Beautiful, Dirty, Rich
You'll lose points for unnecessary use of the word blase despite posing for the underground paparazzi.
"My hair has a blue fire, beauteous goons," we hear in line.
The dirty came for sex.
"I finger banged her at a club incidentally," a bro says about a girl in front of him.
The rich came to fund the scene. It dates back to The Hacienda and The Happy Mondays. Hire a dealer to work the door and the white man dance can begin. We feed off of the DJ, the music, the medium, and rich kid rave culture.
"Is this fur real?" Someone says as they remove their animal mask to breath.
The three blondes and the inner DJ circle survey the crowd as the guests raise their Pabst cans.
"We welcome you to the new age of nightlife," the promoter cries.
The culture is a blend of saintly generosity and simple greed. There will be a strict guest list and high admission fees at the next one.
A pale-skinned girl dances on the table in a red bra and blue jeans. Dances like a freak.
"Look at this bitch," her partner says and joins her.
"This bitch is ridiculous," the dealers say and bring her to an empty room. Thank you, wherever you are, for taking it for the rest of us.
The parties are fuck art and let's dance. The parties are Pabst Blue Ribbon is beer. The parties are Buddy Holly glasses and a copy of 'On The Road.' An inebriated hipster in ripped converse sits on a roof with a beer as I walk home.
"Come in, we're all great artists in here," he slurs.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Cailey Lindberg
You have been added to the notification list for author Cailey Lindberg