This isn't me, but I did get fairly snoggled last night at the closing of The Lighthouse, Monterey's only gay bar. Were it not for the company of my new good friend Heather it would not have been nearly as entertaining as it was. I learned a good deal about a one-hand-on-the-wall-one-on-your-hip posture for indicating that you either mean business or you're getting down to business- a very valuable technique which I hope to utilize myself in the near future. And that for some people at some dive bar in Oakland (The Caringhouse?) reading is not the last thing you would want to do once you're fairly slanted, as it is for me and most people I would guess, since the bar is lined with literature like a library. That's a place that may be better just knowing exists without actually wanting to see it for yourself.
Unfortunately, I hoped to see Shannon who is the only person I've ever mistakenly called by my own name, but appearantly she had not heard that her appearance there would have won my continued adoration. I don't think I'll ever see her again. So it goes. I don't think I'll ever see a lot of people again, but I'm not going to feel sorry for them.
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