Like A Whore In Church.

Sunday.

The Day Of Our Lord.

On the seventh day, we rest. And we remember the power that drives us. Drives the Universe. We remember this power and reflect on our week. On the seventh day we take a pause. And reflect. Unless you're this monkey.

I awake in a jolt. Having an appointment in Venice to become a happy couple's wedding officiant is on the bulletin of events today. These meetings have to take place at all hours due to acouple's busy schedules and the enormity of putting together their wedding. Morning meetings are de reguer. I put on the face of a holy man, around the heart of the salesman with the best of intentions to cement the two. Off to whore myself around for the nicest of reasons. It's warm this morning as I run to the truck.

The meeting is bliss and the couple fantastic. They exude hospitality not necessary for a Sunday in Los Angeles; great coffee, pastry, cheese and fruit. Considering the rat race this city can be, this oasis was an unforeseen haven and made the 'un-godly' hour for the meeting all to pleasant. They agree to the terms and I detail the service for them. Alls good in business here. Onward. The next appointment is of another color; KD.

KD and I have history.sheand I have a compulsion for saying what we are thinking without the use of a filter. It can land us into trouble from time to time but it can also be a tool for making fast friends. KD is a girl who was involved with a man for a number of years until realizing he wasn't the man she needed to marry. They parted company and she began the life of a single gal in the City. She embraced her singularity with both legs. Not to call her easy, call her agreeable. It is always on her own terms. She has the claim to fame of throwing a cheap date's wallet into the dishwasher after he had the audacity of taking her home and passing out on her. ( in flagrante delecto). It made her pay for the drinks that night so she thought it proper to take her reimbursement and clean up it's ct. "That's how he rolls? That's how I roll." She was sure it was the hour and not the company.

Any who, we're to meet for beers near the beach, to observe the freaks and compare notes on Life, love and prostitution. She has the audacity to be late. Preparation is more than a tube of "H" in Los Angeles. You have to prepare for anything including auditions, dates and traffic. Grasping this makes everything much simpler. So out in the sun I awaited the whore, sun beating down on me. A small bead began to form at my temple. Why I was stuck with an internal temperature of a magma pocket I don't know, but I can sweat on cue. Oh, DK, "Where Are You". In she rolls, 25 minutes late. The calamari was wilting. Quick pleasantries and then into the meat of our matters. She bares, I bare we have a communion of sorts. Please remember that there are many levels of prostitution and whoring both are easily mistaken for acting and restaurant work. Communion over, she describes her coming events for the day, trick one, then trick two. I smirk and wish her well on being able to plan something competently. To which she informs me that trick one was here to mark his territory and say "Howdy". I'm sick that she would parade her meat on our time, and unimpressed with the deli counter anyway. The grunts stumble in and out without much hoopla and I begin the Gospel of "Please don't wave your skanky lunch under my nose" These moments in time are there to keep out the barbarians in Life, not to invite them in. I tell her that I get why the cat brings in dead things as trophies, but don't need to throw up in the back of my throat. She gets it, finally and we say our goodbyes. I mean, for reals? It's Sunday here. I'm at rest.

I'm to attend a play tonite and am worried. Seeing friends of friends work can lend to awkward moments. What if the play is bad? What if you slept with the friend and just found out how Small the world is? What if they try to make you drink the 'Kool-Aid' and join their cult/theatre company? What if there's a hurricane and you step on a seeing eyed dog on the hasty retreat? So many things come to mind. Maybe I was just overtired at this point and seeing the universe winding me up. Mick wants me to mapquest the addy of the theatre "The Christian Fellowship Theatre Company and Rollerderby"! I know the street addy but the troupe makes me nervous a tad. Hopefully the theatre company is warmer to homos than The Church has been. Why are my wrists moist.?

The play is bad. And there is no mistaking it. The polite silence around us may as well have had a doily underneath it and a pinkie extended. We were in a Sunday social with programs. The friends performance was wonderful and there were fantastic moments that happened. Intermission for one. But the duration of the piece was not what was expected. Mick had to be to work soon and the first act was comprised of 32 scenes each ending in a blackout. As the scenes progressed I looked around to see we were the only obviously gays in attendance and treated to 'very nice' smiles and 'pleasant' stares. I blame the 'Kool-Aid' again. My breath shortened in the giant wooden hall. It was as if we had been herded two-by-two into an ark for theatrical salvation. My head was craning around for the dove to tell me we've hit the promised land, or even for Isaac the bartender from the Love Boat to fetch me something frothy with an umbrella. Neither insight I found my release, a sweat stain under my pecs reminiscent of a birds wing span. I looked like a Gucci born Trans-Am. My temple's moistened in this Temple and I began to snicker. I was sweating like a whore in church, and I was one. The day, the company the deeds had brought me to this glowing realization. I was a member of the oldest and second oldest professions and I was wearing my credentials for all to see. "Fame costs, and right here's where you start paying. In sweat." - Debbie Allen, 'Fame'.

Intermission came, like the rains to the plains and I made my way to the breeze. Mick arrived street side to tell me we couldn't stay for the second act for timing's sake. I understood and we both acknowledge that the play needed some tweaking. I noticed in his hands a paper napkin with HyDrox cookies and two paper cups of room temperature punch, both he was offering me. The Kool Aid!! I thanked him and told him I'd meet him at the car. This would give him an opportunity to send congrat's backstage in polite fashion. As I rounded the corner I poured the liquid into the dish of a leashd dog by the stage door and hopped into the Ferrari. A whore's got to do what a whore's got to do. I couldn't wait to shower.