Yesterday was one of the best days I have had in a long time. I didn't have to go to work, instead just lounged around my apartment for the first half of the day, drinking coffee with Jillian and Jaymay. I then went into Manhattan to get money from the Strand, with which I bought some yummy food and a magazine. It felt so good to buy myself a magazine for eight dollars, even though really, it was a totally unneccesary purchase and one, which I cannot really afford at this time, but to not care and buy it anyways felt so good.

I then went to the Radical Queers meeting in Tompkins Square Park, where I drank tea and watched the sun slowly start to settle behind the buildings bordering the park, saw the sky through some pretty awesome tree leaves, and listend to a nice planning meeting about RNC events. There was a cute boy there that I kept covertly peeping at through the meeting. This boy, Adrian, is the person who suggested what is now our group's name: Queer Fist. A name which I think is so awesome. After the meeting, we split up into smaller groups, and I met with people about cheerleading, and Adrian also joined that group. I didn't stay for too long though because the coffee and tea were putting enormous pressure on my bladder, and so I left, but got a friendly good-bye from Adrian which really excited me.

I hurried home, peed with a great sigh of relief, ate some yummy Chinese food, and then went over to Peter's to hang out, drink beer, smoke cigarettes and listen to the new This is the Talking Heads album. Then we got on the subway to head to Crobar, which I am more than a little embarrassed to admit, since it is a snotty, massive club that charges an obscene cover ($20!), but which we were going to get in for free to because we were on Cazwell's guest list. Once inside, we grabbed a couple drinks before the open bar expired, found Joe and sat in this way too stylized lounge area with glowing faux-bamboo stalks sprouting up between all the seating areas. The dancefloor in this first room was insanely tiny considering all the hype I had heard about this "superclub." Most of this massive space was posh seating areas. This clubs are so cheesy. Give me some of that trashy East Village Cock or Hole action anyday. I like a bar that smells like puke, piss, and smoke.

We knew there was another room somewhere, so Peter and I went on the hunt for it and ended up at the coat check room where the attendent tried to give us directions to the other room. We were leaving there and this boy asked us if we knew where the V.I.P. room was. He and I then recognized each other from the Queer Fist meeting. His name is Chris, I found out, and we brought him with us to find the other dance space. I then saw that his friend with him was also from the Queer Fist meeting, was my crush, Adrian.

The caravan of us finally found the other room, and it was like in Willy Wonka, where they get through all those shrinking hallways and emerge into the Chocolate Factory. There was better music playing, dimmer lighting, less gaudy interior design, people dancing. And the night was fun, I talked to Adrian a lot, went hunting with him for coke, which was really funny. He went home with some boy he had been making out with earlier, who had coke, but he told me he wanted to hang out, which made me happy. I talked to Chris some more. Danced a lot with Joe and Peter. Ran into James Glisson from New College.

Eventually, Peter and I left, tired, not even wanting to stay for Boy George's performance. Outside the club, we ran into Chris, who was outside talking to some friends. I started talking to Chris some more, asking him about his job, and to deflect the question, he asked me what I did, and I said, "Oh, I just work at a lame bookstore." Something clicked in his memory, and he said, "Wait, what bookstore?" "Oh, the Strand." And he was silent, and I thought this meant that he didn't know where it was, and so I said, "12th and Broadway," but he knew where it was, he was silent for some other reason, and then it clicked with him, and he started giggling, saying, "Wait, I think I hooked up with you." And I told him that I didn't think so, that I didn't remember hooking up with him. And then he said, "Yeah, yeah, and I kept commenting on how odd it was that you were uncut." And well, there was the proof that he was not mistaking me for someone else. And then he refreshed my memory, at the Cock back in Feburary, and then I remembered, and felt silly that we had been to a couple Queer Fist meetings, sitting near each other and not aware of this, that I had been talking to him all night unaware that we had jacked each other off in the back corner of the Cock many months ago.

These are the moments when life is so funny, that I am in good spirits, because it all seems like one big cosmic joke, that someone is having fun showing us how tiny this world is, and how much is dependent on memory, that I was attracted to this Chris boy twice, totally unaware of the first time. Peter and I walked down to the L train, stopped at a porn store on the way, where Peter bought a three pack of old porno mags. We met up with Joe on the L, and when Joe and I got off at Lorimer, Peter gave Joe and I each a porno mag. On the way home, with my porn mag, I bought a box of cookies at Kellogs. They were yummy.