Today, hungover, I thought about the choices I make everyday and how living one life prevents me from living others - specifically that there are these choices to be made between notions of adulthood garnered from some unknown source (parents, an old movie, a book - God knows!) and between its seeming opposite, that of reckless abandon, of, for lack of a better term, the rock and roll lifestyle. I had a really good time last night and because I did, because I had such a good time and stayed out so late and imbibed so many substances, I was unable to fulfill my other life today. I called in sick to work today, the first time I have done so at this job for reasons of being hungover and tired. Luckily, this is during a down period at my job. Yesterday, there was about an hour's worth of work to do, and today seemed like it would be the same, so I didn't leave anyone stranded with tons of work, but, still, I couldn't help but feel guilty in the shower about my inability to go to work this afternoon, that I should have, and I thought to the choices we have to make in this life between one thing and other things.
Will I never again get to live that rock and roll lifestyle? Working at the Strand, and the period after that when I was unemployed, was close to this lifestyle in some ways, in that I could get smashed every night and not worry about the consequences of sleeping in until two in the afternoon or showing up brain-dead for work. And I waved goodbye to that in the shower, knowing that that period, or one like that, was never going to happen again. And this is good, obviously - that a body can't sustain that abuse for so long, nor can a mind expand too much enacting the same scenarios so often. It is good to switch things up. But what joy there is in those moments!
So the question I was posing to myself in the shower, the question that I am finding myself asking often is essentially this: How do I balance these competing lives and my desire to live both of them? I do like having this job even though it does bore me silly sometimes. But in doing this, what all am I missing? Anything? And how do I go about experiencing those things while still holding down a job and being in tip-top shape in the morning at this job? Do I need another job?
I hung out with the Florida boys at their house, watched them paint, and drank beer, then gin. And that is what I love, the company of these people, and I don't like that I have to limit that, to at some point say Goodnight and go home so I can wake up in the morning. There was no Goodnight said last night. We went out to the Cock and were bought some drinks by these two men, Marcos and David.
And perhaps it was because I was drunk, but it is also likely that I would have done it sober, I approached one of my crushes, David (a different one), and there might have been some words, but not many, before we were making out. He was chewing this minty gum, and his lips had the flavor of it. The gum ended up in my mouth. He said he wanted it back, and so I kissed him again, returning the gum. I basically told him I wanted to have sex with him. He said Not Tonight, and gave me his card, telling me to email him, something I just did, and something to which I am not necessarily expecting a response.
And here, again, another perfect opportunity to call it a night, to say goodbye, and get to bed and wake up hungover for work, but still at least wake up. But to say goodbye, to end your night when you know the nights of others are still going, that those courses are still being plotted and that yours may intersect, align, or even diverge with them - the thought of that is thrilling and the desire to see how things play out, to see what else might happen, the desire not to die essentially, to be alive and in the company of friends, of human beings, will keep you, or at least kept me, out way into the night, not wanting it to end, not ready for bed.
Marcos took the three of us back to his apartment in SoHo and we got naked and did poppers as Marcos played with our bodies. Even under the haze of poppers and numerous drinks, there was still an aspect to this that was weird, but the amazingness, and the closeness of it, outweighed that. At some point, some coke was snorted as we all sat around his glass dining room table, everyone's nakedness visible through the glass. It was really a lovely moment, a lovely moment in a night of them - and when you think about it, a lifetime of them, and that knowledge is so thrilling. There was talking and cigarettes, Parliaments, smoked on his couch. Behind us on this couch were two Marilyn prints by Warhol. On this couch, he again played with our bodies as we sat on his couch, him sucking our cocks - this under the eyes of two Marilyns, neither one of which seemed to be fazed in the least.
He gave us a ride out to Williamsburg on his way to the airport, dropping us off right after the Williamsburg Bridge. Walking toward home with these two, the sun was starting to come up, dawn cracking through the sky, and at this point, past six in the am, I was still trying to convince myself that I could wake up at eight. And these are the tradeoffs I am talking about, the things I fear that I allow myself to miss because of the necessity of work – that had I been the good boy, not gone out, and been in bed early for work the next day, I would not have had that night, nor the end of it – would not have seen the gorgeous pink of a just breaking day. It is balancing these desires and these obligations that I really need to figure out.