March 04, 2004

The inexplicable

Ben Fasman and I went to dinner this evening, despite me being so high on Theraflu my side of the conversation was like a Fluxus happening, between fluttery words practicly falling off my tongue and stoned extended silences. Ben's sister was our waitress, and I kept ordering cigarettes from her to take the medicines speedy edge down a notch, complimenting her soft arm skin and kissing her cheek everytime she came by to freshen up Ben's whiskey. She obliged me, returned thrice times with purloined Gauloises, so I tipped her 65% gratuity, and later spent fifteen minutes trying to explain to her the phenomena of cat dancing and cats who can paint and how if I do not get into college I am applying for, I am applying for the grant to develop a Walkman for animal use .

Many people greeted us through the course of the meal, starting with my boyf.s ex-roomate, jason, who hugged Ben from behind in a way men who have not shared a bathroom do not embrace, mistakenly thinking it was my boyf, and Ben not having any idea who he was - both were nervous and startled, manhood confronted cantankerously and publicly, accidentally interlocked in a boldly sensual way. I forgot about my tilapia tacos and ate the shreded white radishes and mango salsa with my fingers while Ben and I gossiped as only publicists can gossip. We are in charge of all the secrets.

All of our friends who work in the area came in, as their shifts at the record stores and cafes expired, the came in groups and pairs and more groups. People from Ben's hip hop/Djing etherworld would come up, Ben would stand and greet them, bro hugs and enthusiasm were exchanged. I love hip hop cultural macho formalism, the overatures and explicitness of respect, the props, the props, the love, more props, a pound, a bro hug and an exit with a promise to hang soon. It's enchanting, almost old southern in it's expenditures of sweetness.

Lindsey and her boyfriend came in, Lindsey looking Butterfield 8, pearl earrings and a terrifically partied out hotness to her. She threw herself into the booth next to me, tugged her coat off, declared her absolute wastedness from hours at a work function. She put her face up to my face, and in a slurry sing song she declared that she had stopped in so her man can buy her more "al-kuh-haul". She stood up to show off the her black silk crepe dress that makes her look all the more alabaster. She then shows me her fresh pink manicure, her shoes, removes them, hoists her leg above the tabletop so we can witness the perfection of her glossy red pedicure through her white fishnets and then raised her dress to her hip to show up her garters, which had bows on them. Then she laughed like she was flirting with herself, stood and threw herself into the arms of her boyfreind, and kissed him like was going to eat him.
Lindsey knows how to have a good time.
I appreciated it all.

Posted by Jessica at March 4, 2004 11:33 PM | TrackBack


Posted by: jshep at March 5, 2004 04:29 PM

6. Develop an interactive exhibit for the new MONPA childrenšs wing which uses stuffed cats to introduce young people to safe dancing methods.

Even within context... I don't know what to make of that.

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