They got me!
Jury Duty rears his ugly head once more. I have postponed for years now. Just gotta get it out of the way already. So I got up early and went downtown and asked if I could postpone it by a week, since I need to get work sorted out first. We are always in crisis mode.
It was like a sci-fi movie, being on the subways. Pretty empty, considering it was 9 am when I went downtown. I was the only person at the jury duty room. I got my postponement with no problem. I popped in on the Deputy Directory of the Mayors Voluntary Action Committee. It's a slow day; she had time to talk.
It was like a Twilight Zone episodes where you're in some other dimension.
City Hall looks like a barracks, which is a step away from a bunker. The only historical figures I can think of who have been obsessed with bunkers are Hitler, Sadam Hussein, and our Mayor. A cyclone fence surrounds City Hall Park, citing construction. They are building a wall of bullshit, from what I can see.
I cleaned the house like I hadn't in months. This lead to eventual bronchitis (see the upcoming weekend entry).
The wonderful L came by the house and we met Tony for dinner. It was one of those evening that could have turned into Ethel feeling put out when Lucy talks more to Maryjane, but it wasn't. We went to Sonali. Tony headed home, upholding a pragmatic vow to be safely home at midnight on New Year's Eve. L and I headed to P's party.
L is a good sport, to be one of only two women at the party; it also kept it from being a party of exclusively gay men. P has a lot of good friends. Two of them were also South African gay Jews, like P. At one point we discussed a recent article about a town in South Africa where people accused of witchcraft exiled themselves. Apparently 90% of the black population beliefs in witchcraft, and it is a mitigating factor in a great many judicial decisions there. One victim has a different take on her accuser, her own brother-in-law: "I made him a loan and he knew I hoped for a reunion with my money."
Despite my optimism, it looks like the new South Africa has a long way to go.
At 11:55 I entreated P to turn on NY1 so we could all see the ball drop in Times Square. Mayor Giuliani was wearing a smile and a fedora, not quite pulling off the Fiorello LaGuardia image successfully. Could you imagine him dandling a child on his knee, or reading the comics on the TV during a newspaper strike?
The Mayor was in some oddly shaped apparatus. I hoped that it was either the New Year's ball itself, or the UFO that would whisk him far away from us. If only! Can we ever forgive him for cutting the Department of AIDS Services? For the Gestapo tactics? For policing desire? For bringing in an agency that euthenizes dogs and cats?
This didn't bother Whitey the cat all that much. She took to the corner of the L-shaped couch and took it all in her stride. I think in my next life, I shall be a house cat.
Next entry... Party Like It's 1981