The rave scene saw many stages of a mans life as he grew, to become a fine ravist and an icon in the rave community. From his early days back when he was a little more candy, and not to mention a little more wee, he progressed to self proclaimed mister, working the line that he took from his favourite treat, when your this rave they call you mister. Rumours bounded that he had received his Phd. in his chosen path. Witness's say that times were tough for the old boy, getting bumped from the main changeroom, so the so called "professional dancers" could invade his space. Some times it didnt seem fair, but he raved on. Bullyed by the other dancers, he took to the cloak to at least simulate not being seen. It was a comfort cloak as opposed to the more confident cape that some of the other ravers were wearing. He didnt care, it only made him dance harder. He was the master of the 720 degree fakee, a vibrant spinning move, some say his "go to" probably added up to about 480 degrees, but he didnt care, to him it wasnt about degrees, to him it was about being part of the scene, being there for all the build ups, and and all the releases, intermingling with the community, a time time get a way from the fast paced world down at the hospy. We will miss you Mr. Rave, Our next evening out on the floor is dedicated to you, and all the great times you have given us.
Peace and Love,
alien