Halloweenie

["Your shame is never-ENDING/Just one...psychological drama after another..."
(It would work better if I could elide in writing the words "drama" and "after" the way Andy Bell does vocally: drahmer, or something like that. And how do you write "one" so the vowel's extended?)]

[OK, so it's Halloween, San Francisco's biggest holiday. It's Tuesday, so it probably won't be as insane in the Castro as it usually is. Then again, it finally stopped raining, and all the queens will be itching to get out of the house and show off thier feathers.]

[Gary really loves the crowds on Halloween, and he and Mark have invited Leah, John, me, and a couple of others over to have a beer or two, get dressed if you're gonna, and go out. John dislikes crowds in general, really hates the Castro on weekends anyway, so you can imagine his enthusiasm. However, he doesn't want to miss any house party, no matter how minimalist, so he wants to go to Gary's for the beer and free food, then blow off the rest. I, with my usual lack of backbone, say, "well, OK."]

[In the last couple of hours, all the possible permutations of e-mail, instant messaging, and phone calls have created a little drama in which John is claiming Gary misrepresented what tonight was all about, and Gary thinking John's his usual partypooping self. (John: "it's just a launch pad for going out, and I don't wanna go out." Gary: "I never said that, but John shouldn't count on hours of free beer either..." Et fucking cetera.]

[So, we're going. After waking up at 4:30 this morning and staring at the ceiling for two hours before the alarm went off, I get this. What do I REALLY want? You mean, someone cares? What I really want is for every single one of my friends to be in a room together and promise not to compete for attention, to try to like one another, and to SHUT THE FUCK UP.]

[Ahem. Happy Halloween.]

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