Monday, September 16, 2002

Enduring the night shift at Burger King, I take advantage of the slack nature of my young shift supervisor, who's physical beauty has become something of a bonus for me- they probably wouldn't have to pay me at all to be here. My coworkers, all of whom know about my completely superficial attraction to him, however, overestimate this: They think my agenda is to seduce him, when really, I just like to appreciate art when I see it. As far as my sexual life goes, the cat's out of the bag to everyone who cares- albeit, not many- that Zack and I are now officially Zack and I. How long this has been going on is unclear, however, I can tell you with certainty that we're here, we're queer, get used to it....or, something like that. I never know what I'm saying at all, least of all when it's 1:20 am, and I'm getting paid seven measely dollars an hour to watch the progression of the night and serve burgers.

Except that right now, as we all know, I'm doing neither of those things. I'm satiating the long forgotten needs of my fans. My many, many fans- all of which have five speeds, and oscillation capabilities! Yipee!

As last you heard on " must be very bored...", the continuing saga of teenage mundanity (*promptly looks up validity of word...woo!*), I was doing something slightly less mundaniffic than usual- I was headed off to New York. Or, a few days away from being headed off to New York- between my trip and my last entry were several struggles involving the cancelling of my hotel accomidations, as done by my extremely caucasian parents, who seemed to think their extremely caucasian daughter should not be spending the night in a one-star hotel in an entirely uncaucasian area of town. This lead to the monetary donation of fifty dollars a night on their part so that I could stay some place with a little more class, and a little less ethniticity--- Times Square. My parents line of thought seemed to be that Times Square was a business district, or something: I assume they associated it with the New York Times, and figured that since they'd never heard of a HARLEM newspaper, I must be better off where people can, well, read. I must point out, this is THEIR (hypothetical) opinion, not my own, as I am far less ignorant, I like to think, and just a little more wordly- I, personally, doubt the ability of the average person in Times Square to read, as well. Our hotel, which was photographed with a deceptive air of surrounding class on the internet add, was sandwiched between a parking garage and a building with a strip club on the top and a porno store on the bottom. Directly across the street, however, was the Gershwinn Theater, where the Broadway shows "Metamorphosis" and "Oklahoma" were performed. This goes to show you- there is seemingly no way to gauge the class factor of a block in New York. Maybe the locals have it figured it out, but to me, it appeared some complex enigma.

While I don't have the energy to relate my experience in the Big Apple with satisfactory detail- and I probably shouldn't, being that I AM being paid a massive seven dollars an hour- I'll go over some of the highlights: Some confusion involving my lack of credit card lead the hotel to rob me of almost two hundred dollars on deposit as well as the two hundred for the room, which left me without the full 400 I had brought with me. This wouldn't have been much of a problem, however, if it had not been for the massive malfunction of my ATM card, which randomly decided to assign to me a daily limit of funds that I was allowed to withdraw, as well as completely going INSANE on the second day. This was worked out midway through th etrip, and thanks to my father faxing his permission to charge the room to his mastercard, I was able to survive without selling my body to stock brokers...too much. Heather and I saw "Rent", the musical from which quotes have graced this website for months and months, leading up to the change of format that now affects us- to put it simply, it was transcendent. Details escape me, especially at this time of night, but you can request a more detailed account in person or on the phone- that is, if any of you were around to see me or call anymore. We spent the following evening with Elorza, my second-ever real-life encounter with him. Heather found him to be a complete asshole, but I was once again taken aback by his confidence, humor, and charisma, not to mention that he, too, is undeniably an masterpiece to be appreciated. The most notable experience of our third and final morning there would be breakfast at the wonderful "Ellen's Stardust Cafe", where the waitstaff sang for us. During our layover in Boston, I was able to spend a much-needed hour with Jenn, without whom my life is becoming rather eerily like bad freshmen poetry.

And then home, home again, where I was able to return, the next day, to the eager arms of my Zack, with whom I had a great deal to talk about- the night before leaving for New York, Heather and I stayed with Torrie and a small party conspired, involving Jill and Mike and several of Torrie's roommates. There was much booze to be had, and, while I ingested only a few sips myself, the drunken atmosphere made for a bit of a haze in my mind, and quite the interesting- if regrettably inappropriate- situation conspired. Having resolved everything I need to with uninvolved parties, I now wonder whether or not I will forgive myself for my own irresponsibility, and if others involved have any recollection at all. Suffice to say, other people there were very drunk.

I've been overnights for the past three days, the first of which was spent entertained by conversation with two of my male coworkers, the second sustained by Zack's presence for the full nine hours of the shift, and tonight, Jeff stayed a while, having dropped my off after us hanging out for the first time in...far too long. He's been keeping closer track than I have, suffice to say that an inapprorpriate period of time has passed. And I do love him, so much- it seems that the only problem, on my part at any rate, with our friendship continuing unaffected will be fighting the instinct I have to kiss him every now and again, but with a slight amount of effort, I won't screw that up- that would be no good for me, no good for him, and no good for Zack. Zack, who's loving companionship has become a distraction from all the loss I've had recently, perhaps too much for my own good.

Another time, another place for that explanation however. I must get back to my dilligent post, doing nothing and getting paid just about the same. On with it!