Thursday...

Thursday…

It’s Fat Thursday and you’re not around.

Monday became Tuesday became Wednesday then became today because of some Valium that Grr-eat Tony left in the flat last month. You’re not here. Were you around when I was sleeping with the Valium? You were. Now you’re gone. Mad about the valium. Are you in the streets? Traveling back in time to the moment that stays still while the dream moves ahead? Have you gone back to Zebra looking for our coat? It doesn’t’ matter. All that matters is that I’m back and you’re gone. Now the clocks yelling at me. 11:18. Night again. It’s time to go out again.

My voicemail box is full of fun messages from Alex that sound more like a desperate cry for attention. Each message indicates an increasing level of rejection that stems from a fear over my absence. Two are recorded while he’s talking to someone who is ordering takeout. It sounds like Andy. Instead of listening I’m taking some more reds and yellows before hanging up and calling Wayne but he’s in the Caribbean with old Gina who hasn’t been new Gina since Tuesday of this week. I tell Wayne’s voicemail I need a ride. I don’t care where he is. He needs to make this happen. Alex is planning a trip to New Guinea at Saks Fifth avenue. He’s waiting when I call him. There’s a park bench in the square and he’s sitting there alone. Going to New Guinea. I’m not amused, but I said I meet him anyway because he promised to get me some different candy. Valium is when you want to disappear. I’m ready to emerge. Let’s dance.

3am. Wayne’s office girl keeps calling me back with info. It’s been three hours now and Wayne hasn’t called me. I can’t believe that I’m still talking to this girl. She isn’t being cool about it. She sounds irritated that I need a car. It isn’t her business why or how. Only to take care of this. I call Wayne and leave another message to get someone else on the phone. Alex keeps sending me picture texts of some fat guy’s balls in a sling. I don’t want to see this. I’m completely dry but too awake to notice the difference. It’s 45 degrees outside and there’s an 80% chance of rain. I’m taking a jacket.

The black town car pulls up at 4:30. There’s a homeless man dancing with a bag on his head while humming the national anthem. I join in and sing about the Rockets Red Blare as he salutes me. His paper bag hat flies off and I get into the car. The driver is new but I’m still going to sit in the front. I take a hit before introducing myself to Gary. Gary is already an interesting character. He smiles a lot for 4am and has a funny tooth. He tells me that my jacket is amazing. It is. I’m wearing the next best Armani jacket with some deconstructed jeans. Even Alex will get a kick out of my ensemble.

We reach Saks at 5am. There’s no sign of Alex. I don’t like this car that Gary has. It isn’t nice like the Escalade. The seats are warm but leather looks worn. The glove box has a bag of tricks which is a nice surprise. Gary tells me that this is Wayne’s personal car. I think Wayne needs a new car. Wayne hasn’t called me back and I need a hit.

I ask Gary about this job that sends him out into the late nights and early mornings to drive Wayne’s car. It’s different from Gina’s gig. He says “I can’t talk about it.” There’s a gun in his waistband and I’m starting to wonder if Gary is really a driver. We’ve made a circle and there’s Saks again but still no sign of Alex. We park there and wait for a little while. Gary isn’t much of a conversationalist so we sit in silence. I take a hit. He watches me take another and shakes his head. Judgment is the worst kind of prejudice. I don’t really like Gary anymore. We wait a bit longer and the silence becomes palpable.

I take a hit and then I tell Gary to take a spin around the Square. We circle the square a handful of times before heading to China Town. I’m reminded that Alex likes noodles when he’s drunk. There’s a Dragon parlor with great noodles that’s open 24 hours in the south part of the neighborhood. Gary tells me about the latest music trend involving this fabulous female singer that’s playing a sold out show for free in the Tenderloin next week. He’s going and asks me if I want to join. I shake my head and tell him I don’t know. He keeps looking at me like we should be friends. Looking more and more hungry when he asks about my plans later. I tell him I don’t know again. Then I take a hit. This Gary isn’t interesting like Gina. He’s boring me. I wish Alex were here. He’d make this interesting somehow.

Alex is standing outside of the Dragon parlor and watching a pair of dykes go at it. I can’t believe this is fascinating to him. I’m bored and almost out of reds. The blues went first. There was only one yellow. Gary wants to know if we still need him. I tell him to take off. Alex is feeling up on one of the lesbians. It’s a weird threesome but they’re all enjoying themselves. I’m trying to get wet. This isn’t where I want to be.

There’s a woman on the phone standing nearby. I think I know her and keep staring. She smiles and I walk over.  As I introduce myself I like to believe she is drunk although I doubt its drunk enough. We are talking and looking at Alex and the two women. It’s an interesting view in front of the Dragon Parlor. She tells me she’s getting a cab and I tell Alex I’m going with her. He takes my keys and hands me some candy then tells me to call the house later. We are leaving the square when I lean over and kiss her in the cab.

Morning light is more damning than anything else. Despite my own belief I’m in a nice place with a beautiful woman. But I don’t know her and she was drunk. I can see a heart shaped tattoo on her left calf as she rolls over and recall that I don’t know her name. I’m grabbing my clothes and looking for candy when I see someone else in the room. There’s a man with a large head sitting in a chair by the window. I keep moving toward the door until I’m in the hall. There’s another man doing the dishes in the small kitchen. It’s odd when these two men say nothing about the stranger in their flat. I’m tired and I decide to leave. Alex has called me twenty-two times in the last couple hours. Walking outside I light a cigarette and realize I’ve left my candy. I don’t care. This place is out of the scene and I’m ready to go home.

It’s been a half hour since I started walking. I’m standing on a corner next to a man with a dog that barks on command. I start crossing and the light hasn’t changed but that doesn’t matter. Alex calls and tells me that he is going to New York.

“Do you want to go?” he asks.

“I think so. What are we doing there?”

“Going to some parties and back again.”

“Well if you put it like that… ok.”

“I’ll leave instructions later.”

I’m ambivalent about leaving town later. You’re not around. You always like New York. Do you want to go? I can’t hear you and Wayne isn’t back yet but I think we’re going to New York. There are always a few people to see there. I tell Alex about the man and his dog. He says to go back and take a picture so I do.

There’s another person I think I know walking down the street. It’s 9am. I want food. I realize that this is someone I know. Aisha recognizes me and runs up with a kisses. I tell her about food. She says amazing and tells me she just left this guys place around the corner. She smiles with her smeared lipstick and then asks me if we should go to Baghdad. I tell her that I don’t care. I just want something to eat. Pancakes. Waffles. Anything but nothing.

At Baghdad she tells me that she’s dating an artist. A real genius. The type that went to school for business and decided to paint instead. I tell her I like that idea for her. She says she wasn’t with him last night. I ask her why not. She can’t explain it. But she tries to lie and tell me it wasn’t about him and it’s all about her. I can’t help but laugh. She gets mad but keeps smiling at me. I love it when girls smile. I ask her about candy and tell her about getting wet with Alex. She screams loudly when I mention Alex but keeps smiling. I’m not sure if it was a happy scream or not. Our food comes and it’s all so very warm and there’s nothing left to say when we eat. But she keeps talking.

“What are you doing these days?” she asks.

“A bit of this and that.” I tell her and take mouthful of food.

“What does this and that mean?”

I shake my head and indicate full mouth. She waits.

“Nothing much. I have a guy that makes things happen. I get to do what I want.”

“Oh.” She looks hurt and I think maybe she thinks I’m lying.
“It’s not like that. My business manager is a good friend. He handles anything I can think to invest in.”

“I see…” she sounds more hurt by this.

“It’s not really that interesting.” I smile and offer her some candy. I pass three of my emergency reds across the table.

She decides that she’s “not hungry anymore” and leaves me with the tab. But not before taking my last reds.

I’m walking home from Baghdad at 10am. I’m dry. My phone is dead. There’s no one but the homeless people on this street. I need a way home. Home is too far away. Alex’s place is even further. I’m in the middle of everything and no where, but there’s a man with a shopping cart from Whole Foods standing on the corner. He has a cigarette. So I bum one. A few minutes pass when I realize that this is a stop sign intersection and not a light. I could have crossed already. A cab stops and asks directions. It’s headed in my neighborhood and I tell him I’ll show you for a ride. The cab drops me home at 10:15.

You haven’t been home yet. Where are you? Did you leave town when I wasn’t looking? I realize I need to get a hold of Wayne when I’m staring at the stranger in the mirror. Alex’s red jacket is resting on the floor by the new chair next to that sofa thing you bought last month. There’s no reason to leave it here.

When I wake up, it’s a quarter to three. There’s a message on my desk and new number for my mailbox. The cleaning lady stopped by and talked to Alex. She wrote down Alex’s instructions while she was here. He’s left me a plane ticket and I need to be at the airport at 3:30. In about thirty minutes. The flight leaves at 4:15. “The ticket’s in the box on your table. Open it. Get on the plane faggot.” Reads the message. My cleaning lady doesn’t get paid enough to take his messages. I’ll leave her a bigger tip for that one. I’m not bringing clothes and I need to see Michael before I go. It’s 2:55. Running late. Are you coming with? Good. Let’s go.

Michael is the man you call when you can’t get a hold of somebody. He has connections. There’s no point in looking for Wayne. Michael tells me this. I can’t even fathom the idea of forgetting about him but there’s no other way. Michael asks me to stay. It’s 3:05pm and I tell him I can’t. Maybe next time. Probably not. Michael has something for the pain of it. Tells me I can use his bathroom to take care of it. Keeps telling me how he can help me out while I take care of it. I take it for later and make another excuse. Its 3:10pm and I’m shutting the door on Michael who is still touching and grabbing before it completely shuts. I’m in the cab getting into it again. I don’t care what you think. You could come around and stop me. But you won’t. And Wayne isn’t coming back before we leave.

Every time you think you know what will happen in an airport it changes. There are no security dogs this time, but a man with a wand. This proves interesting. Alex looks messy and I’m beyond soaked by the things that Michael shared with me. I’m going to remember to visit him more often when we get back. There’s a chance of rain tomorrow. Too bad we’ll miss it. The man with the wand is making an old lady take off her shoes and stockings in front of thirty people. Something about this moment keeps reminding me of your sense of humor. I can’t help but wonder why you stay hiding when there’s so much fun to be had. I take a hit in broad daylight while no one is watching me. During all of the fiasco the airport musak sounds like David Bowie’s China Girl. Alex grabs my waist and we start slow dancing and singing out loud. It’s 4pm and this is pissing off the people behind us in line.

The plane has no emergency exits. I want to find them but there are none. Alex tells me “we just aren’t seated by them.” This is fine. Alex looks like he wants to have sex with the guy in the seat next to him. I get up and ask the steward for a drink before everyone else boards the plane. He hands me a small glass and a tiny bottle of Stoli. This reminds me of vodka infused mint chocolate ice cream. And that reminds me of Wayne before it reminds me of you. Walking back to my seat I keep wondering about the absentee emergency exits when I down the bottle and crunch the ice. I don’t care too much about the exits now because Alex is already giving this guy a free hand while no one is watching. I’m turning around and getting more Stoli. There’s a stewardess that looks like a cartoon character with oversized breasts and orange skin. I tell her there’s a man in my seat. I give her Alex’s seat number. Before she walks away I tell her I need another bottle of Stoli cause I’m a nervous flyer. She pats my shoulder and hands me five more bottles. I take the Stoli and look for the exits. I may need one.  






Thursday. Some weeks start on Monday some start on Friday and others start on Tuesday. Mine used to began on Thursdays a very long time ago. And of course how could I forget Thursday cocktails? Another lifetime. Digressed. This is another from the (???) Perspectives. They haven't been in order and mostly they are not new. It's consuming me once again and this round its a bit more challenging between moonlighting so I thought why not share a bit more... Ah the balance of the juggle with knives and I love it. Develop an instinct for what works for you. Then let no one interfere with that vision. Anyway... happy Thursday, cheers and all that jazz. Enjoy. kisses. m.