Dancing Like My Mother

2011-12-26T08:49:00.000-08:00

There's a half a stick of butter in its paper
and spilled sugar on the butcher block.
A cup of coffee, so light with cream it could be tea,
and a tiny spoon.

2011-10-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

His inhaler fell off the bedside table during the night, it was when you reached for you phone at what seemed like four a.m. your hand swiping in the dark at the contents of that table top.
You notice it in the morning, hiding under the fan on the floor. this one item he's left accidentally at your house. Next to your bed, the sight of his longest residence in your home. It makes you cry
or rather
it makes you try not to cry, this blue and plastic tube.
You hiccup down your tears
and put a cup of hot hot coffee to your mouth
an attempt to burn out the memory of him
and the hope of his return.

Faggots

2011-04-15T17:36:00.000-07:00

You showed him the rash on your neck
and the scab on your jaw
He said
"gross"
You said
"I don't have to sleep over, I can go"
He said
"I'll just make sure I wash the pillowcase tommorow"

2011-04-07T00:53:00.001-07:00

1.
You drink vodka and lemon on ice
in bed
in the dark.
You run your tongue along the chip in your front teeth till it pinches
your eyes droop. Your eyes droop
your phone chirps
and he wrote "i'll head home then, jb has some funny youtube clips"
you squeeze your eyes closed hard,
the words in negative in the dark.

2.
You pick up two rocks.
One is small and red, shaped like a heart actually
with white veins through it.
The other smooth and black with
white veins through it.
The wind so loud it pushes your short hair back
it rushes at your ears.
You pretend to not hear from your friend
over the wind, it's loud enough to pretend
that all you hear is the loud ocean like sound of it.

3.
only tv and sleep

2010-11-16T22:39:00.000-08:00

You send him a text
you say
"hey do you like the harry potter"
he texts back
"well, I mean, who doesn't"

You drink too much alcohol at the bar
he drags you to carl's junior afterwards
there are two fights while you order
the police come.
at home your burrito is full of rice.
you say, through a moutful of rice
"this burrito is full of rice"
you drink from a huge cup of icy diet coke
you swallow a wad of rice.
He yells at you,
again
he seems to yell at you often at 4am on
a friday
after the booze
and the carl's junior,
and the big cup of soda.
you roll your eyes
you go to bed
while the room spins
in the dark.

Faggots

2010-08-31T21:24:00.000-07:00

1.
When he waves a pencil sized joint in your face
You say "when did you start smoking so much pot?"
he says "Stranger things have happened"
you say "i mean i'm not reading you, its just that
it's like you're a pot head all of a sudden"
he laughs, then turns away too quickly
closing the door behind him.

2.
"i want to tell you some thing"
he says
he says
"my therapist said that if i have some thing
to say to you, i should just say it and not
think about it too long, or like hold on to it"
you say "no"

3.
You say
"I haven't cum for about 6 weeks"
he says
"that is so cool!"

4.
He says
"I have to tell you something
about my body"
You lower your voice and scan the room
quickly
"what?" you whisper
"i think i bruised something...inside me"
he says
"oh that's normal" you say
you say "that's totally happened to me"

5.
There's a new large
floral printed couch in the room
"What's this?"
you ask
"That's my new couch,do you like it?" he asks
"no" you say "not at all.

2010-08-31T21:21:00.000-07:00

The bench was lower than the chair
and the table too wide.
Though you are taller than him
when you sat on the cushioned bench
you sank in low.
You said
"wow this is weird"
noting not only the sudden height difference
but also the disney themed decor
and mismatched furniture
"i'll sit with you"
he said sweeping around the table
his thigh softly brushing yours
as he settled in, close.
now
you can smell the milky tinge on his breath
the fine lines around his eyes apparent
in the dim light
and the alarming steadiness of his eye
contact, not penetrating or forceful
but unceasing, and pliant.

jason

2010-07-13T01:11:00.000-07:00

It's sunk in
that you are gone
for six months
it has seemed that
you'd return
with a half full
paper cup of coffee
your hand dripping
the white cup stained brown
around the edges
a stripe or splotch of coffee
on your already soiled jeans
and your gold rimmed glasses
slid far down your small nose.

the post card you sent
got here late
the neighbors took the mail again
the cat on the card
is bored. and the card
seems old. i imagine you in
upstate new york at a store
somewhere near the trail you are hiking
i imagine you buying beef jerky
and donuts, and loose tobacco
to roll into cigarettes.
then you see the post card
you see 14 different cat postcards
which have been there for years
and you buy them all

the mice are loud.
they've gotten louder since you left.
and the neighbor got a kitten
that snuck into the apartment on the day
the post card came
which was weird.

2010-07-13T01:04:00.000-07:00

You eat brie cheese.
From a plastic bag.
From the fridge.
The cheese
tastes like the inside of a plastic bag
and wax
and triple cream

You try not to drink
whiskey, which is kept on top of the fridge
in three different bottles.
instead you dip limp
celery in spinach dip
and peel a hard boiled egg

2010-05-19T02:28:00.000-07:00

at home
6 shots in of jager
then two of whiskey
there's a moth on the tv screen
which isnt a moth but a mosquito
and not a tv but a computer.
black cotton socks pulled up to
your thighs
and blue cutoff shorts high up to your
crotch.
you dressed like lolita.
on purpose.
you walked to the bar and thought
"i am dressed like lolita, on purpose"
you served booze and soda
and water with ice
you danced briefly with a boy
wearing a tight flannel shirt and a broach
instead of a tie, his eyes turned down on the
outside his belly touched your forearm.
you grabbed the thickness of him
when you pushed past to the restroom.
"this" youthink
"is good practice for new york'

faggots

2010-05-13T03:10:00.000-07:00

1.
You're
at the sex club
with your pants at your knees
and the feeling of his
shaved head in your palm
as he mouths your penis.
The eye brows you painted on earlier
half rubbed off when you
went down on the first guy
your face buried in his lap
the soft clammy skin of his thighs
pressed to your temples and cheeks.
All that black make up smeared
across your face
you look like a chimney sweep.

2.
it was inappropriate the way
you made out with that boy.
the one who only wanted to talk
with you, though his hand cupped
the bone of your hip
and his face drunkenly
sunk toward your shoulder
and his eyes glinted drukenly
and promisingly at yours.

3.
walking on 16th street
you mouth the words to
a marianne faithful song
practicing figure eights with your hips
imagining an egg between your shoulder blades
so you don't move them
as you swish.

4.
at 11 am he says
"go check out that dolly, if its too heavy"
you walk across the lot
past two men in coveralls
with filthy faces. you lift one end of the red dolly.
grease from the underside coats your fingertips
black. you wipe this on the bottom hem of your jeans.
the mickey mouse t-shirt is tight on your chest
you chug watered down gatorade and bight brightly
into a perfectly ripe red apple.
"yeah, its not too heavy" you push the words around
the mouthful of fruit,
thinking how handsome you must look,
unaware of the dark circles of mascara
under your eyes, aging you 10 years in the sunlight.

5. You say
"i hope I didnt get an std last night"

6. You say
"how many drugs are you on for the HIV"
you call it THE HIV instead of YOUR HIV
he asks
"Why?"

Faggots

2010-05-07T19:29:00.000-07:00

1.
I ran myself ragged
by not drinking
and last night
when he came in
with his boyfriend
both of them in blackouts
from the whiskey
both too loud
with perfect beards
and nice hair
I drank quickly from the
Ancient Age bottle
then went to bed.

2.
In a text message he said
"come over to my house
we'll take a bath with salts
then have crazy sex all night"
I erased the message by accident
and only noticed later when i tried
to show my friend at the bar.

3.
I say "I have a gig later"
and she says, after a nearly audible pause
"I really like glitter too"

2010-04-12T08:08:00.000-07:00

At 6:50 wake up, roll around uncomfortably
in your bed
your throat sore on the left side, like knives
when you swallow,
your left big toe seized in pain, curled almost
completely under your foot
Hear rain. Hear cars in the rain.
Cough, once, then twice
loosening the mucus
from your throat or lungs.
Wheeze when you breathe.
Stretch your arms up quickly above your head
accidentally slamming your hands into the
wall behind your bed
put your stubbed fingers in your mouth
to soothe them.
leap suddenly from the bed. leap, get some air between
you and the floor, and the mattress,
close in the distance between you and the cieling
turn on the bright humming overhead light
with the switch by the doorway.
rush to the bedside table, remove
a red velvet bag from the middle drawer,
remove from the bag a roll of money,
count it
twice.
count it a third time when the second
does not match the first.
subtract 75 dollars for a phone bill
20 for booze
and 40 for food, put the remainder back in the bag
back in the table.
turn off the light
fall back onto the bed and stretch your big toe.
uncurl it slowly.

faggots

2010-04-08T13:01:00.000-07:00

You lie coughing in
your dark room
your hand absently pulling
at your dick
your right top molar aching.

2010-04-01T21:37:00.000-07:00

The fog pushes in eastward
up market street
you see it coming.
all the way from the hill.
from the castro

2010-04-01T21:34:00.000-07:00

Your'e
Buying wine
cigarettes
and crackers
a man
a skeleton
in an automated
wheel chair
wearing a tan sweater
with a small dog peaking
out from the stretched neckline
blocks the doorway.
his head bounces on the stick of his neck
when the chair pushes
over the threshold of
the floor.

faggots

2010-03-20T20:55:00.000-07:00

1
I am not tryng mostly
to make a fool of myself
after the energy drink
and the shot of super sweet liquor, close to cough syrup
and the wig on my head the heels on my shoes,
the stockings, false lashes and makeup generally.
I leave my hand on your bicep too long,
I grab you around the waist six times and hug you close, laughing,
but also feeling your bulk on my hip and
on my ribs.
I put my hand on your head and ruffle your hair,
then comb it with my fingers softly
while reaching for your cold clear drink with my other hand
pulling the straw into my mouth with my tongue.

2
i meant to wear the cloth shoes
that look like clown shoes, the toes
rounded pointed and turned up
the right sole pulling away from the right uppers.
but in my rush i've put on the boots
i bought with birthday money.
These boots will not go well with the black and gold see through
and sequined jumpsuit which i'll wear to the club
just a jock strap holding me in
hair blow dryed, face patted to an even tone with foundation
eyes sunk in dark powdery circles of make up.

3
the smell of poppers
and the tension of dehydration behind my eyes
dump me cruelly into sleep.

2010-03-02T02:10:00.000-08:00

you gain 7 pounds in 2 weeks.
you have taken to drinking water with
lemon and eating donuts and chocolate
past midnight.
your eyes are dry.
you cried earlier when he left.
you held him tight
your arms reaching all the way around him
you pressed one hand on the back of his
head, his hair fine and soft.
you said
"hey, i love you, and you will be back"
you did not cry then but after
on the street, as you walked to the gym
and three drunk people in a row asked you for a cigarette
or a light.

Faggots

2010-02-28T14:57:00.000-08:00

1.
I'm itchy
on my face
and my ears too
i think its the msg
from my beef salad,
vietnamese.
or all the sugar
in the bear claw
I found in a white paper bag
on the kitchen table, half eaten.

2.
She comes in
with her pants pulled down
with her ass out and
her pubes showing
she hugs each of us
rubbing his sweaty chest
against each of our faces
swinging his hips smally
to britney spears.
He throws his phone against
the wall, it breaks
into five pieces
the batter bounces off my leg.
he smiles
like a child. his eyes
red and wet, pre tears
pre crying.

3.
he says
"when i leave
what if i forget to
be gay"
i say
"you have to be kidding"
he says
"well you know what if i forget how
to be gay"
i say
"well its not like you are particularly queenie
you don't say...girl"
"girrrrl"
he says
"see you say that like an animal, you're gonna be fine"

2010-02-28T01:31:00.000-08:00

whiskey in iced coffee
when you order a sandwich
at 3pm, on saturday
at the corner market.
the korean lady
asks her daughter to take your order
because you said "what" too many
times when she asked
if you wanted a hard
or soft roll.
you drink deep on the coffee
the whiskey strong, floats on top.

2010-02-27T04:33:00.000-08:00

I did coke
i thought i could love you
no really
you were there for
a minute.
you said
"im going to la"
and i said
"have a good time"
and you said
"i will"

love letter to n.

2010-02-25T20:34:00.000-08:00

We will not age well, you and me.
The booze has already
taken hold of the skin below our eyes
pulling it, and rouging it.
Your back teeth hurt constantly
and this at 26.
The edges of your index and middle finger tips
browned from the burned down bits of cigarette
you smoke out the broken window in the
living room, or walking down the street
in your black boots, falling apart pants, and
barely a shirt shirt.
My hair retreats from the beach of
my forehead, a slow moving low tide.
Yours too, our widows peaks
framed by curled wispy mouse brown hair,
the heads and hair of babies.
My face's summer redness does not fade
completely anymore in the winter
settling instead in the swolen
pits and lifts of my cheeks and nostrils.
When i dust the make up on my face
at night
it settles chalk like in the fine and
think lines around my eyes.
my skin is not taut.
sleep does not make you look fresh.
Water does not make you look fresh.
we've taken to eating just eggs
and cheese
beef and spinach
cooked into an omelete
or a taco
or boiled sometimes
or a salad.
There is always a whiskey bottle on top of the
refrigerator, and coffee just brewed or about to be,
or heated in a beaker on the stove.
There are only 3 forks but 16 spoons
and your slippers have rubbed though all the way
at the big toe and heel.
When I wake at noon i shuffle through a pile
of dirty pants, greyed shirts, dig out a jockstrap
discarded just hours before.
it's come to this
a jock strap
a hard boiled egg
and the best coffee we can buy.
we are not aging well.

Faggots

2010-02-25T15:56:00.000-08:00

1.
She has crabs
"I have crabs" she says
She pulls up her teal
tank top to show you her stomach.
"Stop" you say.

2.
A mouse shuffles in the garbage can
She says "I think its in the compost"
and taps the lid down with a bare foot.
"I think she's in the garbage" you say.
"no listen!"
you do, then
"you're right she's in the compost" you say.

3.
You wear the white shirt
that makes you feel like a woman,
which you don't notice till you
walk by a handsome man
and you tilt your head as if
you had a pony tail
and shift your weight as if
you had tits.
Eyes semi-closed, sleepy, bedroom eyes.
You look stoned and not like a woman.

4.
She says
"you may be the only queen i know
who's nicer in drag than out of it"

5.
You say
"if you did more facebooking
and less fucking, you wouldn't have crabs"

Faggots

2010-02-23T22:27:00.001-08:00

It has rained all day.
You sit on the floor
on a mat
leaning back against the couch
your head pressed by gravity
on your housemate's knee.
Your neck bent back
your head toward the large
computer, on the large desk
in the corner of the room.
this is the second merchant ivory film of the day
a faggot sits next to you
his hand on your thigh
under the blanket.
a small carraffe of red wine
presses into the palm of your
right hand.
On screen Ralph Feinnes all blind
and sorta rich and acting poorly
bumps into a red wicker chair.
cool air comes in through the broken window by the door.

2010-02-21T14:22:00.000-08:00

Your jeans have ripped.
you tried to sit on the arm of a chair
next to the broken window
in your living room, next to your exboyfriend
closely, closer than you've sat in a year
and your jeans tore silently, but you felt it,
under your right thigh near the crotch.
You say, "My jeans just ripped,"
Your ex nods, half in conversation
with a friend who sits on the couch,
pink teal and white crepe streamers
hang in bright loops from the cieling,
there's confetti on your shoe.
You reach between your legs and find the hole.
The denim there soft, it tears more as you finger
it.
You get up, a freshly full plastic cup
of ice whiskey and coffee in your right hand.
You approach a cluster of friends near the kitchen,
"My jeans just ripped"
"where?"
"right here between my legs" you touch the spot
"you can't see it"
someone says
"that sucks" and shrugs
"no" you say "I've had these jeans for 4 yours. They are
my favorite jeans they were $250"
"you spent $250 on jeans?"
"but they are great, they are french but they fit so good
and they are ripped. I was supposed to wear these jeans when i was forty"
You realize that you've always expected to have these jeans forever
you imagine yourself bloated greyed and slouched, a belly pushing over the
waistband of the jeans, the ankles and calves tight on skinny legs, wide black suspenders keeping them up, like your father.
"you can patch them" someone says
"yeah, ill mend them"
"isnt it sad that i thought i'd have these foreveer, that's so weird..."
they shrug.
An awful song comes on the stereo and your rooomate,
topless with a voice almost completely gone from screaming
starts in on the chorus, loudly, croaking along
he drops to his knees in the middle of the floor, two strands of gold chain
hang from his neck and tangle in his chest hair. Tan
arms outstretched eyes wide and wild, and hair askew, he sings at the cieling.

Another friend starts vogueing up and down the length of the room
and another roomate rummages for and finds a strobelight.
he plugs it in and darks the rest of the lights.
the strobe is irregular, it skips beats.
3 more people start dancing, and one lipsynchs along.
they perform for the three entangled on the couch,
a potential or wayward threesome of two men one woman,
a straight couple and their long time faggot friend,
half hugging half fighting.
your ex sits in the chair
by the broken window
cup of booze held tight to his chest
grinning.

Faggots

2010-02-18T17:45:00.001-08:00

1.
His recently naired chest
scratches at your arm
like so many tiny cat tongues.

2.
Just before he cums
he climbs on top
of your chest
straddles your shoulders and
shoves his dick in your mouth.
It tastes slaty, and bitter
like cum

3.
He says
"I've had too much to drink,
I can't cum, I must be getting old"
you let him lick your thighs
while you jerk off
you pass out, just after.

Faggots

2010-01-14T20:17:00.000-08:00

1. You need to know that
absolutely everything about
your sex life is absolutely
important to absolutely everyone
do not hesitate to bring it up
in public or private.

2. drink jager
drink whiskey
make out with your
exboyfriend's exbestfriend
even though it doesnt feel
too good.
do it bc you arent supposed to.
make assumptions that everyone at
the bar either hates you
or wants to fuck you
or both.
get a drink for your friend
twice. lose your jacket bc
you are too drunk
to remember that you didnt lose
your jacket but instead put
it in the dj booth which you never
do.
and when it's time to take your photo
in the back of the bar
where everyone is taking photos
with the photographer or doing coke
with the photographer
and they are wearing all black
some with leather
some with obviously expensive
high heels the boys in awe of your outlandish
make up
or scared of it
or dismissive of it
like you NEED that attention,
when you go get your photograph
turn into a 2 dimensional cut out of
a person instead of a person itself
become the flattest thing
become the photo before the photo is even taken
drink jager
drink whiskey
drink water
don't go home
go to the diner and order a burger with a fried
egg on top
eat all your fries and your friend's onion
rings and most of the sausage appetizer
act like you don't care
about anything
don't care about anything
eat the side of cottage cheese
look desirously at the friend
you dont desire
just to see
bc you think maybe
he put his foot on yours
under the table on purpose
not by accident.
get hurt when he doesnt
look desirously back
insult him in your mind
blame him for not being able to get
beyond the cult of masculinity,
for not being open to OTHER forms
of men, to OTHER ways of looking or being
to OTHER OTHERs.
drink coffee at 4 am
take a cab home
then get on the internet for an hour
your eyes half open
your hand absently teasing a hardon
from your dick
then absently teasing an orgasm from that.
sleep.

2010-01-14T20:11:00.000-08:00

He rolls over in sleep
taking with him
the brown egyptian cotton top sheet
a birthday gift
the brown quilted comforter
also a birthday gift
the creamsicle and robin's egg comforter
and lastly the white and stained down comforter
your right wrist
your left shoulder gets exposed
your arms are wrapped around
the person sized pillow
also a birthday gift
that floats between the bed and wall
on a pile of more blankets (black, brown, tan).
The light is on, you can hear it humming,
it leaks in under the grey bandanna you've tied on your eyes
to keep it out.
He snores
half snores
or rather
snores half the time
you dream about the ex lover.
the fat one with the perfectly patterened chest
and body hair
you dream the he is making out with someone else
in your house but its you
the covers move again
you are in your room
and you in your dream
with your fingers pressing firmly on his chest
biting at the flesh on his ribs
hair in your teeth.
You can hear the coffee grinder
you can hear a little bit of street noise
a street lady crying loudly then whoop whooping
under the window.
You smell the coffee.

2010-01-06T12:11:00.000-08:00

1.
The moon's half there.
You can see the other half
somehow, the dark part
the hidden part.
and clouds that look just like the sky
obscure that big pitchfork tower
that sticks out at the end of market street
you can see the tips of it,
three points, floating in the greyness of it.
a smoke stack down 6th, thin like a cigarette,
puffs slow moving White up,
it billows, almost as still as a painting.
if it were a painting of itself no one would
know the difference.
2.
You walk quickly past the just opening fruit market
on the corner, your grey rabbit fur vest zipped
all the way up to the neck, your shoulders
drawn up toward your ears and your neck
down, trying to turtle into the fur.
A black plastic bag with a soup container
of dark sweet creamed coffee hangs from
your right wrist, the container tapping your thigh
with each step forward. the coffee is described
by it's roaster:
"if it were any thicker it would be syrup"
you shudder against the cold.
It's not wet out. It's not dry.
The morning grey sky pushes down on you,
your ears still wet from the shower prickle.
A man leans on a tree with three of his fingers
wedged into his mouth, barely bent over, just maybe
his neck tilted, mucous and bile flood
over his hand down his wrist and splash wetly
on the ground.
His watch drips with fluids, the cuff
of his soiled military green parka soaked.
You step around feces
you step over feces
you step around a person
you step over a persons leg
you cross the street
you light a cigarette, with a match
you taste sulfur
the tower at the end of market
looks like a ship a pirate ship
floating in the sky
its bottom cut off by clouds
but they're the same color as the moon
as the sky
and as your vest
Someone told you it was designed
to look like a ship floating on the fog
when it rolled in
When heather was in town you made a joke about the fog
you called it sky AIDS. Spreading through the city.
Sky AIDS.
SKAIDS for short.
You didnt know if you were positive or negative then
you were waiting, uncomfortably for test results.
You still call it that, SKAIDS.
Your mouth tastes like stale cigarette.
And your head aches just a little bit around the edges
from last nights tequila, it was so sweet.

Super Mario Brothers on Wiii late at night after watching a mediocre movie that felt like dreaming poorly

2010-01-03T17:02:00.001-08:00

1.
I kick over the whiskey, because I can't make Mario
jump high enough.
I bounce off the head of a turtle.
But when I die I bend to drink from the half
full whiskey glass of my friend.
I lean back so my shoulders touch the feet of
a boy I might like.
He does not notice. I do not notice.
Mario jumps high again.

2.
When he did not jump high enough
I let out a sound a 2nd grader might
at the same situation. Or rather
I let out a sound that my second grade
self might've let out.
I think I was smarter then (though not as
knowledgable). I was smarter about
being a person in the world.
Often on the bus I look around and wonder
"How did you all get here? like really
how exactly did you get here and become a person
this morning?"
Mario jumps high on the screen, I bounce off of
certain things and aim to impress my friends with
my moves. We are gathered onto a foam top
mattress in front of a large tv in a small room.
Two of them date, but the other is new
his first time hanging out with us.
To watch the movie we had to get on the bed real
close, my arm was on his and his knee on mine
and I wondered if he noticed as much as me
or if it even matters, or mattered.
I kicked over the whiskey and diet coke because
I could not jump high enough and i got excited
or dissapointed
or excitedly dissapointed.

I don't mind

2010-01-03T15:01:00.001-08:00

I don't mind that I stole from you
the description of your hair
(a hat of broken rusted nettles),
I stole from you the flavor of kisses
(salty tear taste with the edge of dark chocolate).
I don't mind the place i live in
with its bent in half people toothless and smiling
(pushing words from broke down mishapen mouths)
begging for coins or booze or booze for coins.
Yeah I don't mind the way we drink
endlessly, out or in the house,
with ice, from a glass, from a bottle,
already drunk, stone cold sober or hungover,
I don't mind that we don't seem to want to or know how
to stop. Yeah I don't mind
that sex has become a chore.
I remember seeing dogs fucking, the way the moved
quickly without regret shame or hesitation, yeah sex is like that.
I don't mind that I just wanna fuck my friends,
because I like them enough, because I like ruining things.
I don't mind that I smoke even when i don't want
to
because i like feeling short of breath
I like the headache shaky hands and brief joy
and i like the way smoke looks coming out
of my mouth like I'm magic inside or something.
Yeah I don't mind that you gave me all the sadness
you've been carrying around for 26 years
behind those doe down turned long straight lashes
and deepish brown eyes, I don't mind
that when you cried you'd sit on the edge of the bed
with snot pouring out of you in a puddle
I don't mind that I had to break your heart
and then you turned into a scary coke head and
prostitute
Yeah I don't mind that I stole a description
of love from you, what'd you say?
"like a bird caught in the cage of your ribs"?
I think it was that. yeah.

gemma

2009-12-30T11:51:00.001-08:00

The traces of red polish on her fingernails could be blood.
Perhaps is.
Her uneven nails travel slowly along the seam of her
thick black smock, snatching at and removing loose threads.
She blinks, once, then twice,
The smell of tequila floats from her mouth
the smell of cigarettes from her hair.

2009-12-28T13:33:00.000-08:00

You can see in his swimming and wet eyes
the booze has taken hold. He does not slur his words
he does not tip his head vigorously or without cause
but behind his pupils, or rather, within them, ringed with
grey green color, something has switched.
You touch lightly his left shoulder with your right hand
let it rest there, casually, as a friend. He keeps on
with a story about a story, a story about writing a story
for a class or for fun, his lips large and fast moving
lit jumpily by the fireplace in the corner.
Mostly men lounge on the velvet benches
a chandelier is draped with ribbons and false cobwebs
and clothespins. The bar glows with lights under its counter,
the bartendress floating quickly between
patrons and the booze shelves behind her
a smile set neatly on her round face, a white
towel tucked into the back pocket of her black, tight jeans.
You move your hand toward his neck, pressure increased,
and you sip from the cold short drink in your left hand.
The liquor has released you too,
your shoulders relax, your knees are nice, your smile
easy.
HA! you lean toward him, close enough
to feel his breath but close enough to just listen.
The booze digs down at your gut, opens up,
warms you.
I mean what you want right now, what you've wanted all day is the pressure of someone's mouth against yours, maybe teeth tapping accidentaly and out of need and excitement. What you want is his hand on the back of your neck.
You sat in front of your computer and masturbated for one whole hour. then you slept. then you cried. then you watched tv, then you masturbated again. life is good. life is good. so you want right now. You want his need for you.
you drink more booze. you pour liquor into your mouth.
you sit back and you wait,
exposing your breast to the stars
and asking for something to come along and take it.

just, being friends

2009-12-26T16:48:00.000-08:00

Hey I woke up with you on my mind
I had this dream i think your dick was in my mouth
at the end of it, not entirley hard, but not entirely soft.
My heart was jumping hard and i woke up with
a boner, sweating facedown with a pillow on my head and one
tucked under my right arm, my right leg pulled up
so the knee almost touched my right elbow the left leg
stiff straight.
my shirt was gone, and my right sock too, but
my underwear was on, tight because of the boner.
My head, the inside of it, the brain part was stiff
and stringy,
or rather my thoughts were coming at me
hard and fast three or four at a time,
but i blamed the whiskey, god it must've been 7 am when i woke up
but it was like 11:43, and before i moved, before i took even
my first waking breath i could feel the pull of last nights
drugs and booze right at the base of my skull at the top of my
last vertabrae, i could feel it squeezing and pulling
then opening up and blooming fully, reaching long
spiky fingers
across my whole skull and pointing itself
at the backs of my eyes.
this day, i thought, this day will be just a hangover
i breathed, and my weight pushed my
dick into the bed, and i rolled my hips around.
Yeah. but I woke with you on my mind,
and my stringy stiff many thoughts swarmed, they gathered into
one big ball of worry, one great big greek chorus of anxiety.
more specifically my thoughts
turned into a hard strong storm with cold sharp rain
and i was laying there in a field, a soft pink thing of flesh
on wet slick grass
trying not to think of you, trying not to have a boner for you
but also relishing that at least in sleep i could touch your not
quite hard dick to my mouth. then it rained, then it poured
and lightening struck and I tossed myself out of bed
into the world, shocking my eyes open, the light on suddenly
my body carrying me to the kitchen for water and to the bathroom
to brush my teeth and wet my head and wash the mascara from my eyes
my body in all its dehydration exhaustian and pain
swiped you out of my mind, cleared the storm of my thoughts
and all i could do was boil an egg and try to brew coffee with thick
lazy fingers.

Sometimes jerking off makes me sad

2009-12-26T15:53:00.000-08:00

1,
I woke wrapped in black sheets
my phone pressed into the palm of my hand
under my belly.
A line of dried drool sticky on my cheek
a cool spot of spit on the black pillowcase.
The light all grey and blue, the sounds of cars
driving on the wetted street, quickly.

2.
(some text missing)

3.
12 eggs boil in a large silver pot
on the stove. Two have cracked
bespoiling the roiling water with nets
of the ghosts of their insides.

4.
I did not dream of you just now.
Instead I slept like a rock. but maybe not a rock
i think i slept more like a piece of wood
an old one that has been water damaged
but is dried out now, and jagged, with
cobwebs on one end, and the chips of
grey paint. Like a piece of wood
that was maybe part of a piece of a deck
on an old house in Freeport Long Island.

5.
The coffee machine sounds like rain.
and indigestion.

Dreamz

2009-12-24T09:07:00.001-08:00

You wore a sequin dress
kind of see through,
made of brown lace and green iridescent sequins
like what a child imagines fish scales as,
and your earring were soft
yellow gold hoops, hand hewn.
we all sat
at a long wood table
lit with candles down the middle
like the one i have in my house.
You were thinner than you are.
And maybe younger.
You were the way I
imagine you when we are not together.
You were your perfume.
The room opened up behind you,
expanded, as you floated from guest to guest
leaning on this shoulder here
laughing at that joke there
and each person you touched
each person you breathed on
became better.
no, really, it sounds, silly
it does, and i can't be more specific
but they became better.
Their hair shined more.
Their smiles eased
Their hands became soft
lovely creatures
their breath was golden
and the candles did not flicker when they laughed.
You got on the stage and your dress
became black gauze, your hair lengthened then
and turned the color of coffee and heavy cream, sweet.
we all turned to watch you
all at once, in unison
easily together.
You sang then.
You sang like billie holiday
that thin scratchy voice , and
the woman next to me shed a single tear
that slid down her face slowly and
it was a pearl.

2009-12-23T12:55:00.000-08:00

Sitting on a bench by the bar
facing a pool table covered over
with a reindeer themed table cloth
and crammed full of large platters
of store bought sandwiches, deli meats
assorted dressings, most notably
a half used open jar of mayonaise.
a man, a drunker man of about 40 years old
dances with his shirt pulled up
and pants pulled down exposing his whole rear to the food.
He shakes his naked ass, and the lower part of his gut
dust is 90% made of humans,
he dusts the food.
Another man with a long wizard beard
wearing black gym shorts white socks pulled up
and a christmas tshirt swings by and blesses
the food with his hand moving it in a cross shape
then a star shape
then whistling through two fingers.
He snatches a dry boring sugar cookie and pops it in
his mouth.
A black man of about 35 with a large backpack and
crappy headphones pops his head around a pillar
smiling he says
Hey Larry
You say
I'm not Larry
He looks at you weird, as if you're lying
I'm not, I promise
He looks like he thought he would make out with you, with Larry
his eyes slacken
he turns to the food, grabs a turkey club wrap
and stalks off, half bent from the weight of his bag.
The whiskey you have cools you and warms you.
Your hand is icey, outside it was raining before you came in,
with cold air that made your breath white.
You sit close next to your friend
knees touching and thighs too. You shift your weight so
even more leg touches, he does not move away, he sips his drink
he dries the edges of his mustache
he points at the semi nude guy dancing near the food
He says something too low to hear under the christmas music.
The whiskey has got you by the backs of the eyelids
you half smile at your friend. you put your hand on his knee
briefly, you hop up quickly and gather a cocktail napkin full
of bad storebought bulk cookies. one filled with red jam
one flakey but not dry enough one covered in hard
holiday sprinkles. Your friend takes a bite of each.
You scan the bar for the black man, chewing dryly on
the jam filled cookie. You want, you think, you want
warmness, company, and sex. That man will do
Your friend can not.

Faggots

2009-12-17T16:53:00.000-08:00

8. My computer makes that sound
it makes when someone on a hook up website
has sent you a message.
She perks up "is it sexy?"
"no" i say
just so she won't come and look
at the picture of the man who's written to me.
"I'm going to join right now" she says
"Isn't that weird that I'm joining"
"No" i say, my computer chimes again
"is it sexy?" she says
"no" i say, it usually isnt.

7. "Drag queen" she says
"hooker" i say

6. She puts a pot of water on the stove to boil
for coffee, cupping my privates in her hand
as she passes.
I twist away, chopping my onions on the butcher block.
"make something we can put cheese on" she says
Ginger bread bakes in the oven, stinking up the kitchen
"I didn't drink last night, and I'm paying for it today"
I say.
"There's vodka" she says "in the fridge."
Onion sticks to the bottom of my bare feet.
I wipe at my eye with my hand
it burns instantly.

5.Getting ready for the gym
all my clothes are dirty
even the dirty ones.
I have no underwear
to wear under my leggings
which have replaced short shorts
as exercise gear
since they went missing two weeks ago
and it's gotten cold.
I slide on the blue jock strap
I usually use for work.

4. We are on the couch watching a cartoon movie
my legs stretched across his lap under a green
felt blanket. He rolls a cigarette.
"your legs are in my way"
I shift
"still"
I shift
"no" he moves his knees to his chest dumping me on the floor.

3.She comes in wearing black and blue lycra
tights. and a purple blouse thing. and cowboy boots.
I'm wearing two layers of tights
jeans two sweatshirts a tshirt
and a hat.
"it's cold" she says
smoking through the jagged hole in the window.

2. He's so chipper when I come home
the apartment's smoke filled, a crisp blue
gray smoke that burns eyes and throats,
he stands by the stove flipping a chicken breast
brightly whining
"I didn't know it was SOO smokey"

1. I realized today that I am a pile of money
and all I have to do is peel off one bill at a time.
Or maybe remove it quickly so as not to disturb
the other bills, so as not to create a breeze that would
lift them and spread them.
I'm thinking there may be coins at the bottom of the pile
of bills.

andrew

2009-12-12T18:46:00.000-08:00

you woke to the hot hot heat
of a brown fleece electronic blanket
it's span warming your ankles to your waist.
Your sweatshirt, unzipped has wrapped around your neck
pulling your left arm up in an imitation of a sling.
theres the loud sound of heels, booted heels, cowboy heels
clopping around the next room. A hollow loud banging.
You can tell it's Andrew. the spaces between steps. The
ceaselessness of it. You imagine him smoking by the window
blonde dirty hair spilling over his left eye
then clop clop clop to the butcher block in the center of the kitchen
where he'll sip from a jelly jar of ginger whiskey and ice,
then clop clop clop back to the window,
where he exhales a cloud of cold breath and smoke
slivers of dirt darkening his fingernails.
You imagine him wearing the blue jeans he borrowed from his rich friend
an italian brand name, that hold his ass and crotch tightly but flair slightly
at the knee, and slide easily into the open top
of his untied combat boots.
You reach for your buzzing phone with your free right arm
and knock your glasses to the floor.
the small screen light turns your hand blue
Andrew continues to clop, you imagine his frayed and fraying denim
jacket bare at the backs of the shoulders, his hands jumping
in the air as he talks in that strange twisted tired accent of his.
His mustache quivering at the lip of the glass as he drinks deep
on the booze. You rememeber to two nights ago
as you sat sadly on a bench by the bar, almost too drunk to remember,
while he held you by the shoulders and told you for
twenty minutes exactly how you were amazing, with the force
and conviction of the religious, political or insane.
spittle flying from his fast moving lips landing cooly
on your cheek. The force of his words
his grip on your shoulders holding you up
pressed back against a cool wet wall.
YOu remember try to remember the words exactly
you dig at your memory now, he clops back and forth
you push down at the sleep that grabs you by the warm legs
he clops as you blink against the light from your phone screen
he clops and you read the words from an ex lover
they say
"hello."
clop clop clop
You imagine him sipping cold coffee from the black and white striped mug.
You imagine his wild
and lovely cool blue eyes, with the long girlish lashes, light colored
and red in the sun. you imagine his fingerelss gloves unraveling at
his fingers and wrists.
You imagine he smallness of his waist and the coral colored button up
shirt he wears tucked in.

2.
Remember when you fucked him? really. remember that? late at night on a sunday
it was raining then and cold it must have been february.
and you got him back to your place because everytime he talked to you
he'd put his hand on your waist with just a little pressure pulling you in.
You had to drink more before you brought him home, you had to drink
because you were embarrassed that you liked him, that somehow he'd figured out
you'd do it with him. the kissing, the holding, as if you'd been obvious
when all you'd been was quiet, shy and drunk. Remember walking home the three blocks from the club all the streets and sidewalk wetly reflecting streetlights and car lights. Reemmber that you might not have used a condom
that when you woke the next morning you were gripped with anxiety
immobolized, barely able to choke out words of salutation, hollow empty sounding htings
about the weather and the day and the time before he left, while you huddled
under your non electric comforter, the filling clumped irregularly inside its case, not keeping you warm exactly.
Remember how just a few months ago
you realized you could fall for him. if he would let you. if you would let him let you.
yeah but now he's stomping around in the next room, while you struggle
between the horror of staying in bed and the horror of getting up,
the flavor of sleep strong in your mouth, a meaningles text message on your phone and your glasses on the floor.

dr8mk

2009-12-11T02:16:00.000-08:00

ther's the rain sound from that sound machine in the corner
the oneyou put on everynight to go to sleep
wat you really wantis someone tocomeintothebed with y]
what you really want is to stopdrinkingn andwish somethingelse made yout his happy
what you wish is that you could focuson the thing that you want
everythging but you findevery reasonto do everything else

2009-12-10T04:06:00.000-08:00

the electric blanket
is so warm
he comes home soon after
and turns on the shower
i can hear it from my room
the round brown face of a boy
floats in front of me
from memory
the shower is so loud
he says hello
he asks how i am
but i can barely tell
because of the booze
the electric blanket
the cold cold air
that holds my breath out
in clouds, lit by the desperately
small screen of my phone
as i text ex lovers
too late to be cute.

what you've learned

2009-12-07T02:07:00.000-08:00

-boys like beards
-there is no excuse for shaved eyebrows
-if you have poppers in your pocket, thats why they get close while dancing and grab your waist.
-you are balding
-friends are only friends in winter, despite all summer and autumn actions
-when you get drunk you are drunk
-you can not pay for your art show
-things are bad
-you may move back to long island

2009-12-04T20:27:00.000-08:00

you sleep in your roomate's bed
at six am the sun comes up
and paints the whole room white
homeless people gather under the window
and chirp like birds.
Your roomate is in Atlanta
his father just had his protate removed
your father had his taken out 6 years ago
its a walnut sized gland that makes
ass fucking feel good, for the bottom.

There was a boy in the bed too,
last night.
there is no note.
you wrap a brown rabbit fun blanket around you,
your barefoot feet slap the cold wood green painted floors
when you cross the apartment to your room.
It is dark, black even, with no windows.
He is there, barely asleep.
He says
I couldn't sleep with you
I just can't sleep in the same bed as someone
You kiss him. You get on top of him.
You feel desperate.
Ha!
You feel desperate again.
You shuffle back to the bright room.
It seems like a beach cabin, and the homeless chatter
like gulls.
You sniff at this poetic idea.
You press your body onto the bed.
You cover your whole body with the blanket
fur side down
tickling the small of your back
the underside of your knees.
You grind your pelvis into the bed, your
thighs scratched by a rough mexican blanket.
You tighten your asshole
One
Two
Three times
You imagine the removal of your prostate.
That silent walnut
up inside you.
That spot the boy wants to touch
with the tip of his dick.
Though he can not share this bed with you.
This fur blanket.
You will not give your prostate up to cancer
to the cold slice of a scalpel or the smooth
burn of a lazer.
You promise, outloud, to no one.
to your roomate's room,
empty except for you.

2009-11-28T22:24:00.000-08:00

i want to write about the break up
yeah
so what
the break up
the details of time and space
more specifically it was the first time
i noticed that your clock in your room
is like the clock in a school, like its
a actual school clock and that you clipped
a clip light to your plant.
there's the sound of aretha franklin coming up through the floor
real loud
and you're all
"I can't believe my neighbor plays my music so loud, it's one am"
you said that.
I lay on your bed face down trying to not fall asleep.
knowing that now i'll have to walk 20 blocks home
in the cold
at 1:15 am.
and i'm not even drunk
being sober i should be asleep before last call

fuck you
fuck you for making me sit through Precious
on what is or was our last date
even though i didnt want to see it
and CERTAINLY didn't want to spend 11 dollars seeing it
fuck having to try
and try
and try

i dont want to explain this to you.
what i want is you to hold my hand and tell me again
one more time that you love me
yeah and i want to fuck you at least once
before the break up.
i have dreams to be better than this
than this moment
than this moment of failure which is the same
as the last moment when i failed

yeah.
fuck you and fuck this
you know what i want? i want you
i want to stand next to you when you get your next fucking big compliment
i want to know how sad you are when your fucking mother says some weird shit to you
i want you to know that even though i'm fundamentally wasting my time so are you
its just the duration of my success is by the hour
and yours seems to last longer
its all luck buddy anyway
enjoy the shit i give when we're together.
fuck you

2009-11-20T02:50:00.000-08:00

tonight kinda sucked
you grought home htat guy who kinda sucked]
and when you left the strobe lightredlightsmokemachinelight of the club

it was obvious
the way he sucked

his fakeglsses
his kindamaybe seventies ish shirt
the way he talked about beiing diagnosed as insane
in a boring and unconvincing way
yeah

so he's gone
and you're eating blue tortilla chips
leftovers from a part time job

dipped in cottage cheese.
the guy you date is asleep
acrosss town
whle you, drunk, eat chips and cottage cheese.
take a shower,
boil some brocclie
drink somewater
become a better person
sorta

2009-11-13T03:06:00.000-08:00

1.
I wake 20 minutes into a fitful and dreamy sleep.
the room is black
"The room is black"
the room seems always to be black
and it seems always to be 2a.m.
i wake at two am in a black room.

my mother gave me a small round sound machine
when i left for college.
it has different settings
white noise
stream
rain
heart beat.
i like rain
it keeps out sounds so i can sleep.
and it keeps me asleep when i wake up
at 2 am or other times when i would want to sleep.

tonight it does not work

i worry my jaw back and forth
i seem to always "worry my jaw"
i seem to always wake at 2 am in the black room
worrying my jaw
i roll around the bed

i get up and wake my roomate

he's fallen asleep with the light on
and a book open next to his head
glasses crammed on his face
eyes shut.

he tells me not to worry
he tells me to make a list of the ways i can make money in the next 45 days
he tells me that the world doesn't really make sense
and if my last shitty job, that i don't have anymore
was the only thing keeping me here, in this city i love
well then that is bullshit
he tells me i am amazing and that just because i failed miserably
and pathetically at being an artist doesn't mean i can't try again
no one is keeping score he says
i thank him.

i ask where we keep the kava kava
he says "use just a table spoon"
outside his window someone on the street
someone most likely drunk
sings
"it's my party and i'll do what i want to"
after a pause they yell
"who's gonna fuck with me....and my party?"

2.
What it is is that it seems that all the magics gone
out of the world.
and i'm left here with my face half painted
smelling like pizza
and mostly alone.

2009-11-12T21:39:00.000-08:00

you sit, with your face leaned toward, and nearly into, the greasey plastic take out container on your lap.
the contents of which currently are:
two chicken bone legs
a chicken breast bone
the gnawed end of a chicken wing bone
and thin swipes of mashed potatoes.
A beige ceramic mug
next to your left knee
on the green painted wood floor
steams with dark dark coffee
just brewed.
You chew.
a fleck of chicken skin on your lower lip, near the corner.
you chew just enough, till you can swallow the ball of meat
just enough so it can slide down your esophagus. just enough.
you scald your mouth with the coffee,
chasing all traces of the
overcooked underseasoned grey meat.
you need to clip your nails. they are too long.
you need to change your pants, the crotch smells, and the thighs.
you need to charge your phone.
you need to shower and shave and brush your teeth.
you need to call your mother again
you need to get a job a good job a great job a job that does not leave you dead tired and dead eyed and dead dead. a job that will lift you up and ply you with bills upon bills upon bills of money so that you can pay down bills upon bills upon bills of debt. a job that will change your life into the magical story it was meant to be and you its unlikely but well deserving hero.
yes yes a job.
you drink more coffee.
your tongue burns.
the roof of your mouth.
tommorow morning's juice will sting,
your lips too.
you could sleep now. you could tumble forward
greasy head into greasy plastic takeout container
and pass out right here on the green painted wood floor.
you could.
even with the coffee in you now
mixing with the meat and the potatoes
mixing with the wine
and beer
and vodka drinks
and snacks-all free
consumed earlier at the
art opening
the pineapple pieces
the humus on pita
the fancy meats and cheeses piled high on a napkin and
sucked in quickly between glasses of wine in the corner
back turned all traces of drink and food
wiped quickly away on a
small
white
square
paper
cocktail
napkin.
you knock the coffee over
it flows out
into the shape of an island
then bigger
a continent
outside a distant jack hammer
mimics the sound of a wheezing
and unstarting car.
you take off your two day
dirty socks
and throw them at the continent
you tip the plastic container over.
you bend forward and vomit
it all
all of it
everything of it
the chicken
the gnawed bone bits
the potatoes
cheese
crackers
hummus
wine
beer
vodka
coffee
in that order
a spectrum
a food spectrum
it wretches
once
twice
three times
out of you.
after
with the mess
of coffee
vomit
and socks infront of you.
after. you touch your face
and it is wet
the jack hammer wheezes, car like.

2009-11-07T11:32:00.000-08:00

he describes being touched
"it's like when you are going from point a to point b. But there is snow, three feet of snow. and if there's tennis rackets you can walk, you know, on top of the snow, but if there aren't any tennis rackets you sink in. your feet just sink in. It's like that like your weight is, you know, your weight is..."
you say
"its so weird that you said it like that"
he says
"well i mean, like, what kind of lizard has like wide feet so that it can walk on water? it's like that"
you say
"but you said tennis rackets, and not snow shoes. you said point a to point b instead of just- walking on snow"
he says
"or insects with wide feet, because then the weight is spread out, like wider"
you say
"jesus"
he says
"jesus has wide feet, he walked on water"
you say
"really? wide feet"
no, you say
"Really Wide Feet"
you say
"that's what it's like, like sinking into the snow, should i not touch you"
he says
"not always, sometimes its like tennis rackets"
you say
"are you stoned? i mean, are we stoned?"
he says
"what's so weird about point a to point b?"
he laughs
you put your hand on his knee and he stops
you ask
"tennis racket"
he says
"no"
you ask
"jesus"
he says
"no"
you say
"snow"
he says
"snow"

2009-11-07T11:24:00.000-08:00

10 unhealthy things to do today
-a donut (poor quality donut with white icing and coconut flakes on top)
-3 cups of coffee (at once)
-repeated (inappropriate and unrequited) texts to a boy
-half a cigarette (spread out as small sips from friends' fags)
-pot brownie (eaten 12 hours ago, but effects lingering and slightly debilitating, especially with regards to judgements about texting a boy and eating a donut)
-no shower
-lo mein/chow mein (too soft chewy chicken pieces but mostly greasy fried noodles with maybe a leaf of bok choy and floret of broccli)
-use of internet net working sights and online tv streaming as a means to not draw or write or read.
-compulsive masturbation (as a sedative before sleep or as a means to not draw or write or read)
-abuse of alcohol and the use of convoluted logics and reasoning to justify said abuse, and reframe it as if not a healthy behavior but one that is harmless and even neccessary.

2009-11-04T20:49:00.000-08:00

I pour the rest of the vodka from the freezer into a small
glass, not unlike a tumbler but tinier.
I cut the dry dead part from the half a lemon on the butcher block,
and squeeze the good part into the vodka. I do not use ice.
I turn on the radio to NPR, to science friday on npr with that host
who sucks, his voice grating and attitude so condescending
i break two eggs into a heated iron skillet
they sizzle, i add ground beef, onions, baby spinach.
voices of very drunk men come in through the thin glass of my kitchen
window
they must've been drinking since sun up to be this drunk now.
My eggs are done. My vodka's gone.
this is the beginning of a very bad day.

How to be Zeus

2009-10-17T12:15:00.000-07:00

I am stoned.
Again.
On the floor, well really on the couch
but mostly on the floor, sliding off
for about an hour
with a glass of whiskey perched
significantly on my chest
or insignificantly held in my hand.
She "wa wa wa"s about something
I lost track of it a while ago
just before the tarot reading
when the lights flickered, we thought
we were dead for a minute or there were ghosts
or both, but it was wires.
I spilled stew on my lap earlier,
my white pants are
dreadfully brown and damp
on the right thigh
though i tried to wash it out
with dish soap and cold water.
I lose another inch to the floor.
Kenneth Anger films flick across the tv
folks in robes, stonehenge, a gay gay biker
a man cleaning a car, sensually.
I remember that dream I had about you
We were in a large white room with carpet on the walls and ceiling and a chandelier. Everyone was dressed for a fancy dress party but they all looked like they had just had sex, disheveled hair, clothes misbuttoned, skirts twisted, glasses askew. Everyone was familiar but mean. We ate broccoli dipped in a sour cream bacon dip that had been spooned into a large hollowed out brown bread roll. I had a small white paper plate with three shrimps and some sauce on it. You tried to have sex with me but I didn't want to because we were in a room full of people. But you didn't understand, you couldn't hear me when I told you, so you kept pulling at my clothes.
It's too hot in here so I'm pulling at my clothes.
She says Hey, are you ok?
I say Never, hahahaha, get it? Never....?
She takes the whiskey from my chest
It's gonna tip she says
Have as much as you want I say landing fully on the floor
on the rabbit fur blanket, that isn't itchy at all
Across the room he cuts newspaper into strips.
For a hat and a beard he says.
So I can be Zeus he says.
I'm sober, the room's brighter.
the angles not small but tight.
I want to be Zeus. I'll take that beard from you I say.
He scowls and then smiles then throws the tarot deck at me
it flutters, a few cards settle in my open hand.
This is my future? I ask.
I'm Zeus he says, laughing
I have a card stuck in my hair.
You're high, she says, to him, not to me.
He keeps cutting
On the tv boys wearing halloween masks have a party.
Some one's pants come off.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I extract it.
It's a text message. From you. It says
I want to kiss you right now
I remove the battery and toss the phone on the rabbit fur blanket
She pats my head, and pulls it over into her lap.
Let's make tea she says.
Zeus I say it under my breath three times, remove the card from my hair
get up and leave the room

I'll get the kettle
I'll throw lightening
I'll boil the water
I'll get you pregenant as a golden shower
I'll make the tea
I'll turn into a bull
I'll bring it to you
I'll rule the heavens

2009-10-14T09:46:00.001-07:00

1.
The butcher block has been wiped clean.
You stand in just your underwear
staring at the cutting board and its passengers
it's 1:15 am, cool air rushes from the open fridge
which gives the only light to the butcher block tableau.
You are tired. You are stoned, the remnants of a pot
browney stuck between your sore and tired molars, the taste
of it coating your sleepy mouth.

2.
On the butcher block there's a small wooden cutting board.
On the cutting board:
a big dull knife
3/4 of a sweet red pepper brought up from a farm in the south
two halves of yellow onions, but halves from different onions not the same
a celery bit
half a carrot, bitten not cut
tomato seeds and juice.

3.
Something woke you from your sleep. You think, You think
you dreamed of this tableau. You woke up.
You came to the kitchen for some icewater, with lemon.
You found this here.
Perfectly insignifcant. Cool air from the fridge.
Something wet and soft underfoot
mebbe some spinach or cooked pasta or old onion pieces.
You dreamed too of Spain, or what seemed like Spain
bright with sun and uneven cobblestones,
roling green hills under a white blue sky.
Women wearing mourning black hobbling down the cobbles,
carrying large baskets filled with spice
or laundry. The taste of boiled seafood
bland, seasoned with just pepper, no salt.
You dreamed you were a painter
and as you painted spain changed to france to
enland and germany, you think, but it wasn't
weird in the dream, it just was like that
they way dreams are. you tried to read a german
newspaper, but the words jumbled, this, you
remember now is why you woke. the newspaper.
under the illegible headline was a photograph of your father
his swollen red nose dark grey in newsprint
his head shiny, and eyes small behind glasses.
When you woke in your black
room this is the thing you thought of first
your father, in black and white smudged with fingerprints
then secondly the onions, the tomato juice, the knife
and the pepper.

2009-10-08T20:33:00.000-07:00

My mother was born 53 years ago today.
On the phone she uses the word "Fuckin" about 16 times.
It's a three minute conversation.
She feels 35, she says.
The barista at Starbucks who, she claims, is my age,
was about to ask her on a date
when she dropped the bomb that she could be his mother.
He told her to stick with the green tea because it was working.

Remember last night when I talked to you at 12am
while I paced my kitchen, the cold black painted wood floor
numbing my socked and dragging feet.
Remember I had my pants unbuttoned almost unzipped completely
while I ate peanut butter out of the jar with a fork,
the curtains open, a street man digging at the recycling bin
across the street.
Remember that part when you asked me to stay on the phone
because you were just getting in bed and the last thing you wanted
to hear before sleep was my voice, I cringed.
Remember the part when I accused you of thinking I was drunk,
but I only had one drink I said.
Which was a lie, I had three, four if you count the wine.
But it was over time. And I used water as a mixer.
It was already four am then, on the east coast
and I imagine mother was pacing her floors, followed
by her border collie, twisting and pulling at her rats nest of a hairdo with worried
53 year old fingers,
a robe open over her men's pajamas, feet bare and whispering on the
lush carpet of her home.
Yeah she was probably up. Age ticking at her.

My mother said that her husband and mother forgot it was her birthday.
i did not. Haven't for years.

I went to bed in silence, wihtout the fan
I woke up twice.
I got some water at 3 am.
I did not toss.
I did not turn.

She says that she's getting a massage
that everything is "really really great"
She thanks me for the flowers
my brother sent, and I remember to call him.

2009-10-08T09:33:00.000-07:00

Where the upper arm meets the forearm
just beow the elbow on the backside
along the hard ridge of that arm bone
there's the bruise.
about the size of a quarter
green but yellow around the edges

this is where he grabbed you
to hold your arm back
erotically.

in the elevator of the westin st. francis
as it swished past the 28th floor your back to the glass wall
the downtownlights of san francisco
speckled and sparkling below
a soft fog rolling in to block the nearly full moon.

he pushed the buttons on the top ten floors
and pressed himself against the full length of you
his hand held tight on your arm
squeezing, a whimper fell out of you.

ten times the elevator lept downward leaving your
stomach a few inches out of place.
ten times you looked over his shoulder
eyes wide open his mouth on yours, expecting a
hotel guest dressed for a a fancy dinner at the
cheesecake factory, or a fancy drink in the hotel
bar, or maybe a bellboy pushing a now empty luggage
cart, his small navy and red round hat askew, sweat
beading on his forhead just below shortly shorn
dirty blond hair.
ten times the doors hushed open
revealing empty and identical hallways,
a small table with an oversized vaze
crammed with large white flowers, plastic,
a gilded mirror throwing your reflection
back at you, a heavily patterned industrial
carptet.

his face drew back from yours, his brown
eyes and long lashes looming, filling your view
his hand loose on your arm.
the hot sting and dumbing looseness of whiskey on your
tongue or his.
the elevator rushed you down, fast
the city dissappearing as you sank into it.
at the lobby two women who can barely stand
and reak of rum step in carrying their high heels and
jackets, as you push past.

2009-10-01T22:04:00.000-07:00

wrapped in sweats wrapped in corduroy shorts
wrapped in a longsleeve tshirt wrapped in a zipfront sweatshirt
wrapped in a vintage reversible rabbit fur vest
wrapped in a three season sleeping bag
wrapped in a comforter.
Im hot, its like Miami, Its like India in July
its like a sauna in the sun its like a small bar at the end of the night
in august.
my face gives off heat like a radiator. My breath burns my throat.
I am exhausted propped against a pillow propped against the wall
at the head of my bed the overhead flourescents flourescing badly
the fan clearing out the smell of boy and sweat and ill.
He's coming over. this man, to bring me water.
He'll be wrapped in sweats and a t-shirt but its that warm out.
He'll perch on my bed, by my feet, and he'll judge me, rather evaluate
measure the short time we've known each other against the
strenght of the situation, the shakes i'm having the fever
we cant measure without the thermometer i left in the kitchen

2009-09-26T12:22:00.000-07:00

Tiredness settles onto your head like a flock of birds
Perched on your eartips and brow bone

2009-09-24T10:18:00.001-07:00

"Wake UP"
"Wake UP" they say.
COme now from the dim depths of that boring sleep.
You, yes you, dumbly huffing your dreams to dust
bundled in a sheet a blanket, coated coldly in your own sweat.
Rise now to the dusky dawn of 7am the streets
dripping with last nights rain
the air cool but thick.
Put on the hot water for coffee or tea
put on the stove for eggs with spinach and onions and cheese,
stumble from the dark of your windowless room,
stumble to the door, push it open and take in the beginning
of the day, the beginning of the day. Take it in
push it straight down into your knotted and tired gut,
push it straight down to your sleepy and itchy dick
to your tingling feet.
Push it down down down. Take in this day like its a meal
like it's mashed potatoes with so much butter and a little cheese
take it in like msg laden soup, like you can't stop
take this day in like drugs, like its 3am and all you want is more
more more more booze
more sex
more coke
more molly
more fun
more life
more night
more love
more party
more money.
Yes now. this is how to start the day. the same way you end it.
with hunger, unending, bottomless. this is the way to do it.

absence

2009-09-23T23:43:00.000-07:00

Don't look at my dick.
There's something wrong with it.
A rash, a itchy rash.
And my ass too.
Theres bumps there and a rash.
I haven't gone to the clinic yet.
I keep putting it off.
I can't bring myself to pay attention.
Instead I have a shot of whikey before work,
I drink so much coffee that I get mad.
I bury my head in my pillow with the shades drawn
and the fan on so I can't hear nothing.
Istead I scratch at my dick in public.
I soak it in hot salt water, and grit my teeth, drunk
tired
stoned.
So don't look at my dick

2009-09-21T13:25:00.001-07:00

It's like this: You're half awake at 2am listening to the radio on the computer, and a man outside just below your window is singing sad sad alcohol driven and tempered songs. It's cool, slight winds, windlettes ease in through the cracked window, your eyes flutter and dim, his voice pushes higher and louder till it breaks, then there's silence, then theres sobs. You stare dumbly at the rocks glass full of dark thick whiskey, you look at your idle and heavy hands resting on the card table that is your kitchen table. You can not move. not yet. not now.

like this

2009-09-18T09:45:00.000-07:00

1.
the smells of boys. distinct and boozey.
Sitting at the bar, just men in here, some christmas lights
dimness, the mirror behind the beer display giving me
glimpses of me, suddenly muscles and manly in here, must
be the lights.
My friend comes up from behind I see him first, in the mirror,
turning my head to say hi, catching the strong metallic smell of
amyl, he's pressed a brown bottle to my nose.
Floating to my feet we push through the narrow columns of boys and men
to the tiny fog covered dance floor.
I almost take my shirt off.
I almost tell my friend how much I love him.
I pull deep from my peppery tequila and soda, it's coldness cutting through
and ending the headrush of the Poppers.

2.
Your room is dark. The electronic thrum of synthesized rain sounds block out
street noise. No windows means you're in a cave. It could be 8 a.m.
It could be 2 p.m. You wake on your left side, hugging a pillow to your chest and stomach. Behind you there is the breathing of a boy. His spit still on your mouth, the smell of him rubbed on your face, your hands still slick, with cum and sweat and spit and lube.

2009-08-19T10:17:00.000-07:00

The glands in his throat are swollen so
that when he turns his head
he feels them pressing into his throat.
A woman sits on the sidewalk
at 6th street just below mission
in a green running jacket and track pants
her face fallen, pale, and round,
with thinning white curly baby hair,
thick brown tinted glasses, two missing
front teeth and a gold chain peaking
from behind her collar.
She's hunched forwards, her whole torso
tilted toward a tiny green plastic bound
edition of the new testament. The words
seem too small, all of her bent towards it
as if her shoulders and her neck and her chest
are all trying to sort out the tiny text.
She moves her lips.
He struggles to keep his eyes open,
feet heavy and thick, "it's like walking through water"
he says, maybe to her. She does not look up.
He wades into the corner market. A bell chimes
the man at the counter does not flinch.
He buys a fifth of HandH (Ancient Age whiskey, which
when pronounced quickly sounds like HandH. His friends
introduced him to this brand, and it took three full
months for him to know the name correctly as Ancient Age,
though he still says HandH when ordering or purchasing
the whiskey. "HandH, 7and7...," he thinks, "These things
are all the same."
He also buys a quart of whole milk.
He will drink the milk now, and he will drink the whiskey later.
The smell of it alone will relax him, will lay all the hairs
of his body flat, his scalp will tighten with anticipation,
ears pushed back and ready.
(He exits into a cool dim day, the fog rolling in eastward along
Howard street. He crosses away from the woman
and the store, small droplets of rain peppering
his shaved head. His sneakers creak and groan.
He squints behind large black glasses, teeth aching
"Someday," he thinks, "I will have no home"
opening the heavy newly installed grey door
to his apartment, where his friend is cooking
greens in a bullion broth and brewing very nice
nutty coffee, and singing loudly a song by morrisey.
"Someday," he thinks, "I may be that woman"
he enters the kitchen hungry and thirsty
with barely a voice left in his throat, the milk
almost slipping from his hand, the whiskey
heavy in his jacket pocket.)

2009-08-15T19:15:00.000-07:00

she touches her face
the tip of her left ring finger
brushes the top of the arch of her
dark eye brow.
This is the site of some great tragedy.
This one spot.

My brother said that if I wanna gain
weight I have to drink 3 glasses of whole
milk each day.
I'm reminded of the time he and i drank glasses of
milk then jumped rope in the empty auditorium of
an elementary school where my father was a custodian.
I almost vomited.
And also that time at summer camp when rueben organized
a milk drinking contest.
So at a table in the middle of a field in august 12
teenagers poured gallons of very cold milk into their stomachs.
They shivered, chilling from the inside out.
Then they started to vomit, one by one.
Thick ropes of bright white milk
flooding out of their mouths and noses.
Even Gen who took her time and read a magazine
she vomited too. There were no retching sounds,
no hacking, just the sudden wet release of milk into the grass.

She smells like sugar. Like sweet cheap perfume.
But it's not perfume, almost like the wrapper of a hard
candy, that weirdly powdery smell, chalky and bright.
Her hand does not shake. And when you look at her she's all you can
see. Like her edges are blurred or rubbed with vaseline
so it's just weird monet painting colors and swirls, but nothing
solid.

(Her mouth moves dumbly,
her thick red tongue looks wet
like a peeled cherry or tomato.
You notice the size of her wrists.
They too easily break, in your imagination.
Just snap, like wooden chopsticks pulled apart.
The inside corner of her right eye twitches,
just barely, but the skin pulls up and in
You hold her broken wrists in your imagination
There's no blood just dust.
You can not look her in the eye anymore,
not with her broken wrists in your hands, in your mind.
You stare at her mouth, it moves and moves
all you hear though, is the snapping, grinding and
cracking of her bones.)

2009-08-12T17:37:00.000-07:00

What I remember is
lying on the bed
with you on my left side wearing
that red and purple flannel that i like,
with your beard and your semi military hair cut
and your tiny red and black cap that
gives you that kid-like appearence
and him on the right his hair all tangles and long
in a white tshirt, and short athletic shorts
no shoes
than also him at the foot of the bed
in a chair or kneeling, short hair, clean shaven
looking all of 21 though he's more
he kept talking
while you were just grinding your teeth
and i was kissing the one on my right.

I wanted to kiss him more
but thought it would be rude because we
were all having so much fun together
though we were just lying there
or kneeling there and i wasnt talking
and you weren't either.
but i didn't want to be rude.
so i didnt kiss him.
in fact i don't remember
kissing him at all. I assume I did.
While your worked your jaw over and over.
The one kneeling or sitting, he microwaved a
cd. We debated it first, if it would be a good idea
to microwavea cd in a small small hotel room that barely fit
a bed and a mini fridge and a microwave and a tv and the 4 of us.
I feel asleep, then woke back up as the cd sparked inside
the black microwave.
It only lasted 4 seconds because we didn't want to start
a fire.
I kissed him again.

the next day sitting on my couch
at home around 4p.m. andrew gave me all the details
he said we were kissing. him and me, not me and andrew.
yeah. so i was kissing him even though
i don't remember now.
I wish i did because i bet it felt good.
especially with all the drugs we were on.
all three of us.
i forgot then, what i remember now, that unlike
alcohol sometimes less is more.

you take just one pill.
you lie on a bed.
you dance.
you drink water.
more does not make it better
more makes it more. which is not better, always.
you do not need three pills
you do not need 2 fifths of whiskey
and 3 hours in a hot tub
playing spin the bottle that you can not
remember.

2009-08-05T11:21:00.000-07:00

I'd draw my teeth. With a black fine tip sharpie.
First my face, drawing my face
with a sharpie, I'd leave out the bags under my eyes
and the rosacea on my nose, I'd thicken my eyebrows
and bring my jaw down and hairline in, just a bit.
I'd draw my mouth wide wide open, lips streteched to a giant O.
(is that how you spell o, or is it Oh, or is it OE?)
My mouth stretched into a giant oval. My lips practically dissappeared
they are streteched so tight.
My teeth all lined up, but not drawn perfectly. Not as straight as they are now, but slightly off, enough to be realistic.
I'd draw my teeth a bit bigger than they are
and squarer, and whiter. I'd draw them falling out.
The molars first though, tumbling past my front teeth, or kind of jumping over the front ones, like tiny little sheeps jumping over a fence. But I'd draw them as teeth, not sheep. No legs, no wool, but jumping like sheep would.
I'd draw them tumbling past my chin to the bottom of the page
where I'd draw them in a pile.
Like they are piled on the bottom of the page.
Then my front teeth would fall out. Flat and square, I'd draw them falling straight down, like if a sheet of paper could fall straight, like a body falling, that's how they'd look when I drew them falling.

Then I'd use a red sharpie and draw a thin line of blood from my mouth to my chin, a drip of it on the top of the pile of teeth.
Then the black sharpie again to draw a thin tear down my face, still no bags under my eyes, no wrinkles, just the smooth smooth paper, and the open wide toothless oval of my mouth.
I'd blacken that part in, so it looks like a hole.

2009-07-30T15:16:00.000-07:00

theres that way some men who sweat alot in the
middle of the day from maybe climbing steps in the heat or
carrying things in humidity, theres the way
they smell. musty and wet, mixed with their cheap cologne.
some "sporty" fragarance. kind of like
the smell of soap on your hands
but hours later when your fingernails are
dirty and you've been handling money or touching
stair railings at the subway station
but you can still smell the soap.
and if they're a little fat
just a little and their tshirts are not exactly tight
but not exactly loose. usually they have round
heads and their short hair may be thinning
and they could be wearing fancy jeans and maybe fancy
shoes or some shitty white sneakers, but definitely
a gold chain not exactly for decoration but not
exactly not for decoration.
and even if they did dry off their sweaty faces
you could still see it on them, the heat
the exertion, the discomfort. the smell.

you make me think of this.

2009-07-29T18:38:00.000-07:00

you write.
you sit on your couch with Paris Is Burning playing on the flat screen that still has not been mounted by your roomate.
You write about a girl you saw on the street, on the corner of 9th and mission.
She was crying, real loud, wearing a purple and green plaid shirt and large reflective black sunglasses. She did not appear
to be on crack. She was too young, too clean, and too well dressed to be sitting on the pavement.
She said something to you that sounded more like an audible screaming yawn. Saliva strung between her bared teeth.
The cuffs of her shirt came almost past her hands. She tucked her face back into her chest.
You thought "I am going to write about this"
You thought "There's also that chalk drawing on market right by church street, that shows what seems to be a mythic indian warrior in pastel purples and blues, that's about 6 feet wide and 4 feet tall, I should write about that too."
Then the americano you just drank kicked in and you got free. you called your housemate to tell him you love him.
You texted your exboyfriend to say hello, you almost dialed your mother.
You write all this down. Now.
In your mickey mouse pajama bottoms and no shirt.
On the screen Venus Xtravaganza says something about her small hand fitting into the larger hand of one of her johns.
You write that you almost stopped to talk to that girl, not just because you were concerned bc it would be a good story.
But that made you sad. The instant reduction of her to a story. To an anecdote. And honsetly, you were scared to go near her.

"She cries
on the corner of 9th and Mission
wearing a purple and green plaid button up
the cuffs coming well past her wrists
making her appear smaller than she is
her knees pulled up close to her chest
her head tilts back with a wide mouth
saliva shining on her lips and teeth
mucous coming out of her nose.
My exboyfriend used to have these crying jags
and he'd sit there on the end of the bed his forearms
resting on his knees, head down
just crying, with snot poring out of his nose
making a puddle on the floor.
I used to gag, while he cried.
I'd sit in the chair by the desk,
I'd offer him a tissue or handkerchief.
I used to think "this mucous makes you harder to love."
She says something to me, mabye.
It could be me or the other guy walking by
it's not even words. more of a cry.
At first it could be heart break. But now
it seems like a mental problem.
There's no drug marks
no sunken cheeks
no pock marks on her face.
This could be me. Don't you think?
I almost stop. to talk to her, maybe to pull her in to some kinda hug
her limp greased blond hair pressed to my chin, the almost stubble.
Her small frame tucked inside my larger one, my crouched form hiding her from the street
from the misty sky, from other passing people. I can't see her eyes though, behind
those glasses. Instead i keep walking unfazed.
Caffeine pushing me to make inappropriate phone calls to ex boyfriends
despite day time minutes "

Venus Xtravaganza is dead. She was killed before the movie was released. They talk about it in the film. She was found under a bed after three days of deadness in a hotel, the kind one rents by the hour. She was tiny. She was "real". She could pass. Or she could've. The phone rings, and it's the wash and fold. Your clothes are done. This is the last of te $50 you had in your wallet. The last of your last $50.

2pm

2009-07-27T17:08:00.000-07:00

She wears a full skirt, floral printed.
She's thin.
Her lipstick travels from her top lip to her right cheekbone,
which is prominent.
One might say that she is gaunt.
One might say that she is on drugs.
She works her jaw busily.
A boy I dated 9 years ago called me compulsive.
He barely knew me.
It was a second date.
Later he ran around his apartment looking for an object
to compare my dick to, i was told, reluctantly, by a friend.
She works her jaw compulsively.
I want to make eye contact.
I'm scared.
With her absent chatter she draws in a boring fat man in a blue polo.
Her hand lights on his shoulder like a lame butterfly or
a one winged bird. He leaves her but keeps looking back over his shoulder
considering maybe, her desperation coupled with his need for coupling.
Or maybe he's in love. truly.
I cross the street toward the space between them.
She's now turned, or rather twisted herself in the air
wrapping the whole corner around her
drawing it to her bruised, pale and youngish shoulders
like a shawl. too obvious. like a shrug. obviouser. like a coat.
no. the arms of a lover? she wraps the whole intersection around her.
I'm off balance, the street moving beneath me, towards her.
That boy, he would not sleep at my house
he lied and said he was a Calvin Klein model,
I gave him money because he had none, so that
he could take the subway to see me.
I was maybe a little too desperate.
She wears just one high heel, and one fur lined slipper.
It is 2pm on a Monday.
On the corner of 7th and Mission street.
I am in San Francisco.
A crumpled five clutched in my left hand
my cell phone in the other
shoulders forward
eyes forcibly down
i pass the vortex of her moment.
I go to the dollar store.

2009-07-22T11:26:00.001-07:00

You wake tired, in your clothes, with the light on and your shoes tied.
Next to a man or not next to a man, on the couch or on your bed,
Your wool felt hat crushed under your feet, or perched on your head shielding your mascara crusted eyes, like the rim of salt on a cold sweet margarita. with a cramp in your neck from the awkward tipped over position you passed out in, or just the dry gummy taste of bourbon and sleep fuzzy on the back of your tongue.
your jeans unbuttoned, fly unzipped, and waist band pulled down below your hips, just below the crotch of your underwears, or solidly pulled up to your waist the stretch of suspenders digging into your skin leaving thin red marks just half an inch in wide on your shoulders. It is your house. It is not your house. The bed is unfamiliar. The bed is softer than yours, the room smells of boys, or men, the hot breath of sleeping inebriated men. The room smells of sex. The room smells of bleach and dandelion. The room does not smell or rather you can not smell anything except maybe the traces of cocaine. The man is your friend he is naked, you wake to find his hard dick pressed into the small of your back or even the palm of your hand. On the couch your computer glows at you, porn flickers across the screen, a half eaten bananna crushed into the upholstery under your hip. It smells like coffee, sounds of breakfast making wake you, and your housemate whistles at you through your curtain, you whistle back. You waken to the alarm on your phone, it takes you two full minutes to locate the phone on the floor next to the bed but on his side, where you never put it, you reach across his fully clothed (blue jeans red flannel buttoned all the way up, white sneakers, shaved head) lithe body, his breath hot on your cheek smells of rosemary, he does not waken. The jackhammers wake you, they are jack hammering the street just outside the window, only 20 feet away, this window has white curtains, bay windows, there's a dark wood floor, a white defunct fireplace, a blond wood desk with a stool piled high with oversized magazines, clothing radiates out from the bed like a corona. Who's room is this. Your tank top is wet and your neck aches.
It is noon. It is 2pm. It is 8am. It is 9am.
You jerk awake, leaving sleep like you jumped from a bridge.
You ease out of it, like easing into the cold cold ocean, in jumps jabs, with breath held high in the chest.
Your mind wakes up but your body sleeps and you are stuck there, tipped over, bannana under you, pants down.
You are in the bathroom staring into your own red eyes before you know you're awake. your hands braced on either side of the small metal sink, your neck thrust forward your forhead just inches from the large plate mirror, water from the counter seeping into the crotch of your white jeans, the shower is running, you can smell the steam and mildew.
Your roomate comes into your room, not knowing there is a man there, and that he is rubbing your chest.
You roll off the couch.
The jackhammers do not stop and you can't find your wallet.
Your computer falls off the couch, the screen does not crack but it does flicker, the porn continues.
The flourescent light whines.
Your jacket is under the desk.
It is raining. It is sunny. There is silence, post apocolyptic. There is the chatter of the homeless only 6feet below your window like a conference of birds. It is windy. You can hear it, under the jack hammering, behind the kitchen sounds, after your housemate whistles just before the crash of your computer falling. You're tangled in sheets or just on top of them, a pillow under your arm, or on the floor. no pillow. You wake tired, in your clothes, with the light on and your shoes tied.

2009-07-19T12:40:00.000-07:00

She's upset.

I know this because she said "I'm upset"
She holds a crumpled and torn tissue in her hands
as if it were a tiny bird. A tiny dying or dead bird.

"You are upset"
I repeat it in my head three times
Trying not to mouth the words.
Lipsynching to my thoughts.
She catches my mouth moving, my lips expose my teeth.
They are slightly yellowed from neglect. The act of tying my shoes and brushing my teeth seems oppressive. It's my fear that if I pay attention to some details I will HAVE to pay attention to ALL the details.

There are too many details.

She says, "I am upset," she says,"and you are thinking about your teeth right now," she says, "You are thinking about tying your shoes and the details. Details," she says, "which you cannot even concieve of," she says, "because you can not approach the simple logical ones, ones," she says, "of cleanliness and self care."
She says, "You are not listening to me because you are comparing my tissue to a bird, a dead or dying bird."

All this
I struggle to not move my lips,
or expose my teeth
I struggle to make no metaphor about her oily limp hair
I struggle to keep it straight forward, just the facts.
Just periods and nouns and verbs.
But my lips move, they lipsynch the whole thing
and she walks away, its like watching a train arriving but in reverse. The feeling too is similar.

2009-07-18T12:40:00.000-07:00

A Chinese woman wheels three stacked whtie boxes across bush street at noon, during a break in traffic. The bungee on her cart snaps, the boxes tip and crash in the right lane just in front of a subterranian parkig garage entrance, the traffic peaks over the hill and begins its descent toward her.
while
a homeless man just across the street carefully pushes a dangling silver earring into a once pierced ear, he stops the latino guy with black sunglasses, tsubi jeans, a black american apparel hoody, and creative facial hair, asking for assistance with the jewelry. The latino guy says "what do you want me to do" before registering that he has been enlisted to push silver through the greyed and filthy lobe of a stranger, all this and he's just looking for Level 4 hair salon, because just before the earring and the boxes tipping he asked you where it was.
But your voice, which has gotten tiny, almost a whisper, not quite a rasp, was too confusing for him so rushed on toward the homeless man, toward the wrong salon.
The less you say, the less you want to. The sun heats your freshly shaven head, your shoulders through your mesh shirt, the backs of your legs, your shadow lands just below your feet, and your feet land just on top of it.
The wind comes at you from behind as you pass the latino man and the homeless man, as cars rush down the hill at the three fallen white cardboard boxes and the chinese lady struggling with her cart and bungee. The wind comes up soft with a smell of cigarettes, pine, and hot pavement. The smell reminds you of your father, and grape soda. A plate glass window throws your face back at you, and you see briefly how you will look at 40 then 50, the wind stops. The traffic stops. You cross the street back to work. Your shadow close and small and close.

2009-07-17T13:21:00.000-07:00

You wear white jeans, white tank top white suspenders white polo shirt, three buttons, one undone, with the neck pulled open to show your chest hair.
You've worn these jeans for three days, there's dirt marks on the pocket lips and around the button hole and zipper. Brown and grey smudges. A red mark of something, lipstick?, on your left thigh near the soft round of your dick (white underwer too, fourth day, not turning colors but gathering smells). The tank is on its second day, already a streak of purple near your right hip eyeshadow?, a coffee mark on the front hem, generally greyed, particularly under the arms and at the top of the belly. The polo is new today, already its thin collar curls at the points but it's brightness offers a contrast to the dimness of the jeans, its tightness makes your chest look big. You can not imagine wearing a color, or black, in fact as you try to put together tonight's nightlife look you're filled with uncertainty, nervousness, fear. A thin whine of fear that seems to slice upward from your heart into the back of your throat. You've lost your voice. everyone says something different, sleep, lemon, honey, saltwater. You think maybe the white, all of it can bring back your voice. Without the ability to talk you start to lose the desire. Your shoes are not white, your socks were earlier, but are now dingy, in just hours the bottoms have a dark black print of the balls of your feet and the pads of your toes. You are getting paid ten dollars an hour, at 8a.m., to where these clothes and sell these clothes, you do. and as you do you collect color, or dirt, or both, not purposefully but inevitably, just as the day inevitably drips past or inevitably you must pay your bills, or inevitably you will sleep through no will or desire but just fact, with that inevitability your white becomes less. its this process this inevitable fact of the darkening of your clothes that keeps you in them. do you feel me on this one?

2009-07-04T02:45:00.000-07:00

he uses the bathroom but doesnt close the door
he hacks three times, loudly, the sound of prevomit
when the mouth floods with hot spit, and the jaw loosens.
he pees. no vomit. this happens in the morning
typically, it wakens you just enough so you can choose sleep,
this time though it's 1:30 a.m., it jars you, the hacking
the idea of the hacking, the potential for vomit
the sound of liquid splashing the tin sink
violently, with force. he only hacks
your bed is hot, you uncover, but too much
and chills start at your lower back, shimmying down your legs.
he does not flush. he leaves the light on,
he walks heavily away, the floor shakes with each step.
your teeth clench. your fists press into the bed.
you are incapable of love.
you are barely capable of sex.
it is 1:35 when you turn the light on.

it happened like this...

2009-07-04T02:19:00.000-07:00

after the break up.
what a way to start.
after the break up.

look, i left you hard, like an open handed hit, caught awkwardly first on the edge of the jaw, then pulled quickly across the face. I left you like that. hard. because i stopped, right then, caring. i started the biggest "art" project of my life, to become a stupid faggot. and here i sit almost two years later at 2:20 am on my roomate's bed, anxiety ridden over money, biting my nails, literally biting my nails, the curtain-dimmed-streetlights and early morning truck/taxi/streetperson sounds falling in through the thin plastic windows. Yeah I'm alive and dumb. Today I became a wizard, truly, I decided that I didn't know a thing about me, or my future (how vague, how vague) and that my body was like magic, it could turn into money if I let it, while I have it. So I couldn't stop smiling. And now though it's just a few hours before I have to get up and shave my face, and shower, and put on make up so I can ride a midday bus full of fags and free booze to a resort where I'll lipsynch poolside to some awful musics that I only perform as an act of torture on my audience, and I guess myself). I'm awake and thinking that maybe even though I'm a wizard with no future and no identity, maybe I just came back to me, to three years ago before the project, before the dumbing down, and the stupifying. Maybe I'm back to there. To some kind of real place, some kind of place where I care, and by care I mean, like not out of anxiety of compulsion (vague vague vague) but out of actual interest. Because I can stand myself, and being alone with me.
Which is funny bc becoming a stupid faggot has made me rather alone, despite my inability to cope with being alone. Do you get what I'm saying?
Ok. So you are still there, and I want back at you. I want back at the interestingness. Not because it's better or more actual or more real than this "stupid faggot" thing/life, but because it's just where I come from. From you. Get it now? Will you take me back? Can I cross over?
Can I?

There is the finding...

2009-06-11T12:32:00.000-07:00

You wake in the country, more specifically in a summer house on a golf course.
You spend the day getting deeply drunk by a pool, in tiny shorts, despite the cool air and dimmed sun.

At night you do drugs in the expansive kitchen while others cook, and you wonder
why you are doing drugs. you do the drugs. you drink water. you eat steak and pork, and roasted
vegetables.

You sit in front of the internet for an hour. Unable to move from the blue glowing screen, unwanting.

before bed you see a friend, or an aquaintance, has amateur porn up on the internet.
You realize this as the raccoons scavenge the garbage of roasted vegetables and your friend throws ice cubes at them.

The amateur porn loosens you, not unhinges but perhaps loosens the screws of the hinges, you are not rattled but could be.
This, you think, is exactly where I want to be.

Expensive sheets. No longer drunk. No longer high. No longer full. Just expensive sheets and sleep just licking at your neck.

There comes a time

2009-06-09T17:46:00.001-07:00

Your teeth will fall out. Or crumble. Not like chalk crumbles or cheese crumbles. Slower.
It seems like there's sand in your salad but that's just the grit of your coming apart, bit by bit, tiny pearlescent flakes.
This will also come on the same day that you realize you have double booked your whole weekend.

this day is today.

choke

2009-06-06T11:04:00.000-07:00

it feels like i've swallowed a bone.
Not pointy fish spines, but the shoulder blade of a chicken, or turkey.
Something bigger.
Every time i swallow my throat presses up against it.
This is totally inconvenient.

The scent of the inside of Walgreens or Rite Aid at 9am in early June, when the sun seems to be just up, and the fog has burned almost right off, can sometimes just break a heart into pieces, and wet eyes with tears.

I'm doing this to you

2009-02-13T21:06:00.000-08:00

I smoke cigarettes to feel less lonely.
I wake up all nerves and force my mind back through the thick boozey sleep to Thursday night.

I meet Bobby at Bloodhound, this hunting themed bar that replaced Cassidy's (the irish bar I never went to but meant to) on Folsom by 8th. Two brite sports bearing tvs flood the room with light, and the seating feels too fancy
"this Should be a dive"
I tell Bobby.
After one drink and the relaying of embarrassing stories (both involving drunken booty texts) we quit it and go to Hole In the Wall.

The guy next to me elbows my elbow about 12 times in 10 minutes, he's just drunk.
On line at the bathroom he swerves up on rubbery drunky legs.
His face all sunken in from drugs or aids or age or something.
I pee and we leave.

At Tubesteak around midnight the bar floods and for ten minutes its packed, then less packed.
Mini asks me to fetch empty glasses and I do, he plies me with shots. Tommy throws me shade because
I only go for glasses twice instead of three times.

Its that guys birthday, the one who hits on me but doesnt, his accent so thick that I try to not talk to him
though I would make out with him, but in a bar with loud disco and boozeblood throbbing in my ears
his accent becomes undecipherable.
"Happy Birthday" I

2009-02-01T02:53:00.000-08:00

she makes these weird comments.
lets be specific.
she says things like "look the cookies just arrived" though its the first thing she's said to you tonight in person, and you've been in this big dimly lit room full of folks with a table full of fancy food things and another table full of booze for two hours.
this is what she says "look the cookies just arrived" and because shes unusual and smarter than her you assume it's not about food but about someone or something coming in late to the party or coming it tackily or coming in cookily. so you say "what?"
and she says "do i stutter?"
and you recover with " it's just that i thought you were telling me someone tacky just arrived." she laughs unconvincingly,
you turn one shoulder away, draw deeply on your drink and place your free hand on the shoulder of a friend who hasnt heard or doesnt care about the transaction, because, in actuality, though it digs you deep, it doesnt matter much.

next day

2009-01-20T10:06:00.000-08:00

You wake with a pillow under your arm and one on your head in a bed that is not your bed, under a cluster of dried twigs and leaves described the night before as " not death nettles but nettles of good dreams"
The sun angles in through the window low and yellow. Next to you, still, and silent, there is a man that is not yours.
Coffee and oatmeal, you smell these, you hear them brewing and cooking through the open bedroom door.
The room is cool and still, thick with boy breath and smells, the slowly fading thickness of sleep and sleepiness.

CHROME

2009-01-18T21:33:00.000-08:00

It's saturday at 10:30, and I just finished with a new job. A quick paint job on the eyes, purple dark brown and black, an aggressive fluff to the hair, I strip off my tshirt, just a black vintage mesh top now, suspenders, dark jeans, and boots just about disintegrating off my feet.

The scooter clatters, and chirps with direpair as I drive quickly up Larkin past busses, cop cars, weaving to avoid too slow tourists.

Phil hands me a cocktail and three drink tickets as I step inside, not a bad crowd for 11pm. In the office I put on the totally psychadelic, totally shamanic necklace I made to hold the poppers bottle. Phil admires, but won't take a hit. No one will take a hit. He presses folded 20 dollar bills into my palm, and I thank him, already on my second drink.

Matthew and I stand on the cusp of the dancefloor discussing the sad state of nightlife in SF. Or rather, the insular feeling of parties in SF. Or rather the non-dancingness of SF. Or rather the proclivity of fags to cruise instead of dance. Or rather I have a third drink.

3 people do poppers. I hand out the vodka shots.

No one cruises me. The dj tempts me to the floor with a Bikini Kill number but that-crazy-guy-who-seems-like-he's-on-speed-but-is-probably-actually-sober-and-quite-actually-crazy is dancing by himself. Or thrashing rather.

One more drink and a quick trip to the loo with Phil, where we "energize," I pull fabric from the walls, fold, save tacks, the lights come on and everyone is out.

This is the end of the night.
I am cold. My head swims from the popper necklace, and an after party is gathering quietly outside, a whisper of continued fun, continued booze... I go.

January 11th, Bright and Warm

2009-01-11T18:23:00.000-08:00

6:46 pm
My room smells like boy and cheese when i enter. Not an offensive cheese odor but more the peppery hint at the end of a whiff of parmesan, or the fresh edge of a sharp cheddar. Both smells are odd, no boys or cheese has been in my room. Not recently.
And I did just did laundry.

THE PARK
Unseasonably warm today, so everyone was a buzz about the park. A hot sun and cool air, just enough to suggest shirtlessness, sunglasses, wine or beer. Dan and I arrrive at 2 to the fruit shelf, and my phone won't stop beeping at me, everyone seems to be texting, but the sun is too bright to read the screen. No shirt, no shoes, but socks, black ones pulled up to the knee, and my short pants with the vertical stripes, and leather detailing, almost jodphurs, almost renn faire. Dan's teal unicorn shirt is quickly off, flip flops kicked aside.

Soon Erik comes by and we are three fags with no shirts smoking cigarettes and drinking wine, trying to find common friends to gossip about, commenting on the hairstyles and dogs around us. Erik starts the "would you sleep with him" game. It's like an I-spy game on a long road trip. Familiar, easy, distracting. The clear sky looks like winter but feels like spring, spirits are visibly lifting all around us.

"Him, not him, maybe him, wait till he turns around, him not him, ok him, no wait, no, no, no"

A thin slim shaggy haired blonde stands and paces, talking privately and publicly on a cell phone.

"Not my type but I like him, is he butter?" I drink more wine

Butter turns around, his face now visible, and he is not butter.

Later he walks by wearing what seem to be riding boots., and no shirt, with a shorter shaved head boy wearing most notably a boring horizontally striped shirt.

"yes to Butter, those boots make him seem interesting"

Dan says
"If I were Butter I'd lose those jeans, and that friend with the striped shirt"

The jeans are predistressed denim that hang loosely from his waist and pool at the top of the black leather boots.

then someone says
"He's not a real blonde, look at his face"

"No to Butter" I say, sliding my shirt back on, the early shadows quickly cooling the park and driving fags from the shelf, and hoods up over sun hot heads.

THE PONY
Karen finds me by the bathroom, she's got glitter on her eyes, puffed up and teased hair, sequin shorts, star earrings, totally unironic, her sincerity saves the outfit from silliness, instead making the "I'm wearing mom's heels" aspects sexy and smart.

"You have to see my Pony" she's excited, apparently she just came from the shelf looking for me.
"I heard you had a Pony here, is it remote control?"
"No, but just come"

We snake our ways through the clots of hipsters sporting threadbare keds, tight lady's jeans, vintage or not vintage raybans, and boxes of PBR on Fixed Gear Flats. I see a small pony sized Pony, brown with a white Mane.
"It's like a $300 toy, I got it at Good Will for $40"
We get closer and the Pony swings its head in our direction dropping a rubber carrot from its working mouth.
Karen greets it, and rubs its ears
"Hello Pony, say hi"
Pony ignores me and swings its head to the left, Karen picks it up and turns it so that its looking at me. I touch it's white eyelashes, and try to get it to look at me.
"It was a light sensor so it goes to sleep in the dark, and it's scared of the dark. It has an audio sensor, it knows its name and responds to loud noises."
"What's its name?"
"Pony" she states with no trace of irony, the sincerity given way to plain fact, as a male/female couple walk up. The man wears a yellow shirt with drops of what are probably beer dotting his chest and belly, a beer clutched in his right hand.
The woman says "We were watching you and we really thought it was real, till just now"

on hiatus

2007-05-09T15:37:00.002-07:00

we are on a hiatus. xo
xo

SAN FRANCISCO I'm on the Door 2.13.07

2007-02-26T10:10:00.000-08:00

I'm on the door.
Cupcake made red velvet cupcakes for Alice's birthday and there about 4 left.
Dad has been feeding me Wild Turkey all night
He's all
"You'll like the flavor of this one"
I act like I never had it
So he thinks he's teaching me.
Everyone is here except Nasty, she's in New York.

A troupe of 3 cute young looking Latino boys show up at the door.
One has really Curly hair in a large afro with big round metal disc earrings.
One of their id-s is not from the U.S. But I'm looking for age
Not country of origin.

Sparkle comes in, fully flirting.

There is this drunk guy. A regular of the bar probably,
older than the crowd. He's wasted but apparently harmless.
It's slow on the door, off and on all night really.
If everyone who came in stayed there'd be enough folks
to overflow the dancefloor. but it's weak tonight.

A hot beast sits at the end of the bar right near me.
S/he has long hair, leggings with a long shirt, purse
necklaces and rings, slouch boots. S/he has the best outfit in here, and maybe it's the attitude.
Drunk sits next to Beast and leans in close. He puts his hand on Beast's leg, and
s/he moves it off. I lean on the bar to get a drink but to get a closer look
at Drunk. I catch his eye, and hold the stare, but his eyes water and roll.
He keeps putting his hand on Beast's leg, I stare holes into his head.
I go over to Beast and I'm all
"Is this guy bothering you"
and Beast is like
"He's just drunk"
Ok.
I hear Beast say
"Why are you here?"
and
"What do you want?"

I get my drink and sit at the door.
Drunk leaves and I'm next to Beast again.
"Sorry to intrude, but you know, safety first"
Beast sort of rolls his/her eyes at me and is all
"Yeah"
S/he leaves to the bathroom.

I sit at the dead door then get Boyf to cover for me so I can go to the bathroom.
Everyone is in the Men's room shining keys and I'm all
"What's wrong with the women's room?"
And they're all
"Someone has been in there for like 15 minutes"
The girl's room has a lock on it, I've never seen so many people in the boy's room before, like 10 maybe, all with keys out, and wild eyes.
I get hyper just being there.

Back at the door Beast leaves and gives me a solid goodbye
but heavy with attitude.
Cupcake runs up to me and he's like
"Someone just totally fucked in the girl's bathroom, it smells like asshole, and Lucy walked in on them, she thought it was just locked because no one came in and out forever, so she got the key from Dad, but when she opened it she caught them. It was that asshole who drew with lipstick all over my shirt last Friday at Hyde street."
I'm all
REALLY?

He goes back to the floor to dance.
Drunk wavers toward me from the dance floor, knocking into bar stools and folks on his way.
He was fucking in the bathroom.
Maybe.
He's all
"I am so fucked up, are you fucked up?"
I'm all
No, not really. Not like you.
"I am so fucked up"
He buys a beer.
He tries to offer me his beer
Dude, I don't want your beer
"Do you want my beer? Take a sip."
I don't want your beer.
On the third offer I'm all smiles and
I don't want your beer. This has just changed from a friendly exchange to an unfriendly one, sit down, drink your beer than go.
My heart does a skip.
He looks at me with eyebrows raised in one long arch, confused and surprised.
"Have my beer"
Sit down, drink, leave.
He's all
"I'll make a deal with you, you drink my beer and I'll leave"
I'm relieved for an easy non-physical way out
Ok.
I down his beer, and point at the door.
He leaves.

I sit.
BamBam comes in, we chat it up about scooters and the weather. He buys a beer.
Drunk comes back in, and I'm all
You have to leave now.
BamBam takes off his glasses, puts them on the bar with his beer, grabs Drunk by the front of the shirt and pushes him at the door.
Drunk goes down so BamBam hauls him out by his shirt.
Boyf and Angel are outside.
BamBam pushes the guy up against a car and almost punches him them stops.
Drunk is all
"I know the manager, I know the manager"
I get BamBam away from him, and then I get in Drunk's face
Get out of here.
He's all
"I know the manager, go get him, go get the manager"
I'm all
GET OUT OF HERE. WE HAD A DEAL, NOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE
I'm so close and yelling so hard I'm spitting in his face,
his eyebrows are in that weak arch, and his face is pale, lips downturned.
"Go get the manager!"
STAND RIGHT HERE AND DON'T MOVE I WILL GET THE MANAGER. DON'T FUCKING MOVE. OR TALK
I turn to get the manager, I hear Drunk say something to Angel and Boyf. I spin on my heel and I'm up in his face, we'd be making out if I were closer
MAYBE YOU DIDNT FUCKING HEAR ME. I SAID DON'T MOVE, DON'T FUCKING MOVE AND DON'T FUCKING TALK. DID YOU HEAR ME NOW, DID YOU?
He's quiet, on the verge of laughing I think, and if he laughs I'll grab his jaw with my hand and yank him to the ground and kick him in the face and ears and in his guts.
I'm raging, alcohol is running fast through me, it's cold and sharp out, I'm ready to break his face open on the pavement. It's a sudden feeling, but comforting too.
I go inside, but Dad's not at the bar so I go right back out.
Drunk is standing there, and I'm all
You have to go, he's not here and right now this is MY CLUB.
He's all
"No it's not"
I'm all
Right now this is MY club, and you have to leave.

He scuttles to about ten feet away, and he's all
"I'll call the cops"
Angel is like
"Call the cops they won't believe you"
They yell back and forth for a few seconds.
I walk towards drunk with my hands up and out, like, I'm not going to hurt you
and I say real quiet,
Look, if you call the cops they will get here and see how drunk you are, and they'll take you to jail, and we'll tell them you were harrassing us, and our friends.
His face registers understanding, briefly, and he's all whimpery
"But I know the manager"
I walk back to my friends, suddenly cold with no sleeves on.
Embarrassed too.

It's one o'clock, I bring Rchrd Oh!? the money and dance with Pony, just the two of us on the dance floor.

2/1/07 Moving Units Show

2007-02-07T21:58:00.000-08:00

I get home and put on the grey levi’s I’ve been wearing for 14 days, a brown and black striped tank top with an inside out long sleeve white t-shirt worn and holy, with a unicorn profile printed on the inside.
I wait in line then Boyf shows right when I get to the front.
On the list again, +1. Next to my name it says Horseface.
Inside Boyf goes straight to the bar but I seek out Chanel, she’s with two very cute boys.
One blonde, totally a homo and one who looks like that cute host from Trading Spaces,
When they had hosts.
Rchrd Oh?! Is trapped behind the dj booth/bar. I join him and we hug.
He’s the best.
I get a drink.
There are hipsters everywhere. Boys with tight tight jeans and V-necks and pointy boots, or shoes, and messenger bags, and peacoats and leather jackets, with the same sweeping hair or not ironic curly hair, or short on top long in front hair.
Girls are wearing hoop earings with striped shirts or very much from Anthropology sweaters or vintage tees with heels in yellow teal white and black, too short bangs, or too long bangs. Black or blond.
I’ve been cloned, or I’m a clone. Sweepy bangs tight jeans.
I hide in the dj booth and dance with just Rchrd Oh?! Sloshing my frenet and ginger on the floor and the tables.
The second band plays, we go outside to smoke.

Vanderbuilt shows up with her TALLPERSIANFRIEND, he is good looking, and tall with a deep v-neck tshirt worn out with holes in it and a scarf tied around his shaved head like a head band.
It’s an awkward hug.
Bake comes up with some impossibly good looking girl in LA hot girl clothes (leggings, heels, cut up t-shirt with perfect make up counter make up and long brown hair), he squeezes by the door guy with her, and puts her on the list right then and there.
We gossip heartily about the girl, her possible age, and the behaviors of rockstarish folk.

We all go back and stand in the dj booth with Lucy too. Chanel dances with her friends, the blonde guy keeps staring Rchrd Oh?! down.
I’m all
That guy is STARING at you.
I text him
He wants to make it with you.
Lucy says she went on a date with him once. I’m all
But he’s GAY
She’s all
He’s bi or something.
I’m all
Or SOMETHING

Sleaze shows up and we awkward hug.
I can’t tell if he actually likes me.

Moving Units takes the stage and do a little testing of levels, while Rchrd Oh?! tries to dj, He keeps turning up his levels and the sound guy keeps turning them down.
When they start the crowd and my friends go crazy. We jump around.
I’m sloshing my second Frenet around.
Lucy pantomimes blowing a dick. I hold my sides and tears squeeze down my face.
I unzip my fly and stick my thumb through. She mimes sucking it.
I nearly piss my pants.
I hug her and I’m all
I missed you.
Boyf tries to put his head under her shirt. I guess it’s tradition that he puts his head up her dress, but it’s not the same, the shirt is too small.

Pony texts me
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
I’m all
AT THE SHOW YOU?
He’s all
BORED AT HOME
I’m all
I’M BORED TOO
He’s all
LET’S HANG OUT LATER

We dance some more, then Sleaze leaves and says
Come to the Arrow later.
I’m so tired from last night and my shirt is so tight.
Boyf missed his friend’s band at the Knock Out.

I hug Rchrd Oh?! and he’s all
I wish I could go home with you guys.
Me too.

At home we wait for just a few minutes before Pony shows up for about ten minutes before I pass out.

1/31/07 Weird Science

2007-02-07T21:57:00.000-08:00

I put on some balck jeans a balck t vintage black and white braces and a brown and cream polka dot scarf.
Scoot to Rchrd Oh?!’s for our Big Stereo meeting.
It’s just him and Cupcake. We want drinks, but we are broke, Cupcake runs to the corner to get two Sparks for us and a bottle of champagne for him.
Chanel is late or something. She just got back from SD today so she’s hustling from the airport. Sleaze won’t be here.
Rchrd Oh?! Got a hair cut.
Chanel comes in wearing leggings, her Gucci fannypack an AA top and some sort of Lucite necklace. She’s exercise core to the core.
I mix Sparks with champagne and Rchrd Oh?! Takes a sleeping pill, Cupcake disappears upstairs while we chat about future world domination and the genesis of a new club.
My heart beats so fast from the Sparks, and excitement.
I’m all
This Sparks is making me CRAZY.
Cupcake is back and we get set to go.

We walk down some shady blocks. Our destination is Market and 6th, notoriously the worst in the city. Not like you’ll get killed, but you’ll get annoyed and harassed, and you’ll get anal flakes up in your cupcakes on the way to the club.

I chat up the door girl about her astrology earrings, she’s all
“Girl Props”
I’m all
I got mine there too
She’s all
I love that website
I’m all
Oh, I got mine in NY
She smiles and doesn’t even check the list when I say my name but waves us in.
Is the list a joke or is she THAT stoked on Girl Props?

Inside it’s still sort of empty, and drinks are terribly pricey for small little plastic cups of watered down liquors.
I’ve got no money anyway, all of it spent on Sparks.

Chanel starts dancing right away, then she disappears.
The room is long with a stage on one side and a bar on the other, two couches near the door seat a strange grouping of dudebro hipsters and their lap birds.
One particularly beefy guy wears a thickly horizontally striped red and white shirt with shaggy undergrad at Hampshire college hair. I explect some birks on this guy, but he disappoints.
Chanel appears drink in hand, she squeezed it out of some guy.
No guy here will give me a drink for smiles, arm touches, and dazed sexy looks.

My shirt feels tight, I pull at the bottom hem.
Peole start coming in. No one I know, or have ever seen.
It’s a bigger world than I thought.
We dance a bit, while my eyes wander, weighing the quality of fashion against the weakness of hairstyilings, and annoying post electroclash posing.

A band plays.
Nasty shows up with Bell, and Vanderbuilt, and also Dino.
We dance to Richie Panic’s very short songs, everything lasts like 45 seconds. I keep losing my cool and sipping on Cupcakes drinks, a bit too much, he gives me a dirty look.

Chanel rubs her butt on my crotch.
I’m all blushes and awkward hands that flap in the air far from her waist.
I go wait for the bathroom with Bell.
He’s tall and thin and wearing black I think and maybe white, with cover-or-W-magazine-Bangs. He’s pretty, willowy.

Weird Science hits the decks.
Chanel is on stage with four other girls in a dim mak hoody and a glittery eye mask.
The crowd faces the stage and some dudebro hipsters wave their hands up and down like they are at a rap concert.
I jump around.
Sparrow shows up.
She’s with one of the earlier dj’s
She dances with me in a black t shirt and black tight skirt and black heels, with sort of rockabilly eye make up and black sweepy bangs, a studded belt.
Maybe the classiest B here.
We dance, she’s my favorite so far tonight, just fun and rocking out, without posing.
I stop scanning the room and start dancing, like forreal.
It’s so hot that I consider taking off my shirt and keeping the suspenders.
I take off the scarf, and drink from Sparrows tall can of warm PBR.

In introduce Sparrow to Bell, he takes her hand then turns around and walks away, like he’s too cool, we both laugh shrug and dance it off.
There’s some chick here wearing a longish long sleeve white Henley buttoned hippy shirt and a headband around her blond hair. She dances just like Pony.
I want to go up to her and say
You dance like my friend Pony, and you look like him, and you dress like him, do you know him?
But she’s on the stage and I’m on my way out.

It’s a cold night and I back track around the nasty part of town, get on my scooter and drive home.

San Francisco- My Birthday sort of

2007-01-10T23:18:00.000-08:00

I get home around 8.30, slightly buzzed from my drink with Ringmaster at Amber after work. Everyone is sitting around.
Pony and Boyf are watching Homecoming Warrior on the Disney channel. It's almost as good as Halloweentown.
While Wendy Wu's teachers are posessed by the spirits of monks from her past so they can train her to save the world
I decide on Grey tight Sevens, tapered at Cable Car Tailors, a white undertank, an orange woven art teacher churchlady
vest in XXL, multiple strands of silver and goldish necklaces.
I curl my lashes, mascara and dig the last of my eyegloss out of the corners of the jar.
Agent puts on blush and liner and the eyelashes I got him for christmas, but the spirit gum doesn't stick the fake mustache on too good so he leaves it stuck to the medicine cabinet.
Boyf is in and out smoking cigarettes on the steps, I use the downstairs mirror to fix my hair.
I find 15dollars in my jeans, so we are taking a cab to the club.
On the way Agent and I discuss global warming, apathy among our peers, and my deifinite investment in material things, and shallow pursuits.

At AC's it's already full. Like FULL and it's only 11. Not the best night to not do the door.
Lucy gives me a hug from her stool by the front door, large tan and brown iced cupcakes on a platter in next to her.

The twins come up one with flowers.
I'm touched, no really, it's my first gift. Flowers. I suspect they may have been plucked from a pre-existing bouquet and neatly arranged in some plain paper. But it's the thought.

I tell Dad it's my birthday, and he grabs the back of my head to pull me over the bar for a cheek kiss. I heart Dad, he's the greatest. For a moment I realize that he may actually want to sleep with me, that jokes about me being his son might actually be sexualish in nature.
I order a Jameson neat.

I catch Jewelry from the corner of my eye. I can't believe she's here and Mattie's here too. It's so sweet to see work folks at birthday celebrations.
Mattie's all
"What are you drinking?"
I'm all
I just got this Jameson
and I spill some Jameson on his lap.
"Do you want Yaeger?"
I'll have a Frenet if I have to have something.
We convice Jewelry that it's like Yaeger but it's herbal, and good for your stomach, because she has a stomach ache.

Genivive Gay and Coffin come in. They're all bleary eyed
"Hungover" Coffin says.
Genivive is wearing a christmas sweater with Panda's, queer because christmas has definitely passed and it may be the only ironic thing I've ever seen her wear, it goes against her usual uniform of black tank and brown Levi twill pants.

I see Pony and Texas. I'm all
Welcome back Tex,
then
Oh but I saw you on New Year's
and he says at the same time
I saw you on New Year's
almost at the same time, so it's a little off, and not funny but awkward. He's wearing a ripped up white lace (think Frederick's of Holywood) tank over a misfits t-shirt.
I'm all
I like your vest
he's all
"I like your vest"
I'm all
It's XXL

I make my way back to Rchrd OH?!
He hugs and kisses me.
Vanderbuilt spins by and wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes.
It's a tight quick and kind hug.

Alice comes up to me with a tiny little box.
Gift two.
It's a tiny horsehead pin
"I got it on a horseback riding website for myself. But I figured you'd love it more. Do you think coolness of Horses has made them into a tacky or last season animal?"
I'm all
I've loved horses for a while I don't care if they are played out now.

I put the box in my back pocket, then decide to pin the pin to my shirt under the vest and toss the box so that I don't have a box shaped sillouetted rear end.

Cupcake is all
"Did you have a cupcake yet?"
No
On my way to the cupcakes Agent hands me half a cupcake
"I can't finish this it's too sweet"
The cupcake has a peanut buttery texture and the icing tastes very peanut buttery.
Cupcake is all
"I don't really like peanut butter but I like these. I think I did a good job with the icing."
You did.

I go for another Jameson and squeeze Gay's leg on the way by.
Teeny shows up with Shy in tow. I don't recognize him at first.
His hair has been cut off and his bangs are pointed up in one direction in the front and he has on thick glasses and a white t-shirt. I half expect stone washed denim rolled up to reveal 14 hole dock martins with a spare flannel tied around his waist. He looks 90's dykey. Not bad, but dykey. He changes all the time. The look brings out his handsomeness.

I grab Teeny for a dance on the floor, we pass by Brandicorn chatting up Texas.
We talk about the politics of dancing, and bad business deals.
She looks great as always.
I catch myself in the mirror, dancing, and mess up my hair.

I run to the restroom again.
Then back to the bar just as Fashion comes in. He has two friends in tow.
I spot him a few minutes before he gets to me, so I talk to Jewelry for a minute.

He's all
"I like your vest"
I'm all
It's XXXL.
Cupcakes is all
"Who makes it?"
Marc Jacobs
Fashion is like
"No this is Marc Jacobs" and turns up his coat collar.
Cupcake turns out my collar
"It's made by Troody and Julian"
I'm all
It's my craft hobby crusie wear. Look there's wooden buttons, they don't work.
I'm all
Are you working? Where's your camera?
Fashion pats his pocket takes out the camera and point it at me.
I pull an ugly face.
Usually a crowd pleaser but Fashion wants something goodlooking.
I'm all
I don't photograph well
He's all
"You always look cute and I've seen good photos of you"
We try a few times but I can't hold it together.

Boyf squeezes past in a rush making it awkward when I try to introduce him to Fashion.
Sparkle squeezes by in a bluish t with a scarf tied in a stiff little bow around his neck.
He's all
"Happy Birthday"
I'm all
How did you tie that?
He's all
"I just tied it"
It looks great
"Thanks."

I dance. I dance with Struthers. I'm so glad she came, she hops around the dance floor. It's crowded with all the newbies but I swing my arms around and make some room.
I switch up partners alot, I have to, it's my birthday.
I dance with Coco.
I'm all
We're family now! BigStereo family.
She's all
"What?"
I'm all
WE ARE FAMILY NOW
She's wearing many necklaces with many large red and blue plastic bits on them. Too cute for words, and she's a good dancer. Out of my league, but I don't think she notices yet.

Nasty is about. She's taking so many pics. My head spins. I pull some really ugly faces for her.

Rchrd OH?! plays Christine by Siouxsie and the Banshees.
It is my birthday song and hard to transition to from the mostly dancey stuff, but everyone keeps on and Struthers is all
"I LOVE this song"

The lights come on.
Slings is here.
I walk up to her and she moves to walk right by me, maybe she didn't see who I was, so I'm all
SLINGS
and she's like
HI
like she was going to say it all along. Totally weird.
It's my Birthday.
"Happy Birthday"

I grab glasses and bottles and put them on the bar for Dad who grabs me one more time for a kiss on the cheek.

Outside everyone mills about. But it's cold so I hail a cab real quick for me and Agent and Boyf and Pony.
Agent gets a text from Angel, at our urging he texts back something dirty. He's moving. He's got nothing to lose.

It's classical music and I'm all
Do you actually like classical music or is that for us?
to the cabbie.
I'm actually curious, not just an asshole.
He likes it, but not just this other stuff too.

After Pony gets out I remember I won't see him for a week because he's going to Kansas or Idaho or something.

At home I eat some string cheese, disrobe and fall into bed.

(For pics of hotness check out www.streetfancy.blogspot.com)

IT'S A NEW EFFING YEAR

2007-01-01T14:53:00.000-08:00

I wake up at 12pm.
In the living room I clear out some detritus from last nights THC overload.
The Ugly Betty marathon is cycling through again so I rewatch the Holiday Photo Shoot For Mode Magazine episode again.
And the Halloween episode. That guy that likes Betty at her job is way cooler than her loser boyfriend.
Carson comes down with a fresh face and headache.
I look for tylenol, or advil and find yellow and red pills in an unmarked bottle.
It's suspicious.

Red shows up for Boyf, she wants to cut his hair, he's passed out.
She leaves.
Boyf stumbles downstairs in a vintage pink t-shirt with penguins on it, and brown trousers with a blue pinstripe, cut off at the bottom.

Weed is smoked.
Carson's friend Phish comes over. She has a Phish tote bag and super grey ringed eyes, and beautiful hair that looks almost wiglike in the way it's perched on her head.

Agent and me and Carson and Phish go for brunch at 4pm, JJ is there, he's a waitor and he hooks us up.
Agent's caramel milkshake is totally gnarly. So sweet and thick.
I get plain turkey.

Boyf calls, he says he found a good party, it's at D's house.

It's so cold outside. And overcast. I'm glad this year is ending with its cold and its overcastness.
We walk home.
Boyf got a hair cut and it looks rounder.
They start smoking pot and buy some pot to make cookies.
I take a few tequila shots and then Agent buys some champagne, we swig and swill it.

Pony shows up. He runs down his list of engagements for the evening:
Juanita More
Tiger Beat party
Carson calls Maggie, turns out she's going to the same party. It's on 22nd.
At 10 put on my tuxedo printed shirt and black jeans and suspenders. Brown knee high socks and fancy black shoes.
Carson puts on a vintage remake of a forties teal dress, back combs her hair, and paints on some glamygold glitter
under each eye.
I curl lashes, apply mascara, and a pat of pink powder under my eye.
Boyf puts on a vintagey creamy green cardigan with black detailing, a black polo shirt and brown boots,
I tell him to roll up his denim just a little more.
I'm all
I think those boots make your outfit really Mission Hipster
He's all
"I don't care as long as it looks good"
Boyf packs up his cookies, peanut butter and fudge. I taste, just to taste, and they are amazing. Really peanut buttery.
I take a few more shots of tequila and we head out.
Agent's going to the Haight.
It's not that cold. On 22nd we see people outside and apartment.
As we get closer it becomes clear that this is a QUEER party. It's pretty dykey.
Right when we walk up so does Maggie. She's got on a vintage dress, tall heels, and a tall bouffant. She's totally giving severe 50's housewife.
We climb the steep stairs and settle in a brightly lit hallway.
Boyf and Carson are totally stoned.
The hallway is awkward. I half recognize several people who walk by.
This is so awkward. The bright light, despite the tequila I'm not drunk enough.
I look at my phone. It's 11:50.
I'm all
Hey everyone it's 11:50 We have ten minutes
I yell it up and down the hall.
No one seems to notice.

Astrid shows up and we head to the kitchen to look for liquer. There isn't any, and it's so hot because there's a heater in the hall right outside the kitchen.
We go back to the hallway.
People are dancing in a darkened living room where a dj is set up.
D walks by and I'm all smiles and happy handshakes. He's all
"We're going to my room, it's in the back"
Um. Ok.

It's 11:55 and I'm all
Hey everyone we have five minutes. Just five minutes till the new year.
Still nothing.

Boyf brought pocket liquer, me and Astrid shoot some vodka.
She ate a pot cookie but it didn't hit yet.
I look at my phone and it's midnight and several seconds.
I'm all
IT'S MIDNIGHT. HAAPPEEE NEW YEARS. HAAPPEEE NEW YEARS.
Some folks whoop, most don't say anything.
AWKWARD.

Astrid and I climb back down the stairs and head to mission street for liquer.
We pass The Bar on mission. There are crowds on the streets.
I buy tequila and Astrid gets Tecate.
She takes a picture of me taking my first sip of the new year.
I take one of her.
We deem 2007 "ALOCHOL ADVENTURE"
At the party Boyf and Carson have come outside. We sit on a curb and they smoke and eat more cookies.
We notice that the music coming from the party is the same set that we just heard at midnight.

I get a call from Cupcake. Him and Alice, Vanderbuilt, Rchrd Oh?!, Sleezey, and Quake are just a few blocks away, and they're walking up to 16th for a party.

I rush off to meet them leaving Boyf, and Carson on the front steps.
I have trouble finding the bar they're at then I spot Rchrd Oh?! riding away on his scooter.
I sneak up on Cupcake and hug him from behind.
Alice is with him. We catch up to Vanderbuilt and Sleezey. He's wearing a carboard gold New Year's hat.
We hoof it to the party.
Rchrd Oh?! calls and says to say we are with him when we get there.
I'm all
If we have to pay the cover I'm going home. I am so broke.
I swig from my flask.
At the party Vanderbuilt and me squeeze by the front door just behind Sleezey, because he's dj-ing.
I get the feeling that he doesn't like me.
But I'm paranoid drunk.
I go to the bathroom with Vanderbuilt and Alice, we gossip in a stall. About our friends.
I get paranoid again, anyone could be listening.
We have an ILOVEYOUGUYSSOGLADIKNOWYOUTHISYEARHASBEENGREAT moment.
In the hall way I see Rchrd Oh?! going upstairs with Quake and Sleezey. I follow
Rchrd Oh?! introduces me to Quake.
They are looking for smoking on the roof.
The building is mostly empty, it feels like being in a school after it closes.
I'm designing bandannas for Quake's band so we chat it up and he gets me a drink.
I dance to a song or two and bounce.
I have to get to my neighbor's after party.
It's gotten colder, and my peacoat, though goodlooking is not protecting against the New Year chill.

Astrid is on the couch. In the time that I went to 16th street and walked home she managed to
go to the Knock Out and left.
There is a bong being lit.
I gather the forces and we head next door.
Corncob is asleep when we get there, and not many people are there.
We sit in the upstairs office most of the time.
Different lesbians come and go, say hello and goodbye.
I go home, because I can't sit here anymore.
Agent has a party in his room. I chat it up with his friend that is starting at the salon on Weds.
I gossip with him. I say too much. The tequila working magic on me.
Boyf and Carson come back but I go to bed. I can't stay awake any longer.
I think it is 5am. I think.
Falling asleep I start to take inventory of the past year and outline some hopes for the future but the room spins
and I pass out.

SAN FRANCISCO- Cupcake turns Old 12/19/06

2006-12-20T14:09:00.000-08:00

It is so cold out. I'm reminded of NYC in the winter.
I can see my breath in my own house.
No one is home, the dogs go crazy when I let them out of their room.
I change from everyday black levis into special occasion tight black April 77-s.
I'm sticking with the black hoody I recieved for xmas and prematurely opened.
The idea of changing more than my pants gives me anticipatory chills.
I want to get in bed and pull the blankets up over my head and let the dogs settle in behind my knees.

I spray B+B shine spray all over my head and nearly gag on the smell of it.
I lock the dogs up and lock the house, leaving just the porch light on.
I scroll through my contacts in my phone trying to find someone to talk to for the 10 minute walk to the train.
I leave LaLa a message, I'm all
I love my new haircut, I'll see you tommorow!
A light in the alley strobes. Seriously strobes.
Like a strobe light.
It's an eerie bluish light.
It makes the street seem like a movie set.

On the train platform I run into Ken and Weasel.
I haven't seen them in almost a year.
Ken's got a fancy shirt on. They're going to meet Weasel's sister at a hotel downtown.
Her sister's boyfriend got jumped last night so he looks like
"Quasimoto, from you know, that movie..." Weasel blanks
"Hunchback of Notre Dame" Ken and I chorus it.
On the train the three of us squeeze into a two person seat.
I find it creepy.
I try to fill awkward pauses with explanations of my boringly simple job.
We gossip about Urban Oufitters which stole years of our lives and happiness.
Ken says
"We're wearing the same jeans"
Weasel looks embarrassed.
We part ways at Forever 21.

At Rchrd Oh?!'s and Cupcake's everyone is drinking a Sparks.
It's Pony, Alice, Rchrd Oh?! and Cupcake.
The windows are open for smoking so it's cold.
I ditch my jacket on the dining room table and hug Cupcake
Happy Birthday! How does it feel?
He's all
"The same" perched on the window sill, cigarette in hand.
I'm all
Do you have any booze?
"There's one more Sparks in the fridge"
Awesome! Stomach ache and Head ache.

I sit next to Alice.
She's working a deep voice from a cold and cigarettes.
I'm all
You sound like Demi Moore, I used to have a crush on her when I was little.
I crack the Sparks and I'm all
I hope this doesn't give me diarrhea.
Cupcake is all
"If I have two I go crazy"

I ask Rchrd Oh?! about his time with Peaches.
Cupcake and Alice relay stories about hanging out in the FIllmore and helping Peaches find Mayonaise for her food.
There's a picture of Alice with the Mayonaise bottle.
She put a hannukah candle in her bra and ran around the Fillmore all night.
Rchrd Oh?! says he was wasted and made Peaches talk to his cousin on the phone.
His cousin goes to all her shows dressed as the latest album cover.
Peaches knew exactly who she was.
She really likes bigstereo.net.
Rchrd Oh?! is famous.
Angel comes in, he's all
"Do you like my rave light?" holding up the back of his bike so we can see his blinking red light.
I'm all
What I really like is your highwaters
He's got red pants rolled up to about midcalf and a winter hat on.
Angel can't drink Sparks. He says decaf coffee makes him crazy.
I'm all
I can't drink it either....
then I drink it.

Lucy comes in with a brown paper bag, she slurs
"Happy Birthday Cupcake"
It's wine. From the corner store.
Someone lights a pipe.
The Sparks makes me jumpy, Rchrd Oh?! is all
"Who wants wine"
I want one.

I'm double fisting wine and Sparks when the girls come in.
Witchie has vintage leather gloves with the fingers cut off. They have buckles at the wrist.
Her hair looks shorter.
I'm all
Is your hair shorter again?
She's all
"Yeah I cut it again. I cut it when I get bored."
Well it looks good.
The girls have a bottle of Jack which they happily share with the room.

JackSparksWine.

I leave my wine half full.

Boyf runs into the room and hugs Cupcake. He's all
"Happy Birthday"
Then he demands the drugs I brought over for him.

I ask Witchie about her party.
She says she bought too much food for appetizers.
She's been eating appetizers for days. Like three days.

Alice is all
"Those are nice jeans"
I'm all
Thanks, they are April 77, or June of 1960 or something. Cupcake has trousers by them.
Alice is all
"Maybe I should get those for Dig. He always sews his jeans really tight. I bought him these really slim cut jeans, and he ended up sewing them anyway."

Everyone starts to get ready to go. Jackets, scarves hats.
On my way out I see Vanderbuilt in the kitchen.
When did she get here?
She's got a key stuck into a small hello kitty baggy in her right hand when she hugs me.
I'm all
This is nuts.
Pony is all
"It's NODOZE"
The baggy falls off the key when she jumps around. There's a small mound on the key so she snorts it up.

We gather on the pavement and go up O'Farrell to NiteSpot. I think.
I think it's NiteSpot.
Lucy knows the bartender, who's name is Lucy, but the Bartender Lucy is way Lesbian. In a Butch old school kind of way.
Baseball hat, short hair, specs, black hoody, all around butch demeanor.
We pour in, all 10 of us.
We must of gathered some on the way.

Most of the crowd are dudes, older dudes, pretty normal looking.
Eyebrows raise when they take us in.
Lucy the Bartender seems pretty psyched that we're here, she smiles and rushes to get us drinks. Cupcake of course gets a free one.
I like to think it's because we're such a gay group that she's excited.

I sit with Pony and Boyf drinking Whiskey and Coke.
Pony breaks the bad news to me
"I can't go to NYC with you"
I don't even skip a beat
That's ok.
"I have finals that week"
It's cool dude.

We make christmas plans.

Nirvana comes on the juke box and the two guys playing pool leave.
Angel is all
"I put this on!"

I stand with Rchrd Oh?! and chat him up about Big Stereo and his antics with Peaches.
We talk business, bandannas and all that.
I'm all
I'm so psyched that Big Stereo is going well for you.
I ask him its history and he tells me.
I glow with pride and admiration of him and my friends.
He tells me that when he was younger his mom tried to get him to dislike Hole and Courtney Love because Courtney killed Kurt Cobain.
I heard Kurt Cobain had died in my dad's car on the way to his house for weekend visitation.
When I got to his house I called three friends immediately.
Two of whom were crying.

Violent Femmes comes on the jukebox as I approach Lucy the Bartender
She's all
"What will it be sweetheart?"
and she rubs my arm
I'm all
whiskeycoke.
Alice chats me up, and Lucy the Bartender gives her a free drink.
I pay for her tip.
Vanderbuilt dances so hard that she falls over.

Sleezemore comes in with a blond girl.
She dances immediately, Sleezemore and Rchrd Oh?! talk.

I go outside for some air while Pony smokes,
Sleezemore comes out and I'm all
"Is that a Big Stereo bandanna?"
He's all
"Yeah"
I blush a bit, and bite my tongue.

Inside I ask Boyf if he wants to go.
Boyf chokes down his beer and him and Pony and me head outside for a cab.
Everyone goes outside, I guess they are changing bars.
I make plans with Cupcake to watch a matinee tommorow. Alice wants to come to.

We walk a few blocks and get in a cab.

I almost fall asleep on the ride home.

SAN FRANCISCO- Hold Yr Horses 12/12 or How To Drink Right

2006-12-14T18:45:00.000-08:00

I meet Pony and Boyf at the SFGLBTQQIPINFINITI Center of San Francisco. We walk home through the slightly hazy slightly drizzly weather. Boyf skips out at 16th but Pony and I hoof it all the way. I'm not paying $1.40 for a ten block ride.

We get home five minutes after Boyf, he's on the couch smoking pot and watching t.v.
I cook up a TJ's pizza, then walk the dogs.
I dress:
Black jeans (duh)
Black vans with NEW fat black laces
a tanktop
an orange sort of ribbon woven vest in 3XL from the thrift sore

Boyf says the vest is very bahai, very renn faire bisexual college proffessor.
Agent fully supports the vest, while Pony thinks it's too big.

But can it get smaller?
He says we can fix it, later.
I go back up and switch out the tank for an off white sleeveless T that shows off my arms well and hangs just loose enough around the waist. I top it off with an imitation chanel purse strap (gold chain with black leather ribbon and tassel) that I bought thinking it was a belt or necklace. No one ever notices though.

Curl eyelashes, diorshow. Flatiron and dry shampoo, shake it up.

Pony and I head out to the BART.
He is stoned and funny. Wearing a Chalayan coat a vintage old man hat and Nudies.
I love the Nudies.

On Turk by 6th st in front of the Sex Arcade some guy asks Pony where he got his hat.
He says
"A thrift store"
It's not the best neighborhood for casual conversation,
but best not to ignore people either.

We get to AC's at 10:05.
Rchrd Oh?! is already in the back messing with levels.
The place is overloades with Christmas decor.
Of note is the large sledge with a stuffed santa hanging from the
low ceiling over the center of the bar.
Dad has to half duck to avoid it when he passes.
There's also a small village of christmassy model homes snuggled
warmly around the tv by the front door, and another village on a snowy ledge above the dance floor.
When Rchrd Oh?! turns the dance lights on half the village is strobed
and laser beamed.
My favorite piece is the house perched on top of the register,
through it's tiny front windows I can see Santa, a child, and a Christmas tree
dancing, in a circle.

New favorite Coco is here with her sleek chic hair cut, faux Chanel earrings and many many necklaces.
Dad makes a face when I order an old fashioned.
To soften the blow I tell him he makes them better than any other bar I've been too.
Which is true.
Coco entertains me and Pony with tales of babysitting rich kids in hotels.
When Pony goes to smoke and get money I ask her about getting her masters.
Turns out she's a doctor. A DOCTOR. She's 25.
She's all
"Nice purse strap"
I'm all
I thought it was a necklace
Pony looks at me like I'm dumb.

After filling up popcorn baskets I retreat to my post by the door. It's 10:45 and it's still just the 5 of us.
I text Cupcake, who is not coming. I call Alice who does not answer.
Witchie and two friends show up at 11.
One of them recognizes me from the art store on Haight. I was there two days ago,
we half chat till Witchie drags her to the dancefloor.

Soon Nasty shows. She's wearing a cute tanky top with lipsticks all over it.
She has her camera. She gets a drink.
We chat it up, and fill each other in on the two weeks we haven't seen each other.
Her wallet is gone, stolen or lost, so she only has an out of date passport.
In the picture she looks remarkably like Alice, till now their family resemblance has been lost on me.
She's all
"I like that you are wearing a purse strap as a necklace"

A few pairs of folks come in but when they here about the cover they turn heel. I bet cupcakes would up the intrigue.

Some folks come in, but they know Rchrd Oh?!
Brandicorn comes in. He doesn't work tomorrow so we're hoping lots of boys
show up so he can stay up late kissing them.

Boyf is here. He gets a beer and sits with me for just a minute.
Brandicorn tells me he's going to Vietnam soon.
He's traveling alone.
He relates a story about this total fag that works for his company that he
ran into the other night. This older gay guy with a bald spot and totally
bleached out hair. Brandicorn told the guy that he has trouble meeting guys and the guy was all
"I don't know what you're talking about, I find it REALLY EASY to meet guys, I meet guys ALL THE TIME."
I'm all
He is probably desperate with no standards, that's why he's so easy, and it's so easy.
(I'm two old fashioneds in.)
In Mean Girls Lindsay Lohan's character realizes that calling someone fat doesn't make you skinny, and calling someone ugly doesn't make you pretty.
However calling someone easy does make you morally superior. I can feel the moral superiority.

Nasty's camera comes out. I request portraits by the prize machine, as per usual.

A group of 5 fags, not all ugly come in. They ALL know Rchrd Oh?!
I'm like
Great
I catch one of them peeking at me when I'm checking i.d.s.
He's cute. I realize I'm looking back at him, then I blush.
But I'm in the red lights.
The rest of them seem queeny.

Dad gives me another Old Fashioned and a bottle of water.
Alice comes in with Dig.
She's dressed like Napolean Dynamite.
She's wearing a Napolean Dynamite t-shirt.
She's also wearing a puffy jacket and those puffy snow boots.
She's sort of giving a little Deb. But more like one of those little kid costumes with the plastic mask.
She's all
"I'm wearing this shirt and I feel like one of those kids in one of those halloween costumes that's plastic and it has a picture of who they are supposed to be on it, like a little girl wearing a rainbow brite outfit, but she has rainbow brite's face on her chest or something. I always thought those kids were cheating when I was younger. You can't reference yourself in a costume, it's just not real enough."
I tell her my stock I-AM-GAY-halloween stories:
I wore my mom's dress in order to be a Wizard
My mom helped me stuff my bra senior year so I could be a hooker
She painted my face like a cat because I loved cats, but that wasn't halloween.

It's endless.

I don't really like Napolean Dynamite but Alice's post ironic ironic take on her outfit seems so pomoaprospo.
Alice is all
"Are you supposed to be a Chanel purse?"

Pony and Nasty pretend that they are related, like fraternal twins. They could totally be twins.

Cupcake comes in and I'm all
I thought you weren't coming
and he's all
"No, I decided that I should."
I'm glad
"Me too"
His new haircut is particularly fetching without his glasses on.

When I check out the dance floor the guy who looked at me on his way in is queening it up on the floor. I want to dance so bad so I hand the door off the Nasty so I can go pee,
Rchrd Oh?! is in there so I smack him on the ass, then go dance.

Lucy is not here.
Vanderbuilt is not here.

Back at the door a bunch of people from the Buffalo Exchange come in. They are all like
"Is Dino here yet?"
And I'm all
I heard she's not coming
and they're al
"What?!"
Dino pokes her head in and I'm all
You better get in here because people have been asking for you all night,
I go out and stand with her while she smokes and hang out.

It's already 1am and I'm trying to get another drink before I hand over the money.
But Dad's so busy. Santa and the tree and the child are still dancing inside the small house.
Around and around and around.

I give Rchrd Oh?! the money and he's all
"Is it 1?"
and I'm like
It's even later!!

I get on the dancefloor and Dino is there immediately, and Nasty with her camera.
Dino is all
"Are you dancing like your mother?"
and I'm all
Um...I guess so.
Phyllis shows up so late as per usual.
I'm like
You're late!
and he's like
"I know"
Are you having fun?
"Well I just started my whiskey so not yet..."

Dad turns on the lights early and everyone is
"What?!"
But Rchrd Oh?! complies.

I run around and get all the glasses and put them on the counter, then get my payout and head outside to the crowds.
Pony and me and Phyllis get in a cab with Boyf, but I'm in the front.

At Phyllis's we sit in his back room porch area with the door open. It rains outside but it's warm and nice in here.
He breaks down his living arrangement. His roomates, the layout of the apartment, and rent prices...
They all smoke pot.

Pony and Boyf and me walk the block home and turn on the t.v. I eat some potato chips. I eat alot of potato chips.
Pony is like
"Can I go to bed?"
Which means
Would you guys go upstairs so I can sleep on your couch?

My eyes itch so I slide my contacts around.
I take two sleeping pills, but only realize after, I meant to take one, but I'm so drunk.

Cupcake and new friend AC

nu twins

Rchrd Oh?! spins with no hands

Ugly me and standoffish Boyf

SAN FRANCISCO- New Young Pony Club/Poopscene 12/07/06

2006-12-08T21:46:00.000-08:00

I walk in and JJ's hair is all newly coiffed, and I'm all
Nice cut,
then I see Red on the couch and I'm all
You did a good cut

Everyone is home, then Westminster comes by with Eliot. It's slightly awkward, she's sick and stoned.
We watch Ugly Betty.
Agent is all
"How did this pass a focus group? Who said this was ok for tv? Did they even say things like 'yeah, maybe she shouldn't be REALLY ugly'?"
We decide that the plot probably just focuses on Betty's ugliness
Betty gets a makeover, then she gets in a car wreck,
but she gets a face transplant from a model
but it slides off her skull.
In our version she becomes a skinless skull on a plate with a pony tail.

Is Westminster actually horrified?
She's all
"Well I mean, what is ugly anyway?..."

I put on some diesel jeans which used to squeeze me just right but have stretched out.
I go back downstairs to grab something and Westminster is all
"You look buff..."
I try on several tight shirts then settle on an undertank with a grey cardigan with two two inch band buttons on the right side, and a vintage headband.
I reflatiron, curl lashes, apply diorshow.
I'm out of eyegloss.

Pony calls, and we make plans for me to pick him up.

Boyf decides he WILL go out, right when I'm leaving.
I scoot to Pony's.
I call him and he's all
"I'll be right down"
After five minutes I ring his bell and ram my helmet against the front gate.
It's cold.

Pony appears wearing tight new red jeans from AA, little white sneaks, a black and white plaid jacket a gentleman's hat, and sports a new haircut.
I can't figure out if I like it or not. It's more typical but does make him even handsomer. Heartmelty handsome.
He pulls on his helmet, hops on the scoot, and loosely throws his arms around my waist.
I'm all
Dude, hold on tight, are you stoned?
"No drunk..."
I thought so.
"I was trying to hide it"
I could tell
"Do I seem really dumb"
No you just seem...
"Like I'm hiding it?"
No, you just seem different, you seem like drunkle Pony.

Boyf calls because he doesn't know where Poopscene is, Pony does.
After driving around SOMA and dodging some dodgey traffic we park.
At the door the bouncer really checks id's, he wasn't sure if mine was me.
Inside the ATM is broken so I walk Pony to the bank and back. On our way out we see Rchrd Oh?! and Vanderbuilt
scooting up.

I'm all
There's Rchrd Oh?! and Vanderbuilt, I think
Pony's all
"I hope it's her, I LOVE her. Whenever she's around I have so much fun. Does she have an accent?"
No I think she just talks like that.
"Like when she says Dahling..."
Well, I think she puts that on....
"Is she a rich girl?"
I don't know, she works for LV, so maybe that's why she sounds wealthy....

Inside we find them. Drinks are $7 and nobody likes that.
Rchrd Oh?! thought it would be sold out, but it's only 2/3 full, if that.
The first band does not rock.
We go outside for smoking.
DJSleaze is here. I haven't met him but heard about him.
He kisses Rchrd Oh?! a hello on the mouth. He's straight.
Vanderbuilt is all
"Have you met him?"
No
"Host, this is Sleaze, Sleaze, Host."
Hello.

I try to ask him the name of his night at Mighty, but he's caught up in convo with Rchrd Oh?!
Vanderbuilt is all
"I think it's called Bouncing Titties..............................................BALLS!"
I laugh. She just said Balls.

She asks Sleaze if his night is called Titties or Balls,
he's all
"No, it's called Bounce"

Balls.

Vanderbuilt and I chomp it up about drinking and not drinking, doing blow and not doing blow.
Boyf shows up, on the other side of the smoking barrier, on the sidewalk.
He's wearing a parka with a grey sweater, his mustache has really come in. He looks like a molester.
It's gross. I try to imagine kissing him, but it's hard.
Ugly hot.
We relate the sad state of drink prices.
Boyf and Pony are off to get booze.
Me and Vanderbuilt head inside.
We sit with Semen.
Vanderbuilt is wearing her leather jacket over a red dress over jeans, her hair is long and sexy with long sexy bangs and glossy red lips. oh yeah, and mascara, alot.
We don't like the dj.
I text Boyf and he's outside again with Pony.
We go out to drink with them
Whiskey and Coke.
Pony tries to lean on two mopeds that are chained together but he knocks them over
one of them was leaking gasoline already, but now it really does. We can smell it.
Vanderbuilt's friend walks up right as they fall.

Semen tells about how he was at a porn shoot and some guy with an 11 inch dick
was breaking in all these young boys and their asses were bleeding.
How the boys needed the money, or something.
Collective throats gag, maybe.
Vanderbuilt is all
"Well now I'm difinitely not taking it in the ass"
We swig the drinks fast because the band should start soon.

Inside Pony and me and Boyf sqeeze towards the front.
I spot Rchrd Oh?! so we try to latch onto him, to stake a claim to some prime floor space.
I get stuck behind a shortish girl. I don't want to step in front of her.
Boyf and Pony notice I'm not next to them, in front of the girl.
Pony shrugs his shoulders at me, I make eyes at the girl
so like a fag he goes
"HOOOSSST, hey, come here"
and grabs my hand like a big homo.
I squeeze in front of the girl and mutter
You're such an asshole
to Pony.
He's been kind of fresh tonight.

New Young Pony Club takes the stage. Their name makes me think of Fine Young Cannibals.
When I was around 16 my punk rock brother brought home a tape of FYC and played it for days.
It was so out of character. So not punk rock and angry teen.
I couldn't figure him out. Like, was he trying to be weird?

The lead singer has one side of her head cut short, the rest pulled over in a sort of low po.
She's wearing a green and gold sequined shift dress with purple tights and blue slingbacks.
The key boardist wears an aqua dress with small white polka dots with bangs and a pony.
The drummer has long brown hair, a high waisted balloon skirt in brown with shoulder straps and large pring black and white gingham short sleave top. The guitarist has a t-shirt on that says "it is true" or something ina thoroughly modern font.
The bassist has button up white shirt with black stars on it, white jeans, white sunglasses, and blond longish hair parted down the middle.
The guitarist looks the oldest.
The keys aren't working but he's on the job.
After technical difficulties they start the set.
The singer has huge eyes, I think she's looking at me.
She dances by flinging her top half forward and back with arms spinning, but feet and legs planted firm.
She's singing at me, her huge eyes have got me.
NO REALLY.
At the end of the first song I want to make out with her, I want to flirt with her at a party, lean on a pool table next to her, stnad nearby as she drinks beer and goes crazy dancing.
She tells us she has a soar throat.
The girl behind me, the shortish girl is next to me. She's stuck behind a guy who's taller than me.
She keeps complaining to her friends. I almost trade with her. But none of her own friends offer to trade
or open up a better spot for her, I stand sideways so she can squeeze in a little more.
The second song is great too.
The drummer sings the high parts because the lead singer is losing her voice.
Recorded they sound way cleaner and way dancier, in like an electronic dance way. But live the singer is rawer the beats are just as good but the songs are less dance musicy more pop. I think of B52's.
I'm probably wrong though.

After the second song I can see pain on the lead singer's face.
She urges us to party.
She throws a towel to us, and one to her drummer. A great drummer.
I swear she is looking at me.
3 songs later they are done.
As they get off the stage the dj is all
"Maybe if you cheer they will play one more"
but the Guitarist draws his finger across his neck and shakes his head
really hard.
They will not play more.

Outside smoking Rchrd Oh?! says they had to cancel 5 dates of their 7 date U.S. tour.
I wonder if we just saw a one hit wonder. Will they exist or matter next year?
I get sad. I think I might be right.
They were great, but ....
Pony is all
"That singer was so hot"
I'm all
I want to make out with her. Guys, what if I'm straight
Pony punches me.
He's all
"Don't be gay. You're not straight from one girl"
I'm all
It's not like 'I would make out with her' I want, WANT to make out with her. I want to date her.
Pony does too. Maybe she sang to him too.
I guess. We were both in the same audience. He was next to me.
Fuck.

We go and dance to one song. I dance towards Vanderbuilt and say
BALLS
I think some guy is checking me out.
He's ok looking.

I go to the bathroom. My reflection is..unimpressive. My hair got flat.

Boyf and me, and Pony leave.
Pony is coming over.
We walk by where the mopeds were, there's big wet spot, it must be gasoline. We can smell it.
We walk Boyf to his bike so Pony can smoke.
On the scooter ride home Pony and I chat it up about NYC. The trip in March. At a stop he leans on me and is all
"I wish you were moving there too!"
I'm all
Me too... I don't know if I could make it there though. There are alot of distractions.
Pony is all
"I'm not going to have any friends"
Dude you are goodlooking smart and talented and you meet people so SO easy. You'll be fine.
He says that if we don't talk for two years we could talk again like nothing happened, we are those types of friends.
I'm all
I hope it doesn't come to that.
then...
Are you drunk?
"A little."

We stop at Safeway for sleeping pills and hot pockets. No. Lean pockets.

At home I eat two lean pockets then get into bed with my jeans on.
It's cold.

San Francisco- Rickshaw Stop 11/30/06

2006-12-02T17:20:00.000-08:00

I've been wearing these tight black jeans all day. My t-shirt selection dissapoints so I throw on an undertank and my sleeveless CocaCola sweatshirt.
Spray on some black hair powder, curl lashes, mascara.

I myspaced Nasy about the show, and Brandicorn called to see if I wanted drinks but I'm driving, again.

I get there around 9:15.Outside there are two youngish lesbians totally making out.
Like they are 16.
They might be, it's all ages.
Inside I see Nasty waiting by the bar. She's so tall.
I'm on the list, and I say so. Hand stamped.
Nasty just got here too. Social Studies is playing and I'm all
They sound like Weezer
"What?"
THEY SOUND LIKE WEEZER
Oh, Yeah, sort of.

Calrsburg swishes by on her way to the bathroom, we half hug hello.
Toddy comes up, I think he's checking Nasty out, Brandicorn said he's been dating
tall thin blondes, like Nasty.
We half hug hello, and try to talk over the music.
Teeny comes by and we hug and squeeze. She's wearing all black.
I give her a hanky, but she makes me fold it for back pocket wearing.
I stuff it in her right ass pocket.
Her haircut looks really good, really chickL.A.rocknroll.
Hey taps on my shoulder, I don't recognize him at first because his normally shaggy hair is lopped off into a conservative 50's style.
He looks older, and far more serious. We hug hard and talk about the show.
He's excited
He's glad I'm here
I'm excited
I'm glad I'm here.
Hulk comes by wearing a grey and white striped vneck, very attractive on him.
We hug, he pats me on the shoulder, it's too loud to talk, he has earplugs in.

When Social Studies stops we applaud, Nasty and I go for water and talk about
having no money. We don't mind having no money.
We mind having no money for alcohol. She buys her second
and last beer of the night.
But shares it with me.
She's a good Christian soul.

We move up toward the front.
Nasty keeps looking around, like she's looking for someone.
She is hoping her crush will show up, because of his tenuous ties to Finest Dearest.
Teeny beckons us to her side of the stage.
We stand right in front of her.
The crowd pushes forward when the feedback begins.
Toddy is tuning but there is feedback.
Teeny starts the song but it takes everyone a few seconds to realize they should play.
They do.
They rock.
Nasty dances around like we are at a dance club.
A 15 year old skinny faggot next to Nasty sort of rave dances, it's awkward.
His limbs are too long and stick like.

The set is good, Toddy unplugs himself during some rockstar antics, and Hey has some trouble with the bass levels.
When they get to the last song Carlsberg is all
"Do you want to sing back ups?"
and I'm all
Sure.
They don't say it into the mic or anything
I wonder if the crowd thinks I'm just some weird guy strolling onto the stage

It's my favorite song, and I blow out my voice screaming the opening lyrics.
Afterwards Nasty is all
"Good job on vocals!"
Her crush still isn't here, so she jets.
I help Teeny with her amp and tell her my HONEST OPINON about the set.

I get a 7" and Brandicorn and I go outside to put it in my scooter.
He's talking about guys and gays, and being newqueer, and I'm all
Here'swhatIthink.Ithinkthatnomatterwhatit'sallnewtoyou,andthere'sannoyingshityouhavetogothroughwhenshitisnew,butyouaregoodlookingandsmartandfunnyandyouhaveagreatpersonalitysoshitisgoingtoworkoutforyou.
I sit with Teeny on the curb then she shows me the new tour van and I bring up her birderous past.
We retell her story to each other, about how she slept with her pet bird, but killed it accidentally. There must be another story, but she's still a birderer.
All the locks in the van have silver skulls on them, Hulk says that him and Toddy tinted the windows themselves.
Teeny brings up my potential trip with them to LA in the new year.

Back inside Music for Animals have started. There's all these art school projections going on behind them. There's a man fucking a woman in slo mo. It looks vintage, you can't see the guys face. I think of the MALE GAZE, then the MALE GAYS.
Teeny comes out of the bathroom and we move up through the crowd.
This song has a good verse hook
"You're hands are so cold"
My hands are cold. It's so cold outside.
We move up to the balcony.
The singer guitarist and the bassist wear suits with red shirts.
The singer has curly curly hair, styled into a fro sort of.
He has untucked his shirt, unbuttoned his jacket, and unbuttoned the top to buttons of his shirt.
I lean over to Teeny and shout
THE DANGER OF WEARING A RED SHIRT WITHOUT A TIE IS THAT WHEN YOU UNBUTTON THE TOP BUTTONS AND UNTUCK IT YOU LOOK LIKE A LOUNGE SINGER, A BAD LOUNGE SINGER...
She's all
"That IS dangerous...."

I tell Teeny about the porn video part, and my mild obsession with the Male Gaze as a fairly applicable pun.
She agrees, and relates that she's tried to use Male Gaze as a pun but not everyone knows it's radical feminist film theory meanings.

She says they seem really professional
I'm all
Do you mean like Bar Mitzvah and Sweet 16 professional?
She dead looks me
"Yes"

The allure of the well polished band fades as each song takes on a particularly Killer vibe. At one point ballons are dumped from the balcony on both sides of us.
Teeny and I notice a ballon landing squarely on a bald guys head, but it's two different guys at the same exact time.

There are so many people here for Music for Animals.
At one point they turn their backs to the audience and the lights go low.
Their arms and backs light up with Christmas lights. The guitarist's aren't secured too good because when he starts playing they swing around his wrist.

A girl dressed as a dominatrix gets on stage and faux whips the boys.
I'm all
We're in San Francisco, couldn't they get a real dominatrix?
Is that edgey even?
Is it trying to be?

One of our favorite songs features a rhyme between the words "Bi-curious" "furious" and "serious".
Bi-Curious!! Really? Serious-ly?!
I thought that word was only used in M4M ads.
I yell out
"MALE GAZE"
Teeny yells
"1970's FEMINISM"
SECOND WAVE
"THIRD WAVE"
Then together
MAAAALLLEEE GAAAAZZEEE

We go into the smoking room. It's smokey.
We perch on a rickshaw. A broken one. It sort of creaks and sways.
Teeny smokes and I tell her about my art projects.
She tells me about Finest Dearest's plans.

Outside it's still cold and the 16 yearold lesbians are back at it, but there's a crew of friends standing around. Some creepy dude takes a picture of clubkid looking twinks with his phone. One of the twinks pulls his shirt open and squeezes his nipple.

I have a text from Boyf and a voicemail.
I get on the scooter, grind my teeth and head home.

SAN FRANCISCO- Hold Yr Horses 11/28/06

2006-11-29T02:26:00.000-08:00

At home I fry up a buffalo burger with two slices of cheese.
While it cooks I microwave leftover apple pie, which tastes entirely too clovey.

On the couch I watch a rerun of MTV's Real World Road Rules Challenge: The Duel. The one in which Beth gets eliminated on a technicality. Boyf and the dogs huddle around a newly purchased space heater.

I dress:
Tight black jeans, new
An under tank
A new vintage cardigan sweater vest in cream with brown detailing and buttons
A vintage fur stole, with heads, tails and legs in tact, minus a few claws.

I flatiron, curl and mascara (diorshow) eyelashes. Matte finish hair creme.
Add extra mascara under each eye, so I have doll eyes. DOLL EYES.

Pony moves the rest of his stuff into the hallway by the front door. He's moving today. Sadness reigns. His jeans are raw denim and so tight, he's been wearing them for two days in an effort to stretch them out. My jeans are so tight that my kneess snap back when I walk, everything below my waist is pressed in.

I scoot to AC's.

It's 10:05 but none of the kids are here, just regulars sipping beers and eating crock pot food from plastic plates.
Dad is all
"You look like Hitler"
He pushes my bangs back. He's all
"Do you want some food before I put it away"
I just ate, thanks though.

I call Rchrd Oh?!
I'm all
Where are you guys
"On our way"
I got worried because you guys are late
"I can't hear you"
Ok bye.

I set up the table and dad pours me a surprisingly weak redbullvodka.
Struthers and Houston show up. They went to Volver at the new WESTFIELD SHOPPING CENTRE.
They say Penelope Cruz's tits looked great in the movie, they lament that they weren't naked more.
Struthers has an OP thermal on. It's all sailboats and windblown. I tell her I heard OP is coming back.

Cupcake, Rchrd Oh?! and Lucy come in. Lucy's wearing the cutest striped tunicy tulipy dress with super short bangs.
Cupcake sports his longish and growing hair and full beard. He unpacks chipotle chocolate torte cupcakes with cinnamon creme and almonds on top. What the fuck? Like forreal? I eat one. I congratulate Cupcake.

Dad gives me the envelope, Rchrd Oh?! turns up the music and off the lights, the regulars and crockpot diners stream out.
I fill popcorn baskets, and some styrofoam plates and spread them on the bar.
Bloody Mallory plays on the tv-s, we've seen this before at Hold Yr Horses, but it's fucking amazing. Some french horror movie about a demon slayer and her oddball team of demon slayers, there's: talkative taylor (psychic mute child with mind control powers), shishi (tranny demon slayer with really sharp finger nails), Mallory (slighted bride of a werewolf with fingerless redleather gloves that read e-v-i-l s-u-c-k-s on the knuckles.

It's 10:30 but it's still us. Cupcake says he wants to cut his hair because he looks like a hippy but I'm all
You like like a dirty San Francisco Indie hipster
He seems unswayed by my assesment.
Struthers shares a drink with Houston, and shakes it in her chair.

Rchrd Oh?! is all
"I don't allow fur in my club that better be fake"
Cupcake is all
"Is that real? gross..."
Lucy is all
"That stole is cute."
She works at LV so I'm going with her.

A crowd of four kids show up. The first guy doesn't have money, I'm all
"Are all your friends going to say the same thing?"
I let him in but his friends pay. I recognize them from Shadowplay.
The two Shadowplay go-go dancers show up.
Inline with the new IDEVERYONE policy, I id everyone, most people are surprisngly older than they appear.

Lucy is behind the bar and I'm all
Dad, what is she doing behind there?!
He's all
"She's my partner"
But I thought you were gay
"Well I just pretend her clit is a really small penis and I suck it all night long"
Struthers and Houston lose it. I mime sucking on a very small penis.
Microphallus.
Enlarged Clitoris.

Anjie and his two girly friends come in, I don't charge him. Lucy offers them Cupcakes and the blonde is all
"I had one earlier, I was there when Cupcake made them"
Lucy is all
"Oh, you're my replacement."
Awkward.
I count the money.

I tell Anjie
I've never really met you
He's all
"You're Boyf, right?"
No, Host
"We met at JB's birthday last year"
I don't remember
"I like your haircut."
Thanks

Demons burst out of pregenant stomach's in Mallory's world. I'm all
Did you see that?!
to Houston. She's like
"I can't stop watching..."

Nasty comes in with a new asym bob. Cute. I tell her to tease up the back so she looks extra spesh. ART is with her, we double cheek kiss.
They both pet the stole.

Sparkle comes in with a friend.
He's all
"Hey!"
Hey
"This is my friend Naomi"

She's cute with a tank top and a multistrand microbeaded necklace, all indigenous fetishy.
It's awkward so I'm all
Ok, Well, I guess I'll see you guys in there, on the dance floor
I shrug crookedly and smile, crookedly.

Alice comes in wearing an ADIDAS Parka, cute black flats with metal detailing gray stockings and a Mika Miko aqua tshirt. Totally adorbs, oh and a grey clip in ribbon in her hair.

Dig pops in and flashes a scooter rearview mirror at me, then bounces outside to install it on my scooter.
I refill a popcorn basket and get another redbullvodka.

Dino comes in wearing a red vintagey coat over a black and red sailor top with black pants and red suspenders. We hug. Hard. She's straight to the bar.

Boyf comes in cold. Everyone is cold. It's so cold. The door is closed, it's always open. People dart in and out quickly to smoke.

A few more newbies come in, then the girls show up. Rox is wearing this cute gold chain fastened with a gold safety pin,
I want one and she's all
"I'll make you one"
We agree on a trade, two bandannas for one necklace.

Brandicorn shows up wearing red flannel. Totally cute and a shorter haircut. We talk about his recent absence from the gay world and Cupcake interrupts, we make tentative holiday plans.

The music rocks. Everyone dances. I'm leaning on the bar when Pony comes in
You all moved?
"Yes"
We're going to miss you.
He leans on the bar with Boyf and they order drinks. It's getting kind of full.
At 11:30 I stop drinking. I have to drive home. So I'm done drinking.

Vanderbuilt is here. I didn't notice her come in, she must have been with a crowd. She's wearing a fitted modern leather jacket with little black leather driving gloves, and her hair is all down and in her face. She's bringing sexy back.
I'm all
You look great, you're bringing sexy back
she's all
"I stopped with the blow"
OH!
she orders another drink. Her bangs are all sexy and sweaty and in her face. She's as party as ever. I lean over to Nasty and I'm all
She always wears dresses and is super cute, but look how sexy she is right now! In a leather jacket!
I read in my new favorite gay mag (DETAILS) that leather jackets make everyone look like douchebags.
Vanderbuilt is a solid counterargument.

When Boyf comes by I tell him how hot Vanderbuilt is and he's all
"I know"
Then we talk about his new project, his business plan. I get really excited and nervous, it's the redbull, so I get a water.
Sparkle walks by and grabs Boyf's stomach
I'm all
Did he just grab your stomach?
"Yeah, like this" then he grabs my stomach.
Totally Weird
Boyf agrees, and raises his eyebrows.

I'm all
I have to go to the bathroom
and Vanderbuilt is all
"I'll do the door"
I very obviously hesitate, she's all
"You don't trust me.."
When I hand her the money folder she drops it. I'm off to the dance floor and rest room
ART stops me and we chat it up about fashion. I tell him he always has amazing pieces, as he shakes a tamborine to the beat of Rchrd Oh?!'s top 40.
He's all
"I've only ever seen you in tank tops, but it's a good look for you, you know, all that skin..."
I pee quick and pat Rchrd Oh?! on the ass on my way back.

Vanderbuilt is still there.
Anjie comes by and he's all
"Sorry I thought you were Boyf, I really like your haircut."
He turns to Boyf
"I really like your mustache. Is Agent coming? I'm going to text him."
He's dissapointed that there's not more gay boys.
AC's is notorious I guess for it's trashy faggots, but HYH is usually some fags, and lots of ladies, straight ladies. The fags that do come do know how to trash it up though. I've seen it,
in the bathroom.

Cupcake and Nasty come around with cameras as per usual. I pose with Lucy and Nasty and Alice.

Teeny and Toddy show up. They just got out of practice. They're all cold when we hug. Toddy seeks out Brandicorn while me and Teeny chat about her recent relationship ishes. Toddy comes back and the three of us talk about their show on Thursday at the Rickshaw, right in front of the door, people try to get past us, but we don't move. I laugh at it.

Then they leave.
Nasty comes up and she's all
"Members of Finest Dearest were here."
Yeah I used to be in that band
"They are friends with this guy I'm into, he's in this other band"
Oh, I've never heard of that other band. I'll ask them about him, do you want to go to the show on Thursday?
We make drunk plans to go to the show, I'll myspace you.

It's already 1am and I am so sober, I ask Dad for a RedbulJUSTredbull. It tastes suspicious though. I get on the dancefloor and shake it shake it.
Sparkle is all
"I should through paint on you, for wearing that fur"
I'm all
That would be hot, like, what color?
"Red. You throw red paint on fur"
I'm TOTALLY into it
"Those used to be alive"
They used to be someone's grandma's and I'm really into grandma's.
He smiles. I think. I dance. The stole jumps around like it's alive. Gross. I throw it on a bench with my sweater.

Nasty is drinking Old Fashioneds. I got her hooked two weeks ago. I take a sip, a generous one. We dance. She takes pictures. Cupcake jumps on a bench and takes pictures.
Dino and I cut it up in the corner. I hate the mirrors tonight. I just can't look at them too long. I feel really full. Of cupcakes redbull and popcorn. I tell Dino she dances like my newyorkcity friends.
She's all
"Is that good?"
I think so. We toss it around for two and a half songs, but I get a stitch in my side so I go pee.

Back on the floor I get Boyf to come over and dance with Cupcake. It's like old times, we dance all up on him. It's fun. I'm glad Cupcake is my friend. Right now I'm so glad to be here, with the motley loose crew of HYH regulars. The girls dance in a circle. OURLADY just jumps around, her hair is new too, real short.
I'm all
You cut your hair
"I needed a change"
Then we both say
I/You always cut my/your hair.
I'm all
I didnt know you had a boyfriend then Rox told me and I was bummed because I thought you were mine.
"We can still have babies."
Excellent.

The lights seem crazy. Really bright and flashy, everyone is dancing. EVERYONE. Some impossibly young looking guy, who came in after I left the door takes off his shirt and rubs his chest, he's up on this girl, then this guy. I'm all
That guy is on ECSTASY
Boyf is all
"TOTALLY"
It's hilarious.
ART takes off his shirt and dances with the X guy.
When I give Rchrd Oh?! the money he kisses me on the mouth, I squeeze him a little.
That song that Agent played over and over at Thanksgiving comes on, I'm all
Yah Yah Yah Yah, like with the song. I love this song. I try to dance really good to this song.

Phyllis comes in. Really cold. Trailing cold. I'm all
PHYLLIS, everyone is all
"PHYLLIS"

I hug him.

Lo and Graham are here. They must've come in after I got off the door. Lo is dancing like an old queen. He's sort of traispsing around the dance floor with his shoulders and hips swinging, his hands out and moving like birds. Vanderbuilt comes by and she's all
"Have you met Graham"
I nod toward the floor,
Yeah he's dancing!
She's all
No that's Lo, this is Graham
Shit. I just confused them, their names
I'm all
Duh, we've met like a billion times.
Lo sashays by. I'm in love with his dancing. He just circles people. That's how you know when he's dancing with you.

I look around at the strangers and my friends. All my friends look like people from magazines. Like in PAPER or NYLON when they have a page or a few paragraphs about a new designer or acgtor or musician who is real cool but just below the radar. My friends all look like they could be in a magazine like that. I'm glad.

I get Nasty to get Boyf to dance low to the ground like likes too. He shrugs her off and grabs his orange knit scarf, dancing with his fashion. Eventually he wears down though, and they go down, like ass on the ground down. I point and scream.

I dance with Lucy and her short bangs then Vanderbuilt and her wet bangs and the tambourine then Pony and a little with Sparkle. I sort of dance with this guy who might be a girl too, and also with the girls.
Rchrd Oh?! gets me to ask Dad if we could have one more song and he says yes.
We all dance to a cover of Guns N Roses. It's too fun.
The lights come on and Dad announces that we shold donate underwear pants and socks to SFGENERAL, Vanderbuilt drukenly talks over him then stops. I collect glasses and trash.
On the way out Boyf is all
"Dad, I'm so glad you're back, you are such a great part of this club" referring to Dad's recent 6week hiatus.

My jeans are so much looser. They cling still, but they aren't snapback tight, they aren't press tight.

Outside everyone gathers in crowds, trying to make plans or share cabs or unlock bikes, till Rchrd Oh?! comes out and tells us we have to go, neighbors. He slips a wad of money into the hole next to my pocket, so it's in the lining of my coat, and I give it to Nasty for the Knife ticket I bought off her, she already forgot I owed her.

I put on my helmet, then talk about movies with Cupcake.
I forget I have my helmet on till I hug Rchrd Oh?! good bye, then I dare him to make out with me
He mouths my mouth vent.

I get on the scoot, and Dig is all
"USE THE CHOKE"
then I scoot away like an asshole.

Pony, lost in the crowd, frozen in the headlights

Sparkle dancing

Oh, that's your lovely Host

Boyf fingers Lucy

Dino and Nasty get ready for a nap

Alice faux spins and Rchrd Oh?! faux dances

All photos by Nasty, or someone.

San Francisco- LES GEORGES LENINGRAD 11/25/06

2006-11-27T11:37:00.000-08:00

I am counting out change at work, closing the registers, Twinjob leans on the counter next to me trying to break my focus with questions about the night ahead.
He sports newly coiffed hair, tint highlights and cut.
I've got black straight hair and his is a rich chocolatey curly style.
At work everyone is like
Your brother is Really Cute
Almost disbelievingly. Like they mean
I thought you were twins, your brother is Really Cute.

I say thanks. I'm not fishing for anything.

We leave at 6:30 and scoot to the mish, the wind is biting, and San Francisco drivers prove nonsensical, slowing for green lights and speeding up to reds, braking mid blcok for a turn that's 30 feet ahead.

At home we walk the dogs and eat more Thanksgiving leftovers.
I change from the really tight work jeans Twinjob just can't get over, into really tight going out black denim and my black and gold high top Puma's.
Ohio pees on Twinjob so he changes from a white customized hoody to a gray customized hoody.
He's mad that the dog peed on him and he had to change.
We argue over the decidedly casual fit of his denim, which he claims is slim fit, and I'm all
Those are baggy
He's all
"Compared to your denim leggings..."

We laze about and watch half of CSI:Miami.
It's a family thing.
Twinjob is all
"It is so cold"
Sorry it's not Miami
"Is the club cold?"
Yeah, they put out buckets of ice to maintain the temperature
"No. I mean is it a cold club"
That is totally ridiculous
"No, you know how some clubs or bars are just always cold, some bars in Newyorkcity are like that"
I don't know what you are talking about, it is a normal club, with heating.

We scoot to Bottom of Hell. The cold has not let up, I'm nervous about rain.
Scooting in the rain is bad enough but with his weight on the back
I'd for sure spill us on one of the hills.

We pay the $10 each and get our hands stamped.
It is empty.
We came early because I thought it would sell out and it is EMPTY.
Twinsey isn't here yet.
I call her, she's still waiting for the bus.
When I come back inside Twinjob is drinking a Miller High Life, I jump on him then get stuck fixing my hair in the mirror
He's all
"Why did we get here so early?"
In case it sold out
"Really? There is no one here"
I part and repart my hair
I'm all
Those two people at the end of the bar are in Les Georges Leningrad.
Twinjob is NOT impressed.
He wants gum, we hoof it up three steep hills to the corner market. He buys gum flavored gum. Outside I rip my horoscope out of the SFWeekly
TJ(Twinjob) tries to read it but he's all
I can't concentrate on this right now
Really? It's the shortest one on the page.

On our way back I ask TJ if he ever thinks we are meant to live together because we aren't whole people without each other.
Once it's out of my mouth my stomach turns with codependent embarrassment.
Twinsey calls, she's at the club.
I see her down the block and wave, but she doesn't wave back
I'm all
GOD, now I'm waving at strangers
really loud, so the stranger can hear, but it is Twinsey and she is giggling uncontrollably, it's the Twinniness of the sitch. She just came back from visiting her twin sister yesterday.
We all hug our hellos and head inside. The place is filling up, a little.
We accidentally stand under a heating duct/blower that is blowing cold air.
My brother is all
"I told you it wasn't a stupid question"
Twinsey is all
"What question?"
I explain the earlier discussion about cold clubs.

We go outside to sit because the night will be full of standing.
Twinjob tells Twinsey about his job, I ask Twinsey about my art and show her a new bandanna. I can hear pounding coming from inside the club.
We go in.

On stage there are three boys, one on bass, one on keys, one drumming. A girlish woman with awkward uglynonugly grown out hair leans barefooted against the edge of the stage with a beer bottle in one hand and a mic in the other. This is either Lemonade, San Francisco psychedelic/dance/noise, or Duchess Says, Quebeceze LGL pals. The music is noisy, and dancey, the singer goes through fits of apparent posession (eyes rolled back, twitching) childish dancing (walking like an egyptian) and absolute boredom (sitting on the stage squeezed between the monitors).
I love it. TJ and Twinsey love it.
The singer wears a LGL shirt, I'm guessing this is Duccess Says. Then they perform a song in which the main lyric is Duchess Says.
A girl in short shorts dark stockings and ballet flats dances all shoulders elbows and hips, arty sexy dancing right up front, right in the singer's face. I cringe.
After thouroughly freaking out and trashing her keytar the lead singer beckons this tall unfortunate dude to the edge of the stage. She gets on his shoulders. He carries her into the crowd during the song, bopping and spinning. She leans back and the crowd catches her. After the song from her spot laying on the floor she says in a slurred sweet french accent
"I don't know what happened...
I was tired, so in ze van I drank
two
Red Buulls. I thought I am too tired for ze show
Then I made to vomit. Then I came here and
felt like vomit again.
I don't know what happened..."

When they are through I buy a cd, Les Georges Leningrad, and two buttons. We go to the scooter so I can store my merch.
Outside we chat about my not so recent departure from Finest Dearest and Twinsey's upcoming audition for a radio show at her school, Stanford.
She lists some of her favorite bands at my request, they are all kind of loud bands. Twinsey is wearing:
Black flat shoes
Blue Jeans
A black skirt, or longish shirt over the jeans
A black top with some nice detailing
Her hair back with a thin plastic headband
Glasses.
I like that despite her mild appearence (no peircings, tattoos, or fashion bouffants) she likes edgier music.

We go back to the smoking patio where TJ picks up the smoldering butt of a half smoked cigarette and finishes it off.
We talk about our tenuous high school links to Asobi Seksu.
But who is James Hannah? After vague memories and descriptions it's determined that I am in fact thinking of Jay Stare.
Diabolical comes up. I describe how she makes me feel like I might commit suicide or have anonymous sex at any moment.
Twinsey looks at me with all sinecerity and says
"She can still do that? She still makes people feel that way?"
TJ brings up the Highs School reunion. He can't wait. I want to go dressed as a woman. I'm all
It's going to suck, having to be like 'Yeah, I work part time at a salon, and basically party and make unfamous art'
Twinsey is all
"Are you happy though?"
I guess
She's all
"It will suck that I'll have to say 'I'm getting my doctorate in Japenese literature' then watch people's faces change, eyes widen, and say 'Oh, that's interesting"
I could see how that's annoying, having to explain your major all the time and answer the same questions, and maybe make people feel uncomfortable with your academia.
I decide that some of my friends from high school were definitley Cunts.
I ask Twinsey to please excuse my language, use of the word Cunt.

There's some rumbling inside. It must be LGL. I'm too psyched.
Inside on the stage are three guys, one drummer, one guitar, one long haired guy standing next to some gongish instruments with a mic in his hand. Lemonade.
If I named my band Lemonade I'd be concerned people would free associate and think of pee, urine, everytime they heard the name. I think of pee.
They start playing. The lead singer pulls a plastic brighly colored mask over his face, we walk back outside to the sound of a looped gong and arythmic dancedrumming.
It's getting late.

We talk more about High School and who's doing what. LGL members are going back and forth from back stage.

At midnight we are back inside. The stage has two large white cardboard cutouts of hand drawn bats (the animals, not the sporting equipment). They take the stage: Poney dressed in a black party dress with yellow pokadots and a short black wig worn backwards. The drummer is dressed as a caveman superhero, as per usual, this time with chains hanging off his faux fur collar. The keyboardist wears a homemande gold mexican wrestling mask with eyebrows and mowhawk sewn on, and a gold top with large music note and lightening appliques.
The set starts as a wall of noise with driving mounting drums.
A dude in an ugly shirt (zippers on the shoulders and vents down the front) dances crazy. He doesn't dance as much as mosh. Everyone else is dancing, bopping, maybe bumping, but not moshing. He bumps into a well dressed (sweater collared shirt, trousers and vintage shoes) guy in front of me, who pushes him severly. There's almost a fight.
The dude in the ugly shirt, bad hair too(blond and spiked up or pushed back with gel and sweat, like how I desperately wanted my hair to look in the fifth grade) keeps knocking into people. Douche bag.
Their set is dancier than usual.
The drummer breaks a stick over his head in a show of TRUE MASCULINITY, then runs off stage to search for another one. I'm glad I'm not closer because he spits a whole lot.
At one point I have to protect Twinsey from the flailing douche bag. He almost knocks her over. I try to get a kick in but he bounces away too soon.

I'm struck by the artifice of menace that LGL put out there. But how that makes them seem actually really menacing. Because to me, only someone really crazy or weird, or smart, dangerously smart, could think up what they do and not let fear of obviousness get in the way.

We leave immediately after their set. TJ and I walk Twinsey to her busstop.
As we scoot over Potrero hill I scream sing
AY EE EYE EE OH AYE EEE
One of LGL's lyrics.
TJ laughs.

Miami - Pop Life 11/18/06

2006-11-20T06:16:00.000-08:00

I grab another beer from the cooler. The stereo is blasting salsa and reggeatone. It is a little chilly by Miami standards. It’s not cold enough to get us to give up the cement patio tucked behind the house.

I sit down next to Surprise. It is her husband's birthday party. Marshmallow-type-cake-icing sticks to my teeth.
I am four beers in and it is only 8:30. I try to follow the conversation flying around me in Cuban Spanish. I am lost. Completely lost. I finish the beer and break out.

At Malory’s house I sink into the couch and drink three glasses of water.
Her and Hottness are watching bad Saturday evening TV. I barely follow their argument about who uses sex workers more the lower classes or the upper classes.
I focus on the History of Sex documentary on the History Channel.

Malory switches the TV to Comic Relief, a benefit for Katrina Surviovors.
It isn’t very funny.
Really it is depressing.
I drink more water. I need to sober myself off the beer so I can drink vodka.
The couch hugs me. The TV draws me in even as I watch comedians act serious.
Its 10:30. I break for home.

I pull out some stencils and spray a dress for Twiggy. While each color dries I go inside and do some crunches and stretch.
My thighs are tight.
I am scared my back will go out. I am not really up for Pop Life.

I talk to Perfect on the phone and ramble about clothing.
I can’t even blame the liquor cause I am sober again. She supports my obsessions that no one will notice.
She gives advice on what to wear. I get off the phone.
New blue skinny jeans, faded but well-fitting black t-shirt (stolen from NYC roommate), black chucks.
I rinse the pomade from my hair and try to let it curl into its own style.
I don’t feel hott. I am not in the hott mindset. Even the magic of new jeans is wasted on me.
I can't even think about it.

I pour a vodka and energy drink from last weeks adventures.

DFMO (Dance Floor Make Out) texts me about some photo project I told him I would help him with months ago. He broke bottles at my feet in a crowded club a few weeks ago. I am over it.

Roommate gets home. She is weary. Long day of driving people around, no alone time. We chat it up.
I lay on the couch and flick my phone open every two minutes hoping Twiggy will call soon.

I am fading. I have a headache. Roommate is going out with Brite and Super. I would like to go with them. I would like to stay home. I need to see Twiggy, Young and Killer. I need to get my long lost sweatshirt form them and give Twiggy her custom sprayed dress.
Twiggy calls. I am out the door with a quick “Call me later” to Roommate.

I park in the gravel lot behind the club. I find Twiggy and crew and slide into the back seat. I drop a package into Twiggy’s lap.

“Young turn the light on.”

“Ok, ok”

She is amazed by the homemade wrapping paper. I am shy about it. She loves it more than I could. She pulls the tape off carefully. The light goes out.

“Young the light, and where is Twinjob’s drink?”

“I was making it but now I am watching you open this”

“He can have mine I haven’t sipped it yet”

Redbull and vodka tastes like medicine tonight. She pulls the dress out of the paper.

“Oh my god it is gorgeous”

“You made that?”

Yes. Me. <>These people are classy with ice and vodka in the car.

Yeah I made it.

“I am wearing it next time we go out. Monday. Backdoor Bambi’s. Will you come?”

“I almost wore the tie tonight but I didn’t have a jacket to match and it is cold.”

Maybe Monday. I almost wore a tie too but I just didn’t have the energy to be the boy with the tie.

Do I really say these things out loud? We drink our drinks. Twiggy keeps returning to the dress.

Thanks.

Killer is quiet up front.

You sleeping?

“I am resting my eyes”

Oh.

We drink up. I grab my extra ties and sweatshirt form the trunk. I pull the sweatshirt on and throw the ties in my car. We lock up, Twiggy checks the locks twice. Young and I trade swigs on the bottle.

There is a line to get in. Leslie and the Lys is already performing, I don’t know how I feel about it. Sucka and Jailbait roll up behind us. I say hello. We chat it up. Sucka isn’t really moving back to LA. She is a myspace liar. She keeps pinching my chest. It hurts. She complains about her new Boy and how he follows her around.

Through the rope and up to the list holder. Twiggy only has a “+2” next to her name. She apologizes. I pay while Twiggy says something about calling Catherine to get me in. I move too fast. I don’t want to be at the door. That middle space before the club. At least I have a ten and don’t have to stand around waiting for change.

Inside the courtyard we find Catherine quick. Her Boy is back out. Illness passed. I am introduced to him. He has a scarf on and wears it well.
The courtyard is packed with people facing a little stage. Leslie is tightly packaged in a standard gold lamiae jump suit. Her hair is coiffed into a pompadour and mullet, big grandma glasses, blue eye shadow.
She is the spitting image of ironic. Really. She should be in that Alanis Morrisette song.
She raps through a couple songs. There is a projection behind her of music videos and the home shopping network.

Nice shows up. I haven’t seen her in forever. We hug and buddy it up. She is wearing a thin peacoat, stockings, and some turtle neck underneath. All black. Very classic Paris. At least what I think of when I think classic Paris. She has a clutch and pompadour. Nice.

I turn to Twiggy and Young.

If someone told you that you could be semi-famous in a weird underground sort of way by being a parody of who you really want to be, would you do it?

“huh?”

I ask again. They aren’t sure. Young is transfixed. He cant believe Leslie’s audacity to rock such a tight outfit and be ‘overweight.” She is bold. And she doesn’t break character. He is shocked and awed.

I still don’t know what to think but I cant not look. After 15 minutes it gets old and not that interesting anymore but I still cant look away. Is she really a parody? Is she an art student gone wrong? Making fun of people who really like the bedazzler. Why is she rapping?

Leslie finishes. I head to the bathroom. I pass DFMO on the way. I give a polite wave but I don’t stop. He catches my eye but doesn’t break stride. That’s how I like it.

Back out to the courtyard. Young and I stand by the door to the red room where there is some old skool pop hip hop.
We talk about how the club is getting old.
It just isn’t that much fun anymore. He wants to take another break form the scene.
I agree.
We talk about breakups. How they suck and you don’t get over love. He is a good conversationalist. Sincere and dedicated. He is one of the few good people here.
I think I know them all. And I am one of them.

Twiggy, Killer, Catherine, Boy, and Mel C. roll up. Twiggy intros me to Mel C. I’ve seen her around. We all talk about how the club is getting old but there is nothing else going on Saturday. We need something different. We take some photos. White is not my color, at least not for sweatshirts.

Nice rolls up. We talk about how the gays love her and ask her to kiss her. She wonders if she looks like a guy. I laugh. She laughs. Twiggy is dying. We huddle on it.

We decide to go dance. Twiggy and Nice head to the bathroom. I head in to the main room with Killer and Young. The music is terrible. I park it next to the speaker. No cigarette, no drink, my hands nestle in my pockets, my hood up.

A girl next to me says something.

What?

“You were in American Apparel today.”

You sold me some stuff.

Awkward silence.

Thanks for the excellent service.

“Yep.”

Awesome.

She breaks. That stressed me out. I am not drunk enough to handle that.
I am not drunk enough to dance.
The music takes a turn for the worse. Young and I head to the bathroom.

We end up back in the courtyard. Twiggy finds us and tells us we were supposed to meet up dancing.

The music was bad.

“I know”

We stand around some more. Nice brings over L.

“Twinjob this is L. I know you all know each other but this is the formal intro”

Hey

“Hey”

So you need people to work at Sweat Records?

We chat it up. L is friendly. We talk about full benefits packages and employee responsibilities which match up to talking to people about music and checking email in exchange for store credit. I will take a shift a week.

You’re from here?

“Yes. Born and raised.”

You like it here?

“I love it. I think it is the spot for me. I love the warm weather. Love it. It is so cold right now. I am wearing two pairs of socks.”

What?

“Two pairs of socks.”

It is probably 65 degrees out. It is like my air-conditioned office. I don’t double up the socks until January in NYC. I miss New York and the real cold.

We talk about vegetarian spots to eat in Miami. She asks if I am veggie.

No. I was vegan for 8 years but now I eat meat.

I feel bad saying that.

We exchange good spots to eat. Twiggy looks like she is leaving. I say goodbye to L. and catch up with the crew.

We stand inside the exit deciding if we should trek to the beach for another club and try to park for hours and then get in. The convo goes back and forth. It is 3:15. I am going home soon.

No decision. I talk with Young some more and Twiggy some. These kids are real kids. I am sober and I have a headache but I would hang out and talk with them all night. I watch some girl kill it, dancing in the courtyard, mostly by herself. The Pixies are blaring from the speaker. She trys to get some boy to dance with her. No luck. She really kills it.

Some ok dance music comes on. No one moves to the floor. It is that kind of night.

Twiggy asks.

“Are you coming out Monday?”

I want to but I am leaving Tuesday night and I have a lot of work to get done.

“Well I will wear the dress anyway. Everyone will ask me where I got it.”

She loves the dress. I like it.

Time to go. Hug Young. Hug Twiggy. Loose hand shake to Killer. Don’t see Nice anywhere. I break.

At home I am hungry. I open a can of black beans and throw a tortilla in a pan with some oil. A little salt. The beans in another pan. I stir the beans. The smell is so nice.

Something bumps my leg. I look down as a rat bounces off my ankle and scurries behind the fridge. I jump and grunt, just a little. I clean off the counter. A fucking rat. Not a mouse. A rat. Fuck.

I eat and go to bed. I dream about Mexico, beer, rats, and spray paint.

San Francisco- Miss Trannyshack Pageant 11/18/06

2006-11-19T16:05:00.000-08:00

You stop at the laundromat to get your tickets.
Les is in there by herself, doing laundry.
You're all
We'll have to share a cocktail later

She's all
"Defnitely Honey!"

At home you steam some chicken dumplings and eat some chips.
The dogs lie on you while you watch CSI: Miami.
Agent is in the shower, so you walk the dogs.

You take a swig of Jameson. Pony gets home and you are all
We have to go soon

He's quiet. More than usual so. You change into:
Black overall shorts, tight and stretchy
Two tank tops, one white, one "flesh tone"
Fancy black shoes
Brown knee high vintage socks
You straighten your hair, again
You make it very very smooth and straight
You spray it solid

Pony wears a red burgundy tank wblack slacks a slender vest a black merino wool cardigan and his voluminous gray scarf.
Pony smokes pot,
you curl your lashes apply mascara and eye gloss.

You leave at 8pm-ish.
Walking to the BART you talk so fast, You talk about the lack of full length mirrors in the house, you talk about money for the night ahead. You are a million miles a minute, and Pony is still stoned.

On the BART platform you talk about Newyork, and making theater. The good years of life, or whatever.
The BART comes quick. On the way out at Civic Center station you pass a guy playing the violin, "experimentally" or poorly.
Pony is all
"He is here all the time. He didn't always have a violin, then one day he showed up with one"
Out on the street it's colder than in the Mish.

You apologize to Pony for being so hyper, so hyped up, as you walk around CivicCenter proper you share stories about Pride, which turns into stories about exboyfriends. You stop for gum. Bubblicious original.

As you get closer to the venue the sidewalk slowly fills with freaks, drag queen, night clubbers, and the common masses.
Onc eyou are in Pony scouts out the bar. The line is so so long.
You scan the room and say
You know I was worried that I'd feel ugly around here, with this crowd. But I think It's going to be ok.
You tell Pony that the two of you look like two outfits from the same line.
Slender sillouhettes,fancy shoes,boyish touches,formal touches.
You chew your gum and blow big big bubbles, whishing Struthers was around.

At the front of the line you both order
WHISKEY AND COKE
2 each. That is 16$ for two drinks. Each.

You down one. They are strong but small.
You go to the main room and check it out, try to check jackets, for a too large fee. Finish the drinks and go outside for cigarettes and more money. Outside you run into The Seventh Heart crew, Les, Viv, and Poke. Les and Poke both flag Horseface, you too. You'll meet them inside, they're on THE LIST.

Pony and you stake it out by some kids dancing liek crazy. There's this black girl with silver lycra pants and a vintagey 80's workout suit top, and her partner in crime a dude with a blond weft glued down the middle of his head, they are all old school Voguing-Paris-Is-Burning-Work-The-Floor-Girl. You drop your outerwear on the floor and dance. The room is so big, it's Vast. There's a projection on the screen on the stage, and a balcony around the top of the whole room.

Les, Viv, and Poke show up. You lament the long bar lines and drool at the House of Ninja kids. Pony and you decide to cut the bar line. Someone on line recognizes Pony from work. The guy is all
"You look so different without your suit"

Back with The Seventh Heart-ers drinks in hand the show starts.
There's an opening number. Heklina is working an amazing pink sequin gown with some hip augmentation harkening to Versace and McQueen's recent sillouhettes.
Then they introduce the judges, then guest stars, including Parker Posey. You want to dance. You like Parker Posey. You like drag, but you want to dance.

The show starts, the contestants are introduced. You move up. You cut in front of the crowd all wearing themed costumes and hoop skirts.
It's the Bathing Suit competition, then the performances.
Someone is passed out on the edge of the stage and Heklina has to beg for someone to drag him out of there. A stage hand, or someone playing a stagehand comes out to mop wearing beautiful high pants, which are corseted above the waist.
The performances are good, but nothing makes you want to die, you go to the bathroom twice, then you and Pony walk out so he can smoke. Some girl has collapsed near the entrance, and an ambulance arrives to pull her out.

When you go back in you go for drinks with Pony, then try to sneak backstage but are quickly expelled.
You watch Jupitor dance naked. She's a big black quen with body paints and a troupe of girls with big hair and bellies.
They annonce the winner, Raya Light, you left when her performance started, you were too drunk for the extra long Kate Bush intro song and dramatics.

You run into Toph and his boyfriend. Maybe it's the drunk but he seems out of it, or not as excited to see you as you are to see him. He gets you backstage where you run into Mate. He takes your picture. It's bad. He takes it again, again bad. Everyone keeps pushing on a door you're leaning on, trying to get out to smoke but it's locked.
You say
IT'S LOCKED
like a billion times, but no one believes you.

Pony finds the guy who made the stagehand's pants.

You leave with Pony and Mate. Everyone is going to Playboy. You threaten to walk home but they get you in a cab. At the Stud you get stuck on the phone, pacing up and down the alley, checking out your face and hair in car window reflections, you watch people arrive and leave. Mate appears and takes your pic again. He shows you and it's ok.
Pony is ready to go. You haven't even gone in.

It's got to be around 2am. Mate is going in a different cab.

At home Boyf is awake, after a long work day.
You put on sweats and pass out.

San Francisco-Shadowplay 11/17/06

2006-11-18T01:16:00.000-08:00

I eat a half a pound of brie, and some havarti. I fold some towels then, leave work.
At home I put on my new black jeans
A black and white striped tank top
A black cardigan with vintage broach
Untied high top Vans

Boyf is off to band practice, I lay on the couch with the dogs and watch CSI:Miami. My stomach churns and slides around.
After the show I get on the scooter and head to SOMA. I bring a bandanna for Donimo's birthday gift.

When I arrive Cupcake is at the bar looking very very handsome with his longish growing hair, and his longist growing scruff, especially in the bar light, with no glasses.
Struthers shows up, she asks for gum, I have some in my scooter. We go out side, and each take a piece. Bubblicious Original.
It's all big in my mouth and smells like lipgloss scented like bubble gum. We go back inside and say hello to Rchrd Oh?!
He's tired. He's been partying, he says, for 10 days with only one day off. Last night he went to Tubesteak and drank all night.

My right eye is dry, and itchy. But just my right eye. Struthers and I have a bubble blowing contest. She wins most of the time, but I get a few good ones.

Some people from the other night show up. Wonder and his crowd, some of the people that were with PJ.
One of Wonder's friends is really good looking. Maybe not really good looking, as much as better looking than most people here.

I give Domino his bandanna. He likes it. It's awkward though, because I am painfully sober.
The cheese sluggishness wears off and I want to dance, or hug someone, or jump around.
Pony shows up with a LITea. I make fun of him for it. I'm the second person to.

Struthers gives me a sip of her whiskey and ginger then blows the biggest bubble yet.
I go for more gum, and spit out my old piece, she just adds the two together, and works
her jaw hard. Our first few are total failures. Something about the gum being newish and softer.
Then she blows the hugist one yet, I spit out my gum.

I go outside with Pony and Rchrd Oh?! for smoking. Rchrd Oh?! tells us about a wierd dream in which a hump back whale chased him down and almost ate him. I tell them about the time last week when I woke up but couldn't move, and tried so hard to say something, to wake Boyf so he could move me or something. All I could do was breathe heavy. Also the dream I had last night when I felt a big pointy hand grabbing onto my face but I couldn't see anything. I woke up but the sleeping pills kept pulling me under, I tried so hard to rollover and grab Boyf, I think I moaned a little bit.

We go inside. Struthers and Cupcake are sitting with two people I don't no. I get Struthers to dance with me. She's such a good dancer, I haven't had anything to drink so placing my feet is a little less certain. I ask her if she thinks she dances like her mother, she's all
"No. Well....maybe"

The music is pretty good. I'm used to Rchrd Oh?!'s HYH sets, this is darker, and less popp-y. Wonder and his pals are having a three some on the dance floor. They keep dancing closer and closer to us. I take off the cardigan. THere are mirrors everywhere but I'm trying to not watch myself dance. I tell her about the dancing at Irish weddings. I tell her that I think I dance like a hired dancer at a Bar Mitzvah or Sweet Sixteen.
She's all
"You have to choose, do you dance like your mother or do you dance like a Bar Mitzvah dancer?"

We keep dancing.

There is an AMAZING go-go dancer here. He's always here. He sort of does his own thing. He only does his own thing really. No beat, no rythm, no melody is strong enough to make him stray from his own personal choreography.

I go outside to call Boyf and run into ART. We kiss cheek to cheek. I like his jacket
"Thrift store"
I'm embarrassed because I'm repping H+M
"I like your broach"
I am redeemed.

I'm all
Who are you here with
He motions to his crowd and names them all. I met them the other night. I can tell by the way they nod, by the way he barely introduces them, even though I don't remember. He says the name of the goodlooking guy who is friends with Wonder. The guy gives me a small nod and look.
I think he's into me.

I really think he is into me.

Maybe I'm wanting more from the night than can really happen.

ART is away before I get a chance to say anything.

I leave Boyf a message. I say goodbye to everyone. Pony is getting another drink then taking a cab. I get on the scoot, and head home.

At home I shower, blowdry and cook.

A burger with cheese and avacado, and perogis.

San Francisco-Hold Yr Horses 11/14/06

2006-11-15T19:22:00.000-08:00

I get home and turn on the tv. It's CSI:Miami. I've seen this one, about a girl found dead, near a bootcamp for wayward youth, even though she isn't wayward, she's an aspiring model. I can't remember how it ends, who killed her and why. I want to watch till the end, it's like trying to remember a dream that you just woke from, but I have to shower and shave.

I shower.
I shave in the shower.
I shave out of the shower.

Blowdry. Flatiron, a touch of some great matte pomade. Yess matte.
I've been wearing this heathered tank top all day, but I like the way it shows off my arms, and my shoulders,
which look pretty big. For me. Right now.
I put on, then take off, the black sleeveless cardigan I've been defaulting to on nights out.
No necklace.
Headband. 80's rollerink style.
Metallic and braided.

Agent says something about Netflix but I think he says Nut Flicks, I go to flick his nuts but he looks concerned so I hold off. He's all
"When you're drunk you'll flick them, and more I bet."
I'm all
I'll do it right now, I don't need alcohol, you're the one that flinched

I fold up some new Horesface porn bandannas and take two quick gulps of the Jameson I've been sitting on since Halloween.
I'm walking fast to BART. On the phone Cupcake says they are leaving soon so I should just meet them at AC's.

At the BART station some guy is eyeing my handful of porn bandannas. There's a true crusty punk, smelling liquory and humaney. A train comes but the LED sign flashes
TRAIN WILL NOT STOP

Another train comes.

I buy gum at the corner market because I forgot to brush my teeth and they feel fuzzy.

Beary is behind the bar when I arrive. He's back! I hug him, he gives me a water, and I set up the table by the door.
Cupcake and Rchrd Oh aren't here yet. Beary yells at a regular who is being a dick. He switches from sweet and quiet Beary to mean and shrill Beary so quick. It's dizzying. I hope it isn't a sign of the night ahead. The regular leaves after downing his white wine. He's bleary eyed, and teary eyed. I wonder if Beary hurt his feelings forreal.

Rchrd Oh comes in while I'm in the bathroom, I introduce myself to his friends. They don't seem to know why I'm talking to them or who I am. I don't care, and I think it makes me seem rude.
Rchrd Oh is all
"These are my friends"
I'm all
Yeah I know who they are.

I get the money and popcorn baskets.

Cupcake comes in with cupcakes and Vaderbuilt Lucy Alice and Nasty. I haven't seen these girls in ages. Lucy looks super hot with her bangs and Nasty looks thinner than usual. We chat it up about her new job as a Peachy Puff, or whatever. I ask her all the details and she's all
"It's nice that you are interested, none of my friends really ask me about it"

I ask questions when I'm nervous.
And I care.
Really.

Alice is wearing an ADIDAS dress and earrings. She skipped the shell toe white sneakers becuase she didn't want to do a rave theme. Just an ADIDAS theme.
Lucy comes by with a camera, suddenly everyone has cameras. It's me and Lucy and Nasty posing for Cupcake, by the prize machine and the popcorn machine. Lucy always looks good in photos, she kisses me for one of them. She's been getting laid recently, she says, so she's horny. I like her bangs.
Cupcake takes pictures of the cupcakes but they look like monster teeth and ugly food. Me and Alice model the cupcakes. I'm pulling out all my ANTM moves.

Danimal comes in. He's promoting for Shadowplay on friday, it's going to be Donimos birthday. We chat about NYC, he's a psychiatrist, which I didn't know. He tells me about all the lofts he's been in in Chelsea, I'm all wide eyes and full attention.

Beary asks me what I'm really drinking.
Old Fashioned please.

My new favorite (read: most hated) gay magazine, Details, profiled the Old Fashioned, so I've been curious. It tastes like winter holidays, the bitters make it spicy, like allspicenutmegcinamonmulledwine spicy.
Nasty you have to try this
She does. Then she orders one. I think.

Britain is here. We talk about Santorum. How Santorum brought home the corpse of his dead fetus/way preemie baby so his kids could see it, and connect with it before they buried it. Britain is outraged. I am incredulous, the popcorn machine sheds such a complexion flattering light on my face.

I dance near the bar. Agent is here, and James, and Boyf, and Pony. I flick Agent's nuts. He looks shocked and tries to get me back but I block with the money folder.

Alice and Bambam are talking about Bambam's job. His new mechanic job. She helped his boss get LV haircubes for his wife. LV hair cubes. They are clear with little gold "LV"-s floating in them. She says a girl she works with has them, and you notice them from ACROSS THE ROOM! I bet.

Vanderbuilt keeps putting her drink on my table when she smokes. I lose track of it though, because everyone does.

This really hot new girl comes in. She's from NYC.
I'm from Long Island
She isn't all that impressed. She is black I think, wearing a red mesh tank top, a denim vest with the sleeves cut off and all this werid shit glued on it, like a door knocker earring. The girl with her is hot too, she looks kind of like she's in Fannypack but not tragedy.

A tall guy who looks like a combo of two HYH regulars comes in. He's cute and makes eye contact with me.
When he leaves later, to smoke, he's all
"Do I need a stamp? Or will you remember me?("wry smile)
I'll remember.

Rchrd Oh comes up and asks how we are doing. We are doing ok so far, I notice the dance floor is totally empty, the bar is almost totally empty. EVERYONE is smoking.
I'm all
You cleared the floor, good job!
Rchrd Oh is all
"I'm going to go dance!"
and he does.

I'm at the bar and someone grabs my arm and is all
"Hey!"
I'm all
Hey!
before I even turn around
It's PJ, all red hair and stache, dressed like he's going out to dinner, or coming from it. I think I like his outerwear but it's too dim.
I charge him $3
It's weird because I know him, sort of. But he doesn't fuss.
He's bringing
"like 15 people"
and he
"didn't know there was a cover"
he sits next to me and chats me up about blogging and writing for money vs. writing, and going mainstream and stuff like that.
Some of his friends come in and they roll their eyes when I say
It's $3 each.
I let two in for $3
it's one guy's birtday so he's in for free,
the rest don't seem to mind. I don't either.

An older asian woman comes in she's scouting for a dj or something. The man with her gives me $10 for the both of them, even though they aren't staying. She gives me three drink tickets for the Gangway, she wants me to
"Bring your friends" and motions to the full dance floor.

Boyf's friend from work shows up, I let him in for free and he tips me a dollar.
Three older fags show up, I know one of them, did he hit on me? where is he from? I feel like I remember him being crazy.
He's all
"Can we do three for $5?"
How about three for $9.
Someone hands me a ten.

Another Old Fashioned from Beary. And another water.
The maple on maple cupcakes are a hit. Some people go for two. I warn everyone
They have nuts, in case you are allergic, and they're maple in case you don't like maple.
Those cupcakes cost $2 each to make.

Earlier Cupcake and I hoofed it up the hills to Cala Foods, once there we realized we needed 4 cups of real maple syrup. That alone is $25. Martha Stewart is crazy. But they are good, very seasonal. Very.

PJ is all
"What's on tv, it's crazy?"
I can't tell if he's really drunk or not. We've never had a real, real convo.
I'm going with yes, he is really drunk.

I go to the bathroom. Sounds like there is a meeting in the ladies room.

On my way back to the door PJ stops me
he's all
"I like your haircut"
Thanks, it's very freeing
"He agrees emphatically, we talk about short hair, but I rush back to the door because Boyf is watching it for me, which is not his job.

Jonny Evil tells me all about the music project he wants to start. I'm into it. His band just opened for the New York Dolls. It was their second show.

Phyllis appears. It's 1am so I'm dancing and the door is done.
I give Phyllis a hug and a bandanna for his birthday.
I dance like mad, and keep catching myself in the mirror,
do I dance like my brother? totally weird.
Everyone is dancing. PJ's friends are either loving it or hating it.
There's a crowd of them. A CROWD, they are like half of THE crowd.
I can't tell if they are fake dancing or real dancing.
I'm real dancing. I'm fake real dancing.

I drink straight whiskey,
twice, and Nasty and I share a PBR. Awesome because I am parched.
Rchrd Oh is out from behind the decks, dancing his crazy dances. I flick Agent's nuts, from behind.
I am a star.

I dance with Boyf. Alot. He is absolutely the best looking person here. No really. He is. Ask Alice. Ask Cupcake, and Lucy.
I compliment this guy on his sweater, it is definitely a ladies sweater but he wears it well. It's all deep V with metal yarn woven in, he's thin and flat chested, and hairless so it really suits him. I compliment his bravery and gall. Gall?
The new hot girls are dancing. They guy who asked if I'd remember him is dancing real close to Pony, he's not the best dancer but he makes up for it in looks. He's tall. They sort of bop in and out of the music, they get real close, kissing close, without kissing. They're just talking.
Nasty and Boyf dance real low to the ground. Boyf can get down far. It's funny. Nasty is such a good time
Rchrd Oh plays the last song. THE LAST SONG, but I JUST started dancing. Beary says we can have one more song, so I go around and pick up all the glasses and put them on the bar, because he is being so nice to us.
Something is missing. I'm not excited. I'm not happy. I'm pleased. I'm not nervous anymore, I'm not looking around the rooom trying to find the best looking peron. I'm not wishing I'd worn something else, or coveting someone's shoes. I'm barely able to dance without admiring myself in the mirror. There's a guy sort of near me and Boyf, and he is sort of dancing with us. He's goodlooking.

I don't need anything from anyone.
I'm fine.

Outside it's confusing. I'm drunk. Drunker than I think. Eventually I get in a cab and go home.

The guy who asked if I'd remember him is hanging out on the couch with Pony. Agent is in his room with James.
I'm in bed.

Rchrd Oh?! and Vanderbuilt

Cupcake and Phyllis

Nasty and your lovely Host

The grossest group shot ever. EVER.

Gallery Walk and Pop Life 11.13

2006-11-13T07:29:00.000-08:00

I talk to Malory on the phone at 6:30. She wants to go to N.’s photo exhibit and then the gallery walk in the Design District.

I grab my freshly cut stencil and an almost too small t-shirt, a couple cans of spray paint and head outside. When I'm done I hang it on the air conditioning vent to dry and hopefully get rid of the paint fumes. I pull on some cute underwear, faded black jeans, a yellow Horseface in the back pocket and of course a dollop of pomade for the curls. I change my belt buckle to a big silver square affair.

Its 8 and I am at Malory’s cruising the internet. I chug a beer as we rejoice about Rumsfeld resigning. It is an odd moment of democrat loving in the face of not much more hope.

We break out. Malory rides with me. On the way to the car she comments on my big muscles. Is she flirting with me or making fun of me?

We get to the gallery and N. is nowhere to be found. Her photos are nailed to the walls. They are images of hip-hop from Texas, France and Venezuela. Some of it seems clichéd: break dancer in mid flight, a lone mc and the mic, a blurry hand scratching records. Some of it is beautiful: three young men in a cipher with grandma sitting almost under them looking out the side of her face at their excitement. I head to the table at the back where there are jugs of wine. I don’t see beer, so I pour a white. There is tip jar on the table but I keep my dollar for the excellent service I show myself.

I get stuck talking to Malory. I find out she was a horse girl. Crazy, Malory’s friend, comes over and she throws out some statistic about girls who ride horses growing up to be assertive and powerful women.
Wow, that makes sense, I say through the wine.
I mean they have to control a big animal, right?
Malory looks at me, like I am the one who made up the statistic. She tells me I am full of shit.

I go back for a second wine. I spy beer in a big ice filled garbage can next to the bathroom. Damn.
I switch back to beer and cross my fingers against sickness.

Roommate shows up. We walk arm-in-arm around the gallery commenting on art.
I give her shit about some boy, him not being right. Of course I am always right. Roommate floats away, and it is time to go. We will meet on 40th and North Miami.

Mallory heads out with me. She is already drunk. She comments on my muscles again. My shirt is clinging weird because of my undertank. When we get to the car I pull off both shirts and put only the t-shirt back on. Now it's loose.

We park on 42nd in front of a friend’s house.
We play phone tag with Crazy and Roommate.
We find them on the corner. I head into a gallery and meet Super and Brite, Roommate’s lesbian friends.
I am a hit with them right off. We are best friends. We are laughing at the introductions. Brilliant.
We get some wine from some European looking fag behind the bar. I wander the gallery while Maloy uses the bathroom. There is some porn on one wall. I am unimpressed.
People stare at my ears and I pretend I don’t see them, I pretend it isn’t annoying. I pretend they are looking at my hott new shirt.

Back outside I talk with Super. She is hilarious. We tell dead baby jokes that make Crazy angry.
Super is so excited I know some of her jokes. Malory is shocked because she’s never heard of these jokes before. I ask Super why her flip-flops match Brite’s. They both glare.

“You aren’t supposed to ask that.”

Awkward. We move on down the block looking for more wine. I fall into next to Super:

“Bummer having the same sandals as your girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you pointed it out.”

Apparently she doesn’t know me.
We talk about DJing and bartending.
Both things Super has done. I tell her I am jealous.
She is nonplussed and humble. I want her to be my new best friend.

We get to another gallery. More wine. Conversations about art as though we know.
Super likes my shirt. She makes shirts with iron-on letter. I cant control my pride.
Crazy swoops in and takes over the conversation spitting out phrases to put on shirts.
I am bored by her and try to tell her with a look. She doesn’t notice, or care. I break out.

In the air again and down the street. We head to the bamboo garden where there was vodka earlier, rumor has it.
I am already stumbling a little. I didn’t eat dinner. I didn’t drink enough water.
My shirt is too loose. It barely touches my belt.

The bamboo garden is dry. We run into Super’s friends on the street.
They are friendly.
I meet Jack. He smiles at me. I smile back and touch his elbow.
He tells us of another gallery with vodka and only energy drink mixers. Awesome. We roll.

We find it. We are in. The photos on the walls are almost paparazzi.
But they are extra. They uncomfortable ugly shots of celebrities. I love them at that moment.
I think the artists is making brilliant social commentary.

At the bar I get a lesson about the four different flavors of energy drinks form Austria. They are in cute little metal bottles. The Vodka is from Iceland in a subtly clear blue bottle with a long neck. Roommate rolls up next to me.

We need to steal one of these.

I agree and walk away with my drink. Alcohol type #3. I catch my mistake and place the drink in the corner of the room. Roommate is gone. Super grabs me.

Roommate is outside, we just rocked a bottle of vodka.

I head out. It is decided we need mixers. I will do it.
Super and I head back in. I stop off in the bathroom and look good in the mirror. Back at the bar. No bartender. I grab another bottle of vodka and put it in Super’s bag. I start shoveling in the smaller mixers. Some guy comes over.

"Can I help you?"

I have an energy drink in each hand
Yeah you can help…What’s the difference between these two flavors?

"One taste like berries, one tastes like Red Bull." he's all polite

But Red Bull isn’t really a flavor. You cant use it to describe something. It is a false flavor.

He squints at me. Malory stumbles up and asks for wine, he looks at her I turn and walk out.

We all (Super, Brite, Roommate, Crazy, and Action [another of Malory’s friends who showed up]) laugh out front and wander down the street. Malory comes out and calls after us. She had no idea what was going on.

We head to the District for Pop Life where some kids from Modest Mouse are supposed to play.
The whole band played earlier at the BANG music fest but I couldn’t afford the $75 entry.

Free before midnight and we are in. It is already crowded. I grab a seat at a table with Malory and Action. We exchange grimaces, I don’t really know why. I call Twiggy.

Are you coming?

"We will be there around 1. We will find you."

Ok.

An hour and a half to kill. Everyone is dancing. I wander outside and lean on the wall. No drink to distract my hands I keep my arms crossed at my chest. Malory comes out tries to get me to come in and dance. She is drunk-a-dunk-dunk.

"Come dance."

No I don’t feel like it right now.

"Are you waiting for your cool friends?"

Yes.

She walks off. I am drunk. I know I will be sick if I drink something. I
need to focus. I need to keep it together.
I need to not be drunk on wine and beer, it is so dirty and bloating. I need vodka in me. I need to sober up so I can drive at some point. Dancing could ruin me right now.
I am having trouble just standing. Not like I might fall, more like it is troubling me.

Action says goodbye and I stay on the wall.

The people streaming by me are the regular set: hipsters who want to be in Williamsburg, kids too young to know where they want to be, people who should be where they are and love it. But there is also the Gallery Walk leftovers who don’t know what to do with the New Order and Prince on the dance floor.

I’m still leaning.
I text Jailbait.
Her and Sucka just arrived. I run into them in the courtyard.
Sucka is holding onto some new boy. We hug. She looks at the new boy and back at me. He is talking to someone else.

His name is Twinjob.

That’s my name…I think you just really want me.

She pinches me hard on the chest. I will bruise. Jailbait laughs. They goad me. They try to get me to open a tab and buy them drinks. No way. I can't. They keep trying. I walk away.

Inside I sit on the edge of couch. Malory stops dancing and sits behind me and puts her arms around me.
Flirting? Drunk? I talk to Brite about not dancing and just holding it down.
I get up and pretend to go to the bar while Crazy and Roommate tear it up.
Instead I head outside.
Malory finds me and talks to me, but I don’t pay attention. I scan the crowd.
This is the best part of going out, just watching. L. scoots by, quick hello. Real quick.

Malory is upset. My attention turns back to her. My head is clearing up. I am getting sober.
She bought a drink and tried to pay with a card, $30 minimum. That’s what happens.
She tells me she needs to spend the money. I tell her I have friends who need drinks.
Text to Jailbait. They are at the bathroom.
Head over and introduce Jailbate and Sucka and I almost can't remember Sucka’s real name.
They are nice and head into the bathroom. Some girls behind them says something nasty about drag queens. I glare at her and imagine my elbow on her teeth.

Malory and I wait outside the bathroom for the girls. When they come out Jailbait exclaims drunkenly:

"Do you all want a drink."

"Sure. Beer."

To the bar. Malory pushes and stumbles her way through the crowd. Sucka, holding her man’s hand, gooses me with the other. I tell her to stop and she does it again. Malory hands me a beer and then one for the girls and one for herself.

Crazy calls Malory, she left and so did Roommate, Brite and Super. I am stuck with Malory. I will have to drive her home.

The girls are dancing. I am leaning on the wall. Malory is next to me. She falls into me and tells me how drunk she is. This story gets old quick. She puts her head on my shoulder.

Close out your tab, I’ll drive you home.

"Are you sure."

Yes…

She pushes to the bar again. I put my beer on the floor against the wall. I look at my phone. Its 12:50. I look up and Magic is in front of me. I haven’t seen him since I went home with him over a month ago. I tap his shin with the toes of my sneaker. He looks at me.

Hey.

We hug for a second.

How are you?

"Good. You never called me."

I look at him. I told him to call me and tell him so.

"Oh…I’m sober."

For good?

"No I just haven’t drank yet."

Oh.

I tell him I would stay and drink with him but I have to bring a drunk friend home.

"Call me."

Ok.

I want to grab him right there and dance with him all night. But I do have a drunk friend to drive home. And I am getting tired. And I will call him.

He walks into the crowd and Malory stumbles into me. It hits me that I will miss Twiggy, Killer and Young. They are the only reason I have stayed as late as I have. They are what going out is. At least I will get to bed early.

We head out. Malory clings to me like I am saving her from a watery death. We get to the car and I drive her home. I park. I move to open my seat belt, Malory kisses me. I pull away and open the door.

I help her to her house and sit in her kitchen eating French bread and cold cuts while she throws up in the bathroom.
I get the water jug from the fridge fill a glass, chug it and fill it again.
I leave the pitcher and the glass next to her bed. She comes into the room. Falls into the bed pulls her pants off.
She pulls me into the bed. I give her a hug, She says she is sorry.
I leave.

At home Roommate, Brite and Super have rearranged the living room. We talk about interior decorating.
We talk about Roommate’s books. Super wants to see some stencils.
I get a little overexcited and proud. I explain how to make them. Super wants me to teach her.
She asks me if I do girls. What did she say? Like in stencils? No, she means Do.

Sometimes.

The topic changes quick, not missing a beat.
Brite and Super leave promising brunch in the morning. I curl up next to Roommate on the couch. She goes to bed and I fall in next to her, hugging the edge but not wanting to face sleep alone.

I dream of vampires and foot races.

Black Lipstick 11.9.06

2006-11-10T13:56:00.000-08:00

It’s 8:30. I am leaving work. Walking to my car, talking to Twiggy on the phone.

“Its been too long.”

Yes.

She put me on the list, I am defs going out tonight. Studio A Thursdays died so now it's Pawn Shop for Black Lipstick.
I go to the gym.

Its 9:30.
I spray paint a new sweatshirt on the living room floor. The door and all the windows open. I am in my underwear. I hope the neighbors don’t see.
I get red all over my thumb. Now I look like an artist.
People at work will ask if I was painting my nails.

10:30. I lay out my clothes for the night on my bed:
Tight faded black jeans
a tri-blend gray shirt from American Apparel
a white bandanna printed with neon orange of Hosts face for my back pocket, flaggint twin fashion top.
I weigh my hair down with a hand full of pomade. My hair curlsright away.
Nice.
The shirt makes me look good in the chest and a little heavy in the middle. I feel bloated, and hott.
I change my belt buckle to a vintage circle bronze ship on the seas set-up that I got with Host and Boyf in NY.

It’s 11:00. I head to the store and grab a sugar free red bull. At home I mix the syrupy vodka from the freezer with the ill tasting red bull.
Roommate isn’t home yet.
I settle into the couch.
Mission Impossible 3 is in the DVD player.
I already watched it all the way through. Twice. In three days. Once with the director commentary.
I get dumber every day.
I put in a Brazilian movie about a prison. It has a guy in it from one of two other Brazilin movies I have seen. There aren't alot of actors in Brazil.
The vodka goes straight to my head, but not the red bull.

11:30 Roommate gets home.
She settles into the couch next to me. I call Twiggy but they haven’t left yet.
Mix another drink. Sugar free really sucks. I keep my legs stretched out across Roommate so I don’t stretch the knees out in my pants.

12:50 and I am out the door in the car. My head spins a little.
I get to Pawn Shop and circle the block but my phone won't work to call Twiggy and crew.
I pay $5 to park and grab some freshly stenciled ties from the trunk.
I find them in a parking lot, drinking.
It has been two months.
Twiggy is looking fabulous in some mini-kimono-type-wrap-floral-print thing. Young is in the front seat and Killer is in the driver's seat. Young pours me a red bull and vodka with ice.
These kids are classy. Ice in the car!
I whip out the ties. Killer and Young choose the ones they want. They are all excited. They can’t believe I put the designs on the ties. I am feel shy, I act tough.

I am happy. I am drinking. The red bull and the vodka makes me love everything.
I love the car, Twiggy, Young, Killer, my shirt, the night, even Miami.
They ask me about Ireland. I go from the script. Flu, castle, bad dancing.
Twiggy says that even if people dance bad they are having fun. She is a better person than me.

Twiggy tells me I should sell my ties and shirts at Art Basil.
It makes all the sense in the world and it's all I want to do with my life.
Make art that people like. Maybe.

We break out. Twiggy checks the car twice to see if it locked.

At the door the girl with the bleached out mohawk and giant plugs tells us that though we are the list it is $10 because it's after midnight. Right.
If we can get a promoter to the door we can get in.
We grab our phones. Killer whips out a sidekick, I'm so jealous. I text Jailbait but no response.
After 3 minutes of teledesperation, Mow-hawk gives us a side nod and opens the velvet rope. She shouts to the bouncer that we are cool.
No shit we are cool.

Inside it's a weird mix of university types, the need-to-eat girl set, and young hipsters.
Katherine greets us with a good polka dot top. It is crowded and loud. Tacky decor.
Katherine buys me a drink because I'm standing around and just chewing gum.
Young gives me a cigarette, the first one on three weeks.
Filthy habit.
It kills.

The DJ plays some bad mash ups. Real bad.
Billy Idol – White Wedding comes on. I lip synch and dance at my friends who are all sitting around. I don’t care. A. flows through. We say quick hellos. There is a photo booth. $5.
What is with this club?
JayZ – Brush your shoulder off comes on. Young doesn’t like it.
I dance like I have a scoliosis brace on. I tell twiggy Host said made fun of my dancing. She asks what he dances like. “Amazing. Just amazing. But you know he did theatre.” That's the liquor again.

We move to the dance floor. I smoke again. My other hand is stuck to my belly. It wont leave there.
I feel my muscles through my shirt. It is weird to suddenly have muscles that move.
The music confuses me and I can't hold the beat. I get nervous. I get worse. I cant dance.
I throw around my curls like I have feathered Sarah Faucet hair. We all make faces at each other. Some sorority types are all grinding on each other, to Prince. Like back that ass up grinding. I hate people.

Rick Ross – Hustlin’ comes on.
Young, Killer, and Twiggy break to the bar. I follow.
Me and the bartender lock eyes, we lip synch to Rick Ross. Two white kids, in a stupid club on the edge of the poorest Black neighborhood in the city.
Awesome.
Rick Ross.

Mow-hawk is hovering nearby. Is she looking at me? Are we ear friends? Is she laughing at me? Why’s she standing alone? Should I go talk to her? I like her style. It is a nice mohawk, no sides shaved. I look away and back but she is gone. I hope we meet again.

I move back to dance floor. It is emptying out. In the bathroom the attendant hands me a cloth towel. Gross.
I drop a dollar in the bucket because you can't have the bathroom guy mad at you.
Back to the dance floor and I keep forgetting how to move. Katherine and I yell over the music at each other about the aesthetics of the club. I cant really hear her. But I nod anyway. Twiggy claps when she dances. Young shows up with drinks and a cigarette behind his ear. He is rock n roll.\: Sleeveless rolling stones t-shirt, skinny jeans and white low-top chucks.

Twiggy hands me her drink. It is mostly melted ice and a touch of vodka. She tells me to finish it. Off the dance floor again. 2:50. Time to go. Young won't say goodbye. Maybe I shouldn’t leave. Twiggy, quick hug, Young quick hug. Killer is dancing with some need-to-eat girl.

My sweatshirt and ties are still in their car. Whatevs. I drive home.

The only reason to go out is Twiggy, Young and Killer. Fuck the club.

At home I wake Roommate and she tells me to drink more water. I curl up in bed next to her because I am lonely, and drunk, and I won't be alone.

The Knife/Messanine 11/03/06

2006-11-03T19:24:00.000-08:00

Vanderbuilt calls me at work. She has an extra ticket. More like, she met the bouncer on Halloween and he will try to get her in, so I can buy her ticket from her.
I'm thrilled but I won't have time to go home and change, the current outfit is:
Loosened up tight jeans, package enhancers
Long sleeve navy micro-thermal unbottoned at the neck
Vintage denim vest with leather detailing
Vintage stick pin with faux pearls and faux gold detailing

The shirt is really tight and I'm feeling bloated. Deep breath, button the vest.
I shaved today too, I wish I had tweezers for the heavy brows.

I get done with work earlier than I thought so I drive home and fry up a buffalo burger.
I pick out my good old tight blue jeans.
These used to squeeze me, not suffocate, not constrict, not turnequit.
A sleeveless white shirt, dyed off white, and just loose enough.
Afterthought: black cardigan with vintage shield pin, and of course a grey Horseface neckerchief.
This season is very prep school, very Halloweentown High School.

Pluck some stray brow hair, curl lashes, mascara and eye gloss. No to a vintage braided metal headband. Too much too predictable.

These jeans are killing me. My burger is done and the TV shows the real world road rules challenge: The Duel.

I scarf the burger, some cocacola, and scoot to the messanine. I've been there 3 times in two weeks. I hate the messanine. or rather, I really dislike it. I park my scooter on the sidewalk, ditch my jacket and head around the corner for a red bull.
But it's a $5 minimum for the ATM, 2 snikers, a pack of gum, and 2 Resse's Peanut Butter Cups.
I call Alice and Vanderbuilt they are around the corner trying to get Vanderbuilt snuck in. But which alley are they in. I hate 6th and Market, it's maybe THE sketchiest block in the city. I think they are on Stevenson.
By the time I catch up it's just Cupcake and Alice, Van is in, so I get her ticket.
Cupcake looks real cute, tight grey trousers a nice mini-cable knit cardigan, facial hair. Nice.
We go in.

I run into Dani, she looks fabulous, hair teased out into an amazing curly mess, tight black and white top, with her titties all bouncing in and out. We chat about staying positive, we chat about art projects, and the winter. Our seperate friends beckon, Pony appears.
He's a few drinks in. Or many. He's with Stethescope, a friend from work.

Everyone's in the back smoking. No Ins. No Outs.
This is my favorite part of the club. The smoking area, it's like this tiny parking lot for people, for smokers, caged in with those road blocks the city uses for street fairs and parades. There's a nice crowd, a goodlooking mix of hipsters and post ravers with some burning man thrown in.

Rchrd Oh is out here. He's talking to some folks I don't know. He waves us over, me, Pony and Stethescope. MaMa is here. I haven't seen her since June I think. While she's talking to me she keeps touching my chest. It feels nice, the familiarity, the ease. She's drunk

It's time to go inside, I hear people cheering.

We edge in at stage right/house left, by the bar. It's packed. Really packed. It's not like you can really move into a an empty spot, you have to displace people. Rchrd Oh and Cupcake go in far. Me and Pony are a bit behind, but he's determined to push through in his suit from work and huge shoulder bag. He goes for it and a whole group of four people are moved towards me in his wake.
MaMa is talking to some wierd couple next to us. It looks like she's going to get into a fight, I puff out my chest and cross my arms. I get ready. She drunkstumbles over to me and is all
"Awkward"
Why?
"That girl is just as drunk as me..."
MaMa and I exchange compliments, and promises to see each other more. I like her alot but I don't KNOW her.

Before the band starts a Russian lady behind us is all
"Why do you keep bumping into me?" to Stethescope.
Stethescope is all
"I'm not, it's crowded"
Rchrd Oh is all
"Chill out. You need to relax, this is a crowded show and people are going to bump into you"
I quickly size up the Russian, black leather jacket, looks like INC from Macy's, curly brown hair,long, orangish, brownish.
Total Loser.
"Just chill out!" Rchrd Oh is adament.
Russian is all
"I WON"T"
Collective eyes role.

The show starts. There's a screen of mesh stretched across the front of the stage, but you can see through it, and a large egg shaped pillow hanging from the cieling near stage right. It starts with some black lights and weird shapes then they come out
wearing black jump suits, ski masks with strange orange makeup underneath that glows in the black lights. The projections start.

The guy dances and plays a drum machine instrument with glowing sticks, the vocalist is farther back on the stage, sort of dancing sort of singing. It seems magicky. Like they are doing more than what they are doing right now. Casting spells and stuff, on all of us. It works.

There is no alcohol in me. I can tell exactly what is going on. I dance. Pony dances. Rchrd Oh dances. The music is great, and dark at first. It seems so witchy. At one point the large pillow is projected onto with a strange face, it sings back ups.
Then two pillow type shapes on stage take up vocals as well.
The music brings on deep thoughts. I'm not sure how to react really, by now I'd usually be wasted and dancing and lusting, and grabbing. I decide not to make any promises to myself, I think nice thoughts, and then dance some more.

I keep bumping into Pony and Rchrd Oh. They are behind me know. Rchrd Oh is going crazy as per usual, he really likes having fun. Pony is bouncing. A tall man in a puffy vest to my left rave dances to himself. I feel my back stiffen up and I know I'm dancing like Twinjob. Is it bad to flick your hair around if you don't have long hair?

This performance is really nice.
God I want so badly to be the next big thing. At least to myself.
YAYA SISTERHOOD!

In the movie Six Degrees of Seperation Will Smith's character says something like
"Tonight was so wonderful that I wanted to add sex to it."
It's after the couple who hosted his evening of culture and conversation discover him fucking a prostitute in the guest room of their very expensive Central Park Apartment.

It's how I feel.

I want someone I barely know to try to hold my hand and kiss me. To run his hand up the back of my shirt.
to bump into me while I'm dancing, by accident, repeatedly.
The boy dancing behind me is cute. He gives Pony a sip of his drink.
I'm sober, it's not worth it. It's not worth starting some kind of intrigue I can't and won't follow through on. Being sober is trickier than I anticipated.

It's so hot. My bandanna quickly becomes a rag for face wiping. I wipe my face and neck over and over. My bangs are so curling. I can feel sweat rolling down my legs, pooling in the small space between denim and skin at the backs of my knees.

The show ends, after an encore with strange frog like masks and fake hands.
Is this rave music? It's like the Knife is moving in on Bjork's old territory, but different. Is the singer preggers? or did she stuff her jumpsuit?

Outside for a cigarette. Then goodbyes all around. I grab Cupcake by the back of the neck when I say goodbye, he fake bites my neck. Rchrd Oh hounds me for leaving at 11:30 even though I have work at 8.
I get Pony some money for his cab. I'm glad it's not raining because it means I can speed.