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Well, she was my catatonic sex toy...

Saturday in general was a fairly surreal day... there was a lot of general grogginess, intermittent napping and the like. At some point I thought it would be a good idea to take some Nyquil & then chase that with a shot of Robitussin. This left me utterly fucked up. Completely disconnected from reality fucked-up. It was bad. I thought perhaps a shower would help bring me back down a bit, and I was right... but it only helped so much. What really made the difference was falling asleep soaking wet in my robe for an hour. When I woke up I still felt a little buzzed, but ten times better than before. Looking at the clock I realized I was pretty much going to miss PJ unless I managed to get ready in less than 10 minutes AND was able to drive at least 70 the whole way to Pianos. I decided that there was some poor pj loving soul who'd been shut out of the knit on Wednesday that needed to see her more than I did & I took my time. I rolled into Rothko around 1 to see Sarah dj – only, if you'll recall, I was having some strong anti-rothko feelings and I didn't see anyone I knew in the place aside from Sarah shaking her groove thing up in the booth. I walked right back out & drove on over to Misshapes.

The list guy at Misshapes is starting to recognize me – this makes me feel a little special. This also makes me realize that I haven't spent a Saturday night in Westchester in a really long time, which makes me a little sad. Inside I run into Nora & The Brit and Amy & Scott & Jacob Surefire. We set up camp in our little corner by the stairs & wait for the proper alcohol / rhythm balance to inspire us to dance. Gina +1 showed up with various members of Kill Hannah. Before long there was a text message, and a bunch of whispering, and whaddya know? There was Selma Blair - who, btw, is much tinier than you think she is. A little Interpol got us out on the dance floor, and this girl behind me kept knocking into me, and I'm thinking Jesus, what the hell is your problem oh hello there Chloe Sevigny, how's it going? Yeah. Kind of surreal. And then there was some sort of skirmish involving Ms. Sevigny and verysmallverydrunkgirl – who had been running over people all night in her travels to and from the bar. vsvdgirl ended up hysterically crying and clinging to the railing as the bouncer tried to coax her down the stairs – at some point there was a concern that in her inability to locate her own coat she had taken any number of the ones that had been stored along the wall with her... but I can't be sure that actually transpired. I ran into my rockstar crush downstairs and ended up telling him what time they were going onstage on Sunday. hehehe. Sarah showed up with Karenplusone and there were more drinks & more dancing. And then it was time for me to leave, only on my way to the stairs, some completely random boy grabbed me to complain about my leaving. To further make his point about why I should stay, he kissed me. I was far too tired and out of it to protest, so I let him have at it for a bit – only he was scruffy and my face was getting raw, so I stopped him – said again that I was going home – and did just that. Holy bejeezus Batman. It was a VERY weird night.

sidebar: GTBF was at Misshapes too. Every time I see him I think about saying something, anything. But I never do. I'm not sure why... there's something so strange about having all of this intimate knowledge about someone and not actually knowing them. It's more than the journal – it's conversations I've had with friends we have in common - it's his dancing with us in a group at Misshapes or Motherfucker. It's like we move in these conjoined circles yet never really connect. I don't know. I think I don't really want to meet him, to know him in real life – well, more than I already do. I get this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that I would fall for him in the worst way. He's the summation of all of the qualities I know I should avoid in a man that I'm still attracted to – the perfect blend of haughty yet insightful, of self-destructive yet egocentric... of knowing what intangible things he wants without any notion of how to attain it. Basically he's me... only with a penis, an apartment, and a much stronger relationship with alcohol. And since we know I can't possibly ever fall for anyone who'd be even remotely good for me – I should just stay safely on the sidelines as far as he's concerned. Never mind the entire girl code issues the situation would be fraught with. So, let's do the world a favor and NOT introduce Jocelyn to Greg.

More later on getting lost in Jersey & snowstorms of bubbles at the shore.