emmanuelle cunt wrote:I think I will always remember to look around for alternate doors when I enter a club. And simply get the fuck out after seeing smoke. The mind-boggling thing about this video (one of many things) is how short and ordinary the difference between life and death is. Some people there don't even seem to be concerned, I imagine some of them trying to finish what they're saying before moving out, or wasting 10 seconds to get find their bags cause why hurry? So sad.
After Whitehouse finished up their set at the Elekrowerkz last month the place turned into a full on Goth rave. I never knew that Goths were hot for trance and the like so we stuck it out for an hour or so to gawp at them and laugh. Cheap, I know, but we were drunk. Anyway, we're in one of the side rooms and we see that there's a guy stood off to the corner dressed in what's pretty much a full SWAT team uniform and a large black holdall. He proceeds to take from his bag a large silver flask - that resembles some kind of bomb - and unscrews it, pours off some liquid into another cannister as we stand there incredulously observing this curious behaviour. He spends a while mixing together this concoction, and for about ten minutes we're stood there trying to make sense of what we're watching before it's decided that leaving the room is a good idea. In the event, he obviously wasn't a crazed Goth bomber, because the only explosions that night were of Goth brains straining under the weight of voluminous quantities of amyl nitrate. What I suppose I'm getting at is that sometimes, faced with shit like this, you don't necessarily compute what's going on in any meaningful way until there's a clear and present threat. I suppose the alternative is to always be on your guard - but doing that surely negates a chunk of fun you could be having throwing shapes with someone in patent leather pants and a face like a transexual panda.
