Monday, December 31, 2007

Drums softening the holes in my head

Sometimes coming just feels stupid like an annoying crash from the arousal before. They're playing Here Comes the Rain Again but it's not the Eurythmics it's some man I mean there was a man in the Eurythmics but not this one. It's even more overwrought than the original, like you can hear the ocean in the circuit beats and I'm hugging this guy and it's funny because this is when the kissing gets really good, okay maybe that's why I came but it's still not as good as the music wants it to be. That's what makes me think of a trick but the good part the concentration, like I'm holding on to find what's next I'm not quite there yet until he starts scratching my back that's what really makes me smile and make that giggle that sounds like a hum.

In public sex spaces it's so much about COCK COCK COCK, which is fine for a while but then sometimes I'm like what the hell was I just doing? I start worrying that my jaw or my neck will hurt for the next few days and then when will it go away? But mostly I just want to explore those other genitals that soft place behind knees beneath hands in between neck and chin behind ears oh.

The best part is actually when he’s kissing my neck my eye resting inside his ear just when I want to dive into your ocean comes on again it's funny like looking into a conch shell except my eyes are closed that's so I can feel things better.

I wake up with the worst sinus drama yet, it's like someone stuffed carpet into my face and the plastic part at the bottom with all the glue is scratching into my forehead, the chemicals going out my nose instead of in. Just after I was thinking how great it was that Blow Buddies actually has a system where there's a smoking area outside but you walk down a few stairs to reach it and the door actually seals, so the smoke doesn't come in unless someone sits right by the door, last night there were pot fumes for a little while but it wasn't a big deal, what was worse was probably all the heat that's always blasting so all these queens can walk around like it's a circuit party without a dance floor. I'm sure the guys doing poppers right by my face didn't help either, and that place is so dirty that I always get black marks on my powder blue corduroys, not a big deal because I can wash them off but maybe the dirt gets into my sinuses too -- if I can't have salvation, I might as well search for an explanation.

Maybe it's the humidity -- today I smell the mold in my apartment for the first time in a while and I'm lonely, yes I said I'm lonely and I don't know who to call because I don't call that many people it just ends up exhausting me and I already know that the ones I do call aren't available to get together. At least the sun's out, after sitting on the fire escape I decide to go to Haight Street to get music because I don't listen to music enough, sometimes the right song can bring me out of everything and into something else although then sometimes I get wired and I crash but at least I've gone somewhere no maybe that's worse. But sometimes I don't crash, and that's definitely better. I haven't gotten new music in over a year -- I kind of gave up because I kept buying things that I ended up hating or not hating but not liking either and then I couldn't get back to Amoeba to return them for store credit before the due date.

So I take the bus downtown to catch the 7, I'm standing on the bus island on Market Street and these guys are talking about me, a 40-something angry, smoking white guy wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans is saying something to these two younger black guys wearing big decorative hoodies in the style of the moment, plus different SF baseball caps, actually they all have SF baseball caps -- maybe that's what they have in common. Anyway, I don't catch what the angry guy says, but one of the other guys says this is the Bay, you can do that in the Bay, and I like that -- I'm sitting on the ground because I'm too tired to stand anymore, I don't know why they designed these bus islands without seats, just another reason to make us hate people in cars.

This is when I realize that my sinus drama has gone to the next level, because I can't imagine getting on the bus to go to Haight Street, but then I can't imagine getting up to catch the bus back to my house either. Whenever I sit down like this, I remember when I lived in New York and my sinuses were probably always like this, sometimes I’d get so tired that I’d have to sit on the side of the street and meditate although later I’d go into smoky bars and drink cocktails, I hadn't made the connection to the smoke yet or maybe I just didn't see other options.

Anyway, I'm trying to picture taking the bus to Haight Street and getting music at Amoeba, there's just no way, so I get up and walk around the corner to the Geary bus stop, already I have to piss and there's a construction site across the street, I never realized before how relaxing it is to piss into a grate, no worries about where the piss is running except maybe down below it's not the same story. The bus comes, and then I can't imagine going home it just sounds so awful -- I could take the bus all the way to the beach, but no that would be too cold. I decide to go to American Rag, because they have a sale so maybe everything will only be double the price it should be. Inside, one of the employees really likes my fashion choices, first she compliments me on the jacket I'm trying on, then she compliments me on the coat I'm wearing -- the lighting’s good and I realize today my my hair looks flawless, yesterday it wasn't working so well. I end up getting the blue corduroys that I didn't get last time because someone stole my credit card number and bought all these things at Victoria's Secret. But now they're actually affordable, I mean I went out to get music and I'm coming home with corduroys that are the same as the ones I wore last night to Blow Buddies except those are falling apart so they're more comfortable.

Walking in my front door, I'm thinking bed might be the only option but I don't want to get back in bed. First I have to wash my hands, because everyone on the bus was sneezing, but then after I wash my hands I'm still worried they might not be clean so I wash them again -- I hope I'm not getting obsessive compulsive. The worst part is that then I unroll the 50 foot phone cord for my new corded phone because of all the evidence that cordless phones give off as much radiation as cell phones even, and there's this weird powder on the cord so then I go into the bathroom to rinse my hands off, just to rinse them and before I realize it I'm washing them again.

No, I'm not getting back in bed. I'm not getting back in bed. I put on my favorite song of the moment, number 13 on the first Kid Koala album I discovered, it was my favorite until I got the next one which actually came out first but now I like this one better again, it's called Some of My Best Friends Are DJs and it doesn't have track listings or actually I probably lost the track listings so I'm just going to call this track number 13. Oh, wait -- here the list is, but it doesn't make sense because there are only 11 tracks listed.

Anyway, track 13 -- you can tell Kid Koala thinks it's important because it starts with a sample of a koala bear growling, I wouldn't know it was a koala bear except that's what it says I mean that's what it says in the song I mean what the song says, sometimes grammar can be so tricky. But really everything starts with that piano, jolly jolly piano and then that clack clack sound underneath, building into horns then that lovely sample: the more you dance, the more you romance -- I mean it's all samples, or skips and scratches just blending together there's no way not to move my hips just a little bit, eyes closed swaying as the horns get wackier building up and then down and up and then down and then it's the next song, maybe I should stop dancing but wait the song’s softer like the strumming of some spaceship guitar bending into Hollywood sadness soundtrack outside with the weeping willows weeping weeping willows I'm feeling their shape that's me, no wait it's the drums oh the drums softening the holes in my head I'll keep my eyes closed and just sway, hip to hip until the sound fades out, the only problem with Kid Koala songs is that they're so short.


grantatee said...

'I don't know why they designed these bus islands without seats, just another reason to make us hate people in cars.'--- I liked when you wrote that line. I can't wait to see your new pants.


mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Indeed, who wants to stand and choke on exhaust while waiting for the bus -- it's better if you're sitting...

New pants, what new pants? Oh, the ones that look exactly like the ones I already have -- you won't notice, darling...

Love --