mr. mittens (akmed) wrote,
mr. mittens
akmed

"this is a blank formatted diskette"

on my birthday, i watched in line at manray while the door people hassled a black couple in front of me. i dont really mean hassle- lets cut to what we all know and dont fucking say- i mean they didn't want no niggers in there that aren't ' their' niggers especially not a hot woman and a man who are not pussy goth automatons.

" picture slaves sayin ' oh yessah massah' "- missy elliot

i have seen my own friends pierced over nearly every inch of their bodies and with every conceivable type of bondage stud belt/ bracelette on (which used to be illegal in the city of cambridge- i had some confiscated off the street in the 80s)- people who, if they accidentally leaned into someone could put out an eye or probably 2-coast through the doors. however, the women had on a leather bracelette with rhinestones on it and he told her it was ' dangerous' and she'd have to remove it... then they wanted to go through her bag then they snarled at the guy who was clearly over 18.. they let me in before them even though i was in back of them.

i am far from naive about boston /cambridge clubs and their notorious colour line. they' d all deny it to your face but i worked in these bars.. and quit primarily because the racism was unacceptable to me. since its opening, nearly all my black friends have commented on the problems they have had getting into man ray- black people who know more about what goth is than a bunch of closet case under 30 pansies who dont know who nico is and never met a sheep they dont like biblically.


funny- theyre fucking black- dressed in black...black .. come on , let's not split hairs , massah.

why do we allow this? why do we fucking put up with this? i know that me saying anything at all would fuck have done naught at the time- neither i nor the couple would have been let in and they clearly knew how to play the game anyway...why do we let asshole cops who'd let any 12 year old white altar boy in and shove drinks down his throat , treat of age paying black adults like less thans?

god knows they were dancing better than you lot- move your asses will you- you look like youre all crucified to the floor.

it's the early 90s. i am working at avalon. i was hired to play disco and 80s music before the big disco revival of the mid 90s. bitter, drug addled and angry i play a bizarre assortment of camp classics ranging from cher to' turning japanese' and careening into the supremes crossed with '911 is a joke'. suddenly my floor goes from making less than 300 dollars a night before i was hired to making over 3,000. one would think this means success.

sort of.

it seems my floor was filled with ... BLACKS ... and ' they don't buy drinks'( funny who was drinking 3000 bucks worth of the shit- only the whites in black face, always a popular club going element ?). mind you i am not projecting- these cocksuckers said this right out to my blonde aryan blue eyed face- "you have too many blacks on your floor- stop playing house music".

house music? the vapours, gogos and diana ross (circa the supremes) is house music?

it seems that on top of everything else, fag boy dj du jour downstairs is pulling no clients because he sucks at djing but must give a wicked hummer- everyone is upstairs in my room with the darkies. not good. i am not the fag boy du jour- i was suppose to be the replacement for demented drag queen and girlfriend. i was suppose to be ineffective so some cum licker downstairs could look golden.

in a fit of rage, i play a night of angry white horror- joy division, buzzcocks- and still the blacks won't go away- and theres more of them- the room is packed and sweat like water is pouring down the plastic in front of the booth- i channal something, someone and reach deep in thrashing anger- i put on nirvana's ' smells like teen spirit' as the floor manager starts snapping at me about blacks/ house music again...

the floor explodes. drag queens are on top of all the speakers, people are dancing on the carpet- pushing everyone up against the bars .in front of me is a surge of bodies and theyre singing at the top of their lungs...flailing stomping- the front plastic is steamed up completely.

i start crying- shaking and crying.

' would you put your arms around me / i wont tell anybody .. .you dont think id make it/ i never said i wanted to"- morrissey

i cue and spin the next song- i cant hear it- im bleary eyed - i dont know if its coming out over the system because everyone is screaming and clapping so loud i cant hear. i curl up in the back on the floor and cry some more- i know it's over. i know theyre going to fire me-i have power now.

my bar made mad money that night and no one was downstairs. they fire me.

" africa wont steer you wrong/ house music all night long"- jungle brothers and todd terry

"moon moon gold horned moon check the flight of bullets/ blunt the hunters knives/ break the shepards' cudgels/ cast wild fear upon the cattle, on men, on the creeping things that may not catch the gray wolf/ that they may not find her warm skin.

my word is binding/ more binding than sleep/more binding than the promose of a hero"

' nothing left to do but run run run/ let's run.. run with me.." -the doors
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