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Monday, October 30, 2006

FameFame hosted a party called Unknown.Unknown. this weekend at a secret location in the middle of Toronto.

Perhaps there's a reason they only party once a year at this location. It's as cold as a frozen hell, and it can be rather dangerous. Without a flashlight, I would have fallen into the many holes in the ground that once held factory parts, or tripped over the train tracks running through the tunnels, or walked into one of the protruding pipes or machine parts sticking out of the walls or hanging from the ceiling.

Getting in there was crazy enough. After trudging through ravines, sliding down their leafy, mud covered slopes, we made it to the location to find two stages, both playing drum n' bass and banger type stuff, and some strange ambient droning coming from god-knows-where. Still, It was safe enough to get around, provided you shone your flashlight at every step. Rain leaked in from the roof every few yards, and the dirt floor of the factory was so muddy that a whole new sole developed on my shoes.

We ventured up a staircase, and then things got weird. I took a piss, and returned to find not a single person I knew. I spent the next two hours wandering around looking for people, and saw some bewildering things along the way. In one room, some art freaks had set up a glass case where a live woman lie still, on her side, in a strange drag-queen kind of costume, just staring back at all the people who gazed upon her. Gas generators blasted in abandoned corners, blowing the stench of gasoline all over the place. In the darkness it was hard to tell the ghosts from the people.

I found my friends near one stage where some incredible disco was hammering away through some powered speakers. You had to move your feet or they'd get stuck in the mud, so it was a good opportunity to bust some moves, despite the crowded environs. We left the stage, and after a journey through a brick pit, we ventured down the rail corridor, only to find a full-on lamb roast being administered by a dude in a medieval metalsmith outfit. He had a huge sword, and every once in a while, he'd turn the lamb over and make strange gestures. When the lamb was ready, we reached in and snagged pieces off with our bare hands, and it was mighty good. Oh, and the whole time, a freshly severed pig's head sat on a post as the riton for our ceremony.

The pig roast, followed by the exodus from the rickety staircase, madness in the dark, and finally, dancing to ragga-jungle, and then some disco.