I used to go to chuch. Not regular church, although Mom did try and force Catholicism on me. I mean I used to go to clubs, lots of clubs, and one of them was held in a church.
The Church of Sin
The name of the location was Limelight, or Avalon depending on who you asked. Often times a long line full of twinks greeted you, or girls if you were going during straight nights, and once you were checked for id you were led through a passage with glowing steps overlooking an honest to dog church mural. It was at this point that I was already too drunk to focus on what was on the mural, but I imagine it was something you’d typically find in any church.
I’d go to these clubs not necessarily because I enjoyed the clubs you see, but because I was new to New York and Fly G was my only friend. He loved going to these clubs, but his enthusiasm was infectious and so I wanted to go to these clubs.
Something was very wrong.
From the morning upper shot of coffee bought from the small bodegas that littered the Manhattan Midtown fashion-scape that made me hyper aware of my tittering fingers, to the post-lunch can or bottle of soda that I drank which provided me with precious seconds full of bug eyes (just enough time to dream of being elsewhere), and finally to the evening glass of wine meant more as a red satin bed to cushion the hard fall; I was a wreck.
You take caffeine for granted because everyone’s on it, but it’s still a mood alterer. I figured I’d feel like a 50 year old man by 6 o clock because I was getting older, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the tiredness of a marathon and it was unbecoming of someone of the age of 28.
“This is the caffeine. This is chemical. I need to stop drinking it.”
Quitting things is my specialty. Giving up coffee was as easy as giving up cigarettes or blow for that matter, and it was similarly done on a whim.
What followed were 2 days of enormous crashing. I was like a boxer who was losing to a knockout champ. Several times my head almost hit my keyboard at work even as the CEO stood behind me talking to someone else. I’d felt that feeling before when I would miss a cup o’ joe on accident, but I reasoned that this was just a withdrawal stage and if I kept going then it would wear off and then…