Yo, la aguafiestas

Sitting at a table in La Mordida (C/Las Fuentes, 3 - M: Ópera) with some other assistants, I'm asked if I go "clubbing." At the tender age of 24, this should be a simple and obvious answer, but having been asked this question so many times, and never knowing how to respond properly, I get a little taxed. Looking at the brightly decorated walls, I explain that I used to be "really involved" in the local music community back in the States, doing zines and organizing shows, but that, too, became a hassle when my personal experience with the community was just, after Benedict Anderson's notion, imagined and imaginary, more a scene where the politics may be "progressive," but where what counts is who you know and how many obscure records you have.

I could've just said no. Instead, I sarcastically half-apologized for "being lame and boring," but pointed out that ir de juerga (go out on the town) can be a pain for an assistants's budget. My ranting was met with silence. None, even my friend, were expecting me to say this, especially in a rather aggressive manner. I could've just given a simple answer.

Let's just put it this way: I don't do very well in groups, preferring the company of one or two people who I assume reciprocate interest, or, if all else fails wandering about, "discovering" places that are new to me, and slowly fitting streets in my mind like the pieces of a puzzle.