The Funeral Banquet

First of All:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NDN!!!!

Alright-- here's the first half of what I wrote out yesterday. Don't have time for the rest right now, as I'm running off to teach... (I know NDN will be disappointed because I still have to get to writing about his birthday party on Saturday, but I promise it's coming...)

-h

***********************
I've been in a strange mood all week long. A dark mood, I guess you could say. I can only describe it as a blend between anger, empowerment and gloom. It reminds me of the mood I used to get into when I would go for those long walks in college. I used to walk up into dangerous neighborhoods, my head down at my feet, watching them pound on the ground, staring at the sparkle in the pavement bathed in pink street-light. That's one more thing I love about New York at night--the sky. We don't really get any stars here (not that I don't like stars), but rather, the sky turns a bruised purplish-pink. I used to walk in the winter, stretching my fingers out into the cold until they turned purplish-pink as well. Then I would sharply inhale the frozen air as quickly as I could, hoping for a burn. Then, with nothing else to do, I would defeatedly return home.

Well, I abandoned that kind of adolescent morbidity years ago, but as of late, the feeling has been creeping up on me again. As much as I feel like I'm at a moment of renewal, I'm left with a sort of internal mourning. The loss of something in myself. It reminds me of that passage in A Rebours when Esseintes throws himself a funeral banquet to mourn the loss of his own virility.

In one instance in particular, modelling the entertainment on a banquet of the eighteenth century, he had organized a funeral feast in celebration of the most unmentionable of minor personal calamities. The dining-room was hung with black and looked out on a strangely metamorphosed garden, the walks being strewn with charcoal, the little basin in the middle of the lawn bordered with a rim of black basalt and filled with ink; and the ordinary shrubs superseded by cypresses and pines. The dinner itself was served on a black cloth, decorated with baskets of violets and scabiosae and illuminated by candelabra in which tall tapers flared.

While a concealed orchestra played funeral marches, the guests were waited on by naked negresses wearing shoes and stockings of cloth of silver besprinkled with tears.

The viands were served on black-bordered plates,--turtle soup, Russian black bread, ripe olives from Turkey, caviar, mule steaks, Frankfurt smoked sausages, game dished up in sauces coloured to resemble liquorice water and boot-blacking, truffles in jelly, chocolate-tinted creams, puddings, nectarines, fruit preserves, mulberries and cherries. The wines were drunk from dark-tinted glasses,--wines of the Limagne and Roussillon vintages, wines of Tenedos, the Val de Penas and Oporto. After the coffee and walnuts came other unusual beverages, kwas, porter and stout.

The invitations, which purported to be for a dinner in pious memory of the host's (temporarily) lost virility, were couched in the regulation phraseology of letters summoning relatives to attend the obsequies of a defunct kinsman.

I don't know... I just haven't felt very clear or present, although as of yesterday, some of that is starting to lift.

On Thursday (on my way to teach) I bumped into Sean Duffy in the street. He kissed me hello. I was startled. It was slightly unnerving to see him while in "Jekyll-mode."

Later that night, after class, I went to Cheers. I arrived at about 10:00 pm but all of the suits had been there since happy hour began and were slobbering drunk. FightingMensch and another regular, KHill, were among them. I don't see FightingMensch nearly as much as I used to--ever since his girlfriend from Chicago moved in with him back in April or May. KHill has been around a lot, though, and has been pretty friendly to me ever since I bought him shots on his birthday a few weeks back. (I love birthdays!). Often he's there with his girlfriend who's quite a nice girl. (I recently spent the evening cavorting with him, his girlfriend and her sister). Anyway, I'm not sure what he does for a living except that it has something to do with finance. He's an ex-frat boy type and likes to joke around with me, marveling that I'm always reading. (Sometimes on weeknights, I bring papers to grade or an article or two to read).

Anyway, on Thursday, he and FightingMensch were both really drunk. FightingMensch scares me a little when he's that drunk. He gets a glazed look in his eye and punctuates every sentence by punching the air, saying "Bang! Bang!" (We all know how prone he is to "fighting.")

Thursday night he approached me.

"Hey, Hyde. What's up?"

"Not much."

"So... Are you still seeing that guy that beats you?"

"What??? FightingMensch! Why would you say something like that?"

(It really bothered me that he said that. It jolted me. I guess it made me step back and take stock of things for a moment. The truth of the statement aside, is that how people think of me? Is that the impression that I give off?)

He stared at me blankly before launching into a story about how he pummeled a cow to death.

"That's disgusting," I muttered, trying to excuse myself from the conversation.

"Well, you know FightingMensch!" his friend Chris piped in. "He fucking wrestles wild boars in the wild!"

Wild boars in the wild...

Later on, a drunk KHill stopped over to talk to me.

"If I had a million dollars I'd impregnate you," he said.

What the fuck? This night was getting too weird...

"What?!?" I looked up at him incredulously. "I don't think that's such a good idea. And besides, I don't take money for that kind of thing."

I tried to smile at him to normalize the conversation, as he was clearly drunk, but I couldn't quite pull it off. I mean, how do you respond to a statement like that? Especially coming from a practical stranger!

"Man, you sound like a good time," he said. "You'd let me come inside, right?"

"What? What the fuck?"

"My girlfriend won't, but--" then he got distracted by something and walked away.

I wanted to get out of there. All of a sudden I felt like there was some kind of alarming spotlight flooding over my whole life--my whole lifestyle. I felt like Blanche DuBois with the paper lantern torn off the bulb. Who are these people? Why are they saying things like that to me?

Damn it, Hyde! When conversations start like that, it's time to go home, I told myself.

And go home, I did.

The next morning I woke up relatively early to meet B to ride the Beast. "The Beast" is a speed boat ride that zips around New York Harbor. It's a tradition that we do every summer. Last summer it didn't happen and it remained a sore point for me, as I'm the one who really gets excited about it. This year, we had a great time out on the water (as always). It totally revived me. Afterwards, we walked over to 10th Avenue to get something to eat. I felt really close to him that day. We had an intense conversation about a lot of different things, that I don't really care to go into here. (But by the way, he helped me come up with an answer to a question that I always get about the meaning of the tattoo on my arm--"the signifier is the signified," he told me to say. We laughed about that one for a while because he's such a literary theory dork!)

After the meal, he walked me to the bus stop and I kept complaining that my discman was broken. I'm addicted to being plugged in to music round the clock. I desperately need to soundtrack my life, and felt very depressed navigating the city without it. He offered to lend me his for the week. I absolutely loved him for it. It felt amazing to be taken care of like that. Then he went one step further and offered to buy me an iPod nano for my birthday/Christmas. I'm excited. And I felt valued. (Not that gifts are the only way to express affection, but still...) I'm grateful for him.

My voice lesson that afternoon was fairly unremarkable except for the fact that my jaw was so tight that it was difficult to feel my way through the upper register.

"Wow! Your jaw must have had a rough night last night!" my teacher exclaimed.

I laughed inside. People have been saying the strangest things to me lately!

After the lesson I took a taxi back home--the infamous cab ride during which the driver asked me out. (And no, I'm not going to call him back). After that, I changed and headed to Penn Station to meet BigSis and Bro-in-Law to take the train out to JBC's birthday dinner.

JBC had arranged for dinner at a pretty fancy steakhouse. I have to say, it completely broke the bank for me. I'm only a poor student and was somewhat alarmed by a $10 Jack Daniels and $80 dinner! That said, the food was amazing. Bro-in-Law and I shared a massive Porterhouse. Yum! I haven't eaten that well in quite some time!

It was a nice group--three of JBC's best friends, the birthday boy himself, LilSis, BigSis, Bro-in-Law and myself. Of course, as LilSis and JBC just got engaged, there was non-stop talk of the wedding. They just booked a place and set the date for August, 2007. (I know... But in NY, when you're throwing a big party, you've got to get things done early!) I have a feeling that JBC is going to be more fussy as the groom than LilSis as the bride! He's big into fashion. It's cute. We gave him a Lacoste shirt for his birthday and BigSis picked up an issue of the new Men's Vogue for him, along with a NY wedding magazine.

After dinner, we stopped by at a local bar for a drink or two before BigSis and Bro-in-Law returned to the city and LilSis and JBC drove me back to my parents' house. My mom is redecorating, and when we arrived she was obsessing about the living room--just standing there staring at the setup for the longest time.

"Ah ha! I've got it!" she exclaimed, removing one small pillow from the couch. "That's better!"

She need affirmation/consultation on her new carpet and the TV unit, which I willingly gave. Then we sat around for a while talking about family politics. My mom's family owns a clothing business and there's some kind of stand-off about to take place between her and her cousin about loans and interest rates, or something boring like that. Oh! And I finally got my ring back. (Yay!)

The next morning my mom woke me up bright and early to go visit my stepbrother in the hospital. I hadn't seen him in a few weeks, and I have to say, he's made some major improvements. He's still only speaking a handful of words, but he was very interactive and speaking much more willingly than before. But I'll leave that, and the story of NDN's birthday party for later.

I do want to add, though, that the mood I was in when I started this post the other day is not the mood I'm in right now. I don't care if anyone believes me or not, because I know I've made this declaration a million times, but I don't think I'm going to drink as much anymore. Not because I should stop, but just because I don't feel like it right now. I'll consider NDN's party on Saturday night as "one last hurrah." I need to clean house. I'm really feeling the "New Year" right now and I'm ready to turn a page. I t's a strange feeling, but a good one. There are clouds clearing. I started this post feeling like I was at a funeral banquet.

Something did pass away, although I'm not sure what it was.

-h-