Geek About Town

Sunday, 3 May 2009

Those in need...

When I venture mid town I am definitely some kind of freak. I see my reflection shrieking in large shop windows as a gaze at screaming women and howling men. In the midst of the sweat stains streets there is a frenzied madness that is borderline insane. Where those on the edge call wildly at those too timid to let go. Let loose and go hell for leather at the night, let problems dissipate and drugs facilitate an explosion of joy.

My good friend of the same name, described popular city nightclubs as breeding grounds for all the sexually frustrated people of the world, all those desperately in need of approval or validation by a stranger. This fact is an urban, unspoken secret, using groups of friends, the venue and sticky drinks as a cover. Jumping, bouncing and grinding on a randomly lit dance floor pushing fake smiles out of horny minds, most people just want to fuck. Social interaction is pointless; any communication not involving hand gestures or facial expressions is futile. All movements become heightened and highly expressive, statements immediately become short and imperative, "can you hold that", "go and wait over there" or my personal favourite "I beg you to stop".

Last night's particular venture was only to acquire a pack of Marlboro Silver cigarettes. From where I live it is not long before one can hear the hum and buzz of Manchester's PrintWorks. Of those out there who do read this blog, I would cherish to know what they think of this area on a Saturday night. The PrintWorks is a club complex put simply, a large building hosting around ten large clubs each with their own style. It is situated at a major T-Junction where cars, busses and taxis regularly pass through. All roads eventually lead to this pumped up place, where an array of different social groups clash and congregate to exchange views and occasionally bloody blows. Chavs, trendies, rockers, geeks, freaks, skinheads, fresh-boys and most upsettingly, that special and terribly embarrassing group; single, half clad, badly tanned men and women in their late 40's. No, no, no, no, no, regardless of what physique, demeanour, style or personal grace you possess, it is discredited when attempting to ingratiate yourself into this style of nightlife. Go home, go to a nice place, go to somewhere quiet and stylish, this is young a person's game.

I see Manchester playing host to more and more stereotypes, not individuals but groups of men and women who can easily be assessed, dissected and understood; transparent troupers. Do they want to be the centre of attention or simply at the centre of it all? I really have no idea.

Marlboro held pincer tight, thumbing carefully over the filtered tip, I give them all one last bewildered look, inhale hard on the warm night air, and then disappear.