Our interactions were becoming more and more friendly and I was excited about that, about being able to talk to Matt like a normal person, but I think I have blown up the tracks of that course completely. You see - and that prefix is one that should always give you pause because what you are about to hear is going to be a long attempt at self-justification, at evasion. I have been picking up on this a lot lately because my landlord says it so often - but you see, I had started off the night at six with only a burrito in my stomach and started downing beers at Elizabeth Dee gallery with Gabriel, Ben and his friends, Sky and Wyatt. There were more galleries, already things are blurring together at this point with just a couple beers and a couple cups of cheap white wine. I don't remember all the galleries. I remember some being bad and some being mediocre, which might be even worse than bad. The only thing I thought was excellent that I saw was Angela Strassheim's creepy photos at Marvelli.

I smoked lots of Canadian cigarettes and got on the train with these boys heading back to Brooklyn and this is where a change of plans can affect so much, so many other things. I was thinking about not going out with them to the Fischerspooner salon at Deitch because it was Fischerspooner and because I am becoming that person that looks forward to a night's television line-up. The O.C., American Idol, and the American Office were all on. And luckily, I put my transformation into that type of person on hold otherwise you would be reading a far different narrative, perhaps a better one in some sense, but a far less exciting one. And really, I am wondering if it was the drunkenness so much as the boredom with aspects of my life and trying and succeeding at giving me life a little shot of adrenalin, despite the costs.

There the boys met up with some girls, Robyn, Beth, and Colleen. Lots of Red Stripe was drank. Lots of Canadian cigarettes were smoked and just as the event was starting to take place we left for Manhattan again to go to Morrisey Park (formerly Open Air) where there was to be more free drinks. And I am listening to Morrissey right now and it is a gray day and I called in sick to work today because of all those free drinks. I feel like crap and keep on exclaiming to myself, "Ah, I slept with Matt!" Cue to shot of Macauly Culkin in Home Alone pressing his hands to his cheeks and screaming. I kept giggling to myself when I was taking a shower, going over these things, wondering why I do them. Last night, Matt, who I never told about my father, said I do them because of my father. The comment scared me and I asked him what he meant, tried to get at what provoked the comment and he said it's why people do everything, because of issues with their father. And the slightly skewed Freudian talk seemed perhaps true last night.

So now there's a third possible reason. So far, Alcohol, Boredom, and Father Issues. I am almost ready to give up reasons, that they say too much and yet say nothing, that it is far more simple, that these things are what I want to happen and that I will them, sometimes my will, my desire being freed or excited by these reasons. After Open Air, we stopped at the Cock where I showed my sluttiness to a scandalized Wyatt while I groped some hairy old man's chest. I think this is the moment all self-control may have been lost if I had to pick one, if I had to point my finger at a map of last night and tell you where exactly it was the car veered off the road, it is right there, at a trashy gay bar on A and 9th, me with my hands in someone's hairy chest, ocassionally groping their cock.

I was talking with Niki the other day in her store and we were sort of talking about this subject, about why it is that Niki, Bonnie, and I exhibit behavior that other people don't exhibit when they are drunk. Other people get just as drunk but most people don't tend to veer of the road and get so sexually brazen. Anyways, the car is already heading straight for that tree when I get on the subway and end up at the Metropolitan with Gabriel and Wyatt. I grabbed a beer and spotted Matt and my targets were set and there was one thing on my mind, his cock in my mouth. I sat next to him, chatted, and smooth as I am, spilled my beer down his back. I think I talked to some other people there throughout the night, I don't remember. I do remember finding my way back to Matt again and again throughout the night becoming more and more brazen, telling him that I wanted his cock in my mouth, playing with his chest. And I remember talking with him about a couple things, father issues, being dumped, and I was so smitten last night and so out of control about admitting it. Matt told me that it was not going to happen, that that would not ever happen again. I played with his chest more. Why was I all about chests last night?

Finally, drunk and out of cigarettes, I decided to go home. I said bye to Matt and walked out the door, looked behind me as I walked to the corner, hoping that he would come after me. I rounded the corner and headed toward home and was walking home in a daze when I heard my name called behind me, back at the corner. I thought it was Gabriel at first and then saw his shape at the end of the block and ran back to the corner, met Matt and walked home with him.

It was stupid and unnecessary, but it was fun. His body is what I hold up to be the ideal and I sucked his cock and played with his little perfect tuft of hair in the middle of his chest. It was wordless and kiss free. When it was over, I got dressed and left, walked home totally shocked that that had just happened. I know that it was not in my own interests to do that but now I am hesitating about calling it unnecessary. The thing that most amazed me was how good it felt just to see and touch his body, that really, that was all I wanted, that it had been so long since I had and this act just sharpened the details of that memory whose details were starting to blur, that that was the point and now I am good, have this memory to last until the details fade again.