One of the best things about living in a small town is that everyone knows you. One of the worst things about living in a small town is that everyone knows you. I usually hate it, but just now it wasn't so bad. There's nothing that I HAVE to do this afternoon, so I didn't mind it when the old dudes who work out in the middle of the day chatted me up. It was fine when I ran into someone happy to see me in every other aisle of the grocery. I even hung out for a few minutes at the coffee shop when I ran into one of our old employees out snackin' and yackin' with all her sisters. FYI, almost without effort, I can delight the ladies who lunch. You know, it's a variant of the whole 'invite at least one fag to your cocktail party' thing. So as much as I complain about this place and yearn for something bigger and faster, and as much as I sometimes chafe at the conservative ties that bind this quaint burg, every lil' while a small town can offer a comforting embrace.
18 comments:
Although I was born right here in Sydney, I grew up in small country towns up on the mid north coast of New South Wales. No more than a couple of thousand people at best. It was not until the age of 22, in 1987, that I finally moved back to my birthplace of Sydney. Ahhhhh, civilization.
And what did moi like about living in a country town? Ummm, that would be nothing. Not a thing. Nada, zilch, zip. End of story.
I'm just a city kinda guy, I guess.
But I'm nonetheless happy for you Mikey that Bumfuck gave you a collective embrace (giggles). Speaking of which, last night I heard a comedian share a truly hysterical pick-up line:
Excuse me, but my dick just died .. can I bury it in your arse?
C'mon, Bodhi, work with me, dude. I'm tryin' to work the whole 'glass half full' angle over here.
And yeah, that pick up line. Truly hysterical or truly disgusting? It's bold, I'll give it that.
You leave in the morning
With everything you own
In a little black case
Alone on the platform
The wind and the rain
On a sad and lonely face
Mother will never understand
Why you had to leave
For the love that you need
Will never be found at home
And the answers you seek
Will never be found at home
Run away turn away
Run away turn away
Run away
Thus endeth the lesson of Smalltown Boy, from the Book of Bronski. I will leave you clutching your half full glass, even though there is a sparking crystal champagne flute glittering off in the distance ...
Hysterical, disgusting and bold, huh? Works for moi ;-)
OK, now you made me cry.
I know. I know you're right. Is it Waterford? The flute, I mean.
Awww sweetie. I know I can be a bitch, but I do speak the truth. Need I remind you of my whole not doin' subtle thing?
But I will be the first to wipe away your tears, give you a warm embrace, and kiss you deeply and passionately in a way that will give the old dudes and the ladies that do lunch something new to talk about for quite some time.
You know that too, right?.
And yeah, Waterford. More Bolly for you with that Mikey? Fab ... Cheers sweetie!
Lots more Bolly for me, bitte.
You make a good point about the folks around here. All those friendly folks from the gym and the grocery and the cafe? Fairly certain the measure of their pleasure with me would change if they knew how I swing.
Fairly certain the measure of their pleasure with me would change if they knew how I swing.
I was going to say, "How could they not know? What are they, headless?" But you know that just sounds like "Dawn of the Dead" or more like "Shaun of the Dead" smalltown creepiness. So I shall not say a thing.
And mikey, I'm looking into a 6th floor walk-up in Chelsea/East Village/West Village/Soho ... somewhere cool, with tree-lined streets and good light. I can find something. I can do that. I will not try, I will do. Try is for sissies!.. or at least that's what my SEAL friends say.
From what I've seen so far, there are many that are in my price range. I'll save you a room (2 bedroom with a view). And you know I'll never be home, so it'll be almost yours. I wonder if Ethan and Uma have sold yet? Hmmmmmm. I hear she's marrying André Balazs. So, we could look, anyway. Good enough reason to get you back to the Big Pomme.
I'll keep you updated. Do not despair, poodle. ;D
I'll save you a room (2 bedroom with a view). And you know I'll never be home, so it'll be almost yours. I'll keep you updated. Do not despair, poodle. ;D
Oh, god. That seals it then. I'm Jack. Just Jack.
Fairly certain the measure of their pleasure with me would change if they knew how I swing.
I was going to say, "How could they not know? What are they, headless?"
This reminds me when I went back to my old AA homegroup some months ago with the decision that I was specifically going to share and "out myself" as gay to the group. After the event, when I shared this with our mutual Hobbity friend, he quipped with:
"What, you opened your mouth?"
Bitch.
Nah, you can be Will if you want or anyone you want, despite the chat. I just like "poodle" rather than "Wilma".
I'm somewhere between Anastasia and Gracie, myself. Sometimes more of one than the other.
But man, I didn't know there could be so many fabulous places, Michael!! Really. We'll both fly in for a weekend and you can help me look.
" NICE DETAILED, PRE-WAR FACADE.. HDWD FLOORS, HI CEILINGS UPGRADED KITCHENS & GAS STOVES.. HEART OF SOHO, NEAR SUBWAY, GREAT SHOPPING, CLUBS & DINING.. WING 2 BEDROOM APT ON THE MAIN FLOOR, NEWLY RENOVATED WITH EAT-IN KITCHEN." But still I need to wander through... and get a job there too. I suppose.
::sigh:: Fireplace and a terrace with a bit of a garden overlooking the city and/or harbour would be nice.
I was thinkin' about this while singing "A new day" and getting ready this morn: I could be Will. I do have a really nice charcoal topcoat and many scarves.
And you have alluded to this fact before, Michael. Well not so much alluded to but stated that I could be a gay male. What with my penchant for all things cachemire and my spending an inordinate amount of time on ablutions (and even saying ablutions)... ::sigh:: but then I do wear like to spontaneously burst into dance and I wear flat-front stone Banana Republic chinos with my collection of perfect cap-sleeved white tees under my v-necks... Sarah Jessica Parker!! I'm a freak!
Gawd, I need another espresso.
I'm reading the Village Voice online. Best of. I've got a hankerin'
http://www.villagevoice.com/specials/bestof/2004/
Bodhi, he said that? That snarky bitch! God I love him.
Moi, however, am not nearly as flamboyant as you might infer. I'm like your banker or your accountant, believe it or not.
loulou, it wasn't so much the "poodle" as the fact that I'd be squatting in your spare room. I take some solace in that I don't have any McFarlandesque argyle sleeveless sweaters and no white tennies with khakis for this queer.
Those places sound great. You will NOT have to ask me twice if you want some help house hunting. 2 bedrooms and a view downtown? I could afford maybe a tenth of one of those. Maybe you can give me some kind of timeshare deal. ;-)
Is there anything better than Linda Eder and ablutions in the morning? No, ma'am, there is not.
I'm loving the sound of your clothes. Are you very petite? (read: Might we share?).
Now I'm reading the Voice online as well. Was it only two weeks ago when I was reading it in a coffee shop in Little Italy?
[Rolls eyes]
Bodhi, noted. I forgive, but I don't forget.
I shall also take solace in the non-argyle/white tennies thing. Anyway, I’m still remembering the espresso jimjams and of course, the NY suit/exemplary-fitting jeans and driving loafers combos. Much more my idea of you in all your “stranded in monkeyfuck, Ohio” –glory. Still holding the line.
Timeshare or if I take my dog (which I very much want to do), you can be my dogwalker and I’ll tell Jesse to revert to being slash/houseboy while you’re visiting. (oops! Did I say Jesse? I meant, um, Anderson… no I mean Robert. Yeah. Robert.)
Petite, non. Medium-tall, yes. 1.74m (5’8 ½”) (12 women/medium men's. Yes, my precious.), kinda gangly (but not mutant-like!), except for when I get a little bit tooo thin and turn into a bobblehead doll. It gets scary. So height, head (of a thousand cowlicks) and with my usual 3" heels makes me kinda up there. Smiling & waving to all the little people as they point & stare, doncha know.
You know we can share. You're loving the sound of my clothes, are you? But darlin', we are one. Where do you shop? Where do I shop? Hmmmm? So...Share? But of course. Hearth/clobbah/music. We’ll work something out, I’m sure.
But the cashmere panties … we’ll have to talk.
So when we're not stalking TJ we can head over to Anderson's? Yay! But wait, which Robert?
I'd be your dogwalker, your houseboy, your gal Friday, your man about town and my hands are kinda magic (but not in that creepy guy who thinks he can give a good massage way).
Yes, I'm loving your clothes. All the talk of cashmere had me buying a charcoal scarf last weekend. We'll say it was in quiet homage to you. You're a trifle small for us to share, but it was a nice thought. I'm 6'1 and about 180. Not a medium anything. The panties could fit on my head, though, if that's OK.
Awwww, a scarf bought in my name? I'm verklempt! You do know that you have black leather knee-boots bought in yours, right?
Hey, I know that creepy guy with the hands! I knew it wasn't you.
Gee. You're ::gulp:: such a lovely tall young man, aren’t you? Mmmmmmm. Jesse's 6'2½" (1.89 m.) Mmmm again.
(Oooooh I should tell you, I’ve got a fairly recent 6’3” Crush and such a body! Oy! ::humminahummina::. He’s actually quite a new addtion to my fantasy-world. And he's from NYC! A Homeboy!! I'll have more later when I've had extensive & repeated viewings of all his films and acquired more pics of him with different haircuts. It’s all still up-in-the-air, really. But looks miiiighty promising!)
Anyway.
::big sigh:: I've got a Cashmere Confession to make and I'm thinking how to word it.
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