Thursday, December 27, 2007

How fragile



I need to get to a place where I can wake up in the middle of the night without starting to panic that I won't fall back asleep and then I'm awake because I'm panicking. Strangely, when I get out of bed I feel better than the last few days when I slept more. Until I'm looking at the buckwheat on my plate, brown dots on the beige grain like larvae like something's going to hatch I'm scared and disgusted, what is it -- something about rotting flesh a memory stuck in the way something looks like it's stuck in this grain I don't know what except this feeling of disgust where I can't keep my eyes from narrowing.

I'm thinking about when I was in high school and I really wanted these expensive wool sweaters in the designer section upstairs that Bloomingdale's, something about the softness of the wool blended with angora or silk or synthetic, I would wait until a $300 sweater would go on sale for $30, sometimes that happened but only for colors no one wanted, like that mustard one that was too big but it didn't matter, I rolled up the bottom and folded it into my pockets. Later I learned I could change the tags and get the colors I wanted, mostly then I wore black and burgundy and some navy, army green. It was crazy because I would wear these super-expensive sweaters but I wanted everyone to think that I got them at the thrift store, or better yet not to notice it was just about me I wanted to know that I could get something from my parents, something like comfort it never worked.

Today I'm thinking about how many people I've had sex with in beds, not that many really I mean most of my sex doesn't take place there. Except with tricks, that's almost always taken place in a bed I mean probably a minimum of a thousand beds -- let's see, 12 years, take a low estimate of 10 tricks per month on average, except sometimes there were as many as 30 or maybe 40 a few months. I'll just say 10 per month for 12 years, okay a minimum of 1400. This is the kind of thing I can think about now that I'm not turning tricks, although I can't decide what I think about it. Maybe it's kind of overwhelming when I compare it to the number of times I've had sex on a bed with someone other than a trick, I'm guessing not more than 300, if I include the beds at bathhouses and maybe half of the 300 are with two boyfriends, way more the first one than the second because with the second we didn't have sex that many times in bed.

Maybe that's why I get kind of confused when I'm in bed with someone, like I'm more relaxed but also more aware of time and the way everything frames us says still. Sex in bed isn't necessarily more intimate, but it can allow for more positions, more breath between motion. Steven calls, he's visiting from LA -- he and Darin are going to The Bar on Castro, am I at all tempted to meet them? No, but I'll be in LA at the end of January. He wants to know if I'm going to the queer writers conference in New Orleans. No, I can't go to New Orleans when it's that warm, I'm too fragile. How fragile are you?

Oh, I say -- I went to New Orleans in the winter and it was too warm -- I can't deal with the humidity. What happens to you? I just can't function.

Today it's really cold, cold enough so that I'd like to turn my heat on but the last time I did that it took 20 minutes and then I got that drill through my head, that time my sinuses weren't even hurting beforehand. Today even the space heaters feel too drying, I keep boiling eucalyptus in water on the stove and it makes my face feel open and cool and soft and energized but only for a few moments.

Sometimes I leave things out, like the fact that I can't take a plane and it would take several days on a train to get to New Orleans. Or, when Randy was over the house and he knocked over the box of thread and I said oh that's because I have to sew some buttons, but it's been there for like three months. I didn't say: it's been there for three months because I get too nervous that it'll hurt my hands, I save it for the end of the night but by then my hands already hurt too much. Or, when we were walking up the hill and I said I have to sit down for a minute -- I even pointed at a stoop and Randy started to move in that direction but then it didn't look comfortable and we kept walking.

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