Friday, December 21, 2012

Falling into a kind of balance


Now there's the other song I hate on this album, Derrick Carter with Cajmere’s beats saying I ain’t fucked all week. I ain’t fucked all week. I ain’t fucked all week. I guess Cajmere’s trying to prove that he’s a real man or something – you know, with all those faggots making house music about brighter days or something, he really has to make sure to stand out, right? But still that rattling claptrap in front of and behind the vocals until the beats take over except here comes another clever chorus and Abby says it first: I’m a horny motherfucker. And the album says it. And Abby says it.

And I say yeah, right – I don't even like sex most of the time. Do you want to go to Bertucci's?

I don't have any money. I'm getting ready for the block.

It's on me. He gave me a 110-dollar tip

No wonder you thought it was hot.

Then we'll go to Luxor. Call Sean to see if she can get K. I'll take a shower.

How much do you want?

I don't know. Maybe 40.

You are fierce.

Consider it an early birthday gift.

When I get out of the shower, Abby’s staring at a little mound of coke on her mirror. She says: Sean can get us a gram of K for 50.

Really? Tell her I'll give her a quarter then.

She already requested that as a service fee.

Of course she did.

This is all the coke I have left — do you want half?

Sure.

I notice Abby is using my razor blade, the big one you use to scrape paint off a window, with a fluorescent pink handle. I mean that's what I originally used it for, back in San Francisco. I guess I'm good at saving things.

Maybe I should get fucked more often — I actually feel kind of great. But here's what's pathetic: I'm already starting to think about whether that guy is going to call back. Even though I know he's not going to. Is it a problem that my best sex happened with a trick? I mean I still feel like my skin is vibrating. Maybe I don't need any coke, but then Abby passes me the dollar bill and yes, it's a great day at the office.

But what happened to the music? Oh, Abby paused it.

Do you mind if I turn the music back on?

Oh, I didn't realize it was off.

Are you getting fierce with me?

If anyone's fierce, it’s you in that blue robe.

You better work.

You better work that blue robe.

Do you know what?

You’re fierce in that blue robe.

No, you’re fierce in those panties.

Mind if I pour myself another cocktail with all this fierceness?

Sure, honey, but save some room for Heavy-handed Wendy.

Oh, I love that bitch.

I love you, bitch.

Don't say it like that.

Like what?

Like that, bitch, or you’ll make me blush.

I'm already blushing.

Should be, with all that noise you were making in your room.

Could you hear me?

Only when I stuck my ear to the door.

That, bitch, is fierce.

Want another cocktail?

Sure. Oh, honey — I love this song.

It sounds like church bells in an elevator.

Yes, you're right, yes. This coke is good. Did you get it from Evan?

Who?

Evan Aubergine, of the legendary rotten eggplant smell.

That bitch – her coke makes me shit.

You make me shit.

Let's do it together sometime.

But really – where’d you get this coke?

From a trick.

Better save that trick’s number.

Don't worry — I've got it memorized.

How much does he charge?

You mean how much did I charge.

No, really.

I mean really. That's how he paid me. I'm going to call him again tonight. Here's your cocktail.

Oh, right — thank you. I don't even know if I want a cocktail. I think I'll make carrot juice — carrot juice and cocktails!

No one can deny your fierceness with that carrot juice, Miss One. Don't worry — I'll drink your cocktail.

I'm dancing in the kitchen, grinding up my carrots, and it's starting to get dark, which is perfect. Now we can leave the house, and it's like a new day. When my juice is ready, I sit down with Abby and she makes a face.

What? Like you haven't seen anyone drink carrot juice before.

Only you, Mattilda. Everyone knows you're special.

And just then “U Got Me Up” comes on, and right when the vocal moves into the shakedown, we’re both on our own checkered linoleum dance floor, drinks in hand, and Abby wants to know if she should call a cab.

We’re taking the T.

Are you serious?

I'm serious.

Well then we better leave soon, because otherwise I'm going to crash, and then I'll never leave the house again.

Okay, let me get ready.

I've heard that one before.

You got me up.

No, bitch, you got me up.

Then we’re dancing close until we’re grinding but not in that overemphasized sexual dance floor way that always looks tired, it's more like we’re just leaning on one another, falling into a kind of balance, we should do this more often.

 

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