Liking: the iTunes 3 feature which keeps track of your 25 most-often-played songs so you can play them at random just like you always do, but without the unsightly lunges for the controls to edit out the crap songs.
Feeling dirty: Hot weekend with JF, making love, getting up, making love, showering, making love again, eating breakfast, making love again, smoking weed, making love, sitting down, making love, watching color-co�rdinated Tilda Swinton clones, making love again, watching Pacte des loups again (why?), making love again. "Chill"ing with his friends in one of those romantic view-of-the-dumpster apartments. Thinking: I am so busy, I am so high-tempered and effete and elitist, I like French baroque opera, kir royale, Bumble & bumble, irreverence and social satire: why am I sitting in a hot, smoky room with dirty-haired pagan hippies listening to Coil -- indeed, why is it making me so happy? Making love again.
Current Bowie: Modern Love.
At work: I got my first call from somebody who'd called just to hurt somebody's feelings. Her pet theory, to which she came back again and again, as if it were the thing she'd really called to say, was that my entire firm must all be at the beach, "hanging out". She called me "arrogant" twice, in her whiny little voice, and told me (after ten straight minutes of harangue) I was assuming an attitude with her; before I knew what I was doing, I was saying, "Listen, sugar: Lemme tell you something . . ." and my boss stopped what she was doing to look on with bewildered admiration. I talk like a drag queen with huge, untaped, untucked balls; I have found a home.
On the way home from our date Friday, JF and I saw a bearded guy in a cowboy hat, an embroidered vest, a red square-dance skirt, white hose and blue kitchen-heeled schoon. JF says, "I love America," and I'm right there beside him.
The trees were all decked out in their best fall colors
there was a snap in the air
when you eased down the window
and the New York sun brought out the highlights in your hair
and gently, . . . gently
the constellations aligned
and as we crossed over the Throg's Neck Bridge I had something on my mind.