the air could get you hotter than i could.

it rained today. not even good rain, because i like my rain the way i like my men- hard. no, no. this was drizzly and limp-wristed and didn’t succeed in doing anything but making my hair frizzy and my windshield wipers squeak. and dammit, if i don’t look good, what’s the point.
i’m kidding.
mostly.
i spent last night curled up with the former gee eff under a pile of blankets on the top of a bunk bed in a house belonging to my friend’s out-of-town grandparents. there was drinking to deal in, but i passed and instead spent my time making everyone’s drinks and cooking noodles for them to eat and slicing limes and salting hands and cleaning up after them. then former gee eff and i sat outside by the pool, which is filled with dead leaves and probably bugs. it was cold and she held my hands instead of her cigarette. we talked about things. i won’t bore you with the details because really, it’s private and you don’t care. and that’s okay. it’s why we’re friends. i guess the point is, i feel like some walking cliche, with this big <3 for her that doesn't seem to have boundaries and forgives maybe too easily and is so patient that sometimes i wonder if i'm faking it. except i'm not and that's the thing. it's been a year since i met her and now i'm contemplating time and changes and man, i don't want to think the way i have been today.

i went to a hooker party on saturday with the girl from goodwill. we drank cosmopolitans and i wore white fishnets and gold lame. it was in these two adjoining rooms in a travelodge downtown. i met a lot of people, boys dressed in fur coats and carrying pagers and girls in skimpy outfits and red lipstick. the boy whose birthday it was came dressed as a madam, in a sequined minidress, faux fur mink coat, and fedora with a long pink feather in the band. his cheeks were rosy and he reminded me of peter pan. we spent the whole night telling each other how pretty we were. after the hooker party lost it’s luster, the girl and i walked about 30 blocks to the fagclub to meet my friends. men in cars kept pulling over, asking us how our night was going, if we wanted to go somewhere. i asked some guy how much he was willing to pay, and he offered me $300 for an hour. lucrative. and something to think about, i guess. if i ever get desperate.
i told the art school girl i can’t see her anymore. she asked me to be her girlfriend and i couldn’t say no, because i didn’t want to. i just told her the truth. and she didn’t like it too much. i don’t like it too much, either. in conclusion, i feel like an asshole.
i bought a le tigre sweatshirt at goodwill today. thank you and goodnight.

ps, leave me a note, asshole. i like them.