At least Zombies can get Married

The house I live in, well it's actually an apartment in a house and a very old house at that. So, old houses like this creek with footsteps and shake with jumps or sudden movements. They are also drafty, bat prone and in total lack of three-prong power outlets. So, that's my shelter situation. And it's my day off. I'm on my coach just doing nothing but watching a movie. The frame of my bay window creeks and pops. I'm used to it, it happens time to time with the atmospheric pressure changes and whatnot. But I couldn't help but to think this time was different, it was more frantic and regular. At first I thought nothing of it, but eventually I had to pause the movie. Yes, it is true, my neighbor is fucking.

When you're a kid, or even up into your teens, it's kinda this big deal to hear people fuck. It's amazing, outrageous and exotic. What captures the audience of 12 year old boys better- a found unicorn or overheard fucking? But, like many things from adolescents, it becomes a different reaction when you're older. Whenever, as an adult, you live close by other people, time to time you get an ear whiff of fucking. It's bound to happen. It's kinda like hearing someone you don't know that well fart.

Now, as an adult, I'm intrigued, but not in a perverted way. It's not the sexuality that gets my attention. No, it's something else, like the interest of watching a tree blow in the wind or the curiosity of a car wreck. It's a moment of life that's only purpose is to remind you of life, and how this is it. I resume play on my movie. It's a movie with Philip Seymour Hoffman.

It's OK, but its written by that guy that did Being John Melkavich, so you gotta watch it a few times. That Before The Devil Knows You're Dead movie with Hoffman was in was pretty good. Capote was good too.

Then comes the moaning. “Ohhh! Ohhh!oh!”. It's loud enuff to hear easily but soft enuff to ignore if you tried. I loose myself in the moment. My thoughts become abstract, like how the leaves of the tree in the wind look like wild locks of hair being swam threw a body of water.

Or how their bodies could be tightly held flush together, with the only separation- the only thing separating them from combing as one entity- is a thin film of sweat held stagnate and the only movement coming from his jackhammering hips.

Or how impersonally a cheetah kills his prey on the other side of the screen on the Discovery channel.

Or Joey P., the kid you went to the 4^th grade with that had the long curly flowing hair, is, the last you herd, in prison.

Or how Philip Seymour Hoffman was spot on with Truman Capote, the flamboyantly queer writer.

Or how I have never over herd two members of the same sex fuck. With all the sex I have ever over herd it has always been the regular way. I wonder if it would somehow be different.

Last weekend I went to a gay bar for the first time. It was a last call destination after zombie prom at Louie's. The gay bar is like any other, except the over abundance of dancing (admittedly, I even “danced” at on point). Things are inheritly a bit more faggy, of course. That is to be expected, but I was surprised that there was such an alarm with some of the patrons that my friends were still dressed as a zombies. You would think that the gay community, arguably the most socially acceptable minority to still be discriminated against, would be more open to things like zombies, the second most easily discriminated against minority. But no, the bars, always, are filled with fucktards. Sure the queers are more liberal in some ways but even more stuck up in others (Yes, these are my shoes. I don't care how many holes are in them).

But this is where we all end up, isn't it? We all got our own type of bar we go to. Drugs are a great equalizer. What separates us is the type of bars we go to and the way we dance when we get there. The moist film of sweat between our coupled bodies is a commonality.

As they draw to a climax, and the dance floor plays it's last song, I am only left with the fleeting wonder if I should offer an applaud of some sort.