the flesh door

Last night I drank a Maxomator, among other things. This is a beer with 11.6% alcohol content. If I were to write a whole entry about Thursday, I would call it “journey to the toilet across from my room.”

Today, I went to the Flêche d’or. In my mind, however, I think of it as The Flesh Door. Going to clubs, I find, is always vaguely, if not extremely, disappointing. I think that I just don’t get it. That’s fine with me though. However, I was not feeling malaise, but just a slight disappointment that the night wasn’t more exciting. Well anyway, I suppose I could say a lot about why I don’t understand clubs, but I wouldn’t be saying anything new. In fact, I think that my good friend Ezra, in his blog Hampshire Fucking College, described very well the way I sometimes feel about clubbing in his post “Night of a thousand tears,” although he is talking about college parties in that case.

On that note, I ought to say that anyone reading this blog should also check out Ezra’s blog. I really enjoy Ezra’s blog. Ezra seems to experience a lot of malaise, too, but he talks about it in a wittier way than I do.

Oh, and one more thing. It’s occurred to me that these entries might misrepresent my life here. Well, that’s okay with me, but I do want to mention that, in my opinion, I do give myself a healthy dose of culture every week. But to actually talk about that, I feel, would be too close to a travel blog.