Redeye June 17 2004

Nothing like the U2 song: So, Fri., June 11, a celebration of the right to bare — not arms, just bare — was held at the Fulton Industrial warehouse Club Desire (formerly Club Kink), where ladies with genital piercings got in free (so, F.U. Georgia Legislature). Like the Secret Room meets Fantasm — complete with goth girdles grotesquely straining at the seams and a grope gauntlet — a night at Club Desire is like the Mardi Gras of the macabre, and I’ll call that out as an acquired taste, to say the least.

Getting hot and heady: The heat lightening Saturday afternoon should have been an indication. It started as a sweltering day, sharing a bottle of red wine on a rooftop deck. Heat will drive you crazy, but the slope gets much more slippery with alcohol. How else to explain ending up in Virginia-Highland staring down a lime and salty descent?

I’m at Taco Mac sharing tequila with a gaggle of Emory “sorostitutes.” I wouldn’t have even known that word if it weren’t for some bubble tea, top-shelf liquor and backseat rutting (for the record, my booze, not my rutting).

I spent much of last week driving aimlessly — the CD player’s random button the only random thing in my life. But because of a chance meeting, my routine felt briefly a little less constrictive, and I was dragged out of the norm for two nights, watching people pair off, going zero to 60 in record time. It’s not even my scene, yet I’m two for two on shots.

Actually, I think everything was in pairs even before I was seeing double. Two pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon at bathroom graffiti king Moe’s & Joe’s. Parliament Lights, what felt like two at a time. Two of us. Two of them.

Looking around the neighborhood at the idling upwardly mobile — pissing away fleeting moments harder to bottle than any copper-distilled 90-proof — I can identify, though aloofly, with their desire to grease the wheels of familiarity. Amazing what an afternoon shower brings. It’s officially summer, and I’m soaked.

Still seeing double: As any female age 7-14, and any male 24-34 likely knows, the Olsen twins turned 18 Sun., June 13. To celebrate, I shared beers at Decatur’s Brick Store Pub. An inky black, malty brew named “Entire Butt” at that. It seemed appropriate. What was more exciting, however, was the list of high-alcohol content beers available for sale July 1, including Delirium Tremens, a fruity, golden blond (don’t that sound good, and appropriate) triple fermented beer I tried in New York a couple of weeks back. Add Decatur’s ability to pour till 4 a.m., and here’s to seeing pink elephants.

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