2002-01-27 || 6:07 p.m.

|| saturday night alive with snow and seagram's seven ||

last night the alley was very very crowded. a tiny booth dangerously close to the men's room and we were piled in it, brook jeff* jason and i, sometimes a gregory, and it was lovely. talking about faulkner and david lynch and hip hop ex boyfriends (dawg i showed a picture. they have heard stories. they wanted to see it. i hope you don't mind. yer famous, man!), all my latest stories, postmodernism and irony and i wanted to say over the clatter of the piano bar and drunken kids, 'woo! listen to this table! we are so feckin intriguing, ow!' and it was a movie, it was. brookie in her sweet knit cap and jeff* starstruck over the papercut at the table. jason violently pushing at the water rings his glass was leaving and gregory in his holden caulfield coat. i talked too loud. i was surly. i hadn't been outside all day and two swallows into my drink i was feeling very nice. at one o'nine i realized it was jean michel's birthday so i fled with borrowed cell phone to the outside for a direct connection to portland. cold cold air and no coat and m on the line, yelling 'it's snowing! we're snowed in! i'm not going to work tommorow why aren't you here it's my birthday.' i was standing on the curb shivering with brooker, trying not to stare at the couple makin out by the trash cans. m was in the little pink house blanketed with magic snow, letting all the drunken things spill out and if it were possible i think i would have been spontaneously transported to his doorstep, we wanted to see each other so badly. my michael is twenty-six today. if the psychic abilities serve correct he is seated at home right now in front of his punk rawkedy fireplace warmin the seat of his cords, wiping at his eye behind his glasses, looking out distractedly for more snowfall, more signs of twenty-sixness, feeling quite all right i think. i am glad you're happy. i am hoping this is a lovely birthday. wish i could be there to hand you a cupcake. exes and ohs, sweet boy.

*ahem. jeff is one hot mutha. jeff has become one of my favorites i think. jeff is weezer and cat love and home cut hair and sassy as all get out. you want to get in on his action, you do. he has presents for you. he wants to be your friend. check it out, yo, he is a hot one.

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