gay bars.
always an interesting experience... but we'll come back to that.
spent hours and hours in the apartment. "i sit around and watch the phone, but no one's calling. call me pathetic, call me what you will." that's about what it felt like. that song. and masturbation losing its fun. an unfortunate thing.
nap. wake.
shower, dry.
out the door. bus. run. miss. bus pulls over on the next street where there is no bus stop just for me. score! score i say!
jaime's.
gay boys and lesbian girls everywhere. i was one of two potentially straight people there. i thought i would be a lot more uncomfortable, but i was oddly at peace. the only sore spot rested in the back of my throat.
asian following me around. talking about a guest that oprah had on the show today. couldn't comprehend, smile and nod, pour myself a drink. rum and coke. stomach wasn't up for it. drink it anyway. lots and lots of cream cheese and bagel chips. a saving grace.
ditch the party with judas' friend michael. he brings me to the gay 90's. hanging out, watch a tad bit of a drag show that was mostly uneventful.
didn't get hit on. not once. fuck.
leaving the comfort of the closing show, walking downstairs and pushing through the crowd. lots of interesting things going through my head but i only remember the one. tyler durden says:
"the question is, when i pass, do i give the ass... or the crotch?"
and as a straight guy pushing through a throng of other non-straight guys i decide that since neither is preferable, either works. ass, crotch... merry christmas. go to the men's room.
through the men's room is another bar, entirely different, and the bathroom is the only passage leading to it. to my right is a boy in a thong dancing on a small stage between pillar like structures leading in. in front and to my right is a large black man in a thong and chaps shoving his crotch in men's faces. directly in front of me, on screen a white guy in his late twenties is giving head to a white guy in his late twenties.
switch.
a black guy in his mid twenties is giving head to a white guy in his mid twenties. switch. you get the idea. not exactly a mixed bag. lots of head, some penetration.
dark lighting. in the rafters a statue of a muscle bound male with a twelve inch (at least) dick is chained to the ceiling surveying its surroundings and looking quite pleased. a line of men just outside the bar itself are watching the other men who pass and they're very quiet and darkly shaded. can't see their faces. everyone's squirming.
figures that are male and female in the dance annex outside the bar outside the mens room gyrate. everyone's drunk or working on it. everyone's cool and everyone knows. fuck you all, i think to myself. practice smiling in my head for a good ten minutes. every drop of alcohol i've consumed to this point has turned my weak stomach and nothing else. i just want to smoke but i just smoked my last cigarette.
angry, but practicing smiling again, i walk up to a girl who looks like a boy and i smile and i nod with a half wink barely distinguishable and i try to make her feel special. and i do that so that she'll give me one of whatever she's smoking. american spirits.
tear off the filter.
contemplate a death wish.
briefly consider making out with a boy because i'm lonely. would you blame me? i don't want to go that far, so i walk out with michael and we get in the car.
now i'm eating pizza, and i'm wondering why so few people commented on my last entry.
always an interesting experience... but we'll come back to that.
spent hours and hours in the apartment. "i sit around and watch the phone, but no one's calling. call me pathetic, call me what you will." that's about what it felt like. that song. and masturbation losing its fun. an unfortunate thing.
nap. wake.
shower, dry.
out the door. bus. run. miss. bus pulls over on the next street where there is no bus stop just for me. score! score i say!
jaime's.
gay boys and lesbian girls everywhere. i was one of two potentially straight people there. i thought i would be a lot more uncomfortable, but i was oddly at peace. the only sore spot rested in the back of my throat.
asian following me around. talking about a guest that oprah had on the show today. couldn't comprehend, smile and nod, pour myself a drink. rum and coke. stomach wasn't up for it. drink it anyway. lots and lots of cream cheese and bagel chips. a saving grace.
ditch the party with judas' friend michael. he brings me to the gay 90's. hanging out, watch a tad bit of a drag show that was mostly uneventful.
didn't get hit on. not once. fuck.
leaving the comfort of the closing show, walking downstairs and pushing through the crowd. lots of interesting things going through my head but i only remember the one. tyler durden says:
"the question is, when i pass, do i give the ass... or the crotch?"
and as a straight guy pushing through a throng of other non-straight guys i decide that since neither is preferable, either works. ass, crotch... merry christmas. go to the men's room.
through the men's room is another bar, entirely different, and the bathroom is the only passage leading to it. to my right is a boy in a thong dancing on a small stage between pillar like structures leading in. in front and to my right is a large black man in a thong and chaps shoving his crotch in men's faces. directly in front of me, on screen a white guy in his late twenties is giving head to a white guy in his late twenties.
switch.
a black guy in his mid twenties is giving head to a white guy in his mid twenties. switch. you get the idea. not exactly a mixed bag. lots of head, some penetration.
dark lighting. in the rafters a statue of a muscle bound male with a twelve inch (at least) dick is chained to the ceiling surveying its surroundings and looking quite pleased. a line of men just outside the bar itself are watching the other men who pass and they're very quiet and darkly shaded. can't see their faces. everyone's squirming.
figures that are male and female in the dance annex outside the bar outside the mens room gyrate. everyone's drunk or working on it. everyone's cool and everyone knows. fuck you all, i think to myself. practice smiling in my head for a good ten minutes. every drop of alcohol i've consumed to this point has turned my weak stomach and nothing else. i just want to smoke but i just smoked my last cigarette.
angry, but practicing smiling again, i walk up to a girl who looks like a boy and i smile and i nod with a half wink barely distinguishable and i try to make her feel special. and i do that so that she'll give me one of whatever she's smoking. american spirits.
tear off the filter.
contemplate a death wish.
briefly consider making out with a boy because i'm lonely. would you blame me? i don't want to go that far, so i walk out with michael and we get in the car.
now i'm eating pizza, and i'm wondering why so few people commented on my last entry.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
that, and I can't read...