brothercyst: rambling post about stuff; writing all this will distract me from anxieties about the manuscript i'm revising now

Sunday, May 13, 2007

rambling post about stuff; writing all this will distract me from anxieties about the manuscript i'm revising now

Unproductive yesterday. Ashamed. I had a lot of things I wanted to do--writing-related things, like writing--but first I wanted to go to the oyster bar with some friends. We went but it was 5:15 and the place didn't open until 6. So we went to the park until 6, and when we came back there was a line down the block to get in (they don't take reservations). They opened and the last people allowed in were the people right in front of us. FUCK. So we ate dinner elsewhere, but I was angry about not getting oysters and lobster--really irritable, irrationally so. So then we walked around and got more food and then back to my friend's apartment (by this time I should've been writing for an hour or so already) to smoke and watch TV. At last, when I was about to go home but still feeling weirdly rattled--inexplicably depressed, angry--I changed my mind and convinced my friend Tom to come swimming with me at the Hotel QT, which (it being Saturday night) would almost certainly be hosting a pool party.

So we get there, change into bathing suits, and go poolside. I look in the small pool, which is full of people, then take another look. "Tom," I say, "you realize what kind of party this is?" He says, "What?" "This is a gay party, Tom." The pool is full of men, and only men, splashing and hugging each other. They're...frolicking. "Is it?" he says. "I'm pretty sure," I say. Suddenly hands are touching our arms from behind. "Hey, I'm Philip," says a guy about our age. "Are you guys having fun?" "Oh--oh yeah," we say, nodding. And I guess we are. Despite our surprise. Philip gets in the pool. I call EJ, who lives a few blocks away and comes over looking remarkably alert/put-together. She seems classy and amused. This is fun. I should be writing. More people arrive and some are random and terrible--both male and female; not gay; overmuscled and dumb, resembling horses. I'm no longer sure why I wanted to do this; if we had gotten oysters like we originally planned I would have gone home immediately afterward.

Also, I went to a birthday party. I thought it was in a restaurant but no, it was a nightclub. I hate nightclubs. Every time I'm near the horrible greased hair, the upturned collars, the "gangsta" white and asian guys, my mind goes RED. Bathtubs full of acid. Feet, head, hands. This nightclub had women hanging from the ceiling:



The awful music nearly burst my eardrums. When I woke up this morning my right ear was actually in pain. Something's wrong with that ear and has been for a while.

At the time, though, the pain was mostly aesthetic. This is how I feel in nightclubs:

7 comments:

B said...

This made me laugh. Oh, and I am glad to hear of Midnight Picnic's existence.

Nick said...

I'm glad you laughed and are glad to hear of Midnight Picnic...

B said...

Let me know what happens with it (come poke me at KGB or something). I lent Fires to someone else and now am never getting it back, it's very sad.

Maria said...

Ugh, I hate that about lending books to people,

Nick said...

i lent someone my copy of Bacacay, one of my favorite books, and it is gone forever.

B said...

Hmm, someone once lent me Ferdydurke and I left it at a bar, but when I went back the next day it was *still there*, on top of a stack of National Geographics. I felt so bad about leaving it there I returned it to a friend without reading it.

Nick said...

Ferdyduke is terrible. But Bacacay I love.