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Location: Brooklyn, NY

the Buffalo undergoes daily reincarnation as different variations of the same beast. In the meantime, he makes paintings, writings, and a general mess of his lives.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Eating Octopus, Hailing Limousines & Relaxing With High Class Whores...Just one more. The weird outcry of a grossly depraved line of thinkers.

[An excerpt]

We arrived at Scores some time around midnight & my main idea was to convince Anna that she was falling for me. But she seemed to have already devised some way of coping with the evening & I didn’t seem to be a part of that plan. So I ordered a $14.50 Jack on the rocks & sipped slowly, smoking cigarettes.

I could tell that Heather’s friend and ex-boyfriend, Frank, wasn’t enjoying himself from the beginning & the cocaine joke I had made in the reference went over so badly that I remembered immediately that he was a police officer in Virginia. But we weren’t in Virginia - we were in a limousine hauling ass up Park Avenue towards one of the finest strip clubs in the world. So, I figured I was safe. But when he extended his nice gesture of buying a drink for two people and himself he realized quickly that he had over-extended himself. When the bartender said “that’ll be $43.00,” I could swear to Christ he wanted to get in the first cab he saw & fly like hell back to whatever airport brought him to this terrible city.

He sucked it up quietly, but not completely, & the idea of the whole thing haunted him all evening, I suspect.

It’s 4am now, & I’m still going. But I’m wondering where this weird energy came from. I was crashing & burning 16 hours ago, and still speaking of similar themes. & now, after pushing further for many hours, fueled by shellfish, octopus, duck, shrimp, & other exotic foods washed down with gin & tonics laid out on a bed of bloody marys. But that seed was planted at around noon, when Marco walked into the room with a jug full of bloody mary.

The exhaustion is settling in now, & despite this, I have the urge to do many things. Drink more beer, smoke more cigarettes, write far more, listen to music, call up close friends, or just simply think of all of the whores I just paid to give me expensive thrills in quick bursts of cheap pre-emptive sex that would never occur. But those girls were ruthless with their sexuality. I won’t deny that. I almost believed they meant it when they told me that I was sexy or cute, or that I had nice eyes. & maybe they did. But none of that matters. They had a job to do & there was no maneuver, smooth or ugly, that could convince them that I was a good wholesome guy who could offer them something meaningful. & not even I would ever believe that line of bullshit. But with that sort of acting, I figure you could tap anything if you dug the right well in the right place.

But, despite the crude memories of beautiful bodies, breasts, asses, groins, legs, feet, & faces, I failed in the one fundamentally decent thing I was attempting to pull off. I never convinced Anna of anything at all. When she listened, she listened well, but in the end there was still the thought of ravishing Heather’s lovely roommate & the thought of her legs spread, seeing the strippers grind her dress up far enough that the whole show was showing very enthusiastically against the stripper's body.

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