I am just coming out of a hungover fog and starting to feel somewhat normal. There, of course, is the sticky humid air confusing me as to how much of my groggy sweatiness is from being hungover and how much is due to the weather. Before going out last night, I drank a bottle of wine. That, before ten o' clock. Then there was a gin and several beers and of course, it's when you mix all that crap that the hangover is intensified.
But sadly, that bottle of wine prevented me from making money last night. Two regulars contacted me to get together last night, but I was too drunk off of wine to even consider it. I am regretting this now because not only would I not be hungover and mildly sad but I would also have money to go out tonight to some place other than one of the two open bars I may or may not go to. I could go see Grizzly Bear at Pianos tonight ($12) or Jaymay at the Living Room, which is actually free except for the mandatory pricey beers I would have to buy. And I am the king of bad choices and I am not always happy to wear that crown. Of course, the two regulars would both contact me on the same night when I decided to get totally blitzed at dinnertime.
There are some pluses to this day that I have been analyzing, some pluses that you only get on those hungover days after sad interactions with crushes and the sky somehow knows what is the right backdrop to cue with your day, and it's gray and possibly going to rain - yeah, those days, today that you can play the Neil Young, the Gillian Welch and enjoy it. It's music that I love but normally I am too busy, too pumped to go out to slow down and hear it. And the Magnetic Fields taught me a lesson today in moping, that "if you don't cry, it isn't love - if you don't cry, then you just don't feel it deep enough." And I laughed a lot and turned it up real loud so that it sounded fuzzy on our tv's bad speakers and sang along because I didn't cry and these moods are so self-indulgent and I realized that because it was a really good pop song that I could dance along to. And yes, last night, after he said he just wanted to be friends, I cannot lie and say I was not terribly sad - that I even knew what to do with my hands, they seemed so preposterous and I wasn't sure what I normally did with them when I was just walking down the street, that the movements felt so forced and so I put my hands in my pockets and curved my shoulders inward and felt like I was getting a big hug and walked home that way.
But yes, that song with the fun synth beats in the background and the admonishing lyrics snapped me out of it. There was also some coffee consumed around this time and surely that helped also and I didn't play Morrissey today because I talked about that last night and it would seem so theatrical. So much of my life is spent resisting engaging in things that might be interpreted by observers as theatrical. This isn't a new situation but I am worried what its outcome will be. It's not the first time that someone I liked has told me they just want to be friends, and some of these people, I actually remain friends with, but others, once they verbalize bounds of an interaction somehow in doing so, close off any interaction because people are awkward, so hopefully that's not the case and there won't be that wary look the next time I talk to Greg. Pretty much all of my gay friends are people I have slept with or tried to sleep with and gotten the friends talk. Is that normal?
And also, who wants to dance?