Thursday, October 04, 2007

Feeling that I've lost something I want to get it back

When I wake up I realize this is day three of the cold, day three because I can't reach a place of relative clarity before getting up but that's not unusual really -- the difference is that when I get up, oh no -- why did I get out of bed? Okay, well there are two reasons: first of all, it's after 4 p.m. and I want to see the sunlight. Second, I need to eat, but why this mind-clogged head trailing blur?

I probably spend this long cooking every day, but today it really feels like a long time and when I get out in the sun it's 5 p.m., and the building down the street is already starting to block it. Such a gorgeous chilly sunny day with air so fresh and the fog is spinning pieces of iridescent yarn, too bad I can’t go outside why is this cold lasting so long?

I decide to take the zong gan ling pills, those are the ones that it says to take after yin chiao but I've never taken them -- Jason looked at the bottle once, and said oh, this is too cold. I have ganmaoling tablets from the Chinese herbs store on the corner, but they’re the commercial ones that are notorious for all sorts of impurities like arsenic and lead -- not the best items for a cold. The zong gan ling pills smell fresh and invigorating so I figure I'll try them, then I'm cooking for another eternity, mostly as an eternity because of the way my right hand -- the chopping hand, I guess -- although I don't know if I want to call it that, it sounds eerie. Well, my right hand hurts, so then I'm doing feldenkrais movements to dissipate the pain, that's when I realize that I'm so unbearably sad, is this the sadness cold? And speaking of cold, oh no I'm freezing -- what the hell is going on?

I take out Kevin Bentley’s Wild Animals I Have Known, his diaries from when he lived just blocks away from here in the ‘70s and ‘80s, so much sexual sweetness and joy in that book, I figure it'll make me happy. I mean that's what it did when I read it before, broke me out of that space of sexual hopelessness into the possibility of connection, maybe just a little bit of connection. But today, just reading the back cover makes me sad, hopelessly sad like nothing is possible, who am I kidding with these fantasies of picking people up at bars? Getting a group together and bring them over my house -- I hate bars, I've always hated bars -- I don't even drink, I haven't had a drink in almost seven years and I'm going to bring a bunch of drunks over my house, that sounds awful! What is it about bars? I mean I want to be able to go up to the person who's making me crave intimacy, go right up to him and ask him if he wants to make out, I guess that's the kind of thing that happens at bars. It's like a childhood fear I want to conquer, except that I didn't go to bars in childhood there was no option for hooking up I mean not as a fag except after I discovered public bathrooms, that was at least somewhere to explore. Although mostly it was just letting something happen, I didn't know how to ask for what I wanted how to refuse what I didn't I mean I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted desire to fall off me like a dead branch and then it would stop getting in the way.

It's funny -- I don't think I'm afraid of rejection, or at least rejection doesn't bother me when it happens -- I guess that's not the same thing as saying I'm not afraid. But mostly I think I'm afraid of being the aggressor, getting in someone’s space when they don't want me there and in a backroom or a sex club or a cruising space this all seems so much clearer -- even if someone's uncomfortable, I know why he's there. At a bar sometimes it's like the closer I start feeling to someone the harder it is to make that physical move. It's like I'm 12 and I don't know what's me and what’s the urge to die..

Today I know I need to get back in bed after my food’s ready and I talk to the acupuncturist and she says to take the ganmaoling tablets, the impurities won't matter short-term. In bed I'm holding onto the body pillow, thinking I love this body pillow more than anything but then I'm wondering why I don't hold people like this -- sure, some of it is because of pain, how any position becomes uncomfortable so quickly. Even just sitting and talking to someone, let alone putting my arms around them. But there's also fear -- I want to go back to the place when I would make a decision about my life and then I just went there, right into the decision and it became part of me. When was that time, again?

I'm realizing the only time when I picked people up regularly at bars was when I was 19 and I first moved to San Francisco and wow I had so much more fear really everything was fear but also fearlessness. Of course it's possible to act in the exact opposite way of what you're feeling and then if it's something you want enough eventually it becomes how you're feeling. Though really I only picked people up at one bar which was a dyke bar -- at that bar, fags were so much easier to read it's like they were either craving something they'd never find or they were monsters of masculinity. Or at least that's how it seemed

But let's get back to the present, my sexual hopes and dreams which really aren't all that different, it's just that there is a cultural longing too, a feeling that I've lost something I want to get it back.

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