There was a brawl below my apartment windows this evening. Its genesis was the Raiders loosing the Superbowl. I heard a man and woman arguing. The fight sound rather salacious so I pulled up the roman shades to take a peek on the street below. A minivan was parked in front of Launderland. A man was outside the van yelling at the women who was sitting in the passenger’s seat. Their words were bitter and biting. On my side of the street in front of Happy Donuts (btw— how do we know their donuts are happy? I'm not sure if I were going to be consumed by cops and the alike that I would be happy. Then again...) there were a couple of men who were laughing at the ruckous being raised by the couple. The man across the street turned around and then with what macho bravado he could muster puffed out his chest and said, “You think this is funny?” The peanut gallery muttered some indiscernible drivel and the pigeon-chested chap crossed the street. A soda flew and I lost sight of the man underneath an awning. The next noise I heard was a thunderous POP! The arguing man stumbled from beneath the awning. His hand met his face and a stunned look set in as he tried to keep his balance. He moved into the street and turned around several times, like a dog who is about to recline for a nap. Then the street erupted in a brawl! Traffic stopped and people jumped out of their vehicles. Fist flew and people screamed. I raced to the charmed-roomies door. It isn’t everyday one gets to watch a ringside street fight. I feverishly tapped at his door. My roomie thinking I was the psycho opened the door angrily—however upon seeing my face his mood instantly changed to a happy one. I told him the about the event happening outside our apartment and he rushed with me to the living room to watch. Things had quited down, but we got dressed and headed down stairs to sum up any damage that may have happened. On our way down the stairs I asked if he heard the all the sex noise. He said he hadn’t, but he was disgusted at the mere thought. Since neither of us really wanted to be in the apartment we decided to take a drive. We drove down to the Civic Center than over to the Fillmore where we picked up his gorgeous girlie. They smoked out in the car but I abstained like the good boy I am >:^P Afterwards we headed to the Haight to grab a slice of pizza. We drove over to the Safeway on Mission Street so I could get some puddin’. A cop car was pulling slowly out of the parking lot as we were pulling in. The cop was absolutely delicious looking. I pointed at him and said, “This little piggy went wee-wee-wee all the way to my home!” Shoot. Cops like that one don't frequent the Happy Donut's by my place. If they did, I would know that the donuts would surely be happy! Eventually we made it back to the apartment although neither of us wanted to return >:^C *** I set myself up for rejection this evening. Deciding that I had to send off some work to potential publishers I sent my “Spamster” memoir to McSweeney’s. Their particular journal seems to cater to people with eclectic tastes. With the urging of my dreamy co-worker in Color I decided to send out one of my more bizarre pieces to them for review. Also on my list to send submissions to for the month of January and February are: The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Fourteen Hills, Transfer and possibly The Atlantic Monthly. The Poet said I should submit something to the James White Review but I don’t have anything that deals with gay themes. One of my fears is being classified as a gay writer instead of a writer who’s gay. Is that understandable? I want to write for the mainstream. An interesting article I read recently sums up how I feel on the subject. You can view it by clicking here.