Sunday, December 09, 2007

Somewhere

When fatigue becomes anger and what could be worse? I can't do anything except get in bed but then I'm lying there totally agitated, thinking I can't possibly do anything but sleep, only I can't sleep because I'm so angry, and then I'm angry at myself because I can't fall asleep.

Daytime means that as long as I'm on the fire escape in the sun everything’s okay,
but as soon as I step inside things start to slip away. The rest of the day is back and forth from motivation to blackout, eventually I'm sitting in the kitchen thinking no, I don't want to get in bed yet, it's only been a few hours, I'll just wake up feeling worse and then I'll be angry again.

Sometimes this passes, I can get back to motivation, even if it's just a wired surface that leads back to collapse. At the moment I'm thinking I should go out, the air is fresh outside it will help my sinus headache. Can you believe I'm thinking of going to Blow Buddies, even though I banned myself until 2008. Why the rush to bring the pain from sinus to heart? I guess I just want to be in a space where people are having sex in public I can feel that motion, even if my hair looks way too precise for Blow Buddies where style isn’t an asset, at least not my style or the curls in the front of my hair that's for sure. At Blow Buddies, where they won't let you in with anything they determine too flashy, it's against the dress code -- I can barely sneak by with powder blue corduroys.

At this point my standards are so low -- even some kind of scenester attitude fashion sex club would seem like a moment in heaven, at least until the dreariness of everybody's discomfort proving competition outsourcing feeling. At Blow Buddies there's no such loyalty to middle class values, except an overwhelming faith in masculinity covering grief. Somewhere there's a world of gestures that can lift me into the softness of skin eyes saliva lips imagining yes somewhere.

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