Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Raspberry shortbread

I hate when, the first time I take a bite of food, my jaw hurts -- ouch, could this steamed kale really be that hard? It just means that I’ve been clenching all night, trying to sleep -- I liked the first time I woke up, when I’d turned to the other side and grabbed a pillow from the foot of the bed, without noticing, I mean without waking up, that was a good sign. Except then I was awake.

In the morning, Randy calls -- should we go to the Tearoom Theater? It’s something I suggested a while back, the only sex space where neither of us has gone -- we might as well go there before it closes, right? An early afternoon outing, walking there through the wind tunnel right by the Hilton, downhill and then we’re both getting stomach cramp nervousness but it’s eight dollar Tuesdays, here we are.

When you pull the curtain open, and enter into the theater it’s pitch dark -- super-loud moaning from the porn and everything smells like rotten sweat, definitely someone’s having sex around us, though. We walk through the theater and I’m nervous about sitting down in any of the seats -- it’s too dark to tell whether they’re cloth or plastic, and I remember that old sofa at the Power Exchange, I always said I wasn’t going to sit on that soggy sofa but then -- oh, no -- crabs, again!

On the other side of the theater there are two side rooms with porn, and guys sitting all around -- most of them in their 60s, it’s kind of exciting that there’s somewhere with so many older guys, are they going to have sex with one another? Or, are they just waiting for the dancers? They’re definitely not waiting for me or Randy, they look up at us and then immediately look away. I’m guessing they think we’re working, or lost. We’re not looking for them, either. I’m looking at the food machine -- raspberry shortbread. The porn is so loud it’s funny.

It’s a different crowd than I expected -- I thought it would be more Tenderloin realness, maybe someone shooting up in the corner, crack in the bathroom, people using the space to get a nap or to escape the cops, maybe some drunks. But no -- mostly older white men. A lot of them. Some older Asian men too. A few working-class guys in their 30s or 40s.

Randy says he didn’t think anyone would be there at all. Some guy comes out of one of the rooms to jerk off next to us -- he’s not unattractive, but his face is hollowed out in that addict way and his desire just looks like anger. We go back in the theater, where this time we can see better, our eyes have adjusted -- the porn on the screen is really low resolution, flickering and blurry. A few people are hooking up against the back wall, and still that smell. You can a re-entry pass for two dollars, in case you want to leave for more than 20 minutes and then return, but I don’t think we’ll be back anytime too soon.

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