In which FHC wonders what happens after 30

I really enjoyed Septime W.’s ballet yesterday and the dancers did not even threaten to strike. I noticed Mrs. Rodolphe B. in the crowd which must mean that it was a good show. It was actually a cheerful choreography which, as its name hinted, was navigating between ballet and modern dance with more than a little gay twist. It would have been perfect if it wasn’t for the harpsichord, an insufferable instrument which I believe has no reason to still exist now that they have created the Piano. I found the Beatles part to be fascinating even if the very dramatic movement on “A day in life” made Alex A. sneer a little. More importantly, there was among the dancers a really handsome fellow, Jonathan Jordan, (which every move was copiously applauded by the audience which goes again to underline my grandfather famous quote that “in life looks are the only thing that counts”) that my companions pretend to have met backstage while I had already left.

My next stop was “le Pigalle” on 17^th street which I regretted to have badmouthed in a past entry as I ended up raiding their opening party buffet as this trip to the Kennedy Center had strangely left me drunk and hungry. The owners of Bistrot du Coin must have some stake in the deal as the entire crowd seemed to have moved from connecticut avenue to 17th street. As some sad queen standing by the buffet told me while piling his plate for the twentieth time with slices of meat "17^th street is not gay anymore”. After 30 years old, for gay people who do not frequent the gym, there is nothing left but free food I believe. We spend 30 years coming to term with our sexuality one neurosis at a time and very slowly entering adulthood and the rest of our existence is spent, childless, by a treadmill or an all you can-eat-buffet wondering what we will do with the remaining hours. I left drunk by 11:30 p.m. and had another restless night on Excedrin PM.

In other news, apparently there is one witty gaysian in Washington, DC, LL celebrated his finals by nibbling on cheese fries all night long (disclaimer: I did not give the eating disorder, he came with it and if Fagat calls me fat once again, I snap).

Comments

[LL]

I already place an incredibly high value on free food, and I won't hit the 30 year mark for years.

[bryan]

hey LL,

we've got five years
stuck on my eye
five years
what a surprise
five years
my brain hurts a lot
five years
and that's all we've got

[Vincent P.]

How fatalistic the comment of this Bryan guy, as if reaching 30 was the end of life. Let me tell you what happens at 30: You still look very good, you have more money, you don't have the traumas and psychological issues on your 20s,it's rare that you have lousy sex and you avoid uninteresting twinks and don't care about it!

[bryan]

nah, i was just quoting a song.

[kevin d.]

but at what cost, vincent p.? at what cost?