hyperclub | cunt mag

Around this time, you’ll occasionally hear the ramblings of Toronto’s summer partiers and ravers claim it’s their “hibernation season”. Once it drops below 5 C, it’s pretty much a cyclical pattern of staying in, the cozy bar at 6 p.m. and potluck dinners kicks in. Sure, I presume that is happening, I’m sure it is. While it’s a moment for peace of whatever update of winter self-care we’ve phased into now, it’s also just another Friday for a twink with a knack for abusing the smoke machine.

Despite all those cable-knit infinity scarves Value Village has been pushing like it’s New Year's Eve and your dealer spamming you with holiday deals, a lot of Toronto’s partygoers are keeping it going. Raves aren’t dead. The party isn’t over. It’s just colder and now we have to spend $5 at coat check. The same summer outfits now include a $160 beanie from SSENSE, a thin fur scarf that was cut from an old parka, and Dollarama fingerless gloves.

Tonight’s meal consisted of one bottle of white wine (Sandbanks?), half a g of ketamine shared with 12 people, one pack of Pall Mall and however many mixed drinks we all shared from the bar.

It was the final Hyperclub of the year.

“It starts at 11:30, Litney and Myst are on at 12:45” I told A over the phone.

Ard1n opened, Litney B2B Myst Milan, Bobby Bethovan (FKA Total Freedom), Young Teesh B2B Jordan Gardner. For technical reasons and for the sake of providing some background, let me explain how we got here.

30 minutes from Dundas and Ossington, a new venue has popped into what usually is a venue-phobic city. The city’s constantly cycling through venues, especially post-lockdowns, with venues having to face closure. Toronto isn’t really a “club city”, I guess it’s more of a “collectives city”...I need to think about that one.

“Goat Gallery '' reads the sign over the front entrance. Neon pink of course.

Right. The gallery has slowly begun to draw in elements of underground nightlife, with two raves/parties (that I know of) in the past two months; Halloween’s House of Skin being one of them. The other is Hyperclub, where this story takes place, possibly one of the city’s last, truest, DIY raves.

The allure of Hyperclub comes from giving you what all the old heads have been talking about. Outdoor spaces usually in garages or under some bridge, cheap liquor or BYOB and most importantly going past 2 a.m. The latest I stayed at Hyperclub was 6:30 a.m., and I’m pretty sure that one ended at 8 a.m.

Hyperclub has become a staple since its inception. If it’s a Hyperclub night, you can nap at 8 p.m., wake up at 11 p.m. and be there by 1 a.m. It’s one of those events where S will say to M, “You have the sadness in your eyes that you only see in Eastern European porn.”

It’s between 1:30 and 2 a.m., I’m drunk, Joseph has the smoke machine remote in their hand and has officially begun the war on my lungs. It’s dense, the coat rack has hit the floor twice, and I’m high as shit. I lost track the fourth time I went fishing for the bag, but the bumps were getting bigger by the moment. Maybe measuring with my nail extensions isn’t the best idea.

“Do you want some?” K asked me while I was clutching my underwear, mid-piss, in the hopes I would pee on them. Literal glee. In a round gold container, with these intricate floral designs, K reveals the bag. If he was on one knee, I’d assume he was proposing to me.

Dancing by the decks, dancing by what was the bar area two months ago, not being able to see a thing in the fog.

There’s always something mystically odd about these nights in the best way possible.

I decided, for some reason other than the obvious masochism, to wear heeled boots. I never do this. I also stick to my black boots that now have three holes in the right one, which I will believe is for ventilation.

N once pointed it out, I told him he’d have to buy me a new pair for me to ever change them.

When I got up the next morning and looked at my black boots and black stockings, everything seemed to be stained with a stiff liquid. Soon, I’d look down at my feet and see it in colour; it was a combination of blood and gutter water. For most of the night, I couldn’t feel my feet. At that moment, I knew why.

Here’s some advice. Don’t do blow the size of your pinky acrylic nail extension if you plan to go home 20 minutes later. However, if you’ve done ketamine around that size, depending on how much you did before, you’ll be able to sleep soundly or k-hole by the time you’re home.