Some snow fell today, the first of this winter. Normally, this inspires in me some warmth, some awe, some appreciation for the workings of this world and the cyclical nature of seasons. Today, however, because the snow came scattered in between freezing rain and slushy droplets, it was missing some of its magic. My boots were soaked through, my jeans were quite wet, and my umbrella was falling more and more apart. I had wandered around the garment district with Erica this afternoon, looking for fabric, looking for something shiny to make into an outfit for my job's holiday party tomorrow.
Much of my life now seems to be consumed with this, of there being some party coming up that seems quite fun, maybe not even a party, maybe just an opening, a reading, and there being my desire to play dress up, to wear something fun, to assemble an outfit of thrift store finds, out of fabrics from Spandex World, out of constructions Diego has made me for. This, I am beginning to think, may be a bit of a problem, that dressing up is all well and fine, but when it begins to consume so much of your already limited time in this city, then something might be wrong. There are some priorities that be a bit out of whack. It is not infrequent that I wonder what feats I may have accomplished already with writing were I too put something close to the same amount of effort and time into that as I do into looking for clothes, scavenging thrift stores, and getting ready to go out places.
Last night, I went to a masquerade party on a boat for Brian and Schaffer's birthday party. The boat cruised down the East River, pushing off from 23rd Street, floating past the warehouses of the Williamsburg waterfront, underneath various bridges, all quite beautiful looking, to the tip of the island of Manhattan in sight of the Statue of Liberty, and then back up to where we came from. People were quite dressed lovely, the call to play dress-up heeded by everyone - and the refrain "look good, feel good" my de facto response when I think about dressing up, whenever I (or someone else) questions my dressing habits. My relationship with clothing has shifted so much over the years, from being comfortable wearing just about anything, most of it ill fitting stuff that I now think is boring and ugly when I look at pictures of my self from high school and college. There was even a hostility toward people hyper-fashion oriented, to being so obsessed with their self-presentation, with what they wore. Now, though the pleasure of wearing things that make you look good is a pleasure I am more and more drawn to, the comfort of a tight button down shirt, tight jeans, and dress shoes something that gives me not only pleasure, but from that, some confidence of a sort, feeling more at ease in this world, more aware that it's all about playing roles in this world and the quickest way (the laziest maybe?) to convey a character is to dress the part, and I don't know where I am going with this - I was talking about a boat party.
The party was quite fun. I made out with one boy a lot on the dancefloor, kissed another one's chest, this boy I am kind of insanely attracted to, and talked to several of my coworkers who were at this party as well, feeling slightly awkward after I had been rubbing boners with this one boy on the dancefloor, and then turned around to see some coworkers I didn't know that well right there. I got to know these coworkers better though after the party, headed down with them and Ethan and Bob to Eastern Bloc, where I was witness to some making out, and then participant in some making out, doing so with one of my coworkers, this beautiful boy who I have had a slight crush on for months, admiring him but knowing that nothing would come from that admiration as he had a boyfriend. There was some moment last night after lots of talking with each other, after a bit of eye-flirting, that we started to kiss, and it continued, the kissing, to another bar, Nowhere, and we talked about our sexual fetishes, things that turn us on, and made plans to sleep together some future night when not as wasted. I am not sure if that is to happen. I am not sure if anything is to happen in this world. Snow generally does fall every winter - there is certainty in that. That, perhaps, is the joy we get from that first snowfall, a sigh of relief, that things still are to happen at certain times, that we can count on some things.