slaked's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- obloquy. noun. 1. Abusively detractive language or utterance. 2. The condition of disgrace suffered as a result of abuse or vilification; ill repute. Friday. I walk up the west hill to D's house, it is dark and warm, moon is waning and bloated, looking yellow and singed around it's edges. There are couples everywhere. This is my first fall not in love, old love, new love, no love. I am warm in the feeling. I don't have to convince myself about this one. I climb the stoop, under the tiny yellow light, and wait out side her door for a minute. I listen trying to place the music on the other side of her door, but nothing. The guy who lives across the way sticks his head out of his open doorway and I give him a "hey", and knock on the D's glass door. Terney (D's best friend from Boston who is Moving to SF) is there, and they are drinking whiskey and ginger ale. Terney tells me stories of their old friend A., and A's porpoise like emanations from the couch whilst participating in a sexual interlude. She uses the word Fuck at lot, she says it in a way that it is low in the ass rather than sharp. I like it. We finish are drinks, and head to the premier event on Friday nights in my town, karaoke at the World War II Veteren's Club. Karaoke depresses me, and when we enter, the big boy from the candy store is in the midst of Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus. He is all jerky muscles, and swaying Linsey Buckingham hair, and have to keep my back to him as I order my beer. It is loud, it is smokey, and the population is divergent. People I have never seen before, and people I know too well. The Karaoke Crew is not here tonight, bad sign. There will be no slow grind against the periscope tonight, that is okay, because C. (cat like woman who is the arch nemesis of my ex and her sister) is giving R. (Tibetan boy who once stalked my ex and had a freak out at his place of employment that involved tossing of hotel pans at fellow employee's heads) a lap dance on the "dance floor" to All I Want To Do is To Zoom Zoom and a Boom Boom. I swear that if it were not for the double protective layer of cotten/lycra she would be with child. I grab P. (sometimes known as Dutch, or Josphenie) when she makes her entrance, and Jen begins her version of Delta Dawn. Terney is somewhere close, I can hear her, "Come on. fuck it, come on." L (girl always on the make) appears out of nowhere, and asks what kind of beer I want. As she goes to the bar, I turn to D and Terney, and say, "Twenty minutes and we are gone." They nod. L (girl always on the make) comes back, and tells me I owe her a night out since I "blew" her off this summer. She asks me to tell her where I live, and I try to be vauge, but there is no need, because she doesn't know Hamp, except for where M. (boy my ex messed around with, who L is in love with and often spends the night with, but for some reason he won't give her the time of day) lives. I tell her that I live around the corner from him, and that I know his house. She wants me to show her where I live sometime. Terney says, "Let get the fuck out of here." Smiles, and ciao. To the Grotto for dancing. We get kicked off the patio at midnight, and rounded back into the closet, and end up on the street. My back against the club's wall, warm and base rumble against it. Terney is telling us how when the temp got fired he left a packet of nude photos of himself in his desk. "Who the fuck has a manila envelope of nudie photos of themselves, and who the fuck would bring them to work!" My sides hurt from laughing, and I give her a hug, and smooch D on the cheek, I shake P's (sometimes known as Dutch, or Josphenie) hand, and wish them a good night, and walk down the hill, far enough away and oblivious to the fact that the girl and her model boy have just pulled up. 18:38 - Tuesday, Oct. 09, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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