Sunday, September 14, 2014

"toast to cliches in a dark past"

I had a temp job that lasted two days this past Thursday and Friday, my first time working in a month. It was fairly fun and I'm bummed it was only a two day assignment because 1.) I am really broke and need to be working more, and 2.) because it was really easy and I worked with a queeny gay boy and we just gossiped about gay things for those two days.

To celebrate the end of the workweek, my whole two days of working in a month, I raged on Friday. I went to some event at Tao where I drank a ton of free fancy booze before having an impromptu pre-game party at my house before heading off to the new neighborhood gay bar. It was awful and I wished that I had stayed at my house partying. This bar is so tone-deaf to the neighborhood it is in. It is wildly out of place and tacky. I have trouble seeing this bar lasting for very long. In some ways, it reminds me of Fun, a short-lived Williamsburg gay bar that tried to have the same classy (read: tacky/douchy) Manhattan vibe. Probably that they had bussed people in from Hell's Kitchen was a large part of the problem. There is a glowing sign behind the bar that says "More More More," and that sign says everything you need to know. If you can read, you should run, run, run. I was surrounded by awful Hell's Kitchen gays, one of whom grabbed my drink and guzzled it cause he was under the impression that he was some real cute thing. Everyone was suffering from this delusion there. Consumption is what is celebrated - the sign glows More, More, More. Egos sadly unchecked. You own everything, or want to. No thanks.

Everyone I was with quickly fled to Metro and I walked up to Greenpoint to hang out with some friends. I stayed up until 9 something in the morning, hanging out, chatting, getting wasted, and slowly watching daylight appear outside their living room windows as I smoked cigarette after cigarette and drank Coors Light. I walked home, stopping at the now open grocery store to buy some eggs. I fried up some eggs back at my apartment and talked to Diego about boys, about one boy really, and about life, all in the overly theatrical ways that a wasted person will do at 10 in the morning after not sleeping. 

Needless to say, I did not do anything yesterday.

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