Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Just me on the dance floor just me twirling around like the ground is a different space

Dinner with my mother -- dinner is the best part. The last time I went to Greens, I thought it was overpriced vegetarian food for meat-eaters on diets -- "let's try something different tonight." But this time they have vegan options for almost everything, and it's all delicious, from the fennel salad to the lobster mushrooms mixed in with the mushroom ravioli -- lobster mushrooms actually taste like lobster -- I mean lobster without that cute clawed animal burned alive, I watched my parents do that too many times until I ran into the yard once and set one free, they only ate lobster out after that. I never tasted it.

Anyway the food at Greens is delicious and I feel so different after telling my mother everything I wanted to say, and more really yes more I mean I wasn't planning all the details about childhood, just the framing about what I'd like from her. The three women next to us are working some kind of Sex in the City thing, one of them’s giggling about how she's dating two guys at once -- two guys and it's great, it's really great -- then they’re all talking about someone who bought a house for 1.2 million and then put an extra million into it, then sold it for 2.5 so he made about 250,000 and you can still sell a property if it's the right property, it just has to have the right features.

After dinner, my mother and I are trying to find a cab but there aren't any, we walk further into the Marina or actually it's Cow Hollow where we’re going at the base of Pacific Heights. It looks like everyone's waiting for a cab, on each corner there are four or five people who look like they're from Connecticut, frantically looking in each direction and assessing the competition. I realize it's the night before Folsom Street Fair and the night of Love Fest, San Francisco's imitation Berlin rave spectacle, so that's why there aren't any cabs. My mother doesn't like to take buses, but we're waiting at the bus stop anyway because now my body’s hurting I can't walk any further. My mother's getting all stressed out the situation, I guess it's probably five hours past her bedtime with the time change and all. Finally we get to Van Ness and catch the bus past throngs of people all along the street waiting for taxis, to O'Farrell and then miraculously the Geary bus is coming too, so we're back at my house for my mother doesn't want to come up, so waits for me to go to the bathroom and then come outside to flag down a cab for her.

Outside my apartment it's no problem getting a cab, probably because I'm right between tourism and nightlife but not right in the middle of either. We hug and my mother says I love you, as she's getting into the cab I think of saying I love you too I mean also but I don't have enough time to think about it.

Back in my apartment I'm exhausted and my body hurts but I still want to go out to that bar with a backroom, I mean it's the same bar as last time but it's a different club. I do my feldenkrais movements and then I'm on the phone with Gina, she's talking about cruising fags and then I realize maybe I should be cruising fags so I conjure a burst of energy and rush out at 1:20. As soon as I get there I have to shit -- my terrible digestion -- but at least the bathroom is available.

Downstairs, there's a curtain up this time, I mean a sheet to sort of separate the area. There are people around, but this time it's mostly the type you would expect in a backroom, I mean the type that looks like they haven't left the backroom since 1979 or maybe 1989, I'm not sure because it's dark, okay? The first guy I cruise says I'm going too fast, whatever that means in a backroom I mean I'm all for exchanging sexual herstories but somehow I'm guessing that wouldn't go over so well either. Someone with big lips and the Folsom weekend leather outfit on ends up sucking my dick but I keep on having to pull his hand away -- girl, why so frantic -- take your time and use your mouth, okay? I could ask her whether she got here in 1979 or 1989, but instead I move for this big youngish guy with a shaved head who ends up sucking me off after I suck his dick for not that long but he's really into it -- I mean me -- I mean I'm up against the wall next to another one of these frantic cocksuckers, but this one has a super-cute yet slightly hollow face maybe he's tweaking, now someone is sucking his dick I'm holding his head the other guy is sucking my dick I'm holding his head too and then I come, leaning down to make out with the guy with the shaved head and then laughing, damn it's hot in here -- why is it so hot in here?

He's rubbing my sweater -- are you wearing cashmere? I am wearing cashmere, it's that yellow vintage sweater with an orange paisley pattern, I threw it on at the last minute because it was chilly out. I say how did you know it was cashmere -- when I bought it I had no idea because of the crazy pattern, I just assumed it was synthetic but I put another one like it in the dryer and now it's a tiny doll sweater. He says you're crazy -- but I know what cashmere's like.

He says are you done? Oh, wait -- all of this happens much later, I mean several minutes later because when he says are you done is when he is actually on his knees facing away from me and he says are you done? I say I don't know, what about you and that's when he starts to come I rub the top of his head with one hand and the back of his neck with the other. So who knows what happens in between, afterwards we’re making out and then we’re not making out anymore but wait this is when the guy with the shaved head says are you done, that makes so much more sense! And I spot this hot guy standing behind the bench where the shy people who think maybe they're too cute for the backroom like to stand because they're kind of in the backroom but they're kind of not. That's when I'm speaking in an exaggerated whisper to my new friend, which is why you says I'm crazy -- you know, no talking in the back room -- I say let's go make out with him. I lean over and say do you want to make out? He says not really, so I kiss him on the neck and say well then at least let's hug, hugging is fun and then I'm talking to my new friend -- see, he was sweet, he didn't want to make out but he was friendly about it -- a lot of people just aren't friendly. My new friend says I think he liked it, he was really smiling.

Later I'm thinking about this certain type of person that I find really hot, is it a round shape of the face -- is that what I'm attracted to? I mean I know I like shaved heads, a certain type of soft masculinity and other more tragic types too, sometimes big-eyed naïveté camouflaged by earnestness but also I think there's something about this round shape of the face, maybe shortish or medium-height guys too I mean who the fuck knows -- really it's all about the moment, my new friend is way taller and way bigger than me, the guy against the wall earlier has very angular features so don't get me wrong I like all types or not all types but I like the moment, the moment is what it's about that charge. But still it's fun to try to puzzle it all together.

Then what happens -- I'm upstairs and so crazed, I mean crazy now for sure though I can't find my new friend it's like I'm high with all of this weird club kind of energy, then I'm on the dance floor and it's not terrible disco like I expected it's actually okay electro and house, so I figure I'll just dance for a few minutes -- I mean I'm not supposed to dance at clubs right now because last time I really hurt myself but I figure I'll dance really really slow which is hard I'll admit because I keep wanting to throw down one of my fast moves for the straight tweaker Love Fest burnout types who've apparently arrived just now to dance with me, since the faggots are all in a cluster on the sidelines.

Then I'm twirling around, falling down smiling at the fags really smiling like looking guys right in their eyes and they’re sort of cruising me from the distance I wonder if I should go closer but I'm so present it's this feeling I miss, someone comes up to me and says I like your dramatic dance moves, what's your name -- Mattilda -- you're not Mattilda the activist? I guess that's me. Oh you won't believe it -- I got my ex-boyfriend who became a tranny your book, the square one, and then we argued about it we really argued you got me so mad, you're sexier than I would have thought. And I'm leaning on him like this is part of the dance, apparently he's the one who brought the Love Fest types then he's gone, they’re all gone I'm still dancing I keep thinking now's the time to stop, I should stop but then I keep going until it's just me on the dance floor just me twirling around and the bar is closing.

Outside it's like the ground is a different space than before, at home I'm exhausted but thinking about the way I felt on that dance floor, like I had my own space like nothing could touch me but also I was present in everything around me I guess since all the pain started it's rare that I'm so present in my body. I want to feel that sense of possibility about sex and movement, I'm ready to make this my new project I mean me, my sexuality, making it feel hopeful and liberatory again.

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