If one goes to the same club or hangout frequently over a long enough period of time, it stands to reason that we may notice a change and even have an authority opinion on its state of affairs. Words like hipster and gentrify are used to explain an underground locale being discovered and at times overcome by new and evolving tastes. I go to a place like this in São Paulo. I’ve told you about it before. I went on Sunday morning at 4 am. I had a nice sleep first and then some coffee. Sunday would roll into a nice lazy day. George’s day off. And, so, it made sense to go out and dance.
There was a man dancing on the cube in front of the DJ stand. Naked. He was not my type per se, but I recognized in him something easily underestimated in macro considerations of ‘night life’ and the city. A broader discussion to which gentrification is certainly a factor, I would argue.
It was the horizon. The horizon is individual, and perhaps specific to the given night. Because night did not change its cover. It is dark. Black. Obscures what we want it to overlook. We transgress.
I saw the guy in a business suit. By day. I saw what his haircut and glasses would wear will with. The judgement — or assessment — I was engaged in meant that I was not dancing well. I was not riding the crest of my own horizon.