Lord of The Fuck

Pink Floyd Dark Side of The Moon

Leroy and I woke up within a half hour of each other on the floor of Dragica's living room. We lay there in our own makeshift beds made of couch cushions talking and looking up at the clear blue sky out the window beside us. It was early morning, and we had been drinking scotch just a few short hours earlier and taking pictures of spoons stuck to our foreheads until 5:30am when the sun finally showed itself above the pointed roofs of the tall houses to the west side, warning us that it was time to go to bed. We had a long conversation about the show we had played with the rest of the band the night before, how tense I felt watching the new Woody Allen movie one Sunday afternoon, and how hilarious it was that the reason Frannie finally wound up dating another guy instead of me was because I often didn't have enough money for bus fair so I could see her, let alone keep up with her little jaunts to Montreal or Vegas every three weeks. We giggled like kids on a sleep over and eventually fell back asleep until Dragica, Chic, and Remington woke up later in the afternoon so we could spend all the money we made the night before on dim sum.

I had barely slept a wink though, and when I finally did make it home in the early evening, rather than mind my body and treat it to some rest, I phoned Veridian to see if I could make her some dinner. She came over with a bottle of pinot and I served a simple salad that we ate in the light being cast from the empty office buildings across the alley, leaving us to finish the wine while looking up at the scattered lights of the high rise hotel and the other tall buildings above the horizon line. Before long though my stomach took a sudden turn for the worse, and cramps sent me reaching for my wine glass three times faster than I should have. The bottle was quickly emptied and I started popping these little round orange pills that Veridan had in her bag that she said would do the trick. Since I drank all the wine and hoping that the crisp air would make me feel better, we walked over to the new beer and wine store that had just opened. I smoked a joint before I left, and by the time we returned and cut into the second bottle, I was a drunk, stoned, prescription drugged, overtired, bellyaching mess that was balling his eyes out to a scene in the Charlize Theron movie, North Country, with a hot water bottle on his stomach.

I did make a dashing recovery by the end of the film so I took Verdian to bed where we majestically shagged to both sides of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of The Moon in its 43 minute entirety. I once got the strangest call of my adolescence when a friend called me one evening years ago. He and his girlfriend had obviously just started to experiment with sex, and wanted my expert advice as to what music to fuck to. Without thinking I blurt out, "Dark Side of The Moon," and hung up. No wonder then, a year later, long after the adolescent lovers had broken it off, I wound up in bed with my friends girlfriend. I was completely confused, she wasn't my type at all, nor was I hers. It was finally revealed to me last night, as my hips were pressed against Veridian's backside, with her black hair spilling out amongst the cracks between my fingers, that Dark Side of The Moon really is a fantastic album for amorous activity, and that my friends girlfriend had obviously been impressed by my suggestion, leading her to think that I was some lord of the fuck, and that I should be given a twist. Sometimes it takes years to figure these things out.

The Great Gig In The Sky - Pink Floyd