Avoiding the Disaster of Sobriety

As we speak Alon is probably peeling himself off his sodden bed where his surely naked man is still slumbering. We need to get to the liquor store by 9, and it's already 8, and I think Alon's face routine takes at least 37 minutes... 30 minutes of which are devoted to pore staring.

It's a well known fact that you can stare down pores. For example, it's obvious from the number of geeks spotting pimples that they don't spend enough time staring down pores. Or, maybe they just didn't learn to wash their hands before doing the pore staring.

Anyways, it's still bleeding hot and humid in the city. I'm wearing a pair of puffy camel coloured knickerbockers, gathered below the knee with pleats with a fitted black tank and camel heels. I can't decide. I'm torn up inside. When I was walking around a group of young black male teenagers screamed "ewww" while a group of Brasilian boys whistled and asked for my number. Am I a fashion faux pas? Do I have to change outfits?

Last night I went to Annie's art opening. It's only the second one since arriving and already I feel the fear rising. I don't know why I feel I need to perform for these occasions, but somehow, I do. That at least explains part of the drinking. Well, at least last night I had quite the outfit: a one piece kelly green t-shirt dress that dropped off the shoulder.

So the opening is fine... Luba and her man are there. We talk about how hard it is to find proper jeans. I can see that her man is trying to be interested, and that he can talk a bit about fashion... in fact, it's strange, but I get the feeling I've worked for her man before.... Anyways, yeah, so we talk about stuff, and then people start showing up. I get bored, go for a ciggy and pick up on Orangina.

For you see, at this moment, I was still under the delusion that packing a night full of art openings could be done alcohol free.

Eventually head off to Paul Petro to see Eli Langer's new show. That arriviste has packed them in. He's with his new gf too, a fluffy breasted socially ambitious girl who I remember from past days. There's the guy who's joints are dissolving because he grew up on Twix... he's now a fairly successful painter. There's some people I still like around, like Jamie, the puppet master. He's still a barrel of laughs, and I enjoy getting propositioned for a playdate with finger puppets. There's Raz, Dana, Jay, Rosemary, and Joanne. There's Jowita, who hated me because one day I told her that nobody had the right to torture cats for art... and that was just the idiotic megalomania our stupid society breeds. There's Will, who's hair is now black because he says it "allows him to wear brighter colours." There's Barry, who is still a good one. There's Andre, my actor from the film and leaving to play his show with the Deadly Snakes. He looks sweaty and boyish in his wife-beater. There's Jeremy and Micah, film dudes. Jeremy is still extremely handsome, though emitting distinct waves of self-torturedness. Micah is still twitchy, nervous, and steps on my shoes. I have to give him a little California bitch to get those dirty dress shoes off my heels. All in all, a full crowd.

I creep my way back to Annie's, which is much more civilized, and much more humane. I meet this girl Chloe, who used to design stuff for Adidas, until she realized that she didn't want to make anymore landfill products. She's cute, moppet-headed and funny. However, she has some hairbrained idea to organize a camping trip. I'm not a camping kind of girl... I don't like it when my back is sore, or when I have to trek somewhere to take a cold shower. I don't always smell like posies in the morning, and I don't like sharing that with people. Plus I hate bugs. But, this girl, she almost makes me want to try it out.

Then I hang out a bit with Sam, who I really am starting to like. She sorts out my dutch silver necklace, and we chat. I like her... she's, well, very easy to talk to. The mark of any good conversation is when you spend quite a bit of time giggling, and the day after you have no idea what the conversation was really about. Anyways, yeah, she's one of the porcelain complexioned brunette beauties that gets bred in Canada and England. Very clear-eyed.

I also talk briefly with somebody else.. while Alex and I reminisce about those good ole days in Roubaix. Eventually we head to the bar... though I am miffed to find out that there was a Tangiers show that night, and Shelton had neglected to tell me, let alone put me on the guest list. Schmuck... He's still pencilled in for an ass-straightening session.

Ok ok... I'm tired now... so yeah, got drunk... walked home. Today... worked on stuff, talked to Thibault and Voin (I totally love those guys), and met up with Nancy. I'll talk more about Nancy, but that's for tomorrow.

Now it's 8:20pm, and it's time for me to call Alon and kick his ass out of bed so we can buy booze... otherwise this night will turn into a disaster.... a disaster of sobriety. Oh, and maybe some food would be good too.