So, I went to Bard College's infamous drag race. Hmmmm.....
It was really weird. I had like 10 beers or so, enough to be swimming slightly inside my own head. Unfortunately, I stopped drinking as soon as I got there which was like 10ish. So, the minor drunk had going left quickly and was replaced by a slight edge and bitterness. I think, really, that the edge is what made the night so interesting.
I entered the old gym there at Bard College wearing my regular old clothes with eye liner, eye shadow and sparkles on. It was a shoddy attempt at drag, I know, but I had no women's clothing so it had to do. Upon entrance, I immediately lost everyone I had come with and since I do not actually go to Bard, that means I was left alone in a room full of fucked up people in drag who I did not know and who did not know me.
Perfect.
Maybe it was 5 minutes? Maybe it was 6? before I caught a young woman in an angel costume who had fallen off the stage. She looked at me, her eyes blinking independently of each other, smiled and pulled me outside. I'm too nice. She pulled me then onto the grass somewhere off to the side and went at me. It was the fourth time or so that she struggled to recall my name tha I decided to leave her there and head back into the debauch to survey what other trouble I could get into.
And so I spent much of the rest of the night walking around looking at people in a fit of near hysteria. This party must be what the Puritans thought of as heathen witch gatherings. Boys making out with boys, girls making out with girls, boy making out with girls, people making out whose gender was indeterminate. Blood, fire, lights, smoke, make up, grease, paint, sweat, tears. All placed into a nice dark box and presented to you wrapped in deviant glamour. School sponsored deviant glamour.
One of the best things I heard all night came from the mouth the leader of a trio of cute young girls. "Are you straight or gay?" she asks me as she presses her pointer finger into my sternum.
"Straight," I reply and smile.
"Good," she says, "just checking." And they disappear into the mass of writhing, sweating bodies.
2 o'clock rolled around and the party ended early because, as was announced over the public address system, "all the local hospitals are full of stupid, fucked up Bard kids. Don't drinka nd drive!" I exit the building and start looking for someone, for anyone, I know. At the this point the whole separation thing comes back and bites me in the ass. Without much pain of looking, I find Andrew, a young man I know and we accompany two young lovlies back to their house with the promises of an "afterparty."
It quickly becomes apparent to me that the "afterparty" wasn't going to happen and I took off. I walk down to where the shuttle goes to twon because I know how to get to my friend's house from where I'd be dropped off. On the shuttle, I inquire after the destination and route of said shuttle and proceed to get no end of grief from the driver. After unsuccessfully trying to convince him that I was, in fact, not trying to be a pain in the ass, I sat down and started talking to the young woman sitting in front of me.
Her name was Adrienne.
She and I talked, only pausing briefly for me to say hi to Ian after he stepped onto the bus. I invite her out after we get off the bus and she accepts. I'm so charming. And we go out. The night ends with left over cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, Kraftwerk blaring on the stereo and Adrienne.
Solid. I never thought Pabst and Kraftwerk were made for each other, but they were.
The next morning, she leaves and Noah, my manlove, and I go out for breakfast. It was a fantastic breakfast date. We talked about women, the night prior, relationships, women, people, stuff, things, ideas, place, nouns. By the end of breakfast I am feeling like complete and utter shit, both physically and mentally, so I go out with Jesse, Green, Bird, Ian and two other women to breakfast also. I left my newly acquired sunglasses on the whole time. The day was steeped in self-loathing.
Before my second breaking of fast ended, I had to rush off to the Poughkeepsie station to catch a train back here to New York. I slept the whole way, except for the parts where the fat infant next to me screamed and wailed at his equally fat mother and sister. Not even Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita could distract me from that nightmare.
Horrid. Horrid. Horrid.
All in all, it was a successful 24-hour venture upstate.
It was really weird. I had like 10 beers or so, enough to be swimming slightly inside my own head. Unfortunately, I stopped drinking as soon as I got there which was like 10ish. So, the minor drunk had going left quickly and was replaced by a slight edge and bitterness. I think, really, that the edge is what made the night so interesting.
I entered the old gym there at Bard College wearing my regular old clothes with eye liner, eye shadow and sparkles on. It was a shoddy attempt at drag, I know, but I had no women's clothing so it had to do. Upon entrance, I immediately lost everyone I had come with and since I do not actually go to Bard, that means I was left alone in a room full of fucked up people in drag who I did not know and who did not know me.
Perfect.
Maybe it was 5 minutes? Maybe it was 6? before I caught a young woman in an angel costume who had fallen off the stage. She looked at me, her eyes blinking independently of each other, smiled and pulled me outside. I'm too nice. She pulled me then onto the grass somewhere off to the side and went at me. It was the fourth time or so that she struggled to recall my name tha I decided to leave her there and head back into the debauch to survey what other trouble I could get into.
And so I spent much of the rest of the night walking around looking at people in a fit of near hysteria. This party must be what the Puritans thought of as heathen witch gatherings. Boys making out with boys, girls making out with girls, boy making out with girls, people making out whose gender was indeterminate. Blood, fire, lights, smoke, make up, grease, paint, sweat, tears. All placed into a nice dark box and presented to you wrapped in deviant glamour. School sponsored deviant glamour.
One of the best things I heard all night came from the mouth the leader of a trio of cute young girls. "Are you straight or gay?" she asks me as she presses her pointer finger into my sternum.
"Straight," I reply and smile.
"Good," she says, "just checking." And they disappear into the mass of writhing, sweating bodies.
2 o'clock rolled around and the party ended early because, as was announced over the public address system, "all the local hospitals are full of stupid, fucked up Bard kids. Don't drinka nd drive!" I exit the building and start looking for someone, for anyone, I know. At the this point the whole separation thing comes back and bites me in the ass. Without much pain of looking, I find Andrew, a young man I know and we accompany two young lovlies back to their house with the promises of an "afterparty."
It quickly becomes apparent to me that the "afterparty" wasn't going to happen and I took off. I walk down to where the shuttle goes to twon because I know how to get to my friend's house from where I'd be dropped off. On the shuttle, I inquire after the destination and route of said shuttle and proceed to get no end of grief from the driver. After unsuccessfully trying to convince him that I was, in fact, not trying to be a pain in the ass, I sat down and started talking to the young woman sitting in front of me.
Her name was Adrienne.
She and I talked, only pausing briefly for me to say hi to Ian after he stepped onto the bus. I invite her out after we get off the bus and she accepts. I'm so charming. And we go out. The night ends with left over cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, Kraftwerk blaring on the stereo and Adrienne.
Solid. I never thought Pabst and Kraftwerk were made for each other, but they were.
The next morning, she leaves and Noah, my manlove, and I go out for breakfast. It was a fantastic breakfast date. We talked about women, the night prior, relationships, women, people, stuff, things, ideas, place, nouns. By the end of breakfast I am feeling like complete and utter shit, both physically and mentally, so I go out with Jesse, Green, Bird, Ian and two other women to breakfast also. I left my newly acquired sunglasses on the whole time. The day was steeped in self-loathing.
Before my second breaking of fast ended, I had to rush off to the Poughkeepsie station to catch a train back here to New York. I slept the whole way, except for the parts where the fat infant next to me screamed and wailed at his equally fat mother and sister. Not even Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita could distract me from that nightmare.
Horrid. Horrid. Horrid.
All in all, it was a successful 24-hour venture upstate.
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"I love you too, Avenged."