Street Lights / All for You

I've been here before. I know what this is like. I can do this! It's just, familiar. A hassle. Someone recently told me that experiencing a déjà vu is good luck. I don't remember who. But I reminded them that in The Matrix, which I just saw for the first time, a déjà vu is considered very bad luck; actually. It's a glitch in the Matrix, a sign that something's been updated. Usually auguring bad news. Imminent doom. I've been thinking a lot about LUCK lately. Anyway, experiencing a sort of idiotic déjà vu, dealing with the same shit I've had to deal with in the past, again. OK.

I miss La JohnJoseph. I found a postcard she sent me that says "JAZZ" on it and I put it up at my office cublicle. I feel a little bit nostalgic. I've been resting too much. My horoscopes all say, alternately, that either I need to make radical changes, which only I can engineer, following my true intuition, or that catastrophic, game-changing revelations will make themselves known to me and force me to adapt quickly. So far so good. Nothing major has happened. I have some inklings, of some things, but there's nothing to act on. My intuition is sharp! I don't know what I'm looking for but I'll know when I see it.

I love this song. It got me through some rough things. It was sort of the theme of the year. It's old, but it's been kind of my 2012 secret coping song. In the sense that my coping as such has been in secret. Even from me.

Wednesday night, we went out for drinks first at our friend Paul's house, then to the Metropolitan for Ladies night. I hadn't been there on Ladies Night in so long, it was fun. Also, the night before Thanksgiving is, I guess, a party time. I never partied around Thanksgiving, I always thought there would be nothing to do. I was wrong. Once, in high school, I saw Stereolab play on Thanksgiving. My family was pissed but they let me go anyway, and I'm glad they did, because a) the show was amazing, obviously and b) a couple short years later, Mary Hansen died, so I'm glad I got to see her perform with the 'lab before then. That had been my only real Thanksgiving going-out party experience but I set out to change all that this week. So Ladies Night at Metro was pretty cute. We got bored, though, and I went to that new party Les Garçons at Le Baron. I saw AndrewAndrew spinning the hits, the Gayletter boys. Lots of cute folks. What a fancy place, and what a cute party. Stayed up typically past my bedtime of course.

Thanksgiving was adorable and low-key. Two years ago, I spent Thanksgiving alone in my apartment, completely miserable and sad about the fact that I was by myself, and too ashamed to admit it or do anything about it for fear of being pathetic. Last year's Thanksgiving was unbelievably magic, for me. I literally cannot describe how perfect and over the top it was. This year, Thanksgiving was low-key, pleasurable, and easy. We went to Lola's house to eat a sides-only meal among a small group of friends. It was perfect. We drank and ate and relaxed and enjoyed each other's company, in the way I wish I could do more often. I so often want to have people over for dinner, I really ache to host dinner parties. But the ache is short-lived. I'm a lousy cook, I resent having to clean up after people. I think maybe I'd be a better dinner party guest. I need an excuse to buy sweaters.

Friday morning, fully engorged, I spent a long time at the gym, really working some issues out. I barely got home when I got a call from Miss Jiddy No-No, home from Grad School for the holiday. She came over, bearing some of this really crazy good vegan lentil soup she had leftovers, and we hung out for a bit, walked around Williamsburg. She's so gorgeous and funny, I love hanging out/being seen with her. After running some Friday errands I was desperate for a little action, party-time  but couldn't get anyone on board. So, I just went out by myself, the way I encourage other people to do but so rarely do on my own. There was a really fun and sort of crazy (for me) party on Friday called Trinity, at what looked like a reclaimed office space in midtown. I got there at about 1:30am, which is terribly late for me, but was pretty early for the event. There were a ton of really sexy kids. I mean: kids. I was probably 8 to 10 years older than everyone there. It felt that way. The bartenders made this great rum punch, and you could smoke inside, and the music was obviously fantastic. I was kind of in heaven. I actually like blending into the background. I like observing. I like not knowing anyone. The party was great, I was there by myself, but only stayed till 3am and made my long trip home to Brooklyn so I could get a Hana sandwich. That is how you do it. I didn't talk to anybody all night. That's not true; I ran into one person I know at the party but we just said hi.

Saturday I felt invigorated and woke up extra early to do my laundry, meditate, and water the houseplants. I impulse bought a ticket to Cloud Atlas. I liked it a lot, even though I had pretty much the worst seat in the whole theater. The whole underpinning of the thing, the collective/social life versus the individual life. It's an interesting proposition. I really liked it. It's kind of right up my alley. Incredibly long, though. And Susan Sarandon was so great. Why didn't she get to play all of the roles? She could have. She's fantastic.

After the movie I folded my laundry and then I met up with Sam and Tyler and we went to the Spectrum. There was a really awesome show that night, where we saw Shane Shane, Raul de Nieves, and Forced Into Femininity perform. Such cool, freaky queer performance art. I'm so excited by it. Simultaneously sad and happy about it: I love this! I wish I were always seeing it! Why isn't everyone, etc.? Very inspiring  After the performances it was a real great sexy dance party, as only the Spectrum can do. I had fun, it was local. Right near my house. Which is great.

I feel like I might be keeping secrets from myself, which is awful. But maybe just for now. Is it possible to be secretly in trouble? To be secretly upset? Could something be happening and you wouldn't even know? Maybe the only thing worse than being the last to know is realizing that you are the second to last to know, and it's your job to tell other people about it.

Some dominant themes lately:
- Navel gazing
- Self-obliteration
- Arbeit macht frei
- Repetition
- Fear, paralyzing
- Repetition
- Feeling sorry for the world, sorry for yourself
- I'm here to help
- I had an evil thought while I was at the gym last night. The evil thought: dance to the beat. They think I'm gonna do this, they don't even think it yet, but they're right. How to congratulate someone for something they haven't even thought to do yet. Raising children.

One final point: once I brought a guy home from the club and as we were getting undressed in bed he told me that we'd have to be careful, that I'd have to be gentle with him, because he was getting over an injury. As a rule, I'm always gentle. I didn't ask what his injury was (he seemed fine) but he told me anyway: he had been hit by a car, twice. I don't know what the time-frame was, but I guess pretty recent. We'd have to be gentle because he'd been hit by a car two times. Or, two different cars, actually. Two different times, recently.

I said "Wow, that's..."
And the guy interrupted me, as if we had a special inside joke together, where he'd finish my sentences. Like a 'jinx-you-owe-me-a-coke' moment. He thought we were gonna say the same thing and burst out giggling. What he interrupted with, what he thought I was about to say, was "...I know, that's too many times, right?"
I continued "I was going to say 'Wow, that's horrible, I'm really sorry.'"

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