Ah, if only the world could be like a rebellious Christian Slater movie. If we were all Christian Slater, circa 1990, we could bad mouth the system, commit artistic vandalism, and skateboard our way into the hearts of non-believers. Being Christian Slater, our loneliness would be subsided when we realized there were hundreds of people that wanted to listen to what we have to say.

But I am not a young, cocky white man with creepy sex appeal, who is able to get the hot, artsy, misunderstood girls to like me and the boys to admire me, so I chose the next best thing: a Christian Slater themed party. Originally this was an inventive ploy for a 24th birthday party, but when this plan fell throughat the last minute, I ended up drinking mad dog and kissing a lot of people. The Christian Slater party had to happen two weeks later.

So the party was planned, as the parties I throw always are. Parties I've had in the past, including The Black Plague Party and the Prom Party of Doom, resulted in strange nights with interested stories to tell. These stories usually include too many drinks, loud fights, spray paint, sexual harassment, and officers of law enforcement. But this party was different.. a little part of me came loose, the beer I swallowed had no effect on my body, I remained painfully sober, alert and aware. After the movie I found myself dancing crazily in my living room, screaming along to the lyrics of Marky Mark and The Pet Shop Boys, dancing until my lungs were unable to capture oxygen, dancing until the muscles in my legs were tight and on fire. And still, I danced more.

Maybe it was my way of physically manifesting my discontent with Portland, throwing myself around in the air like that. Maybe it was the special power I felt from Nickey's fuzzy cat hat. But really I think it was just inspiration from Christian Slater in Pump Up the Volume, the movie which has been my favorite since I first saw it at age 13. The desire to change the world makes me want to dance around and be loud and not care. It's just too bad I'm not a young white man with creepy sex appeal, maybe then my discontent could be understood by the likes of angsty youth.