Here, for the first time, I can admit that I was both a circuit boi and a raver.  Of the two, raves were so much more fun, but they were shut down en-mass in Vancouver just as I moved here, leaving me with it’s sickly, stale cousin.  I s’ppose I fell into the category of “Hippy Raver”, my favourite was to stroll through the crowd in the hottest, peakiest part of the night, and, pointing my spray bottle to the sky, mist the crowd.  All these sweating, shirtless, high, straight boys would give me hugs of gratitude, and I’d score candy or watermelon from their girls.  Damn, I miss those things.  Gay bars and their bad music have largely stripped me of my ability to really cut a rug, but when I make it to Burning Man, I still grub around for drugs and choose a night to dance til the sun rises, reliving my youth…