He belonged to two gyms and attended them regularly, alternating them to avoid monotony. At Sheridan Square (“The Magnificent Obsession”) Health Club, also known as “Bodyworks (but the mind doesn’t),” he could muscle-build close to home with the Village faggots, a serious lot much concerned with hyperbolic results to parade on Christopher Street, though they and their conversations (everyone was “she” or “Mary” and various were the opinions on opera, recipes, and yard goods) were a bit too bitchyqueeny for Fred’s taste; to him they all connoted creeping, crepuscular middle-aged
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