Where You Go When You Want to Think

This site has excerpts of my novel-in-progress, Hot Love on the Wing, as well as thoughts on post postmodernism, avant garde art, literature, music, and the community of artists in Bushwick and New York.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Friends in Post Postmodernism

One night Gabriel wanted to introduce John to Buckley. He invited John over on a Friday while he and Buckley were getting high. When his old best friend and his new friend shook hands, it was with that momentary satisfaction and solid grip that two people make when they're sizing each other up. They relaxed, drank, started to talk about themselves, and then about women. Buckley, proud teller of stories, began his story first.

"At school one night in February, there was a little dance party my brothers and I had in our frat house. There was this girl there, who I had been thinking about for a while named Melissa. She had cocoa colored skin and kind of frizzy caramel hair and a tight little body and huge titties. So me and my brothers are all dancing to the Talking Heads, and she and I are grinding on the floor and she can feel that I'm into her. So I grabbed her titty and she was like "Jack, not here! Let's go somewhere else!" I don't know why, but we went into the bathroom. And we're kissing and sucking and I try to pull down my pants and she's like 'Jack Buckley, I am not giving you head in the bathroom.' That didn't stop me from taking her shirt off and watching those big titties spill out." Here the rising tension of the story led Gabriel to lean in. John looked all the cooler with a little smile on his face, waiting for the punchline. "They hung down to her belly button man, they were so big. So I picked one up and started sucking on it and slapping it around and she was loving it, but I was a little drunk so when I started playing on her titties, I started saying all this stupid shit like, "Bingo bongo." Here the friends chuckled as specks of spittle lined the corners of Buckley's mouth. "And finally, I slapped 'em together and said "Jambalaya titties!" He giggled at his own ludicrousness.

"Then this kid starts knocking on the door really hard, and I have a feeling it's J.T., one of the brothers who  gets the drunkest, and he's banging and screaming "Lemme in." So Melissa has had enough of me by this point and she hears this kid and she wants to get out. She encases her bongos and then walks out with me pawing at her asking for more. But as soon as she's out J.T. hiccups some vomit right onto the floor and gets it all over her shoes. He runs into the bathroom and we hear his lurching and grunting." Here Buckley giggled vehemently, satisfied in his recollection. "And after that I never saw Melissa again!"

Gabriel, used to Buckley's stories, laughed along with him, but John only smiled. Gabriel's old friend was kind of an idiot, he thought. For him, women were business, and you didn't discuss business matters during play hours.
Gabriel told the story of the fat girl he fucked, looking to John for reassurance. But when John's turn came, he just smiled and looked at his phone, checking the time. He said that after that drink they should get ready to go.

 Buckley and John were nice enough to each other, and Buckley tried to converse with him, but John only smiled and answered his questions. It was clear that they were of a different ilk. Gabriel noticed this, and when John found a woman at the bar, he fell back on his old friend. Buckley had more tact than to discuss John openly, but Gabriel could tell that he was glad John had left.

It is interesting that humans always break down into twos or threes when in a larger group. Like electrons finding their right orbit, they know what is most stable. Gabriel thought that he, Buckley, and John would be able to go out together and have a grand time, but it began to make sense to him that it's best to keep different groups of friends separate.

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