Chinky-Town

I went to the Mountain Bar in Chinatown tonight. They hosted “Vermin on the Mount” which was several author reading McSweeney’s-esque shit. It was really good. They raffled off a package of 5 books and 2 t-shirts (which I lost of course). The readers were great. More importantly the bar itself is absolutely lovely. Since I don’t head off to Chinatown very often, everything there seems fresh like a new dollar bill. All the jaded art fucks still hang out there for lack of anyplace better to go, but whatever. The bartender was D__, a boy from SB days whom I had a crush on. We actually did meet up once right after I moved to LA, but I left his number in my jeans and did the wash. It was really funny to run into him there. I got his number and will hang out sometime this week. Also, I talked to Josh Bearman who read a lovely piece about Pac-Man and existentialism which cracked me up. We were talking and hitting on each other. I didn’t get his number since he was busy talking to everyone else and I was catching up with D__. But as I left I looked over to him and bade him farewell. He grabbed my hand and said, “Same to you.” Tee hee. For once someone talked to me and didn’t expose his psychosis. That’s a feat unto itself. Which leads to me the following conclusion: art/writing boys are so fucking hot. Why I forget this, I don’t know.