Nightlife Highlife
I. Time
it was at night
they always came out at night; not when the hands were divided between twelve and six, not thirty seconds or minutes after seven but nine. Nine o’clock was perfect.
all the deviants went out at Nine o’clock, they enjoyed the darkness
II. Street and scents
their heavy perfumes twisted up the noses of passers-by
mixed with the burning cigarette butts lining the street
and flashy cars that brightened the fog in the atmosphere
III. Everything shiny
jewelry so heavy and bright, time was neon, blinding
sharp nails that could have cut you and piercings that invited questions of purpose and adoration but also envy
colored hairs that embarrassed their parents because they didn’t accept them for who they were and fashion defined by sense of self
IV. The forbidden
they talked about all the taboos and engaged in them
they were bad news and preached exposure
but that’s what the parents of “good children” always told their children
V. Reasons
these things were done to express themselves, to control their environments, some merely compulsion
reasons weren’t necessary because they didn’t owe explanations as to why they chose to adorn their bodies
because flesh rots and burns and they’d have liked to believe their souls took these as identifiers
VI. Culture and flesh
just like tribal marks and clothes and how language lubricates stiff conversations
as old as time, they were of the beginning and a new birth all the same and must be of the end
they were of the nights that rolled out of dreadful days
VII. Freedom
and they said there was just something about the air at night that played with freedom
untangling them from pitiful mornings and signing in and out of log books
was it the traffic free roads or the knowing that work had ended and play had arrived
VIII. Sound
catholicism and anglicanism was classical music, street religion was afrobeats and all the sounds that influenced it
the difference in listening to sounds in homes during the day than at night with friends on body packed fields or tiny rooms with poor ventilation, struggling for air
but all that didn’t matter, the heat let off was due to conversion and mixing of repressed energies that had awaken
IX. Lights
the lights on these nights made them forget the discomfort of staring into bright lights
they were softer, seemed to project all the finest moments
they dispersed slowly from linearity as one person absorbed and touched another
X. Dance and laughter
passing currents from body to floor, recharging as they were of earth and belonged to it
the drums that forced their senses to bend and broke their bones one by one and folded into many styles like paper
games where prices were won and truths were told, the sound of friendship as a laugh enveloped and tickled these people from behind
XI. Alcohol
that’s how they felt, lightweight, as all the drinks they had consumed carried them as far as the electric guitar from 1:36–2:18 on skatvibrations’ jindadi, still farther they went
it pocketed anxiety and made every fantasy a possibility, every impossibility a small challenge
That they are, were, could be, can be whoever and whatever they want, the secrecy and mystery they and the night possessed
XII. Feelings
those nights that felt like they were in a movie, like they were being watched from their best angle, their best selves
they were writing themselves into history, biographies, their version of events
of nights that were filled with nothing but were everything because how they felt in those moments was all that mattered.
