The Decadence Wrap-Up...

Saturday, I slept leisurely late. Decide to go back to Winkie's and look at those pants again. Wind up buying them. And a belt. And a shirt. *sigh* Then I drive to the Quarter for an afternoon showing of Ghost World. A sublime movie. It's kind of crowded and I, of course, am all teary at the end. The original comic book that it's based on is one of my favorites of all time. The movie juxtaposes quite a few things from it, but does so in a way that is incredibly faithful to its tone. And a way that tells the story better as a film, I imagine.

After the movie, I wander through Saks, picking up a Clarins face thingie. Then I run into the Quarter to say hi to Flynn at Fifi's. And wind up buying nail polish and eyeyliner to use for my glam look later in the evening. The nail polish is called Midnight Cowboy. Gotta love that. It's a skin toned glittery polish, so its barely noticeable.

Back home, some internet chat, dinner from Juans, then I head out to the Quarter for the evening. I try out a glam look for the first time. A velvety shirt, tight striped pants that flare at the bottom, messy hair, eyeliner, nail polish. It feels a little weird but quite fun. And quite decadent.

I run by 735 for a drink and to say hi to Tracy. A guy at the bar buys me a shot. With no prompting, Tracy says "my, aren't you all glammed out tonite." So, I guess the look works. A quick run to the ATM at Good Friends where a guy introduces himself. Not my type. Goofball.

Then to the Shim Sham. The night starts well. I meet two fabu drag queens who are in from San Francisco to hang out with Flynn. They totally kick the asses of NO drag queens. I'm having a blast. Dancing. Chatting with cool people. Running about. Drinking. Drinking too much...

At some point, I become absolutely obliterated. *big cringe* I can only imagine the foolishness that followed. I have vague memories beyond this point. I remember Robert, Steve and Tim arriving at the bar. I'm pretty sure I made a complete drunken ass of myself to Tim, who I'm meeting for the first time... I'm told later that I made out with a good friend, several times... And, at some point, I just wander off on my own... A short while later, I wake a friend up from sweet slumber to come pick my drunk ass up in the Quarter. Only a very good friend puts up with shit like this... And somehow, I've acquired a gaping cut on my scalp. Which, to this moment, no one that was with me that nite knows anything about...

So, Sunday is pretty much spent sleeping and feeling quite ill. QUITE ILL. I finally drag myself to Cafe Roma for some dinner, only about a third of which I manage to get down. While I'm there, my friend Dennis calls. He offers me a free ticket to Submission, the circuit-type party (that costs $60) at the Municipal Auditorium. I say yeah. I come home and rest more. More internet chat. I dress for the evening in simple form, knee length shorts, a black t-shirt and my Chucks.

My friend Wil calls and says that he and a couple guys are heading to the Quarter. I catch a ride with them. I hang with them for a bit in the streets and then when they head into the Pub, I head to party. I'm instantly out of place. I forgot to wear my best circuit wear. No camouflage pants and leather harness for me. No sailor suit either. No angel wings. No glow sticks. No 2Xist briefs. Whatever was I thinking?

I stand on the sidelines and mostly glare at people. I begin a running dialogue in my head about how much I can't stand gay 'culture'. The homogenity is frightening. So many guys thinking that they're creating a 'look' or a 'scene' when all they're doing is recycling the same tired shit over and over again. See above for examples. I also notice how no matter how cute or hot a guy is there, they all dance like a bunch of screaming queens. Doing all their little 'circuit boy' dances. It's like a enormous squad of testoteroned cheerleaders.

And it's really quite obvious that there are a lot of drugs in use. I spot one guy who I think is just absolutely beautiful. Until I get a close look at his crossed drug addled eyes... *sigh*

A few bright spots shine through. There are a small handful of people there who actually achieve a look with style. Little Derek is the champion. He's like some sort of semi-naked Barbella-style sci-fi geekboy from the future, with dayglo watergun. And the boy dances with sheer joy. I really enjoy watching him for a while.

I run into Brad & George from Baton Rouge. Talk to Dimitri aka Amtrakboy a few times. Meet a couple of friends of friends. But, within an hour and a half, I know it's not my scene. I need to be out of there.

So, I head back to the Quarter streets. St Ann is one big avenue of nastiness. I see a cute guy or four, but I can't help but to think that all of these guys have been out there all day and god only knows where they've been and what they've done. So, absolutely no one on the streets seems attractive to me.

I run back into the little group I rode out with. In a very short period of time, they've gotten thoroughly thrashed on hand grenades. It's quite amusing. They're dancing in the street. Running around screaming and trying to see things they don't need to see. It's not very amusing when Wil decides it would be cute to run his finger down my 3 day old tattoo with a lot of force. I don't see it coming and scream so loud everyone around us turns to look.

Eventually, I wander away from the boys and walk the streets alone some more. I run into another sometimes ..obnoxious friend from BR. He has a great mohawk haircut. He's also tweaking a bit on coke, I think...

I also chat a bit with another old BR friend, Mark, and some of his friends. Then I decide it's time to head home.

I walk to the streetcar stop... It's crowded, and no car in sight. I spend about half an hour there. A group of newly arrive Tulane freshmen (3 girls and one male cutie) make conversation with me. One of them starts to ask if I'm in school and then says, "oh wait, probably not, you look older, you must be like 25." Heh. I tell them the true age and inwardly beam as they all say I couldn't possibly be that old.

Just as I've about had it at the streetcar stop, between being bored silly and cruised by an old queen, my cellphone rings. The boys are leaving the Quarter. They run by and pick me up. I can tell the many people at the stop are quite jealous when a brand new Lexus pulls up and I hop in it.

Home. Sleep.

I declare a day of rest for Monday. Absolutely nothing of importance happens...

Tomorrow, i go to a movie...