It always hits me at 2am, when you're forced out of the dance club wading through a sea of people on the sidewalks of West Hollywood, upon looking about and seeing the guys that found each other and rest and each others' shoulders. Granted, there aren't many, but they stand out because oh how I'd love to be in those shoes... to rest my head on those shoulders.

On Roberston Boulevard, once they said our connection at Fiesta wasn't working that night I knew what was going down.. absolutely nothing, at least for me. I'm now starting to feel like I'm a burden to the group because I'm either not 21 or I don't have a fake ID. Kyle tried hard to get me into East West but the guard was pretty adamant about it, and rightfully so--plus there were cops and unsuual amounts of security personnel around. He kept apologizing to me though whenever he saw me handing around the balcony, on the outside looking in.

I decided that Rage is my only option other than sitting on the sidewalk looking pretty and pathetic. $15. I had to dip into my savings, reluctantly. That's the most I've ever paid for cover, even toppping Tigerheat which everyone had started complaining about it's $12 peak. And this was solo, by the way.

I danced my heart out. I forgot everyting for a good hour and a half, until I started to look around me at others' fleeting gazes. I made it a goal tonight to practice making consistent eye contact with people, something I have a hard time doing. Though, the ones I had been eyeing clearly weren't interested even if I had given clear tacttile signals. So I continued to dance my heart out, shirtless and all. It was hot and I don't go to the gym to just hide my steady progress. Someone came around and danced with me for about twenty seconds. He was attractive but I may have made a dance move that scared him or was too hardcore or something.

Dominic was there, with yet another guy. Matt Enis was on the dance table. That's all that I had recognized.

WHen it all ended I simply feel silent for the rest of the night. M, Kyle, Michael and them were drunk and clearly having fun. I guess my brain's serotonin balance had tipped off to the side. It always hits me at 2am.

---

It was a few weeks back and at Tigerheat. It was one of the best times with Cathy ever. We chugged down some Tenqueray + Pink Lemonade cocktail and stood in the wrapping line for about 2 hours just to get our dance on. We got in by 1:30a. The club had been extended until 3a because of overflow. It was Madonna night, and UCLA had just gotten out. It was supposed to be a night with Dominic and the rest of the gays but luckily it just ended up being me and Cathy.

We had to pee so bad. Ridiculous.

When we got in, the club was ours. We danced so hard, we even got in some synchronized dance moves that played out perfectly. Then we found a place on some bass units and the rail above us and we were all over each other, aerial-style. That Tenqueray works a little bit like ecstasy, we know that much. We may as well have been on the pill because it was intense, even after the two hour wait.

I fought so hard with myself to not take the shirt off. I won.

That night goes down as one of the greatest stories of LA clubbing.

---

I've been working almost non-stop to make ends meet. USC is demanding large amounts of money outside of my financial aid coverage and I can't keep up. At the same time I'm trying to save for a trip to New York with my sister. It's looking a little shaky but I think we can manage.

So for example, I had been at the Design Studio up 'til 2am last Thursday, only to return literally 6 hours later. On time, too. And that Friday was a 10 hour shift. Illegal? Hell yeah.

I blame it parly on my last check of around $260, when I should be getting close to $500. And for this, I partly blame on my parents---Dad, rather---because of this Texas Family Reunion trip a few weeks ago. I missed three days of work (and not to mention San Francisco Pride, Electric Daisy Carnival, and the LA Erotic Expo all in one weekend).

It was fun, besides all the annoyances. I suppose. Certainly, it was good seeing my aunts and grandma again as well as my own parents and getting some family history recorded in my brain. But the weather and long days and sitting outside in the core of the country of Tyler, TX for five or six hours a day for two days straight got to me. It was 90 degrees or more day and night, humid as hell. Bugs screaming in your face everywhere almost as loud as the dirt bike cruising around.

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More on my Texas experience later. The moral of the story here is that I can't wait for that day when I'll have a shoulder to rest my head on, that will probably never come.

Truly.