now for something truly disturbing . . . do U ever imagine what would happen if U lost everything? . . . i do, every time i pass a homeless person . . . there but for the grace of god . . . not that i've ever even come close, but hey i'm a drama queen . . . still, it's not often that ruin gets any closer to U than homelessness . . . but it did, again on a recent Saturday morning outside of Fairway, when i was unchaining my bike from a parking meter . . . i recognized a guy from the Pines . . . Robinson Crusoe, i call him in my mind, to capture his outsiderness . . . a little odd, but in a good way with his gentle hippie-like appearance, always combing the beach with a plastic shopping bag . . . a creative type, i guessed . . . definitely not the kind of guy U would usually find at tea or the Pavilion . . . we'd seen each other long enough that we occasionally nodded to one another in the city but today was different . . . he nervously put his head down as he approached from the east on West 75th Street . . . he carried two shopping bags that had seen better days, my first clue about his situation, and he looked a little distraught . . . i turned to watch him when he passed . . . he crossed the street and stopped in front of a wire garbage basket on Broadway . . . he reached in for a bottle which he added to one of his bags, just as he looked over his shoulder back in my direction . . . now there are plenty of men in the Pines i easily could kick on their way down, but Robinson Crusoe isn't one of them . . . the question is will he be able to return enough bottles to get back to paradise? and if he does, will i be able to keep his secret?

routines can be wonderful things . . . U get things done without really having to think about them . . . shopping early on Saturday morning at Fairway for example before it gets too crowded . . . if it's good enough for Frances McDormand, it's good enough for me . . . just as i was about to select a tangerine i spotted a familiar looking woman reaching for a grapefruit . . . her chin gave her away . . . hard to believe but totally cool that she's being hyped as a middle-aged sex symbol in Laurel Canyon . . . u go gurrrrl . . . she caught me staring . . . but hey, who wouldn't look: an Oscar winner inspecting discount produce right along with the rest of us . . . as much as i liked her before, now she walks on water . . . she told The New Yorker that she hated it when people approached her when she was with her kid so i kept my distance but it seemed that every time i turned a corner for the next five minutes she was there adding something to her cart . . . no, Frances i'm not stalking u but u are one of the few famous people i'd actually like to acknowledge . . . so much for the celebrity encounter.

with another Black Party under my belt, the been there, done that syndrome finally has begun to set in . . . no more shock and awe . . . D insists that the A list skips the Back Party altogether and goes to Alegria or one of the other Sunday night venues. . . maybe he's right . . . or maybe because the space is so much smaller it just seems like there's a higher percentage of unattainable men . . . but how many of them have tatoos on their dicks? . . . shortly after we arrived at Roseland a couple of leather bears dancing near us began attracting a crowd . . . i manuvered myself within their orbit to take a peek and saw that one of them looked like he had a blue vine growing out of his balls . . . too bad he hadn't chosen a ruler instead to mark off his otherwise unremarkable five inches . . . body art in the name of truth! . . . now there's a concept that calls for drugs . . . D took his last blue pill, i took a leftover pink one . . . but an hour later, when we found DA, my energy level was more They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? near the end than Saturday Night Fever, not exactly what this circuit senior was seeking at 3 a.m. on a crowded dance floor . . . i managed to go through the motions but i can't say that i was enjoying myself, especially compared to D who quickly hooked up with a big, hairy out-of-shape man . . . i couldn't imagine any drug that would have made the guy appealing but i did begin to wonder if we shouldn't have color coordinated our highs . . . fortunately, the arrival of Tender Young Morsel, a visitor to our Pines House last summer, and his cute companion, a Black Party virgin from Philadelphia who seemed to enjoy small talk as much as dancing, provided a welcome distraction. . . D returned to our fold when he declined his partner's invitation to continue their dirty dancing routine in the back room . . . don't ask me to explain that . . . regular readers of this blog will recall that D had no objections to getting rimmed in the ladies room at the White Party last year . . . somehow, i hung on until Susan Morabito took over from Victor Calderone and D coaxed me into taking a second pill . . . i'm not having that great a time as it is, do i really want to turn this into a $150 bad experience? . . . what the hell . . . swallow . . . what a difference a white pill makes . . . by 7 a.m. the sweat flying off my body as i slapped my chest in time to the beat proved that i was an elder member of the tribe once again . . . as much as i would like to think otherwise, good drugs are an integral part of the circuit party experience . . . when u are smiling, the world smiles with u . . . including an adorable blond who shall be dubbed Universal Donor . . . meaning, no matter what your [blood] type, he'd work for u . . . on that D, DA and i could agree, no matter how impaired our condition . . . D, uncharacteristically, staked his claim immediately but that didn't stop DA and i from trying to get to know him better . . . so how long have u had this? i asked, gently pullling on the delicate ring hanging from his right nipple and hoping to establish a solidarity of the pierced . . . instead, he told me he had done it after breaking up with his first boyfriend 15 years ago, a guy who had treated him like shit . . . body art in the name of love! . . . when Universal Donor told me he was a critical care nurse, i asked would u go to a circuit party less than a week after u had had an eye operation? . . . he and Deborah Cox had the same answer: absolutely not . . . once i finished pumping him for "culturally competent" medical advice, D resumed pumping him from behind . . . DA and i exchanged what’s wrong with this picture? looks . . . since when does D go for smooth, slender, pretty bottoms even if they do remind him of his first boyfriend? . . . he and Universal Donor exchanged a couple of long, deep kisses before excusing themselves to refill their water bottles . . . right . . . DA and I assumed they would join the mass of writhing male flesh upstairs . . . lube up first before u join the crowd guys announced somebody stationed at the entrance to the darkened hallway . . . it will save time (this is exactly the kind of advice that makes the Black Party worth $100) . . . by the time DA had smoked a couple of cigarettes, i knew lower back pain would be sending me home sooner than usual . . . we found D near the downstairs men's room . . . using the convenient forms available at the bar, he had just finished exchanging contact info with Universal Donor who was leaving for a ski trip to Austria . . . so elusive, these circuit party encounters, but so powerful their allure even when they happen to somebody else: just as i had delayed cataract surgery to go to the Black Party, i postponed it a second time so i can go to Palm Springs for the White Party next month . . . California here we come!