2fer

This is the panorama from the balcony. I went to Resonate last year for the first time, and it felt like I was on another planet--no drugs. Last year was at a warehouse on the west side of Chicago; I bought my ticket the day before online and never got an email with the exact address. Fortunately, my friend Leslie (la fille pirate) was a card-carying burner and told me (vaguely) where it was. Based on tales of that experience, I convinced a handful of people to come this year. And that handful, in turn, convinced another handful. And so on. All told, I probably brought a dozen people.

So many things were different this year. The venue, for one, was not a secret warehouse location but the Congress Theater. The crowd was less freakster, more hipster. No fire but instead body suspension. And I saw a pair of cops strolling through the crowd--ostensibly looking (and smelling) for illicit substances, which kind of ruined the "we're in another (post-apocalyptic) world" escapist illusion I was drifting in and out of all night.

From last year, here's a head with sticks of fire coming out of it. The black soot residue in my nose was one memorable part of the experience.

I didn't think about it till afterwards, but there was a lot of pressure on my recommendation. Even if I had thought about it beforehand, I would have stood by it. Rarely am I "plused" by something enough to effect desire in someone else. But still, my experience is uniquely mine, and it is impossible to predict how the same stimuli will affect someone else. In fact, the stuff that "everyone" likes is the exact stuff that leaves me nonplused. Even among my friends, only few would have a positive experience at Resonate.

This year, the two key friends who joined the party were Laura and Darick--both of whom seemed open to the experience. And they brought their significant others and a trail of friends--most of whom I knew too.

It was nice having a higher probability of encountering a familiar face as I wandered around the Congress. But my favorite part of the event is the random encounters with strangers. One of the principles of the event is "radical inclusion", which is all fine and good in theory but practice? In practice, some people get it and some don't. I saw this one girl who didn't, who looked uncomfortable standing there in her LBD--she maybe thought she was just going to a dance club? I know that feeling--that out of place feeling--so I told her she could join our dance circle, at which she looked relieved and then, surprisingly, did join us for a few songs. It's amazing how when you start radically including people--not judging them--you feel liberated and included yourself.

At 2:30, after the Indian, tabla-playing DJ finished his set--the best of the night--I was wiped out. Let's not forget that I was up till 3:30 the night before at Laura's party. [I was planning on staying over that night since I'd be there for the party, but that meant I couldn't sleep till the party ended. At some point, when there were just three annoying people left, I disappeared into the pantry to lay down and wait for them to leave. I almost slept there the whole night but didn't want to be in the way if people got up early.] Most of my friends had left but seemed to have a good time. Darick got a tattoo and liked the art--but, apparently, doesn't get into the dance part. Laura exuded a similar, altered state that I felt and seemed to get into the music. There's so much going on, there's something for everyone. Except, of course, for people who don't like to be overwhelmed by stimulation.

Still, I miss the fire; I like to watch it burn.