Most of the story, anyway. Took place over 5 hours. Details must be lost in the wash.
I packed a backpack, suitcase, and the 5 foot canvas heart to bring to the space–(the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts).
I’ve historically detested these surveys. I’ve gleefully ranted against them, and now I am doing one.
Too many people I like tagged me on facebook, and I actually enjoyed reading theirs, so I said “well.. Ok. If ya really, truly want to know.” I said that aloud to myself whilst looking in the mirror.
I wrote 24 things–it took some time, mind you!–and then my internet shut off, and I lost the whole concoction.
The Therapist Game.
Back when I drank, I used to love to play the Therapist Game. I’d get whoever I was talking to at a party to lie down and tell me all of his or her problems, and I’d stroke my chin and say “mm hm, mm hm” a lot and “it sounds like you’re feeling [fill in the blank]“.
If you haven’t gathered, I’m not much of a Happy Holidays type.
My favorite bad New Year’s story, 2004:
I’d just moved to New York. I was invited to a party after performing at an open mike.
I had one friend there to hang out with, Fred, a 47 year old gay man.
He’s dead now.
Anyhow, somebody at an open mike invited me to a party after I performed. He said it was a costume party and to dress as my alter ego.
Christmas Day. I got to the movie theatre before everyone else, balked at the swelling crowd and ran out of the theatre. I sat on a bench for a few moments, contemplating leaving altogether… I’m always looking for an exit from any situation.
A man with one eye and a swollen, beat up face approached me and said hello. I said hello and then he got all menacing and did everything but get on top of me, so I ran back into the theatre, my buddies arrived, and that was that.
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