YES at Machine on second Thursdays is when we dance.
It is when we all together triumphantly strip the standard issue blues from the denim vests that are our lives and assert and bond our own technicolor truths to the soft fibers of the future.
Every quotidian thorn becomes a scintillating tickle of possibility as we skip through the gardens of bass lines and freedom, scooping up fistfuls of blooming boyquets and nosechugging lungbuckets of their yessence and our own confidence into our soul...
YES at Machine on second Thursdays is when we dance.
It is when we all together triumphantly strip the standard issue blues from the denim vests that are our lives and assert and bond our own technicolor truths to the soft fibers of the future.
Every quotidian thorn becomes a scintillating tickle of possibility as we skip through the gardens of bass lines and freedom, scooping up fistfuls of blooming boyquets and nosechugging lungbuckets of their yessence and our own confidence into our souls.
Individually, we are discarded meatscraps pickled in a brine of danger and heavy experience, but together -- TOGETHER! -- we are a *pile* of discarded meatscraps.
Beautiful.
Put on your spiciest poupon of an outfit, untangle the twist tie of your fears and plunge wrist deep into a mysteriously damp and plush bag of dance and get your buns to YES!
DJ Stevie Psyclone will lay the stupidest and most fragrant rose petals of foolish pop music before us, roasting us too close to the flames of the hottest beats until our casings split and the greasy flare up sets the world on fire.
Doors at 10, $5 cover, 21+, cash only bar, tell and bring every person alive.
