Friday, July 5, 2002

do you like to "party"?

Okay, so in my last entry, I sounded a little pathetic, and well, things improved greatly right after that entry. The Susan Tedeschi CD ended, and I just hit play again, and some CD's are like that, where one moment, their bluesy yelling can make you sadder than anything, and then the next moment, you instead focus on those guitars and reinterpret that bluesy yelling to be affirming our existence, our happiness, against things and people that would deny them. And so, I yelled along with Susan and became a tough, confident boy so, so happy. I read a bunch more of A Wild Sheep Chase, and then decided that I was brave and tough (thanks Susan, and also to those Harp beers) and was going to go out by myself and have a fun time. So, I walked all the way to the Rainbow Room, got a beer and sat down at an empty section of the bar, knowing that soon someone would come entertain me and talk to me.

A few guys would come and stand a couple barstools away from me, and give me this really weird nervous look, meaning that they wanted to talk or something, but I just kept staring at the tv, watching GI Joe on the Cartoon Network, because some old WWF wrestler (the army one - Sargent Slaughter?) was talking. Okay, I was also sort of in a pissy mood too, and wasn't really wanting to make conversation with these shy boys. Soon though, like I predicted, I was entertained. Des'ree, this huge drag queen, that resembles Pink Flamingos-era Divine so much, came and gave me a big kiss, sat down next to me, and told me that we were going to take shots. She started groping me, which I really did not have a problem with, because she was such a cool drag queen, she was buying me a drink, and I was already well on my way to drunk. Then she told me I was her husband, and I was like "Okay."

And everyone in the world comes up and talks to drag queens, because there is something extremely approachable about them, and so soon our little corner of the bar was very populated with the appearance of Des'ree, and whenever one of these people would start talking to me a little too friendly, Des'ree would get real dramatic and yell at them, "Bitch, don't make me cut you," since I was her husband and all. And then, who do I see? None other than Eric. And, instead of hating me and not talking to me, he excitedly came up and talked to me like we were good friends, and that made me so happy and I talked to him, until Des'ree smothered my face in her chest, telling Eric that I was her man. I was having so much fun at this bar, something exciting always happens there. I talked to Des'ree some more, she asked me if I "liked to party?" And I sort of laughed, because I think that's the silliest expression ever - why not just say, "do you do any drugs?" Anyways, I told her that I do (or did - something like that).

I eventually wandered away from Des'ree and talked to this boy, Todd, forever, who does hair, has bleached hair, is skinny, has tattoos, and seemed sort of exciting. I told him I liked his bracelets, and he gave me one, which I am still wearing right now. Since he does hair, I asked him if it was proper to say "hair-cutter" or "hair-dresser," and he said "hair-architect" - and I laughed for so long. Todd told me that we should go to the Shamrock, that he wanted to take me home, and I told him that I just wanted to finish my beer then I would go, and so it was decided that I would meet him at the Shamrock (which is only two doors down). I ended up forgetting about meeting up with him, because I got in a long conversation with the girl that djs there, and ended up drinking more. And then, Des'ree came up to me, and said she had a present for me, stuck something in my hand, and closed my hand. I was going to open my hand to see what it was, and she quickly closed it, and told me that it was innocent, and made a little sniffing expression. So, I went and the bathroom, so so excited since I hadn't done coke in quite a while. I undid the little plastic baggie on top on the toilet and snorted it with my finger. I snorted a more than generous amount, probably half of what was left in her little baggie. I handed her back the baggie since that's what I assumed she wanted me to do, but she was like "Oh, you didn't do it all, it was all for you, baby, but thanks." But, oh my god, if I would have done all that coke, I would not have even have made it home. I was so fucked up, and danced really crazy with all these cute lesbians who danced like people at New College dance, and with this other drag queen that dressed and danced exactly like Lindsey Montanna.

There was something incredibly surreal about being given coke by a drag queen that reminded me too much of Divine, that a little while earlier grabbed my cock and bought me shots; I began to wonder about my life, about how I could see a situation like this happening in the plot of some Dennis Cooper or JT Leroy book, and I didn't know if I should be worried about that or happy about that.

I talked to more random people, Des'ree some more, Tom, who asked his catchphrase, "Where's the party at tonight?" Everytime I see him, he asks this question. It reminds me so much of Swingers, where everytime they decide to leave a hopping party for one they think will be better, that one guys says, "Yeah man, this place is dead anyways." And I told Tom this, that he was never happy where he was, and always looking for the next party, for something better than what he had in front of him. Some random boy told me to come home with him, and I talked to him about something insane until I saw Des'ree again and talked to her. The bar was soon closing since they put on the house lights, and I am the only person in the world that coke doesn't make horny - it just makes me want to dance and walk places, so I left the Rainbow Room, walked down State Street, coked out of my fucking head, thinking that every group of people was so fascinating, that the weather was so perfect, and that I wanted to live forever, to have time to meet every single one of these people. I walked home down University which was completely pedestrian-less and it was breezy and windy, and someone had littered a bunch of Isthmus newspapers that were scattering down the street, blowing toward me, page after page of paper and news and advertisements, and I felt like I was in American Beauty watching trash spin in the wind, but even more so, felt that I was in the opening of DeLillo's Underworld, where pages of Life magazine are blowing down on all the people in the baseball stadium. I kicked the papers back into the wind, like an excited kid, and shouted Whitman lines still floating around in my head, yelling at the scattering papers, "Whatever goes to the tilth of me, it shall be you! You! You!"

I finally made it home, tried going to sleep, but was still to fucked up to fall asleep and so I read some and layed in bed thinking until around six something when I finally passed out. And so, yes, I spent most of today, sleeping, and recuperating, and no, I did not go apply for any jobs. Monday. Monday. Always some future date. Postponement is the secret to life - something to look forward to - a goal to work toward - living and dying.

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