Wednesday, October 24, 2007

But you already know I can't tell

Yes, I'm back at the Nob Hill Theatre. The guy at the front counter says hello like I was just there yesterday, the problem is that even though it's been a month and it still feels that way. Walking around in circles thinking I should leave now I really should leave now I've been here too long I should leave now. I don't like disco, but here it's the best part, another place where dancing would make everything so much better.

You want to know about the porn: Dutch boys barebacking -- that one's okay until they start to look too skinny and anxious, piled one next to the other in fucking pairs, probably a brothel importing fresh Eastern Europeans. Then there’s big-budget LA mainstream porn, puffed-up guys with insanely big dicks, is that really -- and no, really? My favorite is two guys cruising on an airplane, one of them is jerking off and the other guy’s looking anxiously over his shoulder at the supposed other passengers, his girlfriend asleep between them but then I accidentally switch to some guy wrapped in latex, whimpering, and when I'm back the two guys on the plane are naked in another row of seats where are the other passengers it's not exciting any more.

Back in the hallway, there's this hot guy who always reminds me of someone who worked with me 15 years ago at Harold's Newsstand just a few blocks away -- that guy, Mervin I think was his name -- no, Melvin -- he showed me his Blow Buddies card and said I'm bisexual. This other Melvin is always here, brooding with a hat, a little bit of facial hair barely perceptible. I've never seen him hook up with anyone. Back in a room, I watch someone's fingers at the glory hole -- I'm not into him, but I can see how fingers softly brushing a hole can become alluring, no matter who they belong to. After I'm about to leave for the 35th time, standing in the hallway grabbing my hard-on through my pants this guy walks by he looks excited. He's kind of cute -- bald head, I like bald heads, the early years of middle age, on the clubby side of preppy -- mainstream gay circa 1995, I don't mind that look. I let him back in me into a room and then it all leads up to those physical gestures of his cock hardening in my throat until he’s about to leave the room, says he's going to take a break. I love breaks, but doesn't he know the place is about to close? I say hold my balls, and then I shoot onto the seat, I say I hope someone sits there. I don't really mean that, it's just that the guy looks sort of scandalized -- girl, don't worry it's vinyl.

I walk outside and this guy does a double-take, turns around and says well you're certainly a faggot, a faggot with a circus for pants you're a faggot if I've ever seen a faggot. I want to shrug it off but it's kind of annoying he's so close I'm laughing, that's what I do in situations like this. His tweaker friend with his shirt open keeps walking, I look at this guy he looks a little bit like Melvin -- similar height, kind of short, big eyes soft round face, maybe Latino or South Asian kind of cute I mean is he flirting with me or bashing me? I'm sure you can understand my predicament here. All of his gestures are reading straight but he says where are you going. I say I don't know. He says I'm going somewhere to do drugs. His eyes bugging in and out and he's swaying, the guy across the street is yelling I took care of you, this guy says no I took care of you -- and the tweaker’s already grumbling from a block away but maybe still waiting.

This guy is touching the front of my pants -- why are you in such a good mood -- you’re a mess your fly’s open, are you a stripper here? I'm laughing, zipping my fly. I say it won't last that long, I'll get home and I'll be depressed. He says or were you just having fun? I grab him playfully and kiss the back of his neck, it's true I am in a good mood I guess it's because I just came -- sometimes touching someone else, even if he's not that engaged, is enough to make me feel hyper-present and playful. This guy sort of turns around and then I kiss his neck from the front too. He says what are you on?

I'm trying to remember if I used to ask people that when I was on drugs, I guess it's true that everyone else seems really really high. I'm laughing and this guy says oh -- everything, what do you mean what am I on – everything! The tweaker is yelling from the distance, this guy yells back GO AWAY. I say who's that tweaker? This guy says I'm gonna hit you in the head, and he holds two plastic bottles in the air, I step back. I say what's that? He says silicon -- I say what are you going to do with silicon? He says I work at Lucas films, I'm gonna hit you in the head -- go away.

I start walking downhill and maybe he has friends who show up and they're pointing in my direction, I'm not sure. I'm in the mood where everything is fun really, especially the deserted streets and I'm wondering if maybe that guy thought I was crazy because I was flirting with him after he kept calling me faggot. I guess that was kind of crazy, but you already know I can't tell. I'm walking slowly to appreciate the few minutes I have before exhaustion, until I'm at the bus stop looking at those terrible digital displays they've installed that tell you how long you have to wait but it's always longer: this one says next bus in 71 minutes.





2 comments:

matty said...

You know how to take care of yourself. You've certainly been in some sticky situations, but be careful.

The world needs you.

I found the scene there to be rather cold and mean. ...and, of course, sexy. But, that was years ago.

...gotta love MUNI.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Cold and mean, indeed -- not that sexy, really. Except, of course, when it is...

Love --
mattilda