beulahbondo's Diaryland Diary
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The best behinds of my generation
Last night my neighbor BuniStG and I went to the opening of an art show by Boston musicians, most of whom have been around since the 80s (and I don't mean they were born in the 80s). For me, it was fantastic, like being, I imagine, a newly out lesbian at her first Gay/Lesbian/Transgendered afterschool meeting. I wasn't the oldest person in the house! Nor was I the youngest, like when I go to Quaker meeting in Vermont.
The place was packed with gently aging local rock superstars. Ex-Del Fuegos, ex-Modern Lovers, ex-Til Tuesday, ex-this and that. All the guys looked blurrily familiar, a little gray, a little droopy-jowled, but still flat-assed like most "indy" rockers. My girlfriend A, who when we were both 24 was dating a rocker I thought was ancient (he was probably younger than I am now), has now been with him for 18 years and he no longer looks ancient, just regular, and she is still beautiful. A and I were photographed, grinning, for Boston magazine, and even though I left at 9 because I was hungry, abandoning BuniStG to all her old boyfriends, it was a great time.
Friday night's party was also a success, and also one I couldn't see through to the end, being too cold. That was the coldest damn bar I've ever been in! The bathroom was like an Alpine outhouse! My favorite moment was when I was happily ensconced in a clump of men, and Sgt Donna Puma, her roommate, and her irresistable new boyfriend Giuliano swept in and broke up the clump, which re-clumped without a glitch. Just like meiosis and/or meitosis! But sadly, there was no groping, because I didn't have all the materials I needed to build the groping booth.
Blah, blah, blah. Be reading the Christian teens' LiveJournal diaries if you want to know what keeps our economy alive. These kids measure their hours in trips to Applebees, Taco Bell, American Eagle, the video store (they watch three or four movies a day), and car dealerships (every day one of them totals his or her car).
Ping-pong tonight at Mr. Ron Coe's luxurious East Cambridge loft. It's been a while.
Listening to: The Fall
Reading: Iris Murdoch
Thinking about: towels; furniture oil
5:36 p.m. - 2003-02-16
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