Friday, May 09, 2008

The shape of a slice of lemon

Maybe you're wondering how I ended up at the Nob Hill Theatre -- this whole issue of banning myself from sex spaces gets so complicated because I'm trying to create more options not fewer. Chris said maybe you should leave one open per week, so then I ended up on those cruising sites – manhunt and adam4adam, in case you're wondering -- maybe there are fun cruising sites where people actually communicate, but I haven't found them. Anyway, the funny thing that happened was that I saw Jeremy’s profile but first I had to look through some old photos just to make sure it was him and then I sent a message: you look familiar. We exchanged hellos and then I said you know, I was serious when I said we should have sex some time. And then another, when he didn't respond: I was reading this book, Wild Animals I Have Known by Kevin Bentley and he's always running into ex-boyfriends in bars and having sex with them so then I thought maybe that's a good idea. Jeremy responded to my first message: I'm always looking for hot sex too. But nothing about me, although as soon as I got off the site I think: do I really want to have sex with Jeremy? Would that be a good idea?

Probably not, but I'm glad I said something anyway. But that's the good part about cruising online, the rest is just pain and brain drain and then maybe I'll check again, just because I know I'm banning myself again. And again. The internet is the worst -- I mean I spend enough time on the computer, but usually I'm doing something useful, still I end up stuffed up with tension but at least there's a point. The internet is the one cruising venue I should really ban myself from, except when I want to post my own ad which is never really or maybe banning isn't the right strategy just occasional visits but no investment, although sometimes that goes wrong and I'm scrolling scrolling scrolling anyway.

I'm thinking about something Chris said the other day about the guy I met while I was waiting for the bus, something about interacting with people who are totally different from you and I didn't really see it that way, but also that's what I do all the time. Chris and I have similar ways of looking at the counterculture that used to inspire us but now brings on a mixture of confusion, claustrophobia, and despair. But I still believe in the possibilities of what counterculture is supposed to be, maybe Chris does too I'm not sure. I know he's enjoying the possibilities of interacting with people who position themselves within mainstream gay consumer norms, yet who are still envisioning ways of taking care of other people. That's not what I'm looking for. I still haven't found enough people who are like me, like the way I used to dream in public sex spaces: maybe this time, through these lips this hug that squeeze those eyes this laughter.

These thoughts is where I really find it, of course. But somehow these thoughts don't often merge with those desires. When I sat down to write the other day, to write about when the dream is over, but then I realized that engaging with that loss actually makes me feel hopeful. I wonder if that is the opening, the way my engagement with desire actually changes the ways in which I feel desire like walking into a room and it's all there, inside me but also it's the way we’re all standing or sitting or about to fall over and even then if I look at something simple like the shape of a slice of lemon in a water glass, sometimes that's enough.

4 comments:

sulphur bottom said...

this is refreshing.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Refreshing -- well that sounds good...

Love --
mattilda

keidy said...

I was wondering just in case you were wondering if anyone was wondering.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Aha -- I thought you were wondering!

Love --
mattilda