the list of lines (pt. 2) and No_4mat

I know I complain about the 90s are being thought of as very nostalgic these days, and I am old enough to – while having been extremely young – remember that it was not my favorite decade.  However, the below video is pretty solid.  I just discovered No_4mat; I like their tracks so far.

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Part two (we are up to 40, but I can’t figure out how to begin the numbering from a number other than 1, and I don’t feel like spending the time to learn how currently) of guys’ “best” lines:

1. You don’t eat meat?  How?
2. I thought you had a Mercedes.
3. Would you go to, like, a sex party?
4. I don’t like electronic music, and I don’t dance.
5. I live at the Beaches.
6. Where are you going?
7. God, I want you.
8. If I weren’t your boss I’d…
9. If I wasn’t gay, you’d definitely be the first.
10. Why do you watch such strange movies all the time?
11. I don’t watch movies.
12. Real punk music doesn’t exist anymore.
13. Ever listen to music and just absorb the sound, man?
14. Salty.
15. How can you not like that?
16. You should come with a user’s manual.
17. I have so many friends – I talk to like hundreds of people every day.
18. I have no patience.
19. I have a lot of money.
20. My parents have a lot of money.
21. I used to have a house by the Beaches.
22. Your accent is weird – what is that?
23. Tell me about what living in New York is like.
24. Tell me a good story.
25. Tell me a bad story – I love that shit.
26. Into it?
27. I’m polyamorous, and so’s my wife.
28. You spin vinyl?
29. Is this turning you off?
30. Man, can you drink beer.
31. I like your Germs patch.
32. You look good in them jeans.
33. Are you wearing leather pants?
34. No bra, huh?
35. No make up, huh?
36. Nice eyeliner; you look Egyptian.
37. That your truck?
38. That you?
39. You DJ?
40. I can’t believe you can drink Guinness.
41. Want to get out of here?
42. I love Aquariuses.
43. You know Father?  I love Father!  Awful Records, bro!
44. What the fuck are you listening to?
45. Aren’t you cold?

the highs and lows of playing aces

[Author’s note: I wrote the following in NY one Sunday morning.  I did do a bit of editing to it but not that much, surprisingly.]

Stamina was abandoned for sleep; each bar and party thinned out to its pickled remnants, pouring blush wine into red plastic party cups.  I stole a few sentences with a man latched to a delightful and conveniently absent wife, and popped the collar of his shirt.  My interest in fucking him had not eased, entirely apart from the current situational boredom I was experiencing.  Knowing full well this would wrap me neatly in dirtbag delinquency – in addition to a heavy dose of bad karma – should the ‘opportunity’ decide to ever present itself my pants would already be off.  Instead, we exchanged only eye contact, and I offered a benign handshake while wanting badly to shove any appropriations aside.

‘Oh, lock it up,’ I thought.  Locked up.  Latched up.  Shot down.  Monogamy runs rampant in this city!  A woman shot me a dirty look as I was walking away, and I felt like screaming “Have at it!  It’s worthless!”  Yet, I know better than to engage.

After a formerly favorite bar and last resort felt unexpectedly limp and stale, I licked my teeth and swallowed the bad taste lingering:  Saturday was giving up.  At that point, I couldn’t even blame it, though I wanted to; wanted something to be held accountable for the lacking I felt.

After declining an offer that had become repetitive, astonishing in its naïveté, and ultimately a bit aggravating by one whom had followed me home from the emotional schoolyard to my apartment building, the door latched closed with a crunching noise, relishing how its sound easily sliced the night open.  Though deserving, he would not have found whatever was he was looking for at my address; I don’t know any nice girls.

I wanted more out of the night.  While never expecting anything (I very rarely do), I felt I had unknowingly set some impossible standard.  Remember, that Saturday is only a day of the week with a fancy reputation – but still allowing yourself to anticipate greatly its approaching – especially if you have something to do.  If Saturday’s party ends too early, there’s only so much a guest can do to force resuscitation.  Sunday always comes.  Better now to just breathe easy baby, and enjoy – no one can ask anything of you today.

And last night?  Looked sharp, made appearances, happily exuded unto these best energy, and left before it all got that ugly: infinite value in one of its simplest forms.