Lesbo Party!

Today I took it sort of easy. There was no rush or hurry to any of my actions, just a languid meandering with very little meaning or purpose. I watched some TV [Strangers with Candy], read some of my book [In Cold Blood], drank some coffee [Pete’s mocha drip at home], and smoked some cigarettes [Bally Shag Lights]. L-smiles left for work at around noon, I just gave her an air kiss from across the room and stretched out on the couch after.

And my utter unenthusiam to do anything else is well deserved [note: unenthusiam is here by a word. Write it down]. See, this weekend we had a party at our house, or at least the third floor of our house, which is the one we occupy. It was our first party, well, the first one we had actually planned, and it was all L-hosty’s design. She wanted to have a party, a pilates people party.

From what I understood there were to be a handful of lesbians [suffice to say my idea for party flyers exclaiming “COME SEE THE LESBIANS: lesbo’s so lesbo they make lesbo’s from lesboville look like cock hungry tween sluts!” was shot down. No body appreciates my art!], a few theater folks, and the rest simply tight abbed instructors from the city. I invited some of my friends over to enjoy the free booze and made an itunes party shuffle for my contribution, bought some chips and cheese to sweeten the deal.

The night went off pretty well if we do say so ourselves. At around 8 people started milling in, by 10 everyone was drunk. 11 came around and I was spinning hip hop in the living room and by 12 the gloves were off and my man Larry was putting the moves on whatever heterosexual females still stood. At about 3.30 it was just three of us and Larry and I decided we were going to hit an after hours party in Williamsburg. L-slurry decided to stay home, so we called a car and just Larry and me slid into the backseat when it arrived.

Turns out the Get Physical boys, DJ T, M.A.N.D.Y., and Booka Shade were Djing at a friends loft. When we got there it was 4am and no one had arrived yet. The lights were set to “party,” and after a few awkward and silent minutes, Stephen started to play some records. It was a big deal that these particular Berliners were coming to play, Get Physical is one of the hottest labels on the planet, and they are the anchors that make up its roster. The fact they were playing the Loft for free was an incredible stroke of luck that would put the space on the radar for all the underground promoters to see. It also raises the cache of the place, which in turn, raises the awareness of the resident DJ’s that run the spot, which is the purpose behind everything anyway.

By 5am people started filling in and mumblings and grumblings of amphetamine ambitions started picking at my ears. It is true that I had been awake longer than anyone should after drinking so much alcohol, but I was prepared for more exhaustion, so wasn’t too hard pressed for drugs. Larry, on the other hand, was on the verge of a meltdown lest he score some cocaine like, yesterday. Eventually he did, and I got a few bumps out of it, so everyone was sorted by 6am, when the place got crowded.

I saw another friend of mine. an industry hipster I actually quite like. He was on ecstasy and in a puddle with another guy and another girl, both of whom I didn’t recognize, but gave hugs to nonetheless. I stood on the podium and danced and didn’t feel like an idiot for a minute. The place was packed with hysteria for every record dropped. The windows were covered with a heavy curtain but still morning peaked in from its edges. Eventually I decided to leave, having been there and did that, I smoked the last of my cigarettes and hopped in the back of a car. Larry stayed, I think he smelled sex, the cocaine had made him too lurky to hang around anyhow.

When I got home I drank one more beer and lay on the couch for a while. It felt like someone was strumming my intestines and the music reverberated throughout every millisecond of my bones. I waited for the vibrations to steady into a hum. When they did I fell asleep and the sun from the creeping afternoon planted beads of sweat on my face and neck.