One of the things I enjoy the most about writing is experimenting. I love challenging the "rules" and pushing boundaries. I am not rebellious; I am free-spirited and march to my own drumbeat. When I was ready to write my second memoir, I decided to experiment again. I went the route of the epistolary, in which stories are conveyed through a series of letters. So, I wanted to write a letter to a moment in my past to share my feelings. I chose to write a love letter to my love for raves in my 20s. I wanted to share my appreciation for the music and its impact on my life during those fun years in the 1990s, but I also wanted to convey that as much as I loved those moments, that part of my life was over.
My dear,
There were so many things I liked about you.
I liked the way you would sing to me when I needed adventure. I liked the way you would energize me and free me from my inhibitions. I liked the way you showed me new ways of looking at the world and at people. I liked how you destroyed my barriers of upbringing and helped mold me into a more eclectic individual. But most of all, I liked the way you moved.
You knew who I was back then, a military man in his mid-twenties who happened to also be a free-spirited individual seeking to expand my horizons. I was a walking complexity of contradiction during those years, grounded by career but trying to walk my own paths towards enlightenment. I was exploring my world in whatever ways the wind took me while being confined within the crate of being the property of the United States Government.
I remember meeting you when I was 17 years old in Dallas. Though I wasn’t aware at the time, you planted the seed of a important relationship in my life, one that has stayed with me in some form to this day. In that teen club, I met a new friend. But it wasn’t until I was stationed in Denver that we became reacquainted in a CD store of all places that you became something I was very aware of and then the single most important part of my life for the next few years.
Being in the military, I got to travel a lot, a mixed bag. On the one hand, the explorer in me loved that I was stationed so many places. On the other hand, it meant for a long time I never had a sense of place where I rooted. It also didn’t make for lasting relationships, considering this was a time before social media and email was still a new concept. Needless to say, I have probably forgotten more people than I remember. But you are a different story. No matter where I went, you were my constant companion, a fellow traveler. Denver, Songtan, Dhahran, Bangor, Boise and finally back home again. The many places I had to go and always you came along for the ride. You were the one thing that was consistent during that time. I’m not sure I can ever explain just how important you really were but I can give you a proper homage.
During these years of military adventure, you wanted me to yourself as much as you could. Perhaps you knew our time was limited but, in those days, it felt as if we would be together forever. So much that I couldn’t envision being away from you for more than a few weeks at a time. Sometimes I would try to break from you but then I would get that feeling of withdrawal. I would go looking for you, never realizing it was always you calling to me.
It always began with the sound of your call in the darkness of some parking lot, remote field or abandoned building. You spoke to me in a steady cadence when you would say, “Come, come, come.” Your song was the compass that always reoriented me in some strange place and showed me the direction to walk. As I stepped closer, your voice, while often muffled behind walls of cinder and steel or rows of trees, would channel your message in my ears, a message that would let me know that I was in the place I needed to be. That place was to be at your side.
“I’m coming,” I would answer.
As I move closer, I began to feel you pulsating against my body. Two electrical hands would run themselves over my body, beckoning me to keep coming forward, to open up and give myself to you. Your caress was always gently at first but grew more firm, building the electrical persuasion that would flip the switch in my brain. Inside my chest, you’d start to sync the beat of my heart to match your song. Then, you would charge my soul and align us together. Between your voice in my ears and your guiding hands running through me, we would be walking in step, as if I were marching in my unit. Together we are aligned as we would arrive at the threshold of the nirvana for the night. All I had to do was step in and I would be yours. Its all that you wanted from me on these nights, to become one. On most nights it is what I wanted as well. I’d give myself to you. As I prepare to cross the threshold, I can hear you clearly now, your voice being carried by your herald as it flows from the cavernous space. Your touch, now magnified in its intensity, supercharged my senses. Before I cross, I answer you.
“I’m yours,” I would say as I cross the threshold.
A kaleidoscope of color floods me as floodlights, lasers, black lights and reflective mirrors are mixed in a twisting fashion, bouncing across the floor, along the walls, up to the sky and into my eyes. Like a blue jay attracted to a shiny object, I come deeper into the cavern, deeper into you. My eyes dart to and fro, taking in the refraction of light in massive doses, indulging on the sensory input. All the time, I feel you pulling me forward as your voice is constantly in my ear. You ask me if I like what is before me, if this is truly what I want.
“Yes, my dear, this is what I want,” I always answered.
Together as one, we walk over to a bar or table or whatever area is designated for the serving and consumption of the elixirs of the evenings. You know that I won’t take anything herbal or chemical because of how important what I do away from you is to me so instead you take me to the fountains. Together we developed a ritual in the tonics I would drink. First, always first, was a shot to pay homage to my home. Oh how it burned the throat yet refreshed the soul. Then an ale to the gods. As I stand aside and drink, together we take in the environment and watch as the bodies of all the rest of your acolytes twist and turn in fluid motion to your song. As they bathe in your light, hands in the air worshiping the Festival of You, their heat rises and fans outward, generating a welcoming embrace. The ale now finished, it is time to become part of them, to become one with everyone.
“I’m ready,” I would say as I entered.
Into the rave I would go, completely letting go of any inhibitions I have. These were often the the ultimate spiritual experiences. As I moved in unison with the crowd, I underwent multiple baptism. First was always by aspersion from the hair of my fellow members of the congregation. As we danced, the sprinkle of techno-charged sweat would cover me, mixing with the heat of bodies and the subconscious smell of pheromones. As the night progressed, it was often followed by affusion in the form of broken glow sticks pouring overhead or from the sprinkler system in the ceiling. Whether it was covered in glowing fluid or saturated in water, the rave went on and so was our bond.
“Tonight was amazing,” I would say on the way home.
On most nights, that was enough but some nights, there was the consuming desire for more of you. I often felt I needed you more than just my companion and I believed that you needed me as much. On these nights, you would use a surrogate for a deeper connection between us. Through this immersion of two bodies intertwined, we truly became one on these nights. A sacrifice made for me, a sacrifice of myself given for you. The ultimate spiritual moment.
“I like the way you move,” I would whisper in the dark.
It has been over twenty years since I last saw you. I know you still reach out to me from time to time when I hear your voice in songs on my playlists. I can at times still feel your electric hands touching me, sending nostalgic sparks deep into the closed places in my heart and the hidden places in my soul. Sometimes when I see neon lights flash in my eyes or feel warm spray at night, I imagine that it’s you my dear. I always smile and feel my heart skip a beat.
But I no longer answer your call. Our time is in the past, in a time that has since moved on. We had our beautiful moments together in the time of my life when you were important to me in so many ways that you’ll never understand. If I had to explain our relationship as simply as possible, I would say it was a form of a meteoric love, the kind that is brilliant but fleeting. While you were in my sky, you were as bright and as intense as anything in my life, but you weren’t meant to be there forever. Those permanent places, my sun, moon and stars, are taken by others, ones who will remain with me for the end of my days.
Besides, let’s be honest. You replaced me long ago with others as deeply committed as I was. I know because I recognize you from the streaking light in the eyes of others.
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