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July 15, 2003

Fraked nolicking

Considering how many of my posts have involved bitching about the nasty horrible weather over the last 8 months, I really should talk about how perfect the weather has been recently. It has been Goldilocked for some time. Too hot, too cold, and now it is JUST right. I don’t want to say that the weather has been like eating tepid oatmeal with my golden locks accidentally falling in the bowl, mind you, and I don’t want to fall asleep and have some horrible bear eat me. A bear would be nice, but that’s a different story. Every day that I have to do something inside just makes me act like my kids before school ended. I want to barbeque, hike, swim, maybe have some general frolicking. Naked frolicking, or maybe fraked nolicking.

On Sunday I had tons of homework that I desperately needed to finish. So what did I do? Went shopping, of course! As Kieran pointed out, x will still be approaching infinity whether I focus on the work or not. Kieran, JD and I went to Modell’s then Century 21. I always need my friends to help me on clothing advice, although this day was somewhat easy. Everything I bought was either black or white. What fabulous stores, especially since I now buy clothing in the boys section. Shopping has been a dreaded experience for me, beginning with shopping with my sisters and mom. The trips always ended up with mom furious and screaming, the girls weeping, and me playing inside one of the clothes racks. Now I know we just needed a homosexual facilitator, but I was too young, and it’s not really my forte.

It amazes me that I used to always buy extra large shirts. I always wanted to hide my body, hide my perceived flaws. Now I realize that it just looked like I was wearing pup tents, essentially. If nothing else, I have good shoulders, dammit. So I bought my very first muscle shirts, black, of course. It probably felt like how a girl feels with her very first bra. I’m carefully observing my arms, making sure my stomach doesn’t look too weird. Let’s just say that I’m much more comfortable with black. Kieran and JD bought a few things, but mainly they came along for moral support. As with all my friends that make supportive noises as I fret endlessly about clothing choices, I owe them beers.

I also bought some new swim trunks, as my old pair was truly disastrous. I had never tried the old pair on my body prior to purchase, and they were way too large. I had a safety pin attached to the side, and it kept coming loose and stabbing me. Not good, but the other option was to leap into a wave while my shorts went the other way. Although there is a whole section of nude bathing at Jones Beach, I’m not ready to let everyone confirm whether or not I have a tanline. I did fake N bake in the raw once, and I burned all my dangly bits. Not pretty, I assure you.

My last purchase was sad, as I finally bought a new wallet. For most people, this isn’t a big deal, yet I’ve had my old one for fifteen years. I just have to come to grips with wallet death. The poor thing has been on life support for years, I knew it was in pain, but I just couldn’t let it go. My dad bought it for me in Turkey, and it has been more than just a sentimental attachment. The wallet was made from the softest leather, and was so paper thin as to be unnoticeable in your back pocket. I’ve seen thicker condoms. I’ve searched for years for a replacement with no luck. One of these days, I really have to just go to a leather store and buy the basic leather. I really don’t think it would be a complex job making it, plus I could probably make a few improvements to the design. The new wallet is okay, although bulkier. Also, it only cost ten bucks at Century 21, center of the cheap clothing world.

After the shopping, we went to the South Street Seaport. It was my first time, although it was vaguely reminiscent of Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. Instead of beached walruses, large tourists flopped about, eating tourist food. Nothing wrong with tourists, it’s just that I’m allergic to them. I break out in conservatism, racism, and monolinguistic chatter. The only antidote is a discussion about literature, and I haven’t been able to read much for the last few months, so any exposure to tourists could be lethal. We went to this great little coffee shop that Kieran knows a few blocks away from the tourist center where we had some excellent chai and homemade Oreo cookies. It had a bright and cheerful atmosphere, plenty of board games, and some really whoop-ass pottery.

Hunger struck us bluntly about the head and neck, and we decided to go across the Brooklyn Bridge for food. When I first visited NYC, I had a disastrous experience going across the bridge, but it is so much easier now that I know that walking there from Williamsburg is a bad idea. The sun was setting, JD had never walked across the bridge, and the Watchtower Tower towered and watched us. I had no idea that there was a park under the bridge, and I was totally floored by the view. Now that I’ve been to this park, I’m really torn as to which bridge base is more spectactular- Golden Gate or Brooklyn Bridge. As a gay man, the gay beach leading to the Golden Gate has extra scenery, but the Brooklyn Bridge leads to one of the best views around. While at the park, I realized that Woody Allen filmed my favorite scene in Manhattan in the park, and also that Brooklynites built all the skyscrapers in Manhattan in order to avoid having to look at New Jersey. We had dinner at Superfine, a restaurant with Hatch green chile burgers. Only people that live in the Southwest have any idea what the word Hatch means. We’ll just laugh at our insider joke and then scarf our burgers. I really must explore DUMBO more over the next few weeks, as I saw all sorts of fun places I need to experience, and I now have a new favorite view of Manhattan.

Posted by G at July 15, 2003 05:26 PM

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Comments

Posted by: Sparky at July 16, 2003 06:56 AM

Posted by: Danny L. at July 16, 2003 03:19 PM

Posted by: Glenn at July 17, 2003 12:12 AM