The Real Folk Blues part 3
Aug. 12th, 2004 05:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morrigirlBefore I start what will hopefully be the last entry about DC let me just say I LOVE ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silent_t. If I were to compose a list of the twenty people I love most on the planet she would definitely be in the top five.
And I had an awesome conversation today with Dean, one of our summer aids. Dean is half jamaican, half black, and grew up in Queens. The two of us had a great talk about race relations. It was so refreshing. There are so few people I can talk to about that. He was highly impressed at hearing about my virtual black studies minor. I think he found it surprising that a little white girl would take the time to educate herself about black history and race relations in the U.S. But it was so cool. He understands about racism in America which is more than I can say for most of my white friends. We talked about how retarded it is that there are people who think racism is a thing of the past, we talked about the influence of black culture on American culture as a whole, we talked about the gentrification of Harlem, and the hazards of being of mixed heritage. It was just like the old days when Phillip and I would discuss everything from race to religion to art. Maybe Dean can be my new Phillip.
Now that I've gotten that out of my system allow me to conclude my synopsis:
Day 6: I woke early again the next day. Other Mike had promised to call me the night before to solidify the days plans, but since I slept over at Gabe's I wasn't around to receive the call. So I rose around 9 or 10, got my shit together, and bid Gabe farewell hoping to get back to my hotel in enough time to get a hold of Mike. I felt mildly tawdry. I'd never risen before the man I'd spent the night next to only to slip out before he woke. I was half tempted to leave a goodbye note on his computer, but in the end I decided to wake him up and tell him I was leaving. I crawled across the bed, gently touched his shoulder, and whispered "Gabe, I gotta go." And he turned over, cracked his eyelids, and sleepily reached his arms up for a hug. It was so damn cute! And it made me feel good because...the men in my life rarely give a shit whether I'm coming or going, just as long as I'm around when they want me to be. Little shows of physical affection go a LONG way with me.
And speaking of physical affection: we all know the best way to make me stark raving mad with desire is to engage me in light hearted banter. Well, last week I discovered another simple act that automatically gets me dripping wet. Holding my hand in public. *swoons* News flash: Carla is a hopeless romantic, therefore classic romantic gestures get her really excited. In addition, none of my boyfriends to date have been the least bit physically affectinate. None of them would ever hold my hand, hug me, kiss me, or show any form of affection for me in public no matter how tiny, and that hurt. I consider touch the highest form of affection. Typically if we find something disgusting we don't want to go near, let alone set our hands upon it. We only touch the things we like. So when I get physical affection in public I go hog wild!!! Not only is it a declaration of affection towards the person being touched but to the people who witness the exchange. It's letting the world know, "I'm proud to be seen with this person." And I discovered my level of arousal is different depending on the audience. PDA's in front of strangers? Wet. In front of my friends or his friends? Wetter. In front of our mutual friends? Very wet. In front of family members? Dripping down my thighs.
Returning to the subject at hand...
Got to my hotel at noon and called Mike who told me something had come up and he wouldn't be able to see me. That was fine because, ya know, it was partially my fault for not being around the night before. So he promised to drop by the next day, and I was left with an entire day to myself. By then I was growing tired with the clothing I'd brought with me so I decided to go shopping. Went downtown, poked around in various shops and ended up with a skirt, two tank tops, and the coolest dress on earth. Came back, chilled in my room for a bit. Started getting bored round 10 PM so I hauled my ass down to Dupont Circle and walked around there for a bit. Stumbled upon an awesome gay bookstore called Lambda Rising where I spent an hour or so browsing the stacks. Walked most of the way back to my hotel. It was a really humid night but I really liked just wandering around this unfamiliar area after dark. Went back to hotel, chilled some more, then slept.
Day 7: Now we arrive at what was without a doubt the worst day of the trip. Mike called at 11 AM to tell me he wouldn't be able to make it into the city that day because it was his father's birthday and he'd plumb forgotten. I know Mike can be a ditz so I told him it was no problem and he swore he'd come by the next day. I wasn't all that phased. I had wanted to give Gabe another night off since I was sure he was getting tired of me, but I knew if worse came to worse I could always rely on him to entertain me. I rolled over and slept for another hour. When I finally got up, I decided I wanted to go back down to Dupont Circle for some more recreational poking. I got showered, dressed, and was all ready to bound out the door when I was seized by the sudden urge to call Clark.
After the horrible way he'd treated me when I was down there in April I hadn't planned on getting together with him this time. But he's still my single closest guy friend, not to mention a person who I feel an inordinate amount of loyalty and devotion toward. So without even thinking I picked up the phone and dialed his home number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is Clark there?"
"Speaking."
"Hey it's Carla!"
"HEY! How you doing? Holy cripes!"
"Guess where I am?"
"Are you in DC?"
"YES!!!"
I asked him if he wanted to have dinner that evening. He said he wasn't sure. His band is in the process of making a demo tape and he had to go run the recording equipment that night. He also had a project he needed to work on, something he'd been putting off for quite a while. So he told me he'd see if he could move some stuff around to make time for me, and if he couldn't we'd simply do it another day. One way or another he said he'd call me back later. I told him I'd be back in my hotel room by 5 PM at the latest. All was kosher.
Poked around Dupont Circle all day, got back around 4:30 and waited for Clark's call. And waited. And waited. And grew tremendously hungry. And waited. By 8 PM I was fuming. I'd been chained to the telephone for three and a half hours and I was growing stir crazy. I figured he wasn't able to rearrange his schedule and I was pissed that he hadn't made good on his promise to call me. I hate men who keep me waiting by the phone. I was way too pissed off to call him, I knew if I picked up the phone I would go off on him. He was the second boy to cancel on me that day and I was starting to feel really unimportant.
As a last resort, I called Gabe. I didn't want to. I was afraid I was relying on him too much. I felt as though I should be able to entertain myself, but there was no place else I particularly wanted to wander, and I just wanted to be WITH someone who cared about me. Gabe it turns out had kept his entire day open just in case I should happen to call. When 8 o'clock rolled around and I hadn't called he just assumed I'd made other plans and proceeded to make his own. When I finally DID call he had made alternate arrangements and couldn't fit me in. So I was abandoned by the last person I knew in the area, and I felt all alone and really shitty.
So in my shittiness I watched Kill Bill Volume 2. Which was very good, though not as bloody as the first. Daryl Hannah is now my favorite assasin of all time. I conked out after the movie. Being miserbale sure does drain the life outta ya.
Day 8: Called Clark first thing after I woke up. He'd spent the previous night working. I TOLD him we were going to have lunch that afternoon and he agreed. Made my way out to Hyattsville where he picked me up at the metro station. Once again I was stunned by the newest incarnation of his hair. The mustache was still there but the goatee was gone, having been replaced by a full grown beard. And on top of his head was the shortest wad of hair I've ever seen on the boy. I've known Clark for six years and I've never seen his hair shorn above his shoulders. Now it reaches just below his ears. Remember how Steffi Boese used to wear here hair? All short and curly? Yeah, well that's exactly how Clark's hair looks. He said he absolutely HAD to have the beard to go along with the hair or else it looked too feminine. He was right.
I was in the mood for mexican so he took me to this cute little mexican restaurant that was quiet and empty. We munched on tamales and enchiladas while discussing our love lives, his reasons for not going away this summer, the awful illness he came down with, life after grad school, the process of submitting to lit magazines, travelling, and how nice it is to hook up with Knox people after graduation. How nice it is to be able to have a physical or romantic relationship with a fellow classmate outside of your respective cliques, not having to deal with what their friends say about it or what your friends say about it.
After lunch we went back to his place because he wanted me to hear his band's demo. Clark doesn't willingly show anyone anything unless they ask, so having him say "hey, I want you to hear this" was a testament to how proud he was. It was a gorgeous day so we sat out on his deck while he tried to get his laptop to play the cd. When it finally did the sound quality was really poor and we couldn't hear the bass. So he ushered me back inside and showed me the video tape of their first gig, prefacing it with the oath that they had gotten A LOT better since then. Oh man, that tape was so fucking cute! Yes, they sucked. They sucked BAD!!! Clark has nothing even remotely resembling stage presence. He just stood there the whole time rocking back and forth, playing his bass somewhat tentatively. And when he sang....OH MY GOD!!! Dude it should be illegal for Clark to approach a microphone. Of course, I didn't tell him that. I couldn't. He was way too enthused, and he just looked so insecure on the video tape. I just sat and watched, a smile creeping across my face because I was seeing a whole new side of Clark. Several sides actually. The artistic side, the insecure side, and the side that fails to accomplish its goals.
After three hours we parted ways. He drove me back to the metro, told me he was glad I'd looked him up and to do so again the next time I was in town. I took the green line to Fort Totten and called Gabe from the station. Asked if I could swing by, got the go ahead, and transferred to the red line. I know we went out to eat that night, can't remember where though. When we got back we settled in to finish watching Cowboy Bebop. Now that's a pretty good series. Still not sure how I feel about the ending. On one hand I think it was kinda lame, even corny. Cliched. Disappointing. I look back on particular sessions and wonder "why the hell did they even bother to include that?" Gabe however had a nifty take on the whole thing, and...maybe I just need to watch it a second time in order to really grasp it. Again, by the time we finished it was way too late to go back to my hotel so I spent the night.
Okay so I guess this ISN'T the final DC entry. Oy vey, one more full day to go.
Now taking suggestions on what to title the next LJ cut.
silent_t. If I were to compose a list of the twenty people I love most on the planet she would definitely be in the top five. And I had an awesome conversation today with Dean, one of our summer aids. Dean is half jamaican, half black, and grew up in Queens. The two of us had a great talk about race relations. It was so refreshing. There are so few people I can talk to about that. He was highly impressed at hearing about my virtual black studies minor. I think he found it surprising that a little white girl would take the time to educate herself about black history and race relations in the U.S. But it was so cool. He understands about racism in America which is more than I can say for most of my white friends. We talked about how retarded it is that there are people who think racism is a thing of the past, we talked about the influence of black culture on American culture as a whole, we talked about the gentrification of Harlem, and the hazards of being of mixed heritage. It was just like the old days when Phillip and I would discuss everything from race to religion to art. Maybe Dean can be my new Phillip.
Now that I've gotten that out of my system allow me to conclude my synopsis:
Day 6: I woke early again the next day. Other Mike had promised to call me the night before to solidify the days plans, but since I slept over at Gabe's I wasn't around to receive the call. So I rose around 9 or 10, got my shit together, and bid Gabe farewell hoping to get back to my hotel in enough time to get a hold of Mike. I felt mildly tawdry. I'd never risen before the man I'd spent the night next to only to slip out before he woke. I was half tempted to leave a goodbye note on his computer, but in the end I decided to wake him up and tell him I was leaving. I crawled across the bed, gently touched his shoulder, and whispered "Gabe, I gotta go." And he turned over, cracked his eyelids, and sleepily reached his arms up for a hug. It was so damn cute! And it made me feel good because...the men in my life rarely give a shit whether I'm coming or going, just as long as I'm around when they want me to be. Little shows of physical affection go a LONG way with me.
And speaking of physical affection: we all know the best way to make me stark raving mad with desire is to engage me in light hearted banter. Well, last week I discovered another simple act that automatically gets me dripping wet. Holding my hand in public. *swoons* News flash: Carla is a hopeless romantic, therefore classic romantic gestures get her really excited. In addition, none of my boyfriends to date have been the least bit physically affectinate. None of them would ever hold my hand, hug me, kiss me, or show any form of affection for me in public no matter how tiny, and that hurt. I consider touch the highest form of affection. Typically if we find something disgusting we don't want to go near, let alone set our hands upon it. We only touch the things we like. So when I get physical affection in public I go hog wild!!! Not only is it a declaration of affection towards the person being touched but to the people who witness the exchange. It's letting the world know, "I'm proud to be seen with this person." And I discovered my level of arousal is different depending on the audience. PDA's in front of strangers? Wet. In front of my friends or his friends? Wetter. In front of our mutual friends? Very wet. In front of family members? Dripping down my thighs.
Returning to the subject at hand...
Got to my hotel at noon and called Mike who told me something had come up and he wouldn't be able to see me. That was fine because, ya know, it was partially my fault for not being around the night before. So he promised to drop by the next day, and I was left with an entire day to myself. By then I was growing tired with the clothing I'd brought with me so I decided to go shopping. Went downtown, poked around in various shops and ended up with a skirt, two tank tops, and the coolest dress on earth. Came back, chilled in my room for a bit. Started getting bored round 10 PM so I hauled my ass down to Dupont Circle and walked around there for a bit. Stumbled upon an awesome gay bookstore called Lambda Rising where I spent an hour or so browsing the stacks. Walked most of the way back to my hotel. It was a really humid night but I really liked just wandering around this unfamiliar area after dark. Went back to hotel, chilled some more, then slept.
Day 7: Now we arrive at what was without a doubt the worst day of the trip. Mike called at 11 AM to tell me he wouldn't be able to make it into the city that day because it was his father's birthday and he'd plumb forgotten. I know Mike can be a ditz so I told him it was no problem and he swore he'd come by the next day. I wasn't all that phased. I had wanted to give Gabe another night off since I was sure he was getting tired of me, but I knew if worse came to worse I could always rely on him to entertain me. I rolled over and slept for another hour. When I finally got up, I decided I wanted to go back down to Dupont Circle for some more recreational poking. I got showered, dressed, and was all ready to bound out the door when I was seized by the sudden urge to call Clark.
After the horrible way he'd treated me when I was down there in April I hadn't planned on getting together with him this time. But he's still my single closest guy friend, not to mention a person who I feel an inordinate amount of loyalty and devotion toward. So without even thinking I picked up the phone and dialed his home number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is Clark there?"
"Speaking."
"Hey it's Carla!"
"HEY! How you doing? Holy cripes!"
"Guess where I am?"
"Are you in DC?"
"YES!!!"
I asked him if he wanted to have dinner that evening. He said he wasn't sure. His band is in the process of making a demo tape and he had to go run the recording equipment that night. He also had a project he needed to work on, something he'd been putting off for quite a while. So he told me he'd see if he could move some stuff around to make time for me, and if he couldn't we'd simply do it another day. One way or another he said he'd call me back later. I told him I'd be back in my hotel room by 5 PM at the latest. All was kosher.
Poked around Dupont Circle all day, got back around 4:30 and waited for Clark's call. And waited. And waited. And grew tremendously hungry. And waited. By 8 PM I was fuming. I'd been chained to the telephone for three and a half hours and I was growing stir crazy. I figured he wasn't able to rearrange his schedule and I was pissed that he hadn't made good on his promise to call me. I hate men who keep me waiting by the phone. I was way too pissed off to call him, I knew if I picked up the phone I would go off on him. He was the second boy to cancel on me that day and I was starting to feel really unimportant.
As a last resort, I called Gabe. I didn't want to. I was afraid I was relying on him too much. I felt as though I should be able to entertain myself, but there was no place else I particularly wanted to wander, and I just wanted to be WITH someone who cared about me. Gabe it turns out had kept his entire day open just in case I should happen to call. When 8 o'clock rolled around and I hadn't called he just assumed I'd made other plans and proceeded to make his own. When I finally DID call he had made alternate arrangements and couldn't fit me in. So I was abandoned by the last person I knew in the area, and I felt all alone and really shitty.
So in my shittiness I watched Kill Bill Volume 2. Which was very good, though not as bloody as the first. Daryl Hannah is now my favorite assasin of all time. I conked out after the movie. Being miserbale sure does drain the life outta ya.
Day 8: Called Clark first thing after I woke up. He'd spent the previous night working. I TOLD him we were going to have lunch that afternoon and he agreed. Made my way out to Hyattsville where he picked me up at the metro station. Once again I was stunned by the newest incarnation of his hair. The mustache was still there but the goatee was gone, having been replaced by a full grown beard. And on top of his head was the shortest wad of hair I've ever seen on the boy. I've known Clark for six years and I've never seen his hair shorn above his shoulders. Now it reaches just below his ears. Remember how Steffi Boese used to wear here hair? All short and curly? Yeah, well that's exactly how Clark's hair looks. He said he absolutely HAD to have the beard to go along with the hair or else it looked too feminine. He was right.
I was in the mood for mexican so he took me to this cute little mexican restaurant that was quiet and empty. We munched on tamales and enchiladas while discussing our love lives, his reasons for not going away this summer, the awful illness he came down with, life after grad school, the process of submitting to lit magazines, travelling, and how nice it is to hook up with Knox people after graduation. How nice it is to be able to have a physical or romantic relationship with a fellow classmate outside of your respective cliques, not having to deal with what their friends say about it or what your friends say about it.
After lunch we went back to his place because he wanted me to hear his band's demo. Clark doesn't willingly show anyone anything unless they ask, so having him say "hey, I want you to hear this" was a testament to how proud he was. It was a gorgeous day so we sat out on his deck while he tried to get his laptop to play the cd. When it finally did the sound quality was really poor and we couldn't hear the bass. So he ushered me back inside and showed me the video tape of their first gig, prefacing it with the oath that they had gotten A LOT better since then. Oh man, that tape was so fucking cute! Yes, they sucked. They sucked BAD!!! Clark has nothing even remotely resembling stage presence. He just stood there the whole time rocking back and forth, playing his bass somewhat tentatively. And when he sang....OH MY GOD!!! Dude it should be illegal for Clark to approach a microphone. Of course, I didn't tell him that. I couldn't. He was way too enthused, and he just looked so insecure on the video tape. I just sat and watched, a smile creeping across my face because I was seeing a whole new side of Clark. Several sides actually. The artistic side, the insecure side, and the side that fails to accomplish its goals.
After three hours we parted ways. He drove me back to the metro, told me he was glad I'd looked him up and to do so again the next time I was in town. I took the green line to Fort Totten and called Gabe from the station. Asked if I could swing by, got the go ahead, and transferred to the red line. I know we went out to eat that night, can't remember where though. When we got back we settled in to finish watching Cowboy Bebop. Now that's a pretty good series. Still not sure how I feel about the ending. On one hand I think it was kinda lame, even corny. Cliched. Disappointing. I look back on particular sessions and wonder "why the hell did they even bother to include that?" Gabe however had a nifty take on the whole thing, and...maybe I just need to watch it a second time in order to really grasp it. Again, by the time we finished it was way too late to go back to my hotel so I spent the night.
Okay so I guess this ISN'T the final DC entry. Oy vey, one more full day to go.
Now taking suggestions on what to title the next LJ cut.
