in the absence of grapes

January 2, 2011 at 5:08 pm Leave a comment

In the absence of grapes, I forget about the mexican band that came here and accidentally became rock stars. It’s like 10:30 and I’m going to Bradley’s. I’m wearing this blue striped wife beater that ends in kinda red stars and then a knock off comme de garcons deconstruction that features a space age age vest over grunge flannel, and then my little skirt with the birds on it… or does it have birds and why did Comme de garcons need to choose time as the praxis on which to deconstruct this shirt? At LArry Tee the other night this dude had a real one, one of the junya watanbe ones that looks like 3 different patterns meeting at a geometircal disagreement. I’m in the supermarket, I need to go to the bathrom, but i walk in on this 50 year old transsexual’s new year’s party, an effemiate gay guy I might have slept with (I’m not sure) comes up and greets me and then the tranny has me by the arm, I’m being pulled into a New Years party, I just wanted to use the bathroom. Someone realizes the mistake and they point me to the bathroom outside, and I wonder what the chances are of a western transvestite walking into a Thai khatoey only New Years event? Stastics can be smashed, numbers mutilated, but I’m gonna say the chances are high here. I really should stay, but I still have a slight phobia of effemiate men and especially ageing grabby transexuals. As I leave the gay guy comes out the door and offers for me to go in, I’m starving, these folks look like they have food from at least seven different restaurants. Now in the Bill Murray lost in translation version of Bangkok, I go in and have a good time, instead I go to a roof top to hang up with the usual Western queer scene. the cabby doesn’t quite know where Bradley’s place is, but we manage to make it to lumphini and then a few u-turns later I’m just down the street from it. I try to find the Italian place that Andreas likes on langsuan,, but it’s closed so I eat at a thai place known for it’s seafood, but I get some subpar pork. At the party maybe 40 people are there. A former programmer explains how he’s on disability for hiv, my eyes pop, he’s very likable and seems really healthy. I get invited to speak at a queer art show, I later e-mail him my idea of a maid that cleans discourses. I kiss a bunch of dudes, maybe Brian, Beat, and later Chris. A drag queen from Brooklyn shows up and at first talks in a kinda Spanish accent before breaking down to a more normal voice. I liked her more when she was pretending to be Puetro Rican or whatever. She asks me to an after party, but I’m kinda feeling Beat these days, although unsure on if he actually wants to sleep with me. What does it mean when men buy you beer and drive you home? We end up at Wongs and I dance to all the eighties stuff Wong puts on. I love that the type of bar that would have played rock ‘n roll plays eighties stuff now, Pink Lady the Japanese all girl 60s rock outfit comes on and I remember Richard for a second. Chris comes in from Korea looking remarkably more sedate than during his Bangkok ventures. He hugs me and we talk. I think if writing something like this is a drag, then reading it has to be too, but perhaps words don’t work that way or something, if meaning can be deffered, is fun deffered to? does it eventually rollercoaster down into the mundane, turning text books into comedies and tradgedies into fart jokes? Yeah, my little posts are full of poignancies and that’s another thing, as I’ve been getting back there, back to that moment of change the ability to become again, I’ve been losing those insights difference gave, the realizations that I bought, the ideas I had, everything is just becoming swirly again as I open the door to the overstay. The techno dude plays my type of techno, I give sing back her robot panda and animal collective cds. Just as I’m walking out the door at like 7 in the morning, I see Patricia. Now here’s the thing, the first time I met Patricia we had this really cool chat about I think about Margaret Atwood or something, but I didn’t find her attractive then, now on this morning, post-Beat and queer scene, she’s on the couch in this cool little birdy wife beater and boxers and I feel turned on, she gives me a look, but I have trouble suspending my sexuality and therefore am a douche… or well ok I was fine, just kinda creepy. I wake up the next day kinda hung over I”m unsure on his I slept the entire day or just went and bought a cell phone… memory becomes hazy here, but I do remember this, I went to this mexican restaurant in silom and asked this girl’s name, and something in the way she smiled, something in the way she might actually consider wanting someone like me, convinced me the entire waiting staff at a restuarant were all whores.

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The exquisite corpse of Mr. & Mrs. Saint Nick Zero history

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