BBBBBB, (Part the 2nd)

What do you mean its not Wednesday?
It sure feels like Wednesday. Oh, who am I kidding? The only way I am able to keep track of days is by making little hash marks on my desk down here in the vault.
And they could totally be wrong because I think the Cylons are adding extra ones.
Anyhoo . . .

Before I continue with the story of my wonderful vacation, I would like to make some quick corrections to the previous post.

First of all, Neil, and not Keith is the mastermind behind Wolfgang. You can listen to Wolfgang tracks on his Myspace page, here. Now go buy a Wolfgang CD.

Secondly, GayProf did not begin conversation with stories of his ex. In fact, I'd say we made it a good 3 hours before I finally . . . er, um . . . probed him (hee hee) about the sitch. After that, though, it was like the floodgates had opened!!! (You know I'm teasing, right?)

Ok, so back to Brooklyn . . .

After the Bulldog fiasco, Tennille and I hit up Pioneer Bar-B-Q in Red Hook. There was someone special she wanted me to meet . . . Lisa, the psychic, who doubles as a waitress.
After bringing us a pitcher, Lisa came back to the table with her magic cards in hand.
She told me about a disconnect with my mother. (I was adopted, spooookky). She told me that I need to be around water--funny that, because I enjoy bathing. Then she told me that I need to be more focused on the business side of my career--hmmm, does that mean no more Tetris-challenge with co-workers when business is slow? Or does that mean no more making mixes between processing images?
Let's get to the good stuff, already.
In my future is a musical or artistic, rugged ginger. He likes to kayak or something. That'll be perfect because I love waving at people in kayaks from the shore. She also said I may end up in Vancouver. Awesome. Canada rules. You can smoke the weed. Marry a dude who is also a prostitute, and you both have health care. Rock.
If I were to move to Canada, maybe I could work on BSG. That would rule my balls.

After the Pioneer Bar, Nilla took me to Mini Bar. Its located a mere block from her pad and is aptly named. Not only is the place tiny, but it is also frequented by little people. Or dwarves. Or midgets. After GayProf nailed me on the "Skinny Black Bitch" thing, I've been a bit recalcitrant in my assigning of labels to people . . . or drinks.

The bartender had an adorable Jew-fro and liked BSG. Of course, I was smitten. And I swear he was flirting with me. And I know I was flirting with him. Ah, well.

Then it was back to Tennille's pad and a restful, drunken sleep. I awoke the next morning and took the train to the edge of Brooklyn. I walked across the Brooklyn bridge for the first time in my life. I'm glad that it was headed toward Manhattan.
This was my first time to New York since 9/11. The skyline, surprisingly, didn't look more empty to me. I guess if the towers were something that I saw every day, then it would have looked suspiciously barren, but Manhattan holds my attention like no other place. It still vibrates and climbs, and by the time I had crossed the bridge, it had surrounded me.

I had no plans to go anywhere. There was nothing I really wanted to see (although the big mirror in Rockefeller Center sounded interesting), so I just wandered from park to park.
Columbus Park to Tompkins Square Park to Stuyvesant Square to Union Square to Gramercy Park to Chelsea Park to Bryant Square Park--and Washington Square Park was in there somewhere, too.

I liked having my music with me and turning it on and just watching people. Lawyers on a break. Old men playing bocce. A girl reading. Derelict digging through the trash. Gay dudes holding hands. It was a wonderful end-of-summer day and I don't think I could have spent it any better. [Note to gay dudes: Aviators are *so* over. Do you really want to look 10-15 years older than you are?]

It still only took me part of the day. I had some time to kill and my buzz was wearing off. To find a bar . . .
There was one little place that looked a bit too nice--awning, outdoor seating, sandwich board with specials. I had resigned myself to grabbing a beer there. Before entering, I looked across the street and spotted a small door. Few windows. A rainbow sticker. A bear sticker. A leather sticker. I headed across the street.

The 9th Avenue Saloon is Hell's Kitchen's very own leather bar. Every other Saturday is boot day. I'm sure the joint gets jumping on those days. At 3 in the afternoon on a Monday, myself and one other man were the only patrons. Joe, the bartender, was a fifty-something latino with a gravelly New Jersey accent. He pours a mean beer.
The other patron, a shaved bald white guy in his forties thumbed through a leather catalog. Both were friendly but not overly conversational. They asked when the first time I had been to NYC was. I had to think--1983, I guess. Hell's Kitchen would have been far off limits. Hell, back then, my mother held onto me like we were on an amusement park ride--and that was in the relative safety of Times Square. Well, '83 was about 11 years pre-Giuliani and the Disney-fication of the touristy area, so I can forgive my mother her overprotective ways in this instance.
Anyway, Steve, the bald 40-something bummed a smoke from me. He put his hand on my shoulder, gave it a squeeze and winked. I'm not into the whole daddy thing, but my mind instantly went to a naughty place. (And my naughty place perked up a little.) When he came back in, he sat next to me and showed me the leather pieces he owned. He was a Bensonhurst boy and Brooklyn was stuck on him. A USMC tattoo graced his forearm, and I found myself wanting another little squeeze.
Tennille stopped in and said hey on a break from work and I think she was pretty amused that I had found a leather bar so close to her work. She joked about getting me a bear flag for my house. I wonder what the roomies would think of that . . .
She went back to work and I ordered another. After a few sips, I headed to the bathroom. Steve was right behind. Thank god, I thought, I'll finally get some action.
"So, uh, you want some crystal or crack or weed?"
The stirrings in my loins turned to queasy in my stomach. "Uh, nah, that's cool. I've got a bunch of really crazy drugs back home."
He laughed. I laughed. I left.

Tennille and I then headed back to Brooklyn and the best veal scallopine I've ever had. We were joined by the ever-pleasant Keith. Then it was back to Mini Bar and the bartender. Wish I could've gotten a grope in, but alas, I was not hammered enough. Even after a whole day of drinking.

Up the next morning and off to . . .

The beautiful state of Texas and my wonderful parents.

If you don't remember my last trip to Texas, I direct you here. It was miserably hot. I think 95 the first two days. Anyway . . .

I feel pretty much the same way about the place that I did that time. My dad was determined to take me to Steak and Ale, and I couldn't figure out why. Then, the pieces came together. If you say its a "Special Occasion" when placing reservations, you get free dessert. Also, they had a coupon. I love that they think of that place as classy. My mom wouldn't let my dad wear shorts.

Mom and dad made sure to point out all the new housing developments--like I couldn't see them myself. I know, I'm an urban person and stuff, but all that sprawl makes me a little nauseous. It just seems to wasteful. And everyone drives. And there is no/very limited mass transit. Don't these people care about the environment or our future?
I know I take Seattle for granted sometimes--especially on some of its green policies. [All new construction of city property over a certain number of square feet has to be at least 60% self-sustaining. All of our schools are being retro-fitted to be more energy efficient (ok, so really, they're just closing schools, but that's energy efficient, right?).]
My parents don't even recycle. I can't believe that they aren't fined for that.
What am I saying? Of course I can believe that. They are in Bush country and consumerism is the watch-word. Who else is going to buy gas?

So, yeah.
Adam and Jeff came to rescue on Wednesday. I drove to Dallas to meet Adam for dinner. We went to Mia's for some killer TexMex. I had a delectable briscuit taco and a swirl margarita. I'm still not sure what the swirl was, exactly, but it was a great drink.
Adam was just how I imagined he would be--funny, intelligent. He could throw zingers right back at me and laughed at all the right places. I had only occasionally read Jeff's blog in the past, so I didn't really know what to expect. He was equally as charming. Conversation ranged from Sondheim to politics to which-dude-on-the-dancefloor-would-you-do. Seeing that I have no standards, any of the dudes on the dancefloor would have been fine with me. Even the robot. Even the really old one. Even the chick. After we parted ways, I put some pieces of the conversation back together in my head and figured out that Adam's partner graduated high school with my college roommate. Isn't that totally trippy?

So then it was back to Fort Worth and the final day with my parents. Then back home. Every time I return to Seattle, I get a greater sense that this place is home. While I can imagine myself living in New York or Boston, I think I would miss the scenery here. (Even though it takes someone like Earl to get me out to see it.)

Before I sign off, I just wanted to say that it was really great getting to see each of you. Prof, I won't be able to think Boston without thinking of you as my (sometimes lost) tour guide. Nilla, sorry its taken me so long to visit you, but better late than never, huh? You're a great hostess and I had such a blast! Brooklyn rules! Adam and Jeff, its always great to meet people who are as dynamic and funny as both of you. Thanks for putting up with my cigarette smoke and providing me with much needed sanity in the insane environment that is Texas.

[If you couldn't tell by my blogging irregularities, life has been fairly hectic since my return. Re-adjusting to the nighttime schedule, trying to fit in all my shows (BSG, Veronica Mars, The Office, ProjRun, ANTM, Gilmore Girls), choir practice, and just catching up with my friends again has eaten up most of my time. I'll try to be more fastidious in my posting--plus I got a rant a-brewin'--oh and a new mix.]