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Father Time got up to some shenanigans after the clock struck 12 and the Time Dimension shifted into the New Year, but he was cool up until that.  I found it necessary to erase most traces of him from the internet as best as I could and make amends and apologies on our behalf for practicing wizardry in a public and confined space.  Still, Father Time had the saving grace of leaving the establishment immediately, sensing how much he pissed off the tavern keeper. Supported by the Staff of Time, dismally streaming a silver pennant of a year past, he stumbled down 6th Street.  Stopping for a slice at Chico’s and eating it out of the box on the way home he woke up later that morning  in his flat strewn all over with satins, leathers and a wig and a beard.

New Year’s day was spent in a haze of shame, so I bought a new vacuum cleaner to suck away the dust of past behaviors.  Walking down the street I saw a young man clad only in a pair of black basketball shorts with no shoes sweeping up shards of glass that must have fallen from the broken bay window on the second story above.  He was doing his penance, exposing his body to cold and his naked feet to sharp fragments of fractured window.  I realized that I wasn’t the only person to have a rough transition into 2010  evidenced not only by this barefoot young man sweeping up broken window glass but also by the street litter of used condoms, beer cans, vomit and torn weave hair cluttered in the gutter or tangled in weeds.

Had New Year’s Day Brunch at the House of Fish, consisting of  macaroni and cheese, ham, champagne and confessions.  Came back home and my BGFF convinced both of us that she needed to take me out in the South of Market to await the transition of New Year’s day to my birthday.  A legend in the making, she came complete with a discreet entourage, and because it was a holiday and a Friday, Chaps II was bumping.  I really felt like I was having a party.  At exactly midnite when day 1 of 2010 turned into day 2, and for me 40 years of existence turned into 41, my iPhone froze suggesting to me that it is non Y2Ten compliant even though I must be.  The bartender, Ryan, got us B’day shots and then I reassmembled my clothes to head off with the troop for a leathery loop of bar hopping, stopping off for shots in all the bars in the next square mile: Powerhouse, Hole in the Wall and The Lonestar.

At The Lonestar I ran into the DJ at the club from the night before where Father Time had his impromptu pyrotechnic display pre-empted by the quick handed tavern keeper.  Without even really thinking about it I went up to him and apologized.  “Oh, that was you?” he said, “Joe was so pissed!”  I was abashed.  He returns, “I accept your apology.”  An unexpected reprieve.  I really didn’t know how much of a dangerous cunt I was being last night.  A little bit of the weight from the burden of shame was lifted.

Exiting the Lonestar, by now our inchoate troop was a bit strung out along Harrison Street and around the corner on 9th.  My BGFF in the lead with a cutie in tow, 2 others struggling with cigarettes and me straggling last.  Coming around the corner, I ran into a very old friend who remembered how the day was significant for me and he invited me into his motel room to smoke some weed, smack my nuts and suck my cock.  We’ve known each other for some 16 odd years and our interaction is scripted in dialogue resolving into 2 distinct endings, but the scene, though well rehearsed is never performed the same way twice.  I have to admit that its always a pleasure to reacquaint when I’m available.

My old friend knows that I have a habit of falling asleep immediately after I cum, and I know that he knows that. But I also know (because he makes it clear) that he is in the City to suck as much cock as he can and I’m happy to oblige and leave so he can take a piss and freshen up for the next trick.  Stoned and buzzed the bars are closed cos my old friend and I spent a good amount of time talking story.  Get down to my alley off of Folsom Street and there’s a huge gay party happening at 1015.  I walk past the roll down garage door of the chop shop on my street and there’s a guy cruising in the depressed recess under the gate.  He makes a motion that he wants to suck my dick so I let him go down on me.  He starts looking around, I guess feeling too exposed so we go across the street so he can suck me off behind a parked van.  Some people going to the club have the courtesy to walk around the van instead of walking right into me getting a blow job in the alley.  I’m just looking at this anthropologically right now, not really enjoying the blow job so much as the scene and I’m guessing he probably has sex toys in that plastic shopping bag that he never puts on the ground.  Then he stops and offers me a hit of crystal meth.  That’s when I know that I’m already out of hand, shove my dick in my pants and go up to my flat.

I wake up and it’s still my birthday.  I go Downtown to the Apple Store and they end up replacing the display on my iPhone and it works better than it ever has.  10 months into the warranty the device’s built in obsolescence  revealed itself so I paid to extend the coverage for another two years.  Resisting the urge to go to BVLGARI and see if that watch is still there I head into Chinatown to shop for cheap Feng Shui cures.  Ionass calls me then to wish me well for my birthday and.  He was calling from the bathtub of his hotel room in Vermont after a day of skiing.  He could hear the musician playing the Chinese Violin in my background and I could hear the tiled acoustic resonance of his voice  and the occasional sloshing of bathwater in his.  We talked nearly an hour and his bath must have got cold.  Reluctantly, he let me go and I was glad because I was hungry but I didn’t want the conversation to end.  I was left with the pleasant melancholy of a momentary closeness of my heart’s true love that dwells too far away.  Crossing Grant to lunch at the Far East Cafe I was disappointed that because it wasn’t a weekday they didn’t have the rice plate specials.  I ordered the fried salty cod which in reality turned out to be pretty bland fried battered fish with no chips or tartar sauce.

Just a note here: isn’t it ironic that when you are shopping for something specific in Chinatown you go to every shop and  settle on buying something even though its pricey and not quite right and then the very next shop you go to you find exactly what you were looking for and it is actually less expensive?

Went home and napped and got a call from Jose whom I met  at the Rainbow Cattle Company the day I got back into  Guerneville after going to the beach to retrieve the Staff of Time.  Jose is blind, but he let me beat him twice in pool, so he’s pretty cool and since then we’ve become chatty fb friends.  Knowing that I exhausted all of my birthday shots in the South of Market I had him agree to meet me in the Castro at the Edge.  I took the Muni up there in my toned down leathers and Torturer’s Cape stopping at 440 for a drink before our rendezvous.  I worked the bartender for a shot and ordered my usual vodka soda with lime before heading to the Edge. Ran into Rick outside and he said he’d probably meet me there.  As I was coming into the Edge I saw Berlin for a hot minute, but he was on a mission.  Got to the bar and Jose had already arrived.  He bought me a drink, the bartender bought me a shot, Rick showed up and it got drunk and rowdy.

After a bit Jose was hungry and wanted to go to Marcello’s, but as I am a connoisseur of late night drunken pizza I insisted that we eat at Nizario’s.  #1 rule of late night drunken pizza is always gets what is hot fresh from the oven and not what has been sitting under the lights no matter how much that combo is your favorite.  We chowed down and it was good and before we were just about finished the 33 Stanyan was pulling into the bus stop so I dragged Jose on the bus so we could be closer down to the South of Market.

Getting off at 18th and Folsom I realized that was a bit of a walk and we probably would have been better off taking the Muni underground.  As it were, a taxi cab came by and I hailed it to have it take us to the Powerhouse.  Arriving I knew one more drink for me although conceivable would be a pretty bad decision but Jose was feeling it so he was happy to allow me to leave him there.  I stumble to my flat and wake up hours later and it is still dark outside.  With conviction I know that I need to go to the naked hippie new age hot springs resort to rejuvenate, recover and relax.  It took a few hours to get my gear together but I drove the 2 hours north with the sun coming up and arrived there still somewhat in a fugue.

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