It's taken me a number of days to mentally process New Year's Eve because, quite frankly, it was mind blowing. Or should I say mind enhancing? I guess that's what happens when you commit yourself to a full night of revelry with your manic depressive, severely confused, and otherwise messed in the head younger brother like I did.
We began our night in the parking lot of the Tweeter Center in Camden, N.J. surrounded by all the other beautiful, messed in the head people. We slid into the funky current smoothly and quickly, and cut the ties completely with the rest of our collar popping, Prada carrying contemporaries when we slipped those small pieces of paper under our tongues.
I parted ways with brother inside the building in front of the flame dancers, and we each set off with our respective s.o.'s. Fully engulfed in the sea of freaky people, I always dwell on how creative people can be when removed from the grips of pop culture. This room was throbbing with creativity.
I'm inspired when surrounded by the people who infuse so much art and beauty and insanity into their lives. What would happen if we gathered up this group of dreadlocked, drugged up, smiling group of kids and created a city. I'd live there. We'd all smoke pot and make music and art and have really great sex every day.
A thousand ideas like this one were bouncing around my head like those awesome little balls that came in plastic eggs you used to get at the grocery store toy machine for a quarter. I'm talking, synopsis were firing like crazy. Pop, pop, pop, and I'm all smiles and feeling pretty damn good.
B and I took some seats and watched the sea of glow stick waving circus dwellers swimming past as the music took over our minds. We were snatched out of dirty Camden by the collars and dropped in the middle of some kind of Kesey day-glo experiment.
I'm completely caught up in this glow-in-the-dark, neon, pulsing world, and I look at B and love him to death for being the only one in the universe who can understand me without speaking, because I sure as hell can't get intelligent words out of my mouth at the moment.
Brother and s.o. joined us for the Disco Biscuit experience, and we watched each other sway to the beats and giggle like four year olds. There were scores of musicians playing brass instruments, screaming guitars, and beating drums. In the lobby were skinny, long haired DJs spinning hip hop infused beats in time with hypnotic video screens.
And when the clock struck midnight, and the ceiling rained down a wave of balloons and confetti, I was swollen with gratitude for the artists who created this world for us, and giddy at the thought of another year filled with exactly this.