Special interlocking hugs

Ahhh, the sweet feeling of being put in one's place. You start to thinking that maybe you aren't a complete waste of time, space and precious oxygen and then something happens to force the realisation that no, actually no-one gives a fuck. And yes, oxygen is precious. I had to do Christmas shopping today and there were a lot of large people heavy breathing in this warm weather. Oxygen, I dare say, was at a premium.
I went to see a couple of bands last night at the dirty old Crown, how nice to be back there. It was like a reunion or something, though a bit frightening, as if Dunedin has been in stasis.
As usual I was the gooseberry in the mutually masturbatory love-in circle jerk taking place in the "scene". A scene redolent with people of such breathtaking and daring non-conformity that my tiny conservative mind was thrown into turmoil. Just how much recycling can go on there? And is it like after soccer matches, where all players shake hands with one another at some point, except the scene requires special rubs?
From what I can see the potential for cross pollination is awesome and the mutual affirmation of hotness parties receive must be both a consolation and a solace, especially after the disappointing rugby world cup results. I figure once you are in the scene, you need never be alone again. Those of you who have had the misfortune of reading Sharon Green books will know what I am talking about. Do I show my age? Lets just say if we could build a computer graph like on the L Word the results could be startling and unfathomable.
Anyway, the Futurians were great, even better than I remembered, and I got to catch up with some people I had not seen in ages. This pleased me even if they didn't give a rats arse. I even managed to find someone who is more socially inept than me, although unfathomably they seem to have more success socially. I expect it is a matter of persistance and trying, while I get bored of it when so often people bore or repel me. Sometimes both. It would have been funny to watch us waiting for someone else to say something entertaining. It transpires that I am better at coping with the awkward silences. Booyah.
I can't help but observe and realise that really, for all their brown-nosing and self congratulatory chatter, most people are just as loathsome as I am. A negative retake of Byronic satire - they're no better than me. Secretly, in arrogant moments, I think that they are worse. Unfortunately I usually get a dose of reality at that point. Casual cruelty is the worst kind; dismissal at the first whiff of something better coming along. How terrible to not even merit concerted bitchiness. Well, I know my place, and it is not in the pantheon of local gods.