October came and went in fast-motion after Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad and Adam's birthday. The two major November assignments taking us up to the beginning of December and then to the end of the first term semester were from Camilla Mezaros in Interior Design One and from Alan Farside in Building Construction. They were intimidating with respect to the amount of work required in order to complete them and I was beginning to totally freak out ...
Alan's assignment was interesting. We were to take what Alan had taught us in class regarding what many Architects and Designers followed when trying to develop perfect proportions for their creative work and apply what was called 'The Fibonacci Sequence' to a scale model built from balsawood. The 'Fibonacci Sequence' was essentially a series of numbers in which each number was the sum of the two preceding numbers. For example, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13 and so on. Scale and proportion are important elements in Architecture and Design, and Alan was absolutely determined we were going to understand these principles as we advanced in the Program. I had an idea about building a scale model based on the ratio of 3, 5 and 8 and had discussed my ideas with him during crit' times. Having heard his suggestions and listening carefully to what he was hoping to see in the final completed model, I was now on my own to actually build the damned thing to a scale of 1 inch equal to 1 foot.
Camilla's assignment was equally as demanding. It involved not only construction of a scale model constructed with Bainbridge board (... seems like this was Camilla's favorite choice of material ... easier to knock off a table with her wooden rod, I guess ...). But, we had to do what was described as a programming study and design concept narrative for what we were to hand in for 50% of our grade for that first semester. The assignment was to design and build a scale model of a student home workspace that we could theoretically work in as Interior Designers. Suddenly, now we were going from abstract theory into what most of us understood real Interior Design was all about ... namely design of real space for real people. The programming study mandated that we measure every piece of material we would use in building scale models, along with drafting paper and furniture, such as our drafting boards and stools and whatever else we thought we'd need in order to create an efficient and workable environment in which to do our work. All the abstract theory and concepts we had been taught up to that point in her class with respect to colour, line, shape, texture, space, form, harmony and balance were to be incorporated to signify our understanding of the course. This was a daunting assignment.
"Holy fuckin' shit!", to quote what Adam would say!
"Hi Adam ..."
"Hi there, honey! I'll be hoppin' the bus up on Friday and should be up there around nine. How are ya' makin' out with those models you're workin' on?"
"Oh God, Adam! If I have to measure one more piece of Bainbridge board, or sheet of drafting paper, or pen, pencil, marker or piece of balsawood, I'm going to kill myself! She's got us measuring our drafting boards and stools too! Next thing you know, she be asking us to measure our butts to make sure they fit in the stools in the model! "
"Well, I can sure help ya' with that one, baby! I already know it's a perfect fit for my big cock!" Adam says, while laughing on the other end of the phone line. "Now seriously, honey ... is there anything 'I' can help ya' with when I'm there, besides measurin' you cute, tight, little ass?"
"Well Adam ... you 'do' know how to type, don't you?" I respond.
"Sure do, Aaron. I was pretty good with business and commerce classes back in high school. Why? Do ya' need me to type somethin' up for ya' there, honey?"
"Oh God yes, Sasq'! I have to take all of the measurements and design concept information and put it all into a programming booklet, along with the scale model when I submit it. Would you maybe help me with that, Adam? I'd be so grateful if you would!"
"So no partying this weekend then ... we get straight down to work and no foolin' around?" he asks me.
"Well maybe some party-time when you measure my ass and after we turn the lights out! Does that work for you, Sasquatch?"
"Mmmmm ... sure does, baby! Oh yeah! And those black and white pictures I took for ya' for that booklet for Lynda 'Birdbrain'... they turned out pretty well here. Maybe I can help ya' trim them up and put them into that assignment you have to hand in for her History of Architecture course for the end of November. You know, Aaron, you're gonna' have to put me on the payroll there, baby if this keeps up for next semester!"
"Stop calling her 'birdbrain'! I almost called her that myself last week because of you! And as for payment, just put it on my account and take it out in trade, Sasq'!" I laugh.
"I like those terms and I'll take the job!" he says, and then gives me one of his dirty, obscene and suggestive laughs.
"Oh yes, Adam, while I'm thinking of it! I got some groceries and some wine from the LCBO and I'll have dinner ready for you when you get up here. My cooking is getting a little better now. At least the last time, I didn't have my upstairs neighbor here coming down and banging on my door, because they thought I'd started a fire on my stove! Jeez ... that was embarrassing!"
"Hah, hah, hah! Just don't give me food poisoning with whatever ya' decide to make there and we'll be fine, baby! Hah, hah, hah!"
"Maybe I'd just make us some bacon and eggs then," I say.
"Over easy then, honey. And no ... I wasn't referring to you there either! Hah, hah, hah!"
A few hours later and it's one clock in the morning. Alan Abelson and his friends are dancing frenetically to the throb of their own personal highs at Sacs in Hull on the Quebec side of the river. The flashing strobe lights and pulsing beat of "Relight My Fire' by 'Dan Hartman' cranks up, just as "Love Machine' by 'The Miracles' ends. The dance floor is packed with beautiful and not so much so sweaty bodies in constant movement. Machines are blowing liquid nitrogen smoke into the air and it's suddenly Saturday Night Fever every night of the week for Alan and his ever-present amber bottle of poppers. "Here, Jeremey ... sniff some Rush and let's keep dancing!" he yells to make himself heard above the loud, pounding, vibrating speakers surrounding the stainless steel dance floor. The bottle of isobutyl nitrate gets passed around to four or five others and then the light-headedness and heart-racing, body quivering dance moves take over and everything else but the music and the beat is forgotten. Right beside Adam and Jeremey is this outrageous, three hundred pound queen in a pair of glittery disco, high platform running shoes with 7-Up soft drink logos on them. He is wearing a matching green silk kimono jacket, huge cats-eye dark lense sunglasses that look like something Grace Jones would wear and a pair of denim cut-off shorts that are cut so high up to his crotch, that unfortunately, nothing is left to the imagination. In each of his hands, there are oriental fans that he hits other dancers with if he thinks they are cute and when he does, he screams and then yells he wants to fuck them right then and there on the dance floor. "You go gurl 'Mother'!" shouts Alan to his Creative Display Director and ex-Boss from The Hudson's Bay Company store on Rideau Street.
The interior of Sacs on Rue Principale is like something out of New York City, or possibly the hot gay bar scene in either Toronto or Montreal. It's the closest thing to Studio 54 that one would ever expect to find in staid, boring and ultra-conservative Federal Government Ottawa. Two gorgeous, tall, 'leather from head to toe' clad doormen command the front checkout and control the black velvet rope that they only open for the best-looking and coolest dressed people to get into the club. One is white and the other black ... both are the sexiest-looking males you could possibly have wet dreams about.
Once inside, there are three bars surrounding the huge dance floor. The entire club is painted with flat, matte black paint, and the floors are shiny black linoleum, so the sense of space seems to disappear and go on forever inside. Recessed pot lights are set on low dimmers in the ceiling and they look like stars twinkling in a black midnight sky. The tops of the bars are stainless steel like the dance floor. Some people sit at the bars on black leather and chrome stools, while most of the horny gay guys cruising stand at high tables on a raised platform to overlook the dance floor and pose like Greek statues, hoping someone will come up to them and beg them to dance or go have sex with them in the washroom stalls.
The strobe lights are blinding. Commanding the entire bar is a DJ booth that looks like a space ship about to go into orbit.
The local news celebrity, 'Max' is sitting at the first bar to the right when one enters the space. He has two very young, bitchy-looking, skinny French Canadian guys sitting on each side of him ... bilingual bookends no doubt. His reputation for seducing twinks is legendary. A couple of years earlier, he was arrested and charged for driving the wrong way on the 401 from Brockville back to Ottawa after one of his 'on-the-scenes' broadcasts. He now has a personal driver to take him over to Sacs when his 11:00 PM nightly newscasts finish on the local TV channel. The driver is down the bar from him wearing a chauffeur's cap and black suit, looking very straight, extremely uncomfortable and seated all by himself, nursing a Diet Coke.
"Hey, Max!" says Adam, as he and Jeremey and 'Mother' pass by him on their way back to the raised platform where the rest of Adam's friends pose like constipated swans in tight leather pants and silk shirts.
"How are you this evening Adam? Did you get that stuff I asked you to get for me?" Max says to him.
"Oh yeah! Here it is, Max. It came in a diplomatic pouch from Turkey the other day wrapped in some drapery fabric for my Mother. No ... not 'you' 'Mother'... my 'real' Mother!" as he turns and laughs at his ex-Boss from The Bay.
A bag of cocaine is surreptitiously handed off to Max and then Adam and his tribe move on.
