Yes, that's my eye. Pretty isn't it? It was the final event of the last couple of weeks out on Teh Island. Going back in time, we can see how this culminated.
June 29: Leave for Fire Island, but miss the train with my friends on it, so I travel alone. The train runs late, and the ferry isn't held back, so my arrival is two hours after Favorite Housemate and our lady-guest Little Flower.
July 1: Little Flower is out of money and leaves our company in the Glow Lounge. Time is spent in the Glow Lounge, wondering, "Why leather furniture?" and more importantly, "Why Glow Lounge if nothing is glowing other than those with a lack of understanding of sunblock?" We go to the remodeled Pavilion and stand in horror at the soullessness of the White Box. Then we head to Lina's party at Sip 'N Twirl, which is, by far the best party on the island. The deck is filled with fashion and art fags, surrounding Little Flower, who suddenly has new best friends buying her drinks.
July 2: Lina's party was a little too good, resulting in me missing the 6 a.m. ferry and thus arriving at the office late. Not a good thing when about to take ten days off. Some things are switched out and Sybil is dropped at the cat-sitter before going to sleep in my own apartment for one night.
July 3: Work a half day, with a visit by the dealer to the office. Sketchy. Arrive to the house to assorted good times. Somehow at night's end manage to slice open my big toe. Favorite Housemate and a friend decide that coffee will fix the injury and pack the wound with it.
July 4: Wake up in abject pain. Begin to scream. And scream. And scream. The house awakened I am half-carried to the Cherry Grove doctor. This week's doctor is Olga who is patient and tolerant of my pain. She informs FH that coffee is not a good idea in the future. As stitches are applied, she informs me that drinking and cocaine are not good ideas for the wound, but the weed is fine. And she prescribes Augmentin and Percocet. But it's Invasion Day, and despite everything, I must attend. FH is in a leather mini-dress, blonde wig and heels and pushes me in my wheelchair from bar to bar in the Grove. It is assumed that the chair is just a prop until people notice the blood coming from my freshly bandaged foot. At some point I realize that many, many pictures of me are being taken. (And I'm self-medicated to the extreme.) At some other point I realize that I'm on the ferry, en route to the Pines.
July 5 - 9: Largely uneventful, yet fun. FH is still my favorite housemate despite my various pains.
July 10: We have a little party with Broadway people. Theatre Homos are not my usual set. All are very pleasant and fun, but, it most be noted, none seem to be well-hung. Is theatre diametrically opposed to girth and length?
July 11: Host one of the theatre ladies (there were both fags and hags at the party) for the night, and go for drinks before her departure. Continue drinking with FH after her departure. Become separated, and while sitting in a cheap white plastic lawn chair at the Ice Palace, feel the chair collapse under me. I fall onto my face, blackening my eye and busting my lip. Two kind strangers walk me the entire way home.
July 12: Wake up to face the face, feeling miserable. Begin the cleaning of the house. Depart on the ferry with Favorite Housemate, speaking to Bartender Friend. Looking me over, noting my injuries from head to toe, BF notes, "You should find another vacation spot hon. This doesn't seem to agree with you."
The above is really just an inkling. Actually a fun week was had. More to come.
