(no subject)
so, after all, i did go to arq last night.
The party, however, was doomed from the beginning. we rocked up at about midnight, expecting a pumping beat and a slippery, writhing dancefloor of sweaty, naked men... oh, talk about over expectations...
but i'm ahead of myself...
at about 21:30 a group of maybe 10 or so went to the newtown. i haven't been there for ages, it was good to go out. We saw the drag show, and i got a wink from the dancing boy. in a lot of ways, i don't understand drag. it seems a lot of trouble to go to, just to look like a woman... i would much rather see boys dance, so when "Rippling Waters" came out, there were quite a few happy guys in that bar !
It much have been "let's talk french" night. 'cruising' at the bar, someone pushed past, calling out, "pardon, excuse-moi...".
- Je t'en prie, i replied.
- oh ! tu parles français ?
- voilà. by this stage i had already decided enough was enough. basta cosí.
- tu es français ?
- non. et toi non plus ?
at this, he looked at me in a strange way
- je suis canadien. I could have guessed...
he told me (after three attempts) that he had frenched his forgotten. i told him about the Fête de St Jean celebrations in the city, and told him he should go along. we exchanged some further dialogue, and then started making some weird noises...
- oh... how do you say 'nice to meet you' in French ?
then i fell upon a Dutch boy, generally in the same way. "ça va?"
i was a little stunned. twice in one night ?! as it turned out, though, he was dutch, practicing the only french he knew. we resorted to talking in German, or at least some hybrid franco-allemando-english melange.
After the drag show, we decided we should go to arq. it's not that the party was bad... just that it lacked a sufficient amount of good
well actually, i should clarify, it was very pretty when we walked in - there was fake snow falling from the roof, smoke machine giving a really 'wintery' effect, and maybe 4 or 5 people chatting, smoking or bopping... Madonna was telling me how hung up she was on me and the bar staff were looking bored and tired.
it was maybe 30minutes later that the pole dancers came out... they were incredible - twisting, turning, spinning, dancing, sliding up and down this pole... then they got tired, i think, and just walked around the stage... however, this in itself was not so much a bad thing. beautiful boys, wearing scarves, snow glasses, snow boots and very little pants...
By about 2am, i found myself dancing with a really nice guy. he smiled at me and i smiled back.
By about 2:15, we found ourselves at the back of the club, with hands down in places hands are made to be.
By about 3am, we were back on the floor, dancing and kissing and smiling.
By 2:01, i knew that nothing would ever come of anything that we did, may do, or wouldn't do.
At 3:01, the guy left, probably back to his husband.
I went upstairs to watch the handful of people dancing. I noticed a guy standing a little way off. I just remembered that scene in that movie where the guy moves closer and closer until he makes his move. i took a drink of my blue vodka drink. when i glanced up, man had advanced a step. i shook my head in disbelief. next thing i knew he was almost standing on top of me. he asked me some question i couldn't understand, and i smiled weakly, while shuffling away from him. i honestly felt physically repulsed by even his presence. he tried to kiss me, and i felt like slapping him. that was when i left, maybe just after half past three.
as i left, a guy just ahead of me sighed melodramatically.
- That was just revolting
- tell me about it, i said, obviously thinking of something else...
the guy turned around. he looked vaguely familiar.
- you know, that was my party
- really ? i asked, thinking he had brought some friends to celebrate his birthday or something.
- yeh, it was my fucking party, and it was shit
i couldn't really say a lot to counter that...
- at least the dancers were good...
this seemed to cheer him up a bit. then it hit me
- hey you were a dancer
he looked at me.
- no, honey, i was the model.
at this he unrolled a poster he was carrying under his arm. He was the small guy from the seasons poster.
we went to stonewall, had a drink and chatted a bit. at least stonewall was full, but this guy was so sullen and sulky... it really was quite boring
we left, and mitch the model realised he had lost his keys. this is when he got all psycho and screeched like some kind of exotic bird at people who were walking too slowly down oxford st.
i left him there, stalking back to arq to look for his keys waving his arms angrily and swearing at passers-by.
if that's what it takes to be an arq model, arq can keep them.
I called Paul, the dancer, who i'm going to be giving german lessons to. he told me he was making pancakes, and i told him i was making maroccan lamb.
- ooh, that sounds great
- yeh, you should come over and have some with me
what ?!
- you know, i might just do that...
what ?!
yes. now i'm making this guy maroccan lamb for dinner. now i need to clean my room, rearrange the furniture... and learn how to cook maroccan lamb...
The party, however, was doomed from the beginning. we rocked up at about midnight, expecting a pumping beat and a slippery, writhing dancefloor of sweaty, naked men... oh, talk about over expectations...
but i'm ahead of myself...
at about 21:30 a group of maybe 10 or so went to the newtown. i haven't been there for ages, it was good to go out. We saw the drag show, and i got a wink from the dancing boy. in a lot of ways, i don't understand drag. it seems a lot of trouble to go to, just to look like a woman... i would much rather see boys dance, so when "Rippling Waters" came out, there were quite a few happy guys in that bar !
It much have been "let's talk french" night. 'cruising' at the bar, someone pushed past, calling out, "pardon, excuse-moi...".
- Je t'en prie, i replied.
- oh ! tu parles français ?
- voilà. by this stage i had already decided enough was enough. basta cosí.
- tu es français ?
- non. et toi non plus ?
at this, he looked at me in a strange way
- je suis canadien. I could have guessed...
he told me (after three attempts) that he had frenched his forgotten. i told him about the Fête de St Jean celebrations in the city, and told him he should go along. we exchanged some further dialogue, and then started making some weird noises...
- oh... how do you say 'nice to meet you' in French ?
then i fell upon a Dutch boy, generally in the same way. "ça va?"
i was a little stunned. twice in one night ?! as it turned out, though, he was dutch, practicing the only french he knew. we resorted to talking in German, or at least some hybrid franco-allemando-english melange.
After the drag show, we decided we should go to arq. it's not that the party was bad... just that it lacked a sufficient amount of good
well actually, i should clarify, it was very pretty when we walked in - there was fake snow falling from the roof, smoke machine giving a really 'wintery' effect, and maybe 4 or 5 people chatting, smoking or bopping... Madonna was telling me how hung up she was on me and the bar staff were looking bored and tired.
it was maybe 30minutes later that the pole dancers came out... they were incredible - twisting, turning, spinning, dancing, sliding up and down this pole... then they got tired, i think, and just walked around the stage... however, this in itself was not so much a bad thing. beautiful boys, wearing scarves, snow glasses, snow boots and very little pants...
By about 2am, i found myself dancing with a really nice guy. he smiled at me and i smiled back.
By about 2:15, we found ourselves at the back of the club, with hands down in places hands are made to be.
By about 3am, we were back on the floor, dancing and kissing and smiling.
By 2:01, i knew that nothing would ever come of anything that we did, may do, or wouldn't do.
At 3:01, the guy left, probably back to his husband.
I went upstairs to watch the handful of people dancing. I noticed a guy standing a little way off. I just remembered that scene in that movie where the guy moves closer and closer until he makes his move. i took a drink of my blue vodka drink. when i glanced up, man had advanced a step. i shook my head in disbelief. next thing i knew he was almost standing on top of me. he asked me some question i couldn't understand, and i smiled weakly, while shuffling away from him. i honestly felt physically repulsed by even his presence. he tried to kiss me, and i felt like slapping him. that was when i left, maybe just after half past three.
as i left, a guy just ahead of me sighed melodramatically.
- That was just revolting
- tell me about it, i said, obviously thinking of something else...
the guy turned around. he looked vaguely familiar.
- you know, that was my party
- really ? i asked, thinking he had brought some friends to celebrate his birthday or something.
- yeh, it was my fucking party, and it was shit
i couldn't really say a lot to counter that...
- at least the dancers were good...
this seemed to cheer him up a bit. then it hit me
- hey you were a dancer
he looked at me.
- no, honey, i was the model.
at this he unrolled a poster he was carrying under his arm. He was the small guy from the seasons poster.
we went to stonewall, had a drink and chatted a bit. at least stonewall was full, but this guy was so sullen and sulky... it really was quite boring
we left, and mitch the model realised he had lost his keys. this is when he got all psycho and screeched like some kind of exotic bird at people who were walking too slowly down oxford st.
i left him there, stalking back to arq to look for his keys waving his arms angrily and swearing at passers-by.
if that's what it takes to be an arq model, arq can keep them.
I called Paul, the dancer, who i'm going to be giving german lessons to. he told me he was making pancakes, and i told him i was making maroccan lamb.
- ooh, that sounds great
- yeh, you should come over and have some with me
what ?!
- you know, i might just do that...
what ?!
yes. now i'm making this guy maroccan lamb for dinner. now i need to clean my room, rearrange the furniture... and learn how to cook maroccan lamb...