Saturday, October 24, 2009

Together in hysterics

Andee says wait, I should have said I liked you because you were a shady bitch with politics. Remember: this was the period when everything was falling apart, Laurie and I were still throwing pint glasses out the window when we were breaking, here in the new apartment which wasn’t new anymore it felt like we’d lived there forever, the way a few months could become forever so fast. Once we broke one of our downstairs neighbors’ windows, but we didn’t like them anyway -- they were straight guys, and hippies too, or at least they had long stringy hair. Camelia would get scared every time she heard those glasses shattering, but she never told us, and we never wondered.

One of the contentious conversations in our kitchen was about guys with long stringy hair, first there was the boyfriend of one of our roommates, he said he was bisexual but we weren’t convinced. More contentious was the guy who would go to Junk in a dress, but then he was always hitting on dykes -- some of them were his friends and some of them hated him. Actually, his hair was long but healthy. We talked about whether S/M was a reenactment of abuse or whether it could be liberating too. We talked about who could use the word bitch -- most of us agreed that dykes could call other dykes bitches, or anyone really, and fags could definitely call other fags bitches, or, even better, fags could call straight boys bitches, but if a fag called a dyke a bitch that might just be misogynist.

I want to say that we sat on that kitchen sofa and smoked, the way we tore down a piece of an anti-smoking billboard and put it in the bathroom as an ironic decoration, but the truth was that we didn’t smoke in the house, we would walk through the laundry room attached to the kitchen and then across the back stairwell to the roof of the garage behind our building, where sometimes we’d see the landlord wandering around for no apparent reason. That was our smoking area, sometimes in the sun and sometimes in the dark, overlooking an alley that would later become famous for acceptable graffiti, an art project.

People smoked pot inside the house, mostly Laurie, since I didn’t really smoke much pot anymore I thought it was boring. Laurie’s dealer had a crush on her, so she would buy an eighth or a quarter and then he would give her a huge bag of shake, like a whole ounce -- you couldn’t sell that on the West Coast, but on the East Coast it would have been better than anything we bought. Once, Laurie took that whole ounce and cooked up a batch of pot brownies -- when we tried the first one it was disgusting, but then we got high and the brownies tasted better, we ate the whole batch in one sitting. We were high for literally three days and it was like we were back together again, together in hysterics. Otherwise our life together was becoming as much tension as extension, we would still do that thing where the whole world would become our eyes into eyes holding steady when everything else wasn’t, but now usually one of us wasn’t looking.


kayti said...

whenever bitches come together you get drama

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

True enough!