* KP Disclaimer: Whenever I come out boldly against anything on a definitive thought basis, I'm bound to change my mind immediately afterwards. (This only applies to "I think"/"I feel" type statements.) I'm flightly as hell and beyond that, those declarations are good for making something happen to make me wish I never wasted the breath in the first place. (My forbidden phrase is "what else could happen?" because that usually makes things worse.) So, know that and understand it. Thanks. The Management *
What I was really complaining about the other day in regards to parties and their non-fun is a lack of the zany randomness that used to punctuate nights out and about. I need occasional assurances that I'm not the only weirdo in the world.
I had a couple birthday non-parties last week. The first at The DJ's night where having cute guys hug me so well was a present in itself. PrincessNella and Anthony conferred to choose for me which guy spoken so much about got the Friend Seal Of Approval. They picked the surprising one and it's good to know, but as usual, I'll do my own thing. I saw The Outer again (not surprising being that it's his party too) and he pronounces my AIM name totally wrong which annoys me. It's like Jamiroquai minus the -oquai plus -akid. Then again, if he knows enough to blow up my spot off of one misuttered word, he probably knows that and is just being a jerk. I take my AIM very seriously, goddammit. Friday, the kids came over and we stood around in my kitchen and ate that fucking good $30(!) strawberry cheesecake from Junior's. And I ripped a rack out of the wall in a semi-drunken wrong grab. Then, we walked out into the mini-blizzard and I discovered my neighborhood summer hangout spot. It doesn't get any better than cheap and around the corner, folks.
Last night, I found myself rolling out the house at almost 1am which is becoming par for the course when I've decided to keep the night in BK and not too far away from me. I'm into all these places sorta near my house (meaning a nabe or two away). So far I've been mostly popping up in Clinton Hill. The last blah night out had me going from a new Marquee-esque place by the Navy Yard and this chill spot where I got an African dance show(!) in the middle of the party. Then again, both places (well, maybe not the first) were super cool. I'm just a jaded asshole.
I ventured to the Clinton Hill/Williamsburg border and was amused to feel like I was transported back to a party at Wes or something. What do you get when you combine fresh faced Pratt kids with late 20s/early 30-somethings with an art collective space? A good fucking party, that's what. I spent the first bit of time there semi-apprehensive. A million little rooms -- but bands and a few massive dancefloors made up for the ultracliched sidecafe with bad poetry. Ever notice when people reading poetry that really sucks that they're all doing that hyperaffected tone? It makes me want to maim for real.
The second person I recognized at the place was The DJ. On some movie shit, the crowd parted just so and we saw each other. He gave me a wave and I waved back. I ran into him periodically as the night went on. Unless WMC brings things to a head or some miracle, I'm about ready to let that one drop. The first person I recognized was B whose band I was there to see. I've been rocking their gifted EP and popping up at their shows/DJ nights because I'm a fan. I've come to the conclusion that it's the '80s throwback clothes that make him look like Leisure Suit Larry because the resemblance was back for me. I dared not mention it again because he was a bit salty about that the last time.
ETA: The best part which I almost forgot. I was standing around in the bathroom line when I got into a conversation with this random (like I'm known to do). We're shooting the shit and he's like "I'm David, I DJ." I'm thinking *yawn* who isn't nowadays but me, but I say "oh really?" He drops his name and I go superfan spazz as I do everytime something like this happens. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. The funny thing is we actually met before in my Wes days when I was hanging with Mr. Scenester for a min, but it was a two second thing and I'm sure I look astronomically different. He handed me a flyer for his party this week and I chimed "oh, I already know about that." (Bugz! Squee!) He introduced me to his girlfriend Kitty and I repeated it lamely at her because I couldn't believe an adult could be named that, but she told me it's a nickname for something I forgot. The kicker though was when I was all "yeah I've been listening to a lot of [eh. check the link] lately." He sorta winced. *buzzer* I lose. It's bad form to be bringing up people's ex-wives at a party. Minus points for me.
I found myself bouncing all around, making friends with randoms. Dancing, drinking too much, wandering, laughing, just having a good time. I'll be bold and say that the stupidest sounding thing a guy can ever ask is "can I kiss you?" It is guaranteed a smirk and I've been known to come out with a "no" and then walk away just to be as ridiculous as that question. You could've colored me shocked that I emerged from the place at 6:30am. The light hurt my eyes! In a drunkie state, I decided to look for food and a good old crosstown bus. I was successful on the food front (mmm...White Castle!), but before I knew it, I had walked home from Flushing Ave. Ah well. I need the exercise since I'm on "Getting Back The Beach Body!" mode. I've got nine days, people!