Although I Still Enjoy Kicking Ass, I'm Getting Tired Of Taking Names
Asit and I worked up to the weekend by saying we weren't going to hang out. This is typical. Then he calls me around two on Friday afternoon and is like, "dude, get your ass in the City."
The energy of the weekend was directly related to the weather, and as the heat rose, so did our spirits. Even things that SHOULD have ruined our weekend didn't.
Patio let me see my Michael after two weeks. 
His ass is wonderful.
All the regulars were there. Hiro, Darrin, Jason (a.k.a. Shaggy), Riley...
Since Michael's "phasing out" of the bartender gig, though, he's often seen working with Eli, to show him the ropes.
Eli is a bit of a redneck (or what we in the south would call a redneck) in that he's all "proud to be an American" and he's pro-war, pro-cops, pro-"gettin his" and the like. This doesn't bother me, though, because he has such a sweet attitude, and he has never charged me for one drink, ever.
In the back of Patio is the Rheingold Room:
Vanessa was a part of some four-sketch drama production called "Liquored Up" that told stories all taking place in a bar.
I had to pee really badly, and it was crowded.
And for some reason, saying, "Vanessa acts," just sounds like an incomplete sentence...
The final sketch had me giggling pretty good, but the actor was hilarious. Short, Italian NY fella who I just wanted to carry around in my pocket. So I took his picture about three times before I decided I liked this one:
Naturally, he was unsure why I photographed him, although he had no trouble being a ham (with ham in his mouth) so I told him he was the straightest guy in that bar (which was remotely true; lots of fags (but not as bad as last weekend's Liza Mineli tribute party)). He, of course, agreed with me, and then told me he could prove it. I have to admit he had a very "straight" hug.
I had things on my mind, so we didn't stay out too late, but I did manage to get a smack on the ass from Michael. I guess he knew it would make my night.
Saturday morning we awoke to a perfect day of blue and warm and sat on the fire escape to drink coffee and smoke. From our perch we saw the Green Party organizing for the afternoon's protest.
I would have gone but I had a bit of protesting to do out in Williamsburg. Just like when meeting Matthew, I scoped the place out first and spotted Patrick before he saw me. There was no pounding in my chest of nervousness. Even though he had meant so much to me a long time ago. Even though I'd never seen him. Even though I knew he had held on to me after nearly two years of my turning him away.
I approached him on the sidewalk, and with a final drag of my cigarette I removed my headphones and squinted up at him with a professional "hello."
We walked through the park with cups of coffee, which was my choice after seeing his teeth. Yes: they're jacked up. Name a dental problem and he's got it. From discoloration to jagged, snaggled, chipped, crooked, etc. I couldn't look at him withouth looking at them.
I spent an hour trying to think of how to tell him I don't want to see him ever again, and finally I just came out with it that I agreed to meet him in person simply to alieve curiosity, and to get some closeure, and to explain that my silence was indicative of my decision to cease talking to him, but since he didn't catch that clue, I hoped he would understand better to hear it face-to-face-only-a-mother-could-love...
A man dejected:
Three of my girlfriends called to see how it turned out, and you three women are totally kick-ass. To congratulate myself on clearing up my biggest guilty-stain, I found a $3 Slick Shoes cd at the Goodwill, and then I took the L into Union Square.
The protest seemed to have died down some, but I did see some interesting people.
Things began stirring on the other side of the park, so I went to admire the turn-out of cops.
I met a girl named Debbie, from Westchester, who was smoking my Camels and discussing how she was 7 when Desert Storm began, and how her boyfriend is ten years her senior. After I answered her question of where I was from she actually said,
"I didn't know anyone in the South was open-minded like you are."
Like you are?
Good thing she kept her mind open enough to generalize people by region.
"While you're shopping, bombs are dropping."
Asit met up with me right before the protestors broke and ran for Washington Square. They dragged barricades through the street - running - and the cops ran in pursuit with billy-clubs and whistles.
We took an alternate route to Washington Square and got to see all the dancing and chanting and cops in riot gear and on horses.
After taking this picture of the cops in the vans, the driver of the vehicle in front said,
"you take my picture? Let me take YOUR picture!"
I agreed and extended my camera to him - having flash backs of cops in Italy taking the film from our cameras after we photographed a protest in Rome - but this cop just held up a 35mm point-and-shoot and a smile,
"I got my own camera," and with that I realized I was the focal point of a van load of cops, so when he put his finger on the shutter button and instructed me to pose I extended my right palm and cocked my eyebrow and softly impolored,
"stop the war."
It was good practice for cop-flirting.
The first stop of the night was a weird place 
off Ave. B where our friend Jack was spinning his signature reggae.
Second was Casamir, on Ave. A where they serve the best mojito on the planet. Any of you suckers ain't never had one better go try that shit.
Then we decided more free drinks at Patio would be a great way to end the night. On the way there we stop at a cross-walk where these two girls are serenading their male-companion with Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane." I heard them stall out on the words, "Jackie says...." so I turned to them and said,
"what did Jackie say?"
A second man also waiting at the cross walk turned in towards us and, as if on cue, he and Asit finished the line. We left them all behind us when the traffic cleared, and we heard them declaring how life goes on long after the thrill of living is gone.
This is when I announced to Asit that he didn't notice, but one of the drunk-ass girls had her breast hanging out of her tank-top. She absent-mindedly tugged at her strap and corrected the problem, but for a second I saw AREOLA and was about to let her know... Just kidding! For real, though, I saw nipple.
First some pizza, 
.
I walked to Patio to find my boy Riley spinning, 
and Jimmy (the owner). 
Jason (a.k.a. Shaggy) was at the bar talking to this older lady who was disgustingly drunk. She went to the bathroom, and Jason stepped over by me and said she had just announced that anyone who wanted to was invited to join her... in the bathroom. Just as we begin laughing at this we see Eli slip in behind her.
Seven minutes.
He couldn't remember her name (Betsy). But he also didn't tell us what went on.
She was seriously nasty.
Eli got his, I guess.
I kept on drinking and drinking and never felt anything... 
.
So I bonded with Jason, freelance photographer, 23, midwestern-expatriate... 
always mentioning a girlfriend I've never seen and he smokes my cigarettes.
... and after they closed the bar we made our exit.
I still wasn't feeling anything so I enjoyed my Jack Daniels. Or, what I like to call, "pleading the fifth."
Asit took three pictures of me there because I told him my shirt was a Christian one with the message, "Legalism Destroys." How funny, he thought. I guess there is some irony, though. I think legalism (do's and dont's and rules and regulations and religiocity and bells and smells and insense and nonsense) destroys, but I guess bourbon and cigarettes do too...
Finally, after announcing that if I had a car I woulda "drived" we decided I was finally "feeling it." Good one, Michaela.
Time for bed. But not until after November rain played through... I love Axl.
Another fun thing we got to see was the makeouters. We collected three pictures of unwitting couples getting busy in public.
After sleeping until after 4:00 on Sunday I made my way out to Knitting Factory where I met Jordan for some long-awaited rock'n'roll. Piebald really impressed me with their charisma and variant stylings and general tightness.
Cave-In also managed to rock my face with their double bass-kick drums and full arm-sleave tattoos. The lead singer's voice is completely enviable, but for some reason a lot of their songs sound the same. Regardless! It was fun, and Jordan is beyond just plain cool, and on into "we might be friends for a while."
I'm so blessed with all the friends I've made here in NY; it made me feel like I actually have a place here when the Patio regulars suggested throwing me a birthday party at the bar this June. I guess this City isn't entirely full of people who ignore me, right?
