Friday, July 30, 2004

the place

Peter was complaining about New York again, talking about how he never goes anywhere, to close cities on roadtrips. I didn't really care. I never really like it when people complain, talk about things they feel guilty for not doing, and things which, for whatever reasons, they probably never will do. Not that I am not guilty of this, also. Read any of my entries at random, and I am sure you can point your finger at me and say, "Hypocrite!" But also, I was drunk from drinking beers at Niki's dinner party, and I was inspired about politics and working for change after spending chunks of the day reading Studs Terkel's Hope Dies Last and after watching John Kerry's speech to the DNC, which I actually liked, and it may have very well been because my cynicism usually fades after the first couple beers.

But then later, hearing people gripe about the most simple changes that we could possibly do, when people could not even muster the will to do something that they wanted to do, hearing this while I dreamed of much bigger changes, national changes and its potentials, I got a little annoyed. I was also really horny and there was this boy dressed like Ziggy Stardust, and another boy, Drew Geer look-a-like with a dog. I stared at both of them all night, getting giddy, wanting to make out with either one of them. Honestly, that is where my thoughts were, thinking about hard dicks and moist lips, and so while Joe and Peter were talking about wanting to escape New York, I made my own escape. I went into the bar area, and walked out the front door without good-byes. I put on my headphones, skipped ahead to the Talking Heads' "This Must Be the Place," turned it up as loud as possible, and half-walked, half-danced home thinking about how much I love this place, how much I love cute boys, how much I love rock and roll, and did this all under one of the most beautiful moons I have seen in such a long time. It was almost full, so bright, and there for the looking.

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