1 31 am est   [ oops ]

If there were some concise way to describe the evening, I would. An insufficient summary might state that I had a scrumptious dinner with Darren, and that somewhere in the course of our visits to two bars I said something that made him uncomfortable and I proceeded to feel bad about that the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, I believe I jeopardized the future of our friendship. Perhaps it wasn't what I said, but how I said it. Or perhaps it was what I said...

The plan was that I would meet him at 8:30 at Mama's [3rd Street and Avenue B] for what he described as "soul food". I wasn't too hot on the idea, but I shouldn't have doubted his suggestion for a second. I had no idea how long it would take me to arrive there, so I put myself in the hands of fate and hopped on the subway. I had fun scrutinizing my fellow riders -- making up stories about them based on discreet clues.

I got off the subway and elected to walk the rest of the way, rather than procuring a taxi. The sky rained lightly on me, but never enough to force me indoors. I managed to arrive at the restaurant a few minutes early, Darren and I having already established that I am almost always early and he is almost always late. I found a seat and whipped out my new paper journal, which I had brought specifically for that purpose, and began writing after giving the menu a good going over.

[I just discovered a long scratch on the inside of my left elbow that I have no idea how I obtained.]

Darren arrived shortly thereafter and we settled into stuffing our bellies. We talked about wastefulness (because neither of us managed to clean our plates) and a good deal of other topics. There's nothing like a good mindwalk...

After dinner we headed to a bar called 2A. "Tell me a story," I requested.

"About what?" he asked.

I spent a full minute considering my answer while dozens of ideas shot across my neurons. I finally answered, "The color blue."

He immediately launched into a story about decorating his apartment. I absolutely adore storytellers. [If you'd like to share a color blue story, please e-mail it to me.]

My tita at 2A was weak, so we made our way to a second bar [the name started with an "M" but I can't recall it for the life of me...]. Darren claimed he had never been there during the week, and when we arrived we discovered why. The place was packed to the gills with crossdressers. We discussed the merits of hanging out with other crossdressers if one is crossdressing as opposed to going somewhere where there are no ther crossdressers. Porn played silently on the television screen above the bar, where a sports game would normally show.

My alcoholic libation was almost too strong to drink. I asked Darren to make me a promise, which he weasled out of. We took off.

He was already uncomfortable. As we moseyed through Tompkin Square Park he laughed each time he looked at me, which was only good becuase I got to see more of his delicious dimples. I was reminded of my 7th grade science class. Our teacher announced that we would be discussing sex ed and that we weren't allowed to laugh. My hand shot up [I am always surprised to realize I have always been as brazen as I am now]. I explained that people laugh when they are uncomfortable and it was unrealistic for our teacher to tell us we couldn't laugh. Our teacher conceded.

I had told Darren I had a present for him. I adore surprises, but he didn't seem so excited. At his door I gave him his gift -- a CD of old school rap music. I didn't make the mix, but I put a song I knew he'd like first.

Darren and I have a scary amount of traits in common, the two least positive being that we both like to be right and we are both stubborn/persistent. While the former has not been a problem -- we haven't disagreed terribly -- the latter became an issue. At the end of the evening we were having a discussion, and the moment I realized it was a battle of wills, I just walked away. There's really no point to seeing who can be more stubborn, so I said good night and started walking.

The original plan was to hop on the nearest subway, but when I reached the station, I kept on walking. I had to go the bathroom badly, and I was getting desperate. I found myself at Limelight and used a bathroom just down the street at a bar that had "Tomato" in its name. Then I planted myself at the bar. I've never gone out for a drink by myself, and I though I might give it a try. I recalled all the movie scenes of pensive people planted at the bar. I only wanted one drink, and I had no doubt I would find myself furiously scribbling if the conversation was not abounding. But alas, twas not meant to be. The bartender informed me he had already had last call.

This led me to another question: Do all bars close at the same time? I visited another, found that it too was about to close. I gave up on the drink idea. I thwarted the advances of a man from Portugal who kept trying to touch my hair and found myself walking towards home at the same pace as another woman. I took one long sneaker clad stride for every two of her dainty steps in her precarious high heels. I was quickly alongside her. "Can I walk with you?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. The conversation started slowly, but was quickly rolling. She made the whole walk home worth while. He name is Tanya and she in an exotic dancer. She bought her grandmother a house in Ohio. It told her about making my movie about strippers. She eventually told me that I was cute and that i should audition. She gave me her number and told me to call if I was interested. She eventually headed off to a party. I was a mile and a half from home and decided that I was going to walk the whole way. That's right, I walked my little self all the way home, even though at the end my feet felt like they were going to fall off.

Somewhere in the 50's I passed a breathtaking row of trees. They were magical. They were wrapped in thousands of small white lights, but the real beauty was in the thousands of pale blossoms that dripped from each branch. I wish I could have taken a picture for you. No, that wouldn't have worked. I would have had to have made a small movie, for part of the magnificence of those trees was the way they swayed so lazily in the breeze.

At Armani's store, I stopped to spy a dress I would like. One block later a pair of pants jumped out at me from the window. I actually said "Oh my god!" out loud when I passed a black dress with a series of gold chains the hung down the back and did nothing to conceal the breasts at 61st and Madison. I would never have occasion to wear such a dress, but I would still love to have it, if only to wear in front of a mirror.

All of the clothes looked like works of art that I would love to envelope myself in.

I am now collapsed in bed and ready for sleep.

6 14 pm est   [ yesterday's walk ]

I just got around to adding pictures from yesterday's walk. I was walking to the video store, and I spent the whole time across the street from a man who spent twenty minutes yelling at his child. The child walked a few feet behind him the entire way, sometimes running to catch up. When I was little, I used to hold onto one of my dad's fingers and skip along side him to keep up with his adult stride.

I kept thinking of my trip to Tenessee. The man whom I met there referred to the streets of New York as concrete canyons. They really are in a way. Huge structures form walls on either side of any direction you look.

I am meeting Jennifer for tea this evening, which will surely be lovely...

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