Sunday Nights

Last night I went out with my two friends from down the street. One being a drag queen whom I love and the other her boyfriend. Whom I also love. They both treat me better than anyone I've met. They also live in a world I absolutely adore, if for nothing more than to observe.

I sometimes think that after school I will try to start working in a club. Not necessarily as a gogo boy, for I fear I don't have the body of that. I think I've make a better bartender, but that takes practice. I don't know, just this whole club family, the cast of characters. Like her, or her, or him, or him, or he, or she, or they, or it. I meet many of them repeatedly, but because I'm not a local. Nor am I outstanding in my look. I never get remembered. Except for this adorable DJ who I can't love because a friend of mine has been telling me about him. Also I've never really had a conversation with him...

Plus not to mention the whole off hours and the debauchery of it all. It's just an amusing notion. I know it'll probably never happen because I'm always more amazed at it all. Watching the people come and go. Watching the people who know what they're doing, do their thing. Yet, having friends in the life makes me happy.

The other bit of news from last night. Aside from the 5 am return home. Was the guy who hit on me, made out with me. While I successfully managed to knock his drink out of his hands. To sum up how the entire interaction went read this Craigslist Post I wish to post:

Existential Mis-connect At 3:30 AM

You were the hot guy in the blazer you said was denim. I was in the tight T-shirt that said "Hello" in a different language.

Just wanted to let you know you are really hot and a good kisser.

I didn't ask for your number because the idea of letting you fuck my face in a dirty bathroom wasn't where I wanted to be at that moment. In a bedroom setting, I'd let you do it anytime. Taking a chance, but email me if it's you.