2002-11-13 - 8:50 p.m.

The anti-party went well, although my timing wasn't so great. We got to the bar 2 hours after everyone else, but I just could not move him along. It all went really well, he was shocked and very happy, and by 12:30 there were only a few people outside our group left in the bar, which made it like a private party. I put it all on the table with his fiend (that is not a typo) Don. And I was EXTREMELY nice and calm about it. He created a drama right up until we got there about my not allowing HIS friends to come, so when he came to (phonily) sit and talk to me, I confronted him. He made an argument so fucking ridiculous that I will not even recount it here, and I finally just told him that I am too old for drama, and that if he had a problem and chose to go sneakily bitching about it to everyone else, then it remained his problem. If he wanted to act like an adult, he could call me and have a conversation, and we could discuss it. How novel. I could see the gears creakily turning behind his eyes, but I don't think he really GOT it. No matter, I did it for myself anyway. And I am inordinately proud that I did not lose my temper or even raise my voice.

Other than that, it was fabulous and everyone was happy and now it's over.

And otherwise, it's just been work. We're going to S@vann@h this weekend, leaving Friday morning, for the boyfriends planned getaway for his actual birthday.

I have had some random thoughts rattling around in my head today, so here they are.

I had an extremely disturbing dream last night. To be brief, it featured a pet worm opening one end of ...itself, I guess, and sucking up water off the sidewalk. I don't even want to know.

Also, the CEO of NYC is trying to pass a smoking ban, prohibiting smoking in ALL restaurants, bars, and clubs. I am horrified by this, and not just because I'm a smoker. Restaurants, ok. Bars? Let them have a choice, some smoking, some not, using the parameters in place now for restaurants. I was discussing it this weekend, and someone said to me, "Well, smoking is really bad for you anyway, you know. " People. Really. I wanted to just back up, all wide-eyed in mock surprise, and say,really loudly, "It IS? OH MY GOD, I didn't know!! Let me quit RIGHT NOW!" We know, we all know. You can ask me not to smoke in your home, your car, or even your presence, and that's cool. But don't feel free to criticize my crutch of choice. I don't comment on your drinking yourself into a stupor after dinner or taking muscle relaxers on weekends, or cheating on your boyfriend, so leave me be about my smoking,eh?

I have been hyper aware of the people around me lately. The heavily accented immigrant in front of me at the coffee cart, the stooped, wrinkled old homeless woman at Penn St@tion, the tall man in the suit in front of me at the crosswalk, the young blond woman with little tiny beaded hearts somehow attached to tiny braids interspersed in her long, straight hair. I want to write about all of them, but not here. I will tell you one story, though, although I feel I've already written it. The other night I was walking up Chr1st0pher Street, lost in thought, and I was snapped out of my reverie by a crowd in front of the bookstore. I looked up and saw two white, well groomed horses, standing beneath the still-leafy trees, glowing with the haze from the pink streetlights. They were attached to a gleaming, ornate carriage, and as the crowd came into focus I saw Santa, and a girl elf, dressed in white maribou and fur trimmed red velvet, standing amidst a group of people. I walked by, around the little knot of them, and as I approached the awning of my building, I found myself grinning.

Santa. And it ain't even Thanksgiving.

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