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We had a pleasant though uneventful yesterday. I’d forgotten how much of a hassle it is to get places in the snow. Of course, I’d also forgotten the warm, gooey feeling you get as you walk into the museum/restaurant/shop you’ve been trying to reach for an hour and a half. My grad-school friend David (a Yankee who was, by the way, one of the best directors I’ve ever met), used to insist that winter was far preferable to summer precisely because of that. He’d argue that there’s something warm and nurturing about coming in from the cold to sit by a fire, but dragging yourself out of the Louisiana heat into an air-conditioned building didn’t have the same effect at all. Frankly, I dunno if I totally agree–I mean, I far-and-away prefer 100-degree temps to sub-freezing ones. Still, I like a good fire….

Of course, getting places would be slightly less exhausting if I were able to wear normal shoes. As it is, though, with all the snow and slush and crap, I prefer to wear boots, which means my legs and feet are worn out by the end of the day. Lucky for me, shopping at places like the world’s best bookstore can be remarkably rejuvenating….

(I promise, I’ll get off this reflective tip soon–back to regular old stupid crappy quasi-funny posts. Stay tuned.)

See you tonight, New Yorkers!

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After a 13-hour journey (which was only supposed to have taken 6), Jonno and I finally arrived at Chad’s apartment last night.

There’s still snow on the streets, and more’s supposed to fall tomorrow. The city is grey as usual, but shiny, too. On the drive in, as we crossed town on 53rd Street, Jonno commented on how much wealth there is here–new buildings everywhere, sparkly things in lobbies seen through smoky mile-high plate-glass windows. I’m not used to being around things that conspicuous anymore, and it makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Guilty, even.

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Well, kids, we’re nearly off. By mid-afternoon, Jonno and I will be frolicking in the dingy, snow-filled gutters of NYC, firmly ensconced at the little minx‘s gracious urban estate.

See you all Friday!

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Well, I hope everyone took part in some delightful New Year’s festivities. Jonno, Chad, and I traipsed through the Quarter, watched the semi-entertaining fireworks display on the levee, and wandered around fagland ’till the cows came home. (Of course, as always, this one came in well before the other heifers. As some of you know, I have a real aversion to seeing the sun rise–unless I’ve awakened to see it.) Anyway, I’m sure someone will post pics soon….

And, you New Yorkers join us for drinks in Hell this Friday, January 5. We’ll be there for a couple of hours, from 5:30 or 6:00 ’till around 8:00. And just in case the joint’s closed (I mean, you never know), our backup spot’s gonna be Florent. Yeah, I know it’s the same thing we did a couple of years ago. What, you expect me to be original or something? See you there…

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Haikus for the Penultimate Day of the Year

The plays are almost done.

One more show tonight

(If you haven’t seen it).

* * *

The little minx sleeps.

He says it’s cold in our loft.

I say, wear socks, Mary.

* * *

We’ll be in New York soon.

There’ll be a party (Friday?).

Details to come.

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Another snippet found floating aimlessly in the My Documents file. It’s my favorite piece of bathroom graffiti ever, which I transcribed directly from the wall of the men’s restroom at the Audubon Hotel:

the streets are full of sinister eyes and ringworm

and ringworm shall cast its judgement upon thee

bob, for example, has ringworm

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I was always fastidious as a child. My room was kept painfully neat and ordered–so much so that my friends used to delight in shifting around my bibelots ever-so-slightly just so they could watch me scurry around and straighten them again.

As I’ve gotten older, though, I’ve found my anal-retentive tendencies slipping away like so much yak butter on a hot Mongolian day. Little mini-holidays like this when I have a few days to myself are practically the only time the old me can shine through. Not surprisingly, today I’ve decided to tidy up my computer a bit.

During this sort-and-vet process, I’ve come across some old things I’d completely forgotten, including this lovely meditation on Circuit fags. Even if you’ve read it before (and I’m sure you have, dearie), why not sing along just for fun. Humor me for chrissake….

The Gay Circuit Scene
(to the tune of “My Favorite Things”)

Bullets and bumpers and yellow sunglasses,

Barbacks and doormen with tight little asses,

Tattoos and Levis on e-ver-y queen,

These are all part of the Gay Circuit Scene.

Dealers and bouncers and homely fag haggies,

Uppers and downers in clear plastic baggies,

Hots shorts and cock rings and all things obscene,

These are all part of the Gay Circuit Scene….

Glo-sticks and Blow Pops and loud metal whistles,

Tearing your cheek on unshaven back bristles,

K-holes and O.D.s becoming routine,

These are all part of the Gay Circuit Scene.

Refrain: When my week bites, when my job sucks,

When my life is sad,

I simply retreat to the Gay Circuit Scene

and then I don’t feel…much of anything.

Miss Morabito and Victor and Abel,

Junior who spins like my dead gramma Mabel,

Tic-Tacs and Tina to make you so lean,

These are all part of the Gay Circuit Scene.

Cher and Madonna and Cher and Madonna

Cher and Madonna and Cher and Madonna

Cher and Madonna, you know what I mean,

They are all part of the Gay Circuit Scene.

Tickets and lines and the ex-boyfriend wanker,

Curse her, berate her, then pay her and thank her.

My wallet is empty of all that is green,

This is just part of the Gay Circuit Scene.

Refrain: When the gym’s closed, after hours,

And I’m going mad,

I simply retreat to the Gay Circuit Scene and then I don’t feel…what did you ask me again?

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Since my boyfriend has already written up an accurate chronicle of yesterday’s fun-filled family events, I won’t bother to re-hash–although he missed out on the near-agonizing round of shopping through A&F with my younger brothers (they’re straight, so it’s excusable). But just in case you’re curious about what today holds in store, I found a much more graphic description of that regional holiday delicacy known as turducken. (Vegetarians beware.)

the obligatory family portrait--can you tell i'm adopted or what? the new 'do, with a special appearance by the boyfriend we paused before the monument

Happy day, folks!