September 22, 2008

if there was bacon, he would bring it home

Let me just put it out there and say: I have 0% patience for uncontrollable, inconsolable, belligerent, boisterous drunk kids. Especially when it is my moral responsibility to make sure they don't end up sleeping on the street at night. They are the reason I crawled into my bed at 6am yesterday.

But before that, there was a lovely film screening for some old college friends' feel-good movie about two best friends who try to make a zombie movie together as they navigate the sexy social circles of college heteros and gays. I helped them out in a small role my junior year and they finally finished it.

Um, I hate seeing/hearing myself on film. Projected film. In a room of about 40 people, lots of which are strangers.

Also, holy shit I must've lost like 15 el-bees since junior year. I shuddered at the sight of myself. I don't understand how I got any tail that year, seriously. G-ross.
Conversely, I completely understand the copious tails senior year.

The venue they got was Flux Factory, this artist community in LIC, basically a way low-budge Real World-esque style housing situation in which a converted warehouse sheltered about a dozen artists. The place was pretty amazing. Like living in the VA building at Purchase.
We partied on rooftops.

I spent time with some quality company who were dearly missing from my life.
Nate and I arranged a play-date (Na-date?) this afternoon after Amy and I coerced him into a tiramisu adventure in the East Village at 3am. We ate sandwiches and roamed Central Park pretending to be bears.

On the train ride home, I watched two men hit on women pretty blatantly and pretty pathetically. One of them deigned to attempt a match of eye-tennis with me through the reflection of the window before sitting in the seat next to me to talk to the girl across the aisle. He spoke fluent German into his slim motorola cell phone and was wearing the blazer over a sharp button-down shirt, over jeans and casual sneakers ensemble.
Which always says to me, "Hi, I'm probably gay, but if I'm not then I'm probably a pretentious tool who didn't get into his first choice Ivy league so now I always have to impress people by using big textbook words so they don't think I'm the academic failure that I believe myself to be."

He said he did something at some company to do with giving scholarships to dancers from other countries who can't afford the education at our fine US ballet schools.

The girl immediately squealed in delight, "I've been dancing for 15 years! I started with ballet but now I do mostly modern..."

And I thought to myself... He's good.

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