Friday, December 19, 2008

Everything that fits everything

When this guy asks me why I'm at the Phoenix, I say this may sound strange but I'm here because I know there's no smoke. He wants to know if I read science books, or science fiction, or this other book that's not really either one but it’s about the way people with mental illnesses were treated at the turn-of-the-century and it's very sad. It's still sad, I say, maybe in a different way but it’s still sad. You're right, he says.

This is the guy who came up and asked if I wanted to talk to him, the guy sitting by the door that I clocked as someone with a speed problem, one of the other lonely characters in the bar I imagined and he wasn't drinking either. Lonely in a different way because maybe it's more obvious that he doesn't belong -- he's older, and doesn't fit any of the fashion types -- he's from Riverdale but he lives far out in New Jersey, he likes it better because of the trees. I know where Riverdale is because Andee worked there as a nanny in this enormous house that a married couple of anesthesiologists were renovating, Andee had a glamorous suite but I'm guessing this guy is from a different part of Riverdale not the rarefied mansions but the working class part he wanted to escape. He's a writer too, he writes contracts for ConEdison and when I tell him why I'm in this bar he wants to know if I’ve been to Christopher Street, sure it's right where I'm staying but it seems kind of quiet. I might go to Ty’s later, he says, and I could drive you over there. No thanks, I say -- I think I'm just going to walk around. Then he wants to know if I want to go to 311 Irving Plaza, what's 311 Irving Plaza? It's a gay bar, he found it on the internet and we could walk over there.

I'm getting hypoglycemic -- before I was talking to this guy I was staring out at the people at this bar and thinking oh, this is what a gay bar is like. There's nothing for me to do at a bar like this without dancing or sex and I'm talking to this guy whose eyes stare awkward and jerky and just then someone calls, unknown number, I'm going to answer this call I say and no way it's Andee, kind of late for her it’s close to 8 am in London. Hold on a second, I say, I'm going outside, and I say to the guy: it’s my friend Andee, who lived with me when I lived in New York I mean we went out together but now he lives in London, I'm going to go outside to talk to him but it was really nice meeting you. I like your sweater, he says, and touches my chest gently. Then I'm outside and Andee says where are you?

This is where I'm really sad, leaving this guy who everyone leaves I mean he's scared and no one's talking to him and then he touched my sweater and I hate gay bars there's no reason for me to go to gay bars and Andee says where are you?

I'm on Avenue A, walking by all the places we used to go together although to tell you the truth I wish Wonderbar was still open but if it was open there would probably be smoke and then I couldn't go there anyway and I'm going to that convenience store where we used to go because they had water that wasn't cold, lined up in the window, where is that convenience store is it this one? No, maybe it's not there anymore, oh here it this -- dammit I need to get something to eat but I don't want to go back to 2nd Ave. to the place with the vegan pizza because I'm going somewhere on Avenue C. to see if there's any smoke or maybe I'll go to 7A and get steamed vegetables.

I wish I were there with you, Andee says. If you were here, I say, we could go to the place with the vegan pizza -- you would like that place.

Okay, I need to get past steamed vegetables and past the bar that used to be Wonderbar maybe I should go in just to see but while I'm getting past there I notice that maybe mainstream gay people look at me differently here, they kind of seem interested like they're cruising me I mean the ones who aren’t immediately making fun of me but anyway I'm getting past that and past Avenue C. where the bar I'm going says it's closed for renovations now I'm getting to that point where my body is hurting from too much walking, even without a bag I left the house without a bag I was saying to Andee that's one thing I like about New York, that I can find something late at night that I can eat and Andee said a plane?

I know. A plane. She says it's the same distance to London, you should fly to London.

But then I wouldn't be able to get back.

New York is even preppier then I remembered, I mean it was always preppy but it seems preppier, even the fashionistas are wearing pea coats just something a little more tailored. Or one of those army-type jackets with big hoods, lined with fleece or fake fur, what’s the difference between an anorak and a parka? Gina has one that everyone wants and I have to look at it more closely to figure out exactly why. She wants it because it fits her, and it's warm she doesn't even have to wear a scarf but I know that's not why everyone wants it.

Anyway, then I'm walking towards a bar, just to go to a bar for a moment and flirt with someone and I need to piss anyway but maybe I should just go home I mean to where I'm staying but then I'm pissing on the corner because I can't decide and then I realize oh, the porn theater, that's better than a bar, and then I'm downstairs even though they're charging $10 and there's probably no one there but then there is someone, with one of those big army type jackets with a hood, the type of cologne which is maybe supposed to smell like something natural, here I'm thinking vetiver even if I don't know what that smells like and I kiss his neck, rub his chest but I can tell that's not what he wants so then down for his cock, yes for his cock yes finally it feels like finally even if I haven't been looking it feels like such a find, yes my lips and this moisture, this open mouth for everything that fits everything. Thrusting into my mouth this is my mouth and thrusting, hold, thrusting just what I need just this. He says I wish we were out there in the open, I'm not sure why since he wasn't cruising anyone else then he wants to open the door, sure, poppers but yes I could stay here forever except my feet will hurt and then he wants to take a break, maybe he's about to come or maybe drugs mean he's not going to come, why are you going to take a break here where there's no one else you want to have sex with it's empty except for three guys passed out and two brooding bruisers I know you weren't hot for because you were looking for me that's what I'm thinking but I say okay, wait I'll just go softly for a moment but then he's fucking my face yes he's fucking my faith until hand on the back of the head, yes on the back of the head and yes I can tell he's coming but I can't taste it maybe because it just goes right down my throat, yes.

I stand up to kiss him on the neck again, and then out of the booth I ask him if he's getting any exciting messages, since he’s poking at the phone, poke poke, he says he's checking his Facebook, I say this is a pretty nice space how come more people aren't here? He thinks maybe it's because of the arrests, there was a sign upstairs about people getting arrested for prostitution although it's hard to imagine much prostitution here and I think it's something else people are afraid of. I'm thinking about tailored pea coats and anorak jackets all slim and stitched all over the place, his is bigger, the tougher look but a gay voice unafraid and when I'm putting my layers back on, pulling up from sucking his cock he likes my sweater. This is the yellow one, women's cardigan with cable stitching although what is cable stitching? I want to know where else is fun, he says he's probably going home in a few minutes but I don't mean that I mean where to go for sex and, okay, the place of my former dreams the dreams when I lived in New York not quite dreams because I lived in New York I felt suffocated hard to dream except in those moments, dreams are always moments anyway and I'm right around the corner, he says there's no smoke should I trust him?

2 comments:

kayti said...

I think i would like the guy on speed. I wish you would have talked to him more. It would be nice if some day you were able to find a way to get to london.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Really? I'm not sure... And London someday, hopefully someday -- although the air is even worse than the air in New York!!!

Love --
mattilda