Despite a decent night’s sleep, I stayed in bed pretty much all day. Organizing my life, looking at job stuff, making some Instagram videos, and eventually cleaning my apartment. It was Saturday. Let me live.
Back to the Instagram videos, though. I got an absolutely lunatic idea in my head this morning that I would make videos, post them to Instagram, and tag them with New York City locations. Why? To make Logan think I was in town, of course. Like, what kind of...? I don’t even know. Lunacy, I tell you.
The thing is, Logan unfollowed me on Instagram weeks ago. So, it’s not like he would even see anything I put on my account. At least, not immediately. Maybe one day he would search my name and look at my profile. Who knows? I don’t. What I do know, however, is that there’s still this part of me that wants Logan to reach out. It’s a combo, though. As usual, my Gemini ass is dealing with two very conflicting sets emotions.
The Instagram video/tagging idea was a mix of wanting Logan to contact me, but also me wanting to get back at him. I don’t want to live in the revenge realm. It’s not healthy. But, I guess I thought that if Logan saw an Instagram post of mine, noticed the tagged location, and then realized that I was “in town” and didn’t contact him, that would hurt his feelings. It’s so fucked up. Childish, really. Maybe Logan wouldn’t even give a shit. I don’t know. In all likelihood, Logan probably doesn’t care enough about me to look at my page in the first place.
I actively avoid Logan’s social media accounts at all costs. I removed Logan from Snapchat a while back, and I haven’t been on his Instagram in a few days. Unlike Logan, though, such actions are not coming from a place of me having moved on. On the contrary, they’re coming from a place of me trying to move on. That, and a lot of pain.
The “blah” feeling I was experiencing last night stretched into today. The fact that I’ve been a bottomless pit for food lately certainly isn’t helping anything, either. I am eating everything in sight, and I never feel full. I could literally consume every last crumb in my apartment, and I would still want more. It’s so bad. That kind of overeating is definitely contributing to my grogginess. The solution? Exercise. I picked my ass up and went to the gym, did my full workout, and then made my way back to the Witch Cave.
I really wanted to go out tonight. The angel on my shoulder was trying to convince me that I should stay in, but the devil on the other side won the argument. I figured it wouldn’t do me any good to sit alone at my apartment and fester in my swamp of depression, so I threw on a tank top – for the first time in God knows how long – and met up with Dan. We took an Uber to his friend’s new condo in the south end of the city – Stuart Hamilton. I’ve met him a few times before. Nice guy.
Anyway, tonight was the first time I had seen Dan since MOMENTS, so we essentially ended up talking about that for most of evening. Amidst our conversation, I had completely lost track of how much I was drinking. More on that later.
It’s now been one week since MOMENTS. After all of the thinking I’d done – over-analyzing, looking at pictures, texting friends, etc. – my outlook on how the evening went had really begun to turn around. However, after talking to Dan, I gained a completely new perspective on everything.
Dan told me that MOMENTS was the most fun he’d had in ages. Not only that, but Dan said that he had heard nothing but positive comments from everyone he talked to, including some of the higher profile gays in the community. I hate that I just wrote “higher profile gays” in a sentence. Ew.
All queer hierarchies aside, Dan’s comments made me feel so much better. It was exactly the type of encouragement I had been looking for. If those comments came from anyone else, I might have thought that they were just blowing smoke up my ass. However, Dan is always very honest with me. He has no filter, which is one of my favorite things about him.
With MOMENTS, I guess I just got so wrapped up in all of the little things that I forgot to look at the bigger picture. Yes, there were things that went wrong. But, the reality is that a lot of people probably had no idea. Sort of like when you’re an actor and flub a line. The audience doesn’t have the script in their hands, so how are they to know you messed up? I still have some mixed feelings on MOMENTS. I think that type of critical thinking will always exist for me in some form. Nonetheless, I’ve come to accept that perhaps the party wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe it was even – good? Great? Eh. Let’s not push it.
The drinks continued to flow at Stuart’s condo as the gaggle of gays in attendance were playing Top 40 music videos on a loop. Oy. Not my crowd. I was fighting tooth and nail to get a Mariah Carey video played, but gave up after one guy hissed at me and told me she was trash. The nerve! Oh, well. I poured myself another drink. This was also where I began to blackout.
Once I finished my standard supply of gin and water, I moved on to tequila and water. As a result, I don’t remember leaving Stuart’s condo to go to the bar.
Blackout.
The next memory I have is of me trying to figure out the new Facebook Live feature for the first time, while in the backseat of an Uber with Dan. That was definitely not the smartest decision, considering everyone on your Facebook account gets a notification that you’re filming a video. Those were quickly deleted. Very messy.
After what was perhaps the longest Uber ride ever, Dan and I arrived at the bar in the west end. There was a line-up down the block, which meant a hard no for both of us. We got back in the same cab and drove to the Witch Cave. Returning home was a good idea in theory, but I was so fucking out of it by this point that I should have just gone to bed. But, no. I drank more tequila and watched Mariah Carey YouTube videos with Dan.
At some point, I guess Dan had decided to go home. I don’t remember. I do, however, remember that I wanted to keep going. I poured myself another drink.
Earlier tonight, I’d received word that there was an event happening across the street from the Witch Cave. A queer dance party, hosted by my quasi-friend, Jeremy, who is also a DJ. I figured I would check it out. When I arrived at the venue five minutes after making that decision, I saw Jeremy outside, packing his DJ equipment into the trunk of a friend’s car. It turned out that nobody showed up to their party, so they just shut it down. Damn. It made me feel better about my MOMENTS turnout.
Blackout.
Next memory: trying to find my way through the middle of some gay ecstasy rave, like a scene from Queer as Folk. There were two levels, connected by a fucked-up, trippy neon staircase that ran along a wall of the club. That’s all I remember.
Blackout.
Next memory: being at Taccorito down the street from the Witch Cave, arguing with the lady behind the counter as she rolled my burrito. She wanted to charge me extra for more rice. The audacity! Apparently, a teaspoon is considered a serving at Taccorito. Fuck, no! Give me my carbs, and nobody gets hurt.
Blackout.
Last memory: eating a burrito in my bed and thinking, “Fuck it. I’m not washing my face,” before finally passing out.
End of scene.
Goodnight xo
@yalittlenasty Instagram post from this afternoon.
This one was one of the two “New York City” videos I made and posted on Instagram today. Note the location tag and the obvious song choice (below).
"Native New Yorker" - Odyssey
I think it might be time for some new running shoes. Gym, Toronto
This was from tonight’s pre-drink. I hate this photo so much. My face looks like the surface of the Moon. Stuart’s Condo, Toronto
@yalittlenasty Instagram post from tonight.
The second “New York City” video I made and posted on Instagram today. I put this one up while I was at the pre-drink. It was inspired by yesterday’s musical moment in the car. Note the location tag on this one as well.
"Heaven Must Have Sent You" - Bonnie Pointer
When it comes to music, I rarely know anything current. My iTunes library consists mainly of disco music, Mariah Carey, and anything from 1997. Stuart’s Condo, Toronto
These were all taken as I was drinking in the kitchen, observing the gays on the other side of the condo sing and dance to shitty songs that I had never heard before. Stuart’s Condo, Toronto
Last photo of the night. An elevator moment. Stuart’s Condo, Toronto