Midweek Party

Oh Yeah. They happen. I am one of the lucky ones, since I don't have to get up to go to work the next day. My cohorts, not so lucky.

Around five years ago, not long before 9/11, pot came back. All over LA. People gathering in parking garages after a wrap party to talk, smoke pot and basically tune out the hell that is competitive contemporary American life. It has been so funny to watch, to be a part of and to have meaningful druggy conversations again.

Hollywood really is decadent. It has to be. There is something about the excesses of the business and the neediness of the people that just lends itself to the need for a good slamming party.

The combination of 9/11 and the reign of Bushie 2 has made pot even more essential in these urban parts, as people are so anxious, their lives are so scary, and Allegra, the only allergy medecine that works, is not covered under insurance.

For the most part, I keep my drug use limited to the weekends when I can enjoy it with my recognized-by-Multnomah-County husband, talk about our life, life in general, the life of others, the life of dead others, etc. and then maybe, have some sex. For those who don't know, pot is good for sex. But one must be careful, as too much pot over time makes the wiener less willing. But pot limited to the weekends is a good prescription if one is drawn to the good green stuff at all.

I do try to stick with the weekend ethos of drug use, however, there are times when a good friend, usually Jeff, has the great idea, on a Wednesday or a Thursday night, to get together to have an impromptu dinner. What this usually means is, "Bring the weed, man." And of course, being a gay-at-home writer, I am thrilled for the chance to hang out with people, yack about anything and of course, get high. Oh, and there's always a goodly amount of wine and odd leftovers, too.

Last night, Jeff had Rebecca come over, too. She works with him and they are both bosses at their company in different departments. They are both awesome, smart, straight, organized, intelligent Jews. In fact, Rebecca is from my neck of the woods in suburban NY. I could have grown up with her. I have always been close with the Jews, because let's face it, they would have me. However, growing up, my closest friends, the ones I still keep in touch with are non-Catholic Catholics. I understand them completely, though in the understanding others department, the Jews are a super close second. And let's face it: they're almost all liberal, in their heads and they don't want to fist fight. But in all this, I am aware how annoying it is to see people, at all, as part of a group. I hate groups. A group of gay men annoys the hell out of me. All that dishing...so stupid. I don't understand Black culture, not really. A bunch of straight men trawling for V, I'm miffed. Happening women, I get, but they are, at the end of the day, a different sex. Out of all groups, if I have to handle a group, I can handle the Jews. They were the first Scientists...pushing together all the deities into one, figuring, "EH, let's just put all the unknowns into one God. This'll free us up. We can look at things without the clutter of there being a God behind each and every rock." Cultural anthropology is super interesting...including all the historical, philosophical, artistic and political movements of any period of time and how we behave today because of these different movements. I love this book:
From Dawn to Decadence

After Rebecca left and Jeff and I were still talking, I had to tell him how much I enjoyed all this college type conversation we were having (which all three of us made fun of while we were having it---"I have to go man, I have a paper due tomorrow.")-- not unlike my days back at Tufts. And I confessed how much I need the Juden, even though I tend not to like to think about people so much as being classified in any group. As I often say, "Jews, I hate them and they're the only people I can stand." Which is way better than, "Gays, I hate them, and these are my people."

These are all things I can live with. And in a way, it's kind of sweet. Life is beautiful. Look at the lovely unicorn. Now, the rough part: I got so drunk and stoned that I could barely get out of bed today. What is it about a midweek party? I mean, they are so decadent, but at times, they seem so necessary. And being able to stop the week and to spend a night doing nothing but eating, drinking, smoking pot and talking about every single interesting thing that comes into your mind, well, it's no wonder conservatives hate us. However, it seems necessary. With that being said, I must write a play called Midweek Party. Why it happens, what happens when it happens and the aftermath of its happening.

And, I must be careful with the substances. Because, let's face it, the human animal can get addicted quite easily. And a midweek party turns into a late week hangover...how can I enjoy the weekend party when the midweek party has slammed my old ass down? What am I thinking? I love that I have the ability to go out there into the land of excess. I love roller coasters and the idea of an orgy. I love manic smarty-pants types, slutty babes and Michel Houellebecq:

The Elementary Particles

But right now, I have to go check on the laundry and pick up my in-laws at LAX.