Thursday, September 9, 2004

i think they call this passive aggresive

Tonight was pretty much the big bang opening of the gallery season with about fifty openings occurring in a five block radius, and of course, booze hound that I am, I was there for the start. And really, since I was, you would think I would have more to say about art or the pieces I saw, but really I did not pay attention to most of the art, and the stuff I did look at, I don't remember. I do remember boys however. Adrian came along with Peter, Joe, and two girls (whose names I cannot remember even though one was Peter's sister). Luke eventually met up with us, as did Adrian's dreamy roommate, Dustin. My crush on Adrian had definitely waned.

But then there is the appearance of another boy, a boy whom you would scold me for still liking, but whose name I will reveal anyways: Matt. Yes, and I should not still like him, should not still have a crush on him when there are eight million other boys. But, at the last opening (one curated by Jerry Saltz, who I saw!!!), I saw him and was excited, yes. The gallery was packed, was huge, took up practically the whole fifteenth floor. There were people carrying around trays of food. It was that type of opening. And I went in seach of more beer and joined this mass of people that was moving one way against another mass of people that were moving the opposite way. I saw Matt moving in the opposite flow and tried to turn around to avoid walking past him, but then thought better, that I should not hide, and kept walking straight, but Matt had caught sight of my hesitation and when I passed him, he said, "Way to totally freak out." And I confessed that I had been trying to avoid him but that I decided to be brave and get beer even if I would have to pass him. Then his crowd and mine thrust us in opposite directions, almost acting like people concered on my behalf, keeping me away from this boy who has treated me like shit.

These crowds were not outside the building though to keep me away when I saw him hanging out front. I ran up to him and talked to him about his summer, about mine, about our necklaces, and then before I could say anything I would regret, I waved good-bye and ran up to Adrian and Dustin. We walked toward the subway. Adrian and Dustin continued on to Pianos. I headed back to Brooklyn with Peter and Joe to Metropolitian. On the subway ride there, I saw our reflections, the three of us, in the window across from us. It was not a pretty sight. I saw three young men totally unsuccesful with boys, hung up on people not interested, and all not doing anything with their lives. BFL plural: Big Fucking Losers. At Metropolitian, Joe confronted me about being a dick to him while Peter was on his cellphone. I sort of shyed away from answering his questions, not telling him that I am, that yeah, I am annoyed with him lately, that I spend far too much time with him, and that I have been trying to cultivate friendships with new people. I left shortly after the confrontation and my failure to say anything. I took my shoes off as soon as I left the bar because they were hurting my feet. I walked home barefoot, my shoes under my arm, to the stares of many people shocked (so it seemed) that I was walking NY streets barefoot. I made it home without cutting my feet, turned off the water to our apartment, since the bathtub has been running all day (something that would take too much time explain, and cause too much irritation to even try to), and now am thinking about boys, what they mean, and why, why it is that I desire them, and why it is rarely the reverse. And I don't have any running water. I have little pride, even less hope, and I am going to go to bed and wait for the plumber to get here, and hope that sweet dreams, sweet, sweet ones may visit me this early September night.

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