Love Train!

I got an apartment! It’s small, and has a miniscule kitchen, but then, my literary hero, Laurie Colwin, once lived in a place “approximately the size of the Columbia Encyclopedia,” and if she could do it, so can I. And thanks to the generosity of my friend Marc, I am able to clear out my bank account and pay the first month’s rent, last month’s rent and broker’s fee! I move in October 1.

I watched the Democratic National Convention roll call the other night—it was like the Miss America pageant. Each delegate announced, “Madam Speaker, I’m from the great state of __[Montana, Missourah]___, home of the ______ mountain range [cheers]; _______ [nineteenth century politico or writer nominated for a Pulitzer in 1986] and _______ [really bad for you regional food]! Here with me are _______ [name of state comptroller, local officials who haven’t been indicted, etc.] And we cast _____ votes for Hillary Rodham Clinton and _____ votes for the next president of the United States, Barack Obama! [Cheers, cheers, cheers,as Molesworth sa.]

When Obama was nominated by acclamation, the O’Jays’ “Love Train” came on. Is that the campaign theme or just a CNN invention? Either way, I felt a little shivery watching Democrats wave their arms about and elderly civil rights leaders from Mississippi choke back tears. I mean, if I were running for office, I'd want the support of The O’Jays’ Philly soul, myself.

Then later I went to Jefferson’s shindig at Happy Ending. I was booked to sell raffle tickets, which I did not realize would involve me wrapping my arms around the waists, bosoms, etc. of strangers (the “around the world” option—$10 got you as many raffle tickets as your girth could supply). For a once and future slut, I’m a little uneasy about having my hands all over people. But I did my best. All for the cause, man.

It was lovely to see Viviane, Lolita, Boymeat, Callie, Wendy, Selina, and lots of others including a cool girl who told me all about this neat Neil Gaiman project. I also enjoyed two cheap and delicious Mr. Gingers (vodka, ginger ale, and lime juice, and I’d love the recipe). The very cutest boys there were, alas, friends of the bartender, but on my way out, I saw Mmmark, and, and I am sorry to say my intentions were not just tawdry but obvious:

Mmmark: (tapping me on the shoulder): Hey there.

Me: Hi! Hi!

We hug.

Me: How are you?

Mmmark: I’m good…. I’m moving….

Me: (thinking: Gosh, Mmmark looks great! Did he cut his hair?) Really? My best friend lives around the corner! He’s having a barbeque this weekend. You should come!

Mmmark: Hmmm. How have you been?

Me: Oh, well, my boyfriend and I broke up, so I’m dipping my toes in the water again… (thinking: Jesus, that’s subtle. Not.) I’d love to see you. (thinking: You are throwing yourself at him! Shut up, shut up, shut up!) Well, it’s late, I’ve got to run. Byeeee!

I run out before I actually start slobbering.

But I’m glad my libido is showing signs of life.