Mary Jo

Ran into my neighbor Mary Jo. She wanted me to blog about her outfit, so here I am doing so. I like what she has on, especially the skirt, which is something I would wear, if I wore skirts. Mary Jo told me about her ants, which didn't sound so bad to me, and she showed me her diary, which has pages and pages of writing per day. I told her she was crazy for writing in such detail about her days, which she didn't deny. I was just jealous, though. I'm surprisingly reticent both in my own diary and on my blog. As for the ants, the prayer I said for her that day seems to have worked, as she now just has a roach. The Lord, much like skirts, works in mysterious ways.

Me and Chad kissin'

Me and Chad were kissin' on the street. Well, not really, but you know ... I was wearing my spiffy new blue pegged Hickey pants, and a yellow tee-shirt with a bluebird on it, bought at Camouflage from the irrepressible Tony. The pants were not just pegged, they were ankle-busting ... I had to remove the drawstring, even. The lengths to which I'll go to look good. : )

Weirdly zippered shirt

Wore my inexplicably zipped Helmut Lang shirt. Asked my most recent, but over, crush to take this photo, and he did. My crushes don't last as long as they used to these days. These days, if I like someone, I get their number and wait 5 days, then leave them a voicemail. But then nothing happens. It took a long time for me to learn that you're supposed to wait 5 days before calling someone if you like them. Maybe while I was learning to play that game, everyone moved on to a new game?

Ran into Menalik, too, on the day I wore this shirt. Earlier in the year, he told me he liked my jacket, and I was so happy - I felt as if he was accepting me on behalf of the younger, effortlessly fashionable, generation. The kids have finally tuned in to my look. In much the same way, during our last lunch, when movie star-handsome Matt from Out magazine gave me a hug, I felt as if the gays had finally accepted me as one of their own.  

Yankees game in a Mets hat

Peppar and her husband and son were in town. Went with them to see the Yankees. Lest anyone be confused about my baseball loyalties, I wore my Mets hat. I wanted to see if anyone would start a fight with me because of my choice of hats, but other than a few comments, things 
went smoothly. A-Rod hit a homer when it was completely unnecessary - the team already had a big lead. I could totally relate, though. In my life, the only times I'm able to hit it out of the park are the times when things are already okay. In a clutch, though, I choke.  I noted with interest that the Yankees still do the old ballpark tradition of announcing on the Jumbotron the birthdays of fans in attendance.  I thought that it might be funny for A-Rod if, just for fun, on August 15th, the Jumbotron wished Madonna a happy 50th.  

Sunday in NYC

I switched nights with my sister, so I ended up at home for a full Sunday, which doesn't usually happen.  I decided to go to Chelsea to see if my powers have completely faded away with age.  I put together a casual-looking outfit with considerable effort (I have a habit of dressing too theatrically on the weekends, and I was trying to look a little butch today) - I put on a pair of khaki shorts, a white t-shirt, striped socks, and a smart blue hat.  I went through a period where I wore a lot of hats in the summer, like Eleanor Roosevelt, but lately I had been hatless.  So, I left my apartment feeling like I had put a little of my old hat magic back to use for a little of an old pastime - cruising in Chelsea.  

Right away, I ran into my super, Jose, who looked and me, chuckled, and said, "nice hat."  I was aghast.  "What - does it make me look retarded?"  He paused for a second, then replied, "No, you look like you're chillin'."  I found that I could live with that, so I got in a cab.

I ran into that cute kid Ryan, who was hanging out with Doug, luscious as ever, and a friend of theirs.  Ryan reminded me that the Breeders were playing McCarren Pool later that day, and I debated going.  They marched off to a brunch to which I was clearly not invited, and I went to Camouflage to say hello to Tony.  There was nothing there that I loved, but I did find a nice pair of shorts in the Middle Eastern store across the street.  I pranced home.  Eventually, I decided not to go to McCarren Pool, because, after all, people who live in Manhattan shouldn't have to go to Brooklyn.  Plus, I saw the Breeders last month at Webster Hall.

With my hat on, I look a lot like my late brother Michael.  Oh, well.  Death will come soon for me, too, soon enough - but hopefully not today.  

Kirstie Alley

Today, Van and I saw truly one of America's biggest stars - Kirstie Alley - on 17th and Park Avenue South. She was dressed in a shapeless frock, and had oily hair, but really, she didn't look all that bad. She was buying counterfeit purses from an African on the street. She haggled with him for a looooong time, and I became uncomfortable for her. I was hoping she would walk past me after she had selected a purse and made her purchase, so that I could ask her if things really had come to this? But she didn't - she made straight for her red SUV with Virginia plates, probably off to some Scientology Center for, presumably, a coffee enema.

Since my last post, I've heard from two of the four guys to whom I gave my number. I don't know if I'll ever see them, though. The ball, as it were, is in their court. I wonder what Kirstie Alley would do with these men who find it hard to commit? Probably eat them, I don't know. Still, her career path gives me some hope - thanks to Kirstie Alley, I know that there is so much further to sink. And yet I still love her! I really do.

In other news, my new "Band of Outsiders" coral button-up shirt from Barneys.com arrived via UPS today, which means I can't buy any new clothes this weekend. : (

Happy pride

I can't believe I got sick on Pride day.  Woke up coughing this morning, bleah.  Aren't my powers supposed to be stronger on this my people's special day?  Oh, well.  I probably wouldn't have done the parade anyway.  I was in Queens feeling miserable.  I wonder if it had to do with making out with Ben yesterday?  He was so adorable!   

I gave three four guys my phone number in the past two weeks.  Two of them I know somewhat, one I was cruising in Club Monaco, and one is a singer whose interviews always crack me up.  None of them called me.  When things like that happen, it makes me remember why I used to drink.  Luckily, I'm jaded by now, and pretty satisfied with being alone.  Still, yesterday I went over my clothing allowance by two t-shirts, so I can't have been feeling very emotionally stable.   

I have been a terrible blogger of late, and I have been an even worse creative writer.  I will post more soon, I swear.  : )