February 27, 1994
My gay friends are more interesting than my straight friends. They seem exotic and glamourous to me. They’re better dressers and become emotionally overwrought at a moment’s notice, which can be phenomenally entertaining. I have a lesbian friend across the hall, Cindy, and another next door, Hedy. I live in Harvey Fierstein’s version of Three’s Company. They invited me to a dinner party. They needed to borrow my table and chairs but I’d like to think they would’ve invited me nonetheless. It was me, Pete, five lesbians and one cute straight girl. Pete is a talented guitarist with a big afro who plays gigs with Cindy. They call him Linc, after the black cop from The Mod Squad, but not to his face. They were making fun of Pete and me, calling us breeders.
Most of them were vegetarians (of course). I thought the food would be bland but it was surprisingly satisfying. I had a few glasses of wine and got carried away, but just the right amount. I like when Pete laughs. It’s a hearty, full-throated laugh. They sat cute straight girl next to me. She dropped hints that she’s not seeing anyone and would occasionally rest her hand on my arm when making a point. I liked her but I’m reluctant. She’s Hedy’s close friend. What if we wind up in bed and I can’t deliver the goods or I freak out and perform my disappearing act (as usual)? Girls talk. I can picture all those lesbians exchanging knowing nods.
A few nights later Ellis had Clarance and me over for dinner. Again, I was the token straight in the room. Ellis is a terrific cook. The recipe called for mayonnaise and he didn’t have any so he made some. I didn’t know you could do that. I thought you had to buy at the supermarket.
Clarance was renting an apartment in the brownstone he owns to a woman who up and left for Tampa on short notice and still owing him money. Not long after, she called and asked him to be a reference for a mortgage application to buy a house. He said, “I fixed her. I told her ‘Of course you can use my name.’” When the bank called he told them she was chronically late with payment and still owes for back rent. Afterwards, she called and said, “Clarance, I thought we were friends!” He said, “We are, dear, but you still owe me money.”
Loony Marina Abramovic. I liked her a lot more before she wrote an autobiography. She grew up in a wealthy family right after the war. While folks around her were starving she enjoyed maids, theater and a grand lifestyle. Yet, in her autobio, she complaines of “…the tyranny of support.” After success she whined about “…changing planes so often, museum and gallery openings, endless receptions…” Boo-hoo.
Sold for $365,000! Wow!
“There are 72 objects on the table that one can use on me as desired. I am the object. During this time I take full responsibility.” Duration: 6 hours. 1974. Naples.
Items on the table: gun, bullet, blue paint, comb, bell whip, lipstick, pocket knife, fork, perfume, spoon, cotton, flowers, matches rose, candle, water, scarf, mirror, drinking glass, polaroid camera, feather, chains, nails, needle, safety pin, hair pin, brush, bandage, red paint, white paint, scissors, pen, book, hat, handkerchief, sheet of white paper, kitchen knife, hammer, saw, piece of wood, ax, stick, bone of lamb newspaper, bread, wine, honey, salt, sugar, soap, cake metal pipe, scalpel, metal spear, bell, dish, flute, band aid, alcohol, medal, coat, shoes chair, leather strings, yarn wire, sulphur, grapes, olive oil, rosemary branch, apple.
Yeah, but that artwork always makes me think. I’d have gone for a squirt of perfume. Did someone try to shoot her? I can’t remember.
I had a lot of gay friends back in the eighties – they were always more fun!
I wouldn’t have included any items that would cause discomfort. Where’s the fun in that if you’re on the receiving end?
I moved to the suburbs and don’t have as many gay people in my life and I feel poorer for it.
I know, they’re rare in the Devon fields as well.
I don’t think I’ve ever been the token anything, although one French acquaintance of mine calls me “my English friend.”
That’s a euphemism for token. Surely, you knew that?
Oh, the whinging rich…
The agony of success. If it were me, etc., etc., etc.
The first time someone called me a breeder I had no idea what it meant. Another person had to explain it to me. I was so naive.
I didn’t mind then and don’t mind now. They need us. Without us, they’re screwed. Heh.
Yup. Rather loony. I read where one of the people turned the gun toward her and started placing her hand in a position to shoot. Yikes.
What a terrible idea. All that money bought a photograph. Not the items on the table. Just a pic of a naked Marina.
I do enjoy these diaries.
Yes, whenever I’m with a woman and it looks like something might happen, I get performance-killing performance anxiety. I can’t do one night stands. It has to develop a bit before I start relaxing and enjoying it. Unless I suppose one carries Viagra about with one like some people carry a nail file or paracetamol.
I don’t know if I’ve ever enjoyed a one night stand. I’ve never had the ability to be so caviler with sex. Wish I had been. I’d have had a much better time and more interesting stories to tell. It always was so serious. What a waste.
My gay friends tend to be more fun. At least the men are. Guess I know too many lawyers.
I have a theory that being gay is difficult so they have to try and keep it light. It’s gotten a lot better than it used to be but still some of their families reject them and certain segments of society still aren’t thrilled.
That makes perfect sense.
That also applies to FAT PEOPLE.
What happened to the whiny rich artist? Some of those items could be used in a very particular way.
She went on to have an incredibly successful career. Money. Fame. Satisfying work. Things I’ve never enjoyed or ever will. She found a way to make the worst of it. Idiot.
I had a girlfriend who had gay male friends. She invited them to dinner once. I kind of felt like the odd one. I think my girlfriend was trying to make a point that she like them more than me.
Do girls actually tell their friends how you are in bed? I’m always amazed how people act when owing money. The Marina pic is just another Art form that completely blows my mind. I do think she is sexually attractive, but I am looking at naked breasts. You just keep surprising me with Art that I had no idea existed.
Was she really trying to prove a point? Was it so agenda-driven? I wonder to what ends?
Maybe I’m reducing them to a stereotype but I really to think girls discuss that sort of thing amongst themselves. I’ll never know for a fact but that’s the narrative I choose to embrace.
I wonder what the guys say to each other about the girls? I’ve known married female friends who openly discuss their sex lives in a negative way. My unmarried girlfriends and I only discuss our sex lives in a general positive way. So, nothing specific etc. We’d never slag the guy off or go into detail probably because we all know each other and it seems like breaking a confidence. Perhaps this is a British thing (?) and we don’t really do the dating thing as such.
I think that $365,000 is really not that much of a compensation for having to sit for six hours while other people can use a gun, a knife, or an axe on you.
All that money was just for that stupid photo! It claimed it was only 1/2 in existence but how can anyone know for sure? That’s the flaw in collecting photo, I think. The negatives are out there somewhere.
Clearly Marina is a masochist.
Are you coming back, Monsieur Pain?