on a saturday night, in summer, in a new york city gay hangout, when one can no longer pass for being someone within a plummy age bracket, there is a generosity of viewing that is heartrendingly otiose. and as i am always wont, i first think of honing in on someone way out of my league. in the end, I go with the guy who is slightly more pear-shaped and sweatier than i am who actually pays for the cab home.
it would appear, so far in my life, that all of the more enchanting things i have ever done stem from ideas against my baser instincts. and all i need to do to be alright is just say no to my original truths.