April 25th, 2004
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Tiesto in the moment, afterthoughts
I had my camera temporarily confiscated upon entering the event last night (though most politely by a meek scrawny teenager), but of course I didn’t let that deter me from capturing a little more rave art. I kind of improvised on the seven hundred yen technology in my cell phone and got some pictures in between hammering out a few simple thoughts on the keypad. Unfortunately it seems that the phone is incapable of sending emails over 6k, which actually makes getting the full-resolution photos off the camera impossible, so I’ll have to look into getting a cradle or something. In the meantime, here are two smaller sections I cropped from larger images.
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pound great destiny underneath pan pot stars. rangewave siren treble burn ballad. peak resonate cry. smoke and tile and black and pink. chorus and verse over drink tickets and love. drink tickets and love.
…
girls in big pants girls in small tops. lollipops. moving slowly. smiles. dampened. grinning boys shouting boys.
Watching people being happy brings me immense peace in itself. Hundreds of followers, young and old, not knowing each other by name, but by soul. Smiling, shaking hands, hugging, laughing. Just sitting calmly, nodding my head, one girl turned around to me and smiled. I grinned and she punched the air, beaming. Later, a man far my senior met eyes with me once, and laughing, leaned over to say simply in my ear, “It’s good.” Exactly! A statement so plaintive and pure, but probably the only way really describe the experience with justice. We did a double high-five and clasped arms, bliss in our eyes and sweat on our foreheads.
My favorite raver discovery of the night was another of Kerouac’s beat “buddhas”, a girl with pigtails and an underbite, moving slowly, remarkably slowly, as if there was no one else that existed in the world. Her eyes were closed and her arms unfolded like a new flower, gently stretching out to take in the warmth of the sun. Though completely undisturbed by the bouncing, cheering, crowd, it was apparent she felt it all, far deeper and more intently than one can normally hope for. She was always smiling, her mouth occasionally forming words to some silent mantra, like a potter does with clay. I found myself thinking of an outdoor party in a mountaintop in Yoshino two years ago, of another separated prophet slowly spinning for hours in rapture. Yes, it was just as the man said to me, “good”.
