A Bar

4-20-96

If a Bitch is someone who'll sleep with anyone but you, then that bar
has become quite a bitch.

There were lots of people getting off on her tonight, but I wasn't one
of them and I haven't been one in a long while.  I can only vaguely
remember her stroke on my cock, a drink in my hand, clove in the other.
Fucking memories long past.

So yeah it was a gay bar, and no I wasn't queer but I was young and 
fresh meat enough and it didn't matter if I'd go and dance because
I looked good and what the fuck is the point of a bar anyhow but a 
place to go and drink and watch and drink and smoke and watch?  And
maybe I thought I was fucking special because I could waltz in for
free with an underaged boy on my arm and the drinks were cheap.

But it turns out that the drinks weren't the only cheap things there,
the bar itself, that painted whore, god can a patron feel used, feel
dirty after they were the ones who put themselves there and no one
made them do it; they made the fucking decision and if it felt like
the only thing to do after a while whose goddamned fault was it?  No
one said to stand still, nothing ever stands still.

So maybe it was okay to take some of my friends and maybe it was okay
to take a lot of my friends even though we weren't queer, at least not
all of us, though none of us would ever pick anything up there, just
drinks and smokes.

But something happened.  Its okay if you do it.  Its okay if your 
friends do it but suddenly its not just you anymore, it gets bigger
than that, other people figure it out and because we were sitting
there maybe it made it more okay for it to be more than just that one
straight couple getting it on in the corner while the fags snickered
about the breeders over there.

Whores sell for money, thats what its about and the money rolled in
on Tuesdays nights with that 70s shit that I can't believe anyone still
likes but fuck people can get into bars now that weren't even fucking
alive when that shit was played on the radio so often you though you'd
puke.  And they came and it wasn't the fags really, but the Santa Cruz
freaks in their 70s gear and yeah maybe it was cool for them for a
while too like it had been cool for me and for my friends and the
techno and the soul and all that shit they were playing in the summer
of 1991.  But the SC freaks lost too, because then they were there
and it was more okay for the lame shits who ruin everything good 
whenever theres something good to be had.  And they showed up and
there were fist fights and it wasn't the straights in the corner but
don't touch my ass you fucking faggots.

So shes old and tired now and I feel old too.  Of course it wasn't as
cool as I make it out to be back when I felt like it was cool and it
was special to me then.  There were assholes then too like the guy who
fired off 6 blanks while screaming something that no one really wanted
to hear.  And maybe we were the straights who didn't belong there then
but at least we fucking tried to be respectful.

Now I want to flee, maybe it'll send out new green shoots if I leave
and don't come back for a really long time like a plant gone into deep
hibernation over a hot summer of no water in a shuttered room somewhere
in the South where it really gets hot.  Drinks are still cheap even 
though I can't stand having a cigarette in my hand, but maybe its time
to find cheap drinks somewhere else.