Head buzzing a bit. Worth it though. That's what they say, isn't it? Abba spread out to fill the gap.
He loves Geology. It's a new subject.
Pink lips curl slightly. Hair is a raven. Timid girl floats behind her glasses like a bird. Clings to granny like a doll.
The hair and the blood and the breasts. Not wanting to be in your own skin. Puberty waits for no man.
Brief Bohemian Rhapsody interlude. Slight leap of joy inside when song begins. Then all of a sudden the gong. Nothing really matters, anyone can see. Nothing really matters....too meeee.
Cafe reappears slowly.
That dream about the bull ring. Walked in a side entrance and realised. Running of the bulls a bit evil. Prove your manhood by getting gored. Still, why not apply? Spanish cafes, cobbles, churches, cathedrals. Muy tipico. Ya Ya, Dank.
Table relaxes now the awkward bird girl has left. Glasses steam up with tears as she sits beside the box. Smell of lillies.
...
All on a scale, Kinsey, fluid, no one fully this or that. Ya da ya da ya da.
Curious as to why I thought him bisexual. Bit scrawny like but something about him. Don't want to be one of those queers that give us a bad name. Can't be friends with a straight without wanting a piece of their knob.
Always comes up one way or another. But, now there was surprise. I had no idea. Funny drunk face. Highly amused at being in a gay bar. Nice chest. Pretty brown eyes. Question - did the eyes become cute before or after the bi-ness? Maybe I am also a bi.
Couldn't breathe. Faces down on the table. Uncontrollable laughter worth twenty meditation sessions.
More coffee.
Cupping action. Barking up the wrong tree, obviously.
Sticky feet, boke. She had noticed my shoes. Well, nothing wrong with a splash of colour.
Peeling off his tight black boxers. What would it taste like? To put my tongue...
Lights flash. Strobe. All the drunk gays. So predictable. Hideous queens. He didn't get it. Just like a straight person who had got lost. Wonder what his boyfriend was like? Wonder who fucked who?
Burroughs, Beats. Hundreds of cafes in obscure European towns spread out before me.
Drunk hugging with strangers. Bearing life stories as they cleaned the glasses behind the bar. Lights came on. Drunk gays formed a procession out into the night. Straights into hell. Flames sparked and smoked in the corner. I think he preferred her. Maybe he wanted a menage a trois?
...
Love this Roy Orbison song. Makes me want to get up and jump around the room. Nice to go out and not feel like a tag-a-long.
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