Unsurprisingly, I called in sick to work yesterday, having gotten too drunk and having stayed up too late the evening beforehand. Because I called in sick to work, this also gave me a chance to get in line to see James Brown's body earlier than I otherwise would have, and had I done so at that time, after work time, I probably would not have got to see his body. I waited in line for five hours with Gabriel, the wait nearly not so long seeming or bad as it seems here written out. My seeing his body was very necessary and I am not sure I could tell you why. Some woman asked the two of us why we had come to see his body, and Gabriel managed to give some answer, and I thought about the reasons, unable to come with a good one and was glad that Gabriel was talking to this woman.
His body, James Brown's, is the first dead body that I have seen. It was a brief glimpse as they shuffled us past his coffin on the stage of the Apollo. It sent shivers through me, this dead body, this person's dead body, the site where this was taking place and thinking of all that had transpired here, and man, it was overwhelming. The entire experience was very lovely, waiting in line with thousands of people, some feeling of solidarity, of perhaps common purpose. A man in line told us about his fantasies about being gangraped, and that was lovely, someone being so salty after you just met them.
Afterwards, we went to David's apartment for Macros' birthday. I got drunk, ate some cocktail shrimp, and listened to these two men talk, very bored and annoyed that I was there after such a lovely day that I would have liked to have reflected on. But all it takes is a couple of drinks and soon I did not mind whatever it was they were saying, and lost perhaps the feeling I had had earlier, and also the desire to trace that feeling to its source and identify it. We went to the Cock. I made out with a math teacher, who obviously liked me but was lacking in aggression, was not touching me enough and not doing so urgently enough; his touches were more so just in reply to mine, that I had to give permission to touch me by touching him. Some other man later in the evening grabbed my ass. I grabbed his hand and pushed it tighter on to my ass. And this was what I wanted, someone to be slightly aggressive, slightly dirty, definitely urgent. And so it all led up quickly to kissing, groping over clothes, then through them, and then taking our cocks out and exchanging handjobs, blowjobs. I came on the dancefloor, and it was lovely, just what I wanted, what I needed - the perfect end to a close to perfect day.