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Saturday, June 14, 2008

Post Writers with Drinks…

The second Saturday of every month is Writers with Drinks at The Makeout Room. The show brings together alternative writers, name authors, erotica/porn writers, poets, bloggers and comedians. Despite the fact that my good friend, who is mad for Amistead Maupin, couldn’t make it, it’s been a wonderful evening. Amistead Maupin was the centerpoint, around which the whole show radiated. He read from his latest novel, Michael Tolliver Lives. There’s generally a lot of sex read at a Writer With Drinks show, and Amistead didn’t let the audience down. He read a chapter about his main character’s first threesome that managed to be erotic and tender and humorous. And the audience ate it up.

Post show. The night is San Francisco brisk as expected. After one of these shows I always walk to Muddys, a cafe that’s open late and has posh and polish of the typical cafe. Usually I’m with friends, but tonight, no, as I’ve attended alone. So I’m here, a hot cup of African Nectar tea (Mighty Leaf brand – awesome) and a butterscotch bar at my side, still glowing from the show. At the table beside me is a group of seven people, softly talking among themselves about the pervasiveness of advertising in our country, morality in our country, and the gay Teleltubbie. On their table is a toy Dalek from Dr. Who (no, I’m not necessarily proud I know that), brandishing a sign that says: Gay Geeks: Saturday Night.

One of the guys is wearing a Dungeons and Dragons T-shirt, but other than that, they don’t seem like geeks to me. Just people trapped in this city full of people trying to find an identity, a place, and a bit of companionship.

To say this city is a safe haven to “others” is an understatement.

Okay, time for me to do some work on my June short story before my tea gets cold…I have a feeling it will write itself tonight.

Postscript: The story is flowing... but I had to stop because a homeless, possibly drunk guy, on his way out stopped and told the barrista: "Of all the floors I've ever fell on, yours is the most comfortable. I like it! Thanks a lot for working on Saturday." And then he was off. You just can't make this stuff up.

3 comments:

elkit said...

Meanwhile, I was just a few blocks away at the Marsh, where I caught the closing performance of "The BrEaST of Sherry Glaser". Thanks for recommending that! I liked it very much.

Clifford said...

Elikit,

I passed by the Marsh on myway to The Make out Room and thought I saw the bade of sherry's head in The Marsh Cafe. I figured they'd have an after party there... did they?

Glad you enjoyed it too! Her passion for justice is intoxicating.

Charles Gramlich said...

That line from the drunk about falling on the floor is like a haiku of it's own. Or maybe the start of a great poem.

Glad you had fun.

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This is me and one of my two cats. His name is Cougar, and he’s an F1 Chausie. A chausie is a new breed of cat under development. Chausies are the result of a cross between a domestic cat (in Cougar’s case, a Bengal) and a jungle cat (Felis Chaus). Cougar’s mom is 8 pounds and his father is a 30-pound jungle cat. He’s about 16 pounds, super intelligent, spirited, and toilet trained. A writer without a cat (or two) is not to be trusted.