It's Friday and midnight and I'm home already & I'm not quite understanding how that happened. Maybe I've been reading too much on Rio and Buenos Aires and Miami and New York, where the nightlife doesn't even kick into gear utnil 1 or 2 am. I forgot where I was.
It's been a fun week. Gary is in town with his new beau, and we've been joing up with Peter and Allen and his friend Mika & going out a lot. Last Thursday was Chiko's, Saturday I cooked Mexican at Gary's condo, Sunday was Hula's beer bust, Tuesday I took Francisco and Joe up to Ka`au Crater and yesterday was Aku Bone.
So tonight we went to see Zamora Linmark's new disco and sex fueled stage version of Rolling the R's at Kumu Kahu theater. I pulled together a group of about 15 guys, and Leanne pulled in an additional five women. That's enough for a party, right? Most of us started off with drinks at Bar 35. I've always avoided that bar thanks to the long line of suburban kids I see outside on First Fridays. Turned out to be pretty cool on a regular night. It's a lounge, and had all the requisite beautiful people inside, but was still mellow and chill enough to be very fun.
The play was fucking awesome, and it still runs for another week or so & it should not be missed. It's local underground, so there were obvious rough patches, but it was also obscene and funny and surprisingly poignant. Or, as Village Voice put it on the novel: Linmark has done more than simply use the argot of equatorial poverty as a sexy, colorful idiom. In its structure, tone, and depths, Rolling the R's is true to the furious and witty rhythms of a vernacular culture of resistance.
Then things got weird. Not bad. Just strange. We had different groups of guys, and though we all went out afterwards everyone stayed in their own tribe. I tried to get people to mix - I mean, it was Friday night and we were downtown and we all have some connection, but they wouldn't. I actually had to play go-between: this group wants to go to Smiths, and these guys want to go to Mercury, and the women are up for grabbing a bite to eat. I told them to talk to each other, but that carried zero weight. It was strange, as they were all standing in their own group not five feet from each other.
And so I was part of all groups and central to none. We went to Mercury, and the bar was as lame as I remembered. Half the patrons had emo hair, and the artwork was gothic and pretentiously hip. Eyeballs with the word 'death' scribbled across. I know so many guys who think this bar passes for a discovery. I don't get it.
Neither did most of the group, and after one or two drinks everyone was out of there. One group went to eat and some guys went home and one group went to the Dragon and and one group left without a real agenda and suddenly I was standing alone in the bar - literally, as even the other patrons had left - with half a beer.
So I chugged it and went outside and caught up with some of the stragglers. Said our goodbyes, made plans for drinks on the beach Sunday, and it was only 11:30pm and I don't get it. It was a pretty awesome night; it was strange for it to suddenly poof and end like that with no warning.
It's been a fun week. Gary is in town with his new beau, and we've been joing up with Peter and Allen and his friend Mika & going out a lot. Last Thursday was Chiko's, Saturday I cooked Mexican at Gary's condo, Sunday was Hula's beer bust, Tuesday I took Francisco and Joe up to Ka`au Crater and yesterday was Aku Bone.
So tonight we went to see Zamora Linmark's new disco and sex fueled stage version of Rolling the R's at Kumu Kahu theater. I pulled together a group of about 15 guys, and Leanne pulled in an additional five women. That's enough for a party, right? Most of us started off with drinks at Bar 35. I've always avoided that bar thanks to the long line of suburban kids I see outside on First Fridays. Turned out to be pretty cool on a regular night. It's a lounge, and had all the requisite beautiful people inside, but was still mellow and chill enough to be very fun.
The play was fucking awesome, and it still runs for another week or so & it should not be missed. It's local underground, so there were obvious rough patches, but it was also obscene and funny and surprisingly poignant. Or, as Village Voice put it on the novel: Linmark has done more than simply use the argot of equatorial poverty as a sexy, colorful idiom. In its structure, tone, and depths, Rolling the R's is true to the furious and witty rhythms of a vernacular culture of resistance.
Then things got weird. Not bad. Just strange. We had different groups of guys, and though we all went out afterwards everyone stayed in their own tribe. I tried to get people to mix - I mean, it was Friday night and we were downtown and we all have some connection, but they wouldn't. I actually had to play go-between: this group wants to go to Smiths, and these guys want to go to Mercury, and the women are up for grabbing a bite to eat. I told them to talk to each other, but that carried zero weight. It was strange, as they were all standing in their own group not five feet from each other.
And so I was part of all groups and central to none. We went to Mercury, and the bar was as lame as I remembered. Half the patrons had emo hair, and the artwork was gothic and pretentiously hip. Eyeballs with the word 'death' scribbled across. I know so many guys who think this bar passes for a discovery. I don't get it.
Neither did most of the group, and after one or two drinks everyone was out of there. One group went to eat and some guys went home and one group went to the Dragon and and one group left without a real agenda and suddenly I was standing alone in the bar - literally, as even the other patrons had left - with half a beer.
So I chugged it and went outside and caught up with some of the stragglers. Said our goodbyes, made plans for drinks on the beach Sunday, and it was only 11:30pm and I don't get it. It was a pretty awesome night; it was strange for it to suddenly poof and end like that with no warning.
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