the opening act

i called my friend brady today and asked him what he was doing tonight. it'd been a while since i had seen him, and he's struggling to recover from crystal meth addiction. in fact, i'm helping him create his documentary of his struggle with crystal meth, called "welcome to my path" (hopefully will be shown at the castro theater eventually).

here's a picture of brady:

brady the big 'ol lady.

ROFL! i kill myself!

i try to help him choose the right path, and since he has sounded a bit depressed lately, i thought i'd pay him a visit after yoga tonight. here is a picture of him choosing the right path:

however, while i was at yoga, brady suddenly decided to change his path. incidentally, he neglected to call to inform me of this, so when i showed up at the front door, i had no idea what path he was on. brady lives in the castro, which is quite out of my way, and i was wearing the clothes i had on at the gym and i was carrying my yoga mat. i looked kinda grubby. it seems brady had decided to throw an impromtu sex party and there i was at the door, sober as a rock, and brady was in front of me stoned out of his mind. the bottle of ID lube sitting on top of a pizza box in the kitchen tipped me off as to what was going on, but god damn i was hungry and is there pizza on that box? i get really hungry after yoga.

"chad, would you like some pizza?" brady asked.

"sure," i replied, figuring oh what the hell i'd have some pizza first and then bounce out of there. I grabbed a few slices and made my way into the living room, where i saw quite the audio/video setup flickering in the dark. there was a television set on the floor showing one porn, with another one on a table over it showing yet another.

i sat down in a chair facing brady and two other guys who happened to be sitting on his sofa, and said, "hi guys." i bit into a piece of pizza and started chewing. both of the guys had their hands down their pants, and then, reality penetrated my sometimes-thick skull. they thought i was there for the "party" that was unfolding.

oh god. the thought of that is so incredibly unappealing, even though they were both quite hot. they seemed a little quiet, and not totally comfortable with the situation. i mean, soon they'd be getting it on, but in the meantime, they were kind of quiet, sitting on the sofa, and undressing me with their eyes. i took another bite of pizza, and turned to see what was playing on the televisions. hmmm.

naked gay boys fucking each other. how original.

instead of sitting there and chomping my pizza with a hand down my pants, i started running my mouth and cracking on the pornos. one was a particularly dirty one where someone my father's age finds a sleeping 19 year-old on a sofa. he then starts sticking his hand down the kid's pants, and eventually they...well, use your imagination. let's just say i've seen it before.


one of them asked me where i lived. "north beach," i told them.

"where's that?" one of them asked.

"next to the financial district."


"you know, downtown. where all those big tall buildings are," i explained. "i live by the transamerica pyramid."

"which one is that?"

like we have more than one pyramid-shaped skyscraper.

"the big pointy one. it's more of a skypoker than a skyscraper."

"heh-heh. it looks like a cock."

"indeed." i took a swig of gatorade after that one. funny, i always thought it looked like a modern concrete interpretation of the eiffel tower, and definitely not anything phallic.

"are you, like, the only gay guy there?" the other one asked.

"kinda. i mean, they're AROUND but you'll never see them in the castro."

"we never see you in the castro."

"that's because i live in north beach."

"guess so." the hand went back down the pants to retrieve something, and the other guy followed suit.

i decided it was time to make my exit. "brady, thanks dude for the pizza, you fucking rock," i said, getting up to leave. "i'm glad you're feeling better. i'm gonna bounce, dude."

"okay, meet me in the kitchen!" brady exclaimed. curious, i followed him to the kitchen. "dude," he finally said (keep in mind brady's from santa cruz) "you totally made them relax and just chill. this is gonna be fun! you're fucking awesome."

"i guess i was your opening act tonight," i grinned. "have fun."

"here, take this." brady pressed into my hand a pipe completely packed with fresh weed, and a miniature cigarette lighter. "smoke some before you get on muni!" he giggled. brady insists it's better to ride public transportation in san francisco completely stoned. i can't say i disagree.

"brady, you so stay crunchy in milk."

after slipping the pipe in my pocket, grabbing some more pizza and the bottle of gatorade, i stepped out into the cruisy, moonlit castro night. this was the beginning of another arduous, yet adventurous journey back to north beach.

it got even better after this. wait 'till i tell you about the muni ride home.



At 14:27, Blogger rich said...

as much as i liked this story, i'm dying to hear about the muni ride home (holding breath and turning blue) hurry! get the man some oxygen!

At 19:51, Anonymous Anonymous said...

YAY for HIGH public transportation trips. lived in New York for three years...and the subway was ALWAYS better high or drunk. That's all. Barry.


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