"When I first met my SpottieOttieDopalicious Angel/I can remember that damn thing like yesterday"
Saturday night brought me to Williamsburg to attend Farmer's going away gathering. As I've said before, our relationship has been up and down, but a lot of my post-school episodes have been due to him. He's only gone for a month or so before coming back to regroup, but he's as good as done with New York after the New Year. I haven't decided exactly how I feel about that yet, but I'll miss him for sure. Also in attendance was Grandmastah H and his roomie, B. The three of us bonded in the corner away from the cokeheads strangers and because they can't help themselves, pics were taken. I'll post some when they post them up. Just checking them out to give my save approval, it really struck me how ubitiquous the Kangol is. They've got a million pics of me and I'm always in it. Poor B doesn't even know what I look without it and I'm sure GH doesn't remember. Ah well. I've only got a few more weeks of this hat before I have to find something to cover my poor freezing ears. GH remarked at how "hip" the party was and how all it was missing was a fleet of trucker hats. He even accused me of having one. The horror! I didn't kill him for the insult and we coopted the couch before getting bored and blowing the place. The three of us took the L into Manhattan together before they succumbed to the lure of the bed, the net, and digital cable and I, ever intrepid, was off to my Friendster's afterhours party.
See every episode remains in this mode/Very cool, very calm, there's no sweat in my palm
I got there just before 4am right before they started charging. *whew* It was a good time, a strange yet mostly not unfamiliar mix of nightlife people about town. I saw the random girl I met at Sapph forever ago and I finally got the name gaps of the regulars filled in. I also realized why I keep getting offered bumps and such -- I have very druggie behaviors. Namely the circuiting and general party antsiness with constant trips to the bathroom. It's because despite how lively a place is, I have to move around and get a change of scenery. I just walk in the bathroom and wash my hands or do nothing more than take a mirror glance, then walk out. I'm also sure that I periodically touch my defective nose doesn't really help matters much. And because my general party mode is in the mix yet outside of it, so people probably just figure that I'm on something. Then again, people on shit always want to believe that everyone else is too. Oh fuck it, I'm obviously protesting too much, so I've obviously got a slight cocaine problem. Except I really don't. I have no idea why I end up talking about it so much. I guess it's the damned sociologist in me trying to figure it all out. I'm always being constantly surprised by people with that. It's always the ones you don't suspect.
In other news, I'm still tired of being hit on. Scratch that, I'm still tired of being hit on badly. This one guy who said he recognized me from 419 (which isn't so far-fetched, especially since he named Sunday night in particular) kept periodly coming up to me saying something more idiotic than his comments before. Like while I was standing in line with my hoodie on: "You look strong, girl, like you would beat a man." Uh...thanks? Because I was cool towards him, he accused me of misjudging him by the way he looked (he reminded me of Mr. Cheeks kinda, just a lot less attractive) and I decided to bite me tongue instead of saying I judged him by his annoying persistence, touchiness, and how he insisted I really, really looked like I needed a bump or at least had to give him the opportunity to pile me with drinks, so he could wear me down being the unspoken part. As appealing as that was, I think it's easy to understand why I was majorly underwhelmed.
It all had to do with mood really. I just wanted to dance and take the atmosphere in. The music was dope. DJs were bringing their vinyl and doing little sets. I had to have heard about 10 different ones in the 3 hours I hung around. My Friendsters were introducing me around and it was nice to be more than just that invisible kid on the sidelines. But, I think the scene is one of those where they can smell fresh meat a mile away. I could see that I generated interest, but really it doesn't phase me. It's good to be friends with those that have been around longer. As at Sapph where my bartender friend basically told me flat out that some of the promoters no matter how cute or slick they might be are bad news, a girl I know from there intervened when some new guy (who truthfully didn't even rate for me) tried to step. You've got to have comraderie in the trenches and always keep your wits about you as a general rule. Some areas in New York will always be as seedy as they used to be. Luckily, this girl wasn't born yesterday. So, that night I was guarded after the night before's lack of impulse control when it really mattered. I do often what's the point of integrating myself into all of that so heavily when I know that ultimately I doubt that what's for me is in there. I guess it's the optimist in me hoping that I can find the exception to the rule.
Posted by Candicissima at November 16, 2003 09:22 PM