are just too gay gay gay some days. There is just simply too much to do and they have no idea how they are going to fit it all into their schedule.1

After a one week absence, last night I DJ’d at the only gay club within 50 miles of our house. It’s my regular Friday night gig and one that I moderately enjoy. I have to tame my music selection considerably in order to keep the crowd’s attention, as the belief in these parts is that if you haven’t heard it regurgitated on the radio and can’t sing the words to it, it’s not worth the time or energy to dance to. At least I have gotten them trained to realise that remixes are o.k. and that super electronically augmented Britney is still super electronically augmented Britney regardless of what has been done to the song to make it a little more bearable.

There were less than 20 people in the club the entire night. At 12:50 a.m. I couldn’t continue the gig in good conscious and drain one of the cash registers with my appearance fee, so I slashed my prices faster than you can say Wal*Mart (Always White Trash, Always), popped in one of my pre-mixed CDs that would carry them to closing and said good night. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fill the dance floor with the music selection, there wasn’t anyone to get onto the dance floor to begin with. The club used to thrive and the dance floor used to be packed. Last night I considered shooting off a cannon to see if I could hit anyone.

At first I took this personally and figured that this old warhorse has run his course and can’t draw the crowds in like he used to. But as we made our way home Earl and I drove through the Brewery District and found all the clubs there dead as well. There just ain’t any people here.

That kind of sucks.

Earl and I do a lot of traveling to keep our schedules busy, to play with those that think like us and to find a day that is just too gay gay gay. So if you’re a reader from a big city that has managed to squeeze the time to read this entry into your hectic schedule, please be advised that there are many of us out here that have little to do outside of bitching about the small town we live in on our blog.

1 This is not to be confused with being too immersed in the culture. Sometimes too much of a good thing is really too much of a good thing, but it’s still a good thing.