there are ways of being cool that just aren’t an option
for the rest of us. the sexual tension of the entire party
was generated by one funky fat-man with more charac-
ter than a million skinnies and 10 million ‘fetish night’
snobs. lookit him go. everyone got some action that
night - except the curators who were too busy worry-
ing - including a gay guy dressed like a Saudi oil
prince.

an amazingly tall poet-chick lost her leather jacket.
even tho another hot poet chick was trying to get her
number, she just rushed around looking like she was
gonna cry and went home alone. it turned out to be on
the couch anyway where people kept it warm with their
asses all night, and then a guy who looks like
Christopher Reeves used it as a blanket. but it didn’t
get wrecked and her keys didn’t even fall out.

a few people kept trying to wrangle free beer, but there
was no way, not even for girlfriends. cheap, yeah, but
15 bucks were lost cos the tap drippings didn’t get
sold. the fucker who took these pictures knocked over
the bucket, nearly turning the bedroom of a straight-
edge artist into a place that reeks like the Anza club.

any hands-off, leave-it-to-chance curatorial policy could
fuck up & spray back in your own face. so when this
chick came by with a piece of summer-camp art then
snarkily said "sorry | didn’t bring any slides!" like 536

536 Bites the dust — My way

was supposed to be the Or, we just thought what a
bitch and she didn’t even show up for the party.

the main thing was keeping people out of off limit
rooms, but that didn’t work at all. one closet was
sealed shut with packing tape & plastered with ‘go
away’ signs & a couple of girls came right along and
fucking ripped the tape down in one pull like they were
mad to be asked not to steal shit.

people weren't supposed to smoke pot in the house,
cos it smells like yak manure, no matter what potheads
think. but there were joint roaches on the top floor any-
way and a new piece of action-sculpture called ‘hole in
the wall’ by some asshole who doesn’t deserve to be
invited to your party either.

some of the older crowd were afraid the dance floor
would collapse cos it was crowded as Tokyo subway
rush hour. the dj’s French novelty space pop and danc-

ing with the twin trade towers made everyone feel like
horny virgins.

later on the fat guy used his magic powers again after
everybody'd got used to having him make the whole
thing worthwhile. it was like 5 in the morning and no
one else wanted to spin, so when the music stopped
he got half the crowd singing, clapping and clomping
their feet like it was a soccer game and they wanted
dancing instead of riots. not that a riot wouldn't have
been a good way to end the party. next time.

cops drove by a couple of times, but for some reason
didn’t stop even though there were people drinking all
over the front lawn right out into the middle of the
street. maybe cos that guy doing portraits in the front
yard with the white screen made them think someone
from the United States was shooting a movie.

[s\