it's gettin' hot in haar

so take off all yer clothes. big ups to my man, chingaaayyyy!

saturday night i was reminded that if you wear fewer clothes and go out to da clubs, men come up to you to 'dance' but that really means you end up kissing.

yes, well, some italian friends were in town (the scoundrels!) and a bunch of us went out to dinner but didn't actually eat dinner until around 11:30 and then we went to a little dance place, quite fun, in the east village and it was there that a brazilian guy named murad and i got a wee busy. and he wanted my number but that's not how i roll, yo.

then one of our party knew the owner at some other place, seemed almost like a bona fide disco and may have been where that club the world once was, though i was at the world only once, i think, and it was in 1987, so can't remember anymore. and in this joint with the thumping techno (the first place had much better music, latin, salsa) a guy came up, asked me to dance. and we kissed but i wasn't into it owing to some very probing hands attached to his arms, so said, 'i'm actually here with somebody' (which was technically true, but not romantically so) and he backed off stat.

and in other news my, 'contact and phenomenon are my fav flicks' friend and i chatted this weekend. he told me, for the third time now that he's a do-er, not a reader. which reminds me that i'm a lover, not a fighter. i simply couldn't love another (hat tip to the prince of pop as the kids say and the kid's alright!) but repeating the 'me do, you read' blather gets stale like the bread i once ate at a popular nyc restaurant. he didn't go to college, which is fine, i don't care, but he mentions it a lot which makes me think he's pretty self conscious about it. and he's earnest. but not like hemingway. cause he was a reader. and a doer. and a fisherman too, right? i think he was very fond of marlin.

i'm fine with being earnest but the unhalting, recurring splaining of one's own personal philosophy gets under my skin like a rash.