a smiths cover

LJ, It was really nothing.

My LJ - it has been so long (too long?) since we have embraced. I am not really sure what the case for this has been, why there are no longer the daily updates, and most importantly, whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. That question that Dorthey posed: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

And right now, I am leaning towards the good witch reply. Because there have been times when I have encountered amazing beauty this past week and thought about ways of describing it, eager to get on the computer, but then have been sidetracked by someone calling me, or by doing something with that someone or other who called me, or by talking to one of my roommates, or simply by being distracted by more beauty. It is fucking springtime in New York. Have you seen this beautiful people in exposed skin, in less layers? Have you smelled the outrageous scents, the undistilled perfumes, the real thing, in Washington Square Park? And I've been listening to 10,000 Maniacs a lot lately, and yes, these are the days.

So forgive me LJ, it was something.

But here is what has happened since we last talked. Last time, I talked to you there was talk about some boy Christpoher. So, I called and left that message on his machine on Saturday morning and no call from him on Saturday, nor on Sunday. On Monday, he called but did not bother to leave a message, and I decided that he was not that interested, to forget about him and to not call him back. And I haven't, and I am not sad at all about him because winter's over, you stupid fuckers! Look out your window. Feel those warm mornings, that heat that wakes you up at eight as soon as the sun is up. You get boners sitting across from just about any hot male on the subway because it is something about the heat, it makes you hornier - is this biological, some springtime desire to reproduce? - and specific boys are not so important as the hot ones sitting across from you on the subway that you fantasize about as you are commuting to your job, the job you got written up at in the last week also.

So yeah - it was coming - I had been calling in sick way too much - about two days a week on average and they had warned me about that and about my constant tardiness, and finally I got written up, but it will take about five more of those before I ever get fired thanks to the fact that I am unionized and need to have no work ethic whatsoever. And speaking of union benefits, in a couple of weeks I will be taking a week of my vacation time to accompany Bonnie on her move to Las Vegas. I will be flying down to Florida and driving with her across the country, searching for America, seeking out the dream, or whatever comes closest, with overnight stops in Tallahassee (or some place close), New Orleans, Austin, somwhere else in Texas (I think), and Flagstaff (or somewhere else), and then of course, Vegas. My Swingers fantasy of Vegas. I am going to make Bonnie say it just like in the movie sometime during the car ride: Vegas, baby, we're going to Vegas! Vay-gas!

Let's see what else. God, how many art shows have I been to this past week? Cindy Sherman, Andreas Gursky, AA Bronson, God - too many to remember, all these mediocrities. But, the Sherman was awesome and the Gursky show is so, so, so good.

There is so much going on, all these distractions from this distraction, making them perhaps, not distractions at all, but the real thing that I have been letting this distraction prevent me from participating in. I have been walking down streets in my neighborhood a lot, new ones that I don't take often. Yesterday on Havemayer, I saw a cat lying under a car in the shade to escape the heat, and this brought back so many memories of childhood, running around the neighborhood, taking breathing breaks sitting on a curb, being level with those neighborhood cats who would seek shelter from the heat under cars - and this sight made me so incredibly happy. I wanted to crawl under that car also, see if I could crawl back to that happy past, if suddenly that would put me back on Canterbury Lane playing tag with Evelyn Herman or peeking into the windows of teh cannibal house with her. Those days seemed right there under that car with that cat. Then I walked over all those helicopter seeds. Oak? I am not even sure now. But those seeds that fall from the trees and if you throw them up into the air they fall, swirling like the propellers of helicopters. I walked over them, these things I had forgotten about, another relic of childhood, and I peeked around to see if anyone else was on the block. No one was. So, I picked up a big handful of the seeds, threw them up into the air, and with a joy that can probably never be equaled in this world, watched them descend, the little helicopter propellers. How long has it been since we have done these things? But why?

You see, LJ, these are the things I am talking about that have been coming between us. Let's also take today for example. See, I was hoping to go to Coney Island today, but the heat suddenly went away with the sunshine, and so Peter wanted to come over and use my computer to do some job hunting crap, and so I met up with him at Union Square after I deposited my paycheck (and they yet again paid me personal days that I don't have - go lax payroll department!). I wanted to check out a couple thrift stores in search of a tote bag before we left Manhattan. Peter tried to shame me for being like all the other thousands of fey, closeted homo hipsters that he sees sporting tote bags every day. And whatever, I am giving in to a hipster trend. It's not the first one I have given in to - I want a fucking tote bag. We didn't find one, but I did find a pink tux shirt for two dollars that I am in love with. And then we walked past Astor Place liquors and our eyes were caught by the huge window ad advertising bottles of wine for 1.99. We looked at the ad a long time and talked about how shitty the wine probably must be. We decided to place cheapness over quality and went in the store at about three in the afternoon and sort of scanned around, trying to eye the cheap wine. An employee spotted us for the cheapskates that we were and pointing to where they were displayed said, "The two dollar wine is over there." We thanked him and Peter asked if it would give us headaches. He laughed and told us it would get us buzzed. Well, that's what we were looking for. We bought two bottles and came back to my house. Jamie S called me because she was in the neighborhood and came over. We played Scrabble while Peter worked on his job crap and the three of us downed the two bottles before the sun had gone down.

Jamie left for her show and Peter and I went down to the river, watched those post sunset moments, since we were a little late in getting there, and then we went and got some pizza and two more bottles of the cheap wine, which we drank while talking in my living room. He then went to some party moments ago and soon I am going to go to bed. And that is why I have not been communicating with you lately because things like that keep happening. And I want you to be happy for me. This is a good thing, how my days are continually occupied with activities and other people. This is a good thing I believe, William.