Sunday, June 14, 2009

Voyeurs only

Just when I think I’ve figured out the solution for keeping the smoke out of my apartment, I wake up surrounded by it. My nostrils can barely open, and it’s like someone flattened my forehead while I was sleeping. I look in the mirror, but luckily my forehead looks the same as usual. But, oh no -- why did I get that hairline trim at the barbershop down the street? He took out the clippers so fast I couldn’t even say scissors only. At least they got rid of that part that of my hair that hangs over the ear when it gets too long and I hate it, that’s all I wanted to remove but instead he took out the clippers.

At least the sideburns look perfect, and probably it’ll look fine when I style it again but for now it’s hinting at ‘80s and I don’t mind ‘70s or ‘40s, but not ‘80s -- not ‘80s right now! Andee’s right -- I get upset about the tiniest thing with my hair, no one else notices -- but here I am again, getting upset. But back to the solution for keeping the smoke out of my apartment, which isn’t the solution anymore, because I look out my bathroom window and yes, the hallway window on the sixth floor is still open -- the trick is to open it enough to let the smoke out, but not too much so that someone closes it. But right -- that’s not the trick anymore, or maybe it’s the trick, but not the solution -- oh, the solution, where’s the solution?

Here’s the part where I have to decide whether to write about last night, which is in my head, or last weekend, which isn’t in my head as much but there are more moments that felt like revelation. Of course, what isn’t a revelation is just as interesting to everyone else, if only because it exposes the search for a revelation, which is almost the same thing as a revelation, right?

At least I didn’t wake up because of the smoke, instead there was sex with Steven Spielberg and then the good part is that I could put my room at the Holiday Inn on his tab, but even better maybe I could add the cab all the way through downtown Oakland looking for the Whole Foods because I’m visiting my mother on the side of a highway, always on the side of the highway in the DC suburbs but this time the Oakland although I better ask him first so he doesn’t think I’m exploiting him.

I mean I guess the room at the Holiday Inn is more important than the cab -- nine days, that’s a lot of money, but somehow in the moment it feels like paying for Whole Foods is more necessary. And what the hell is Steven Spielberg doing in my dreams -- I haven’t seen any of his movies since The Color Purple, I mean when it first came out. The sex was okay, I didn’t know it was him until afterwards. I even had to think about how to spell his name -- “ph” or “v,” and I even got the “ie” reversed but the voice software got it right immediately -- the voice software knows all about celebrities, even though it doesn’t like it when I say fuck, no matter how many times I train it it still what’s to say fark, I mean is fark a fucking word?

Oh, no -- I’m looking in the mirror again -- the way the side is cut is exactly the way I wanted it with my old hairstyle, so that the spikes in the back would stand out more, but now I want it to blend, softness on the sides, please softness! But back to last night, or the day that leads to night yes still day and for some reason I decide to write a new description for my cruise site profiles -- oh, I know -- it’s after I come back from the barber shop and I’m all excited from the social interaction, the person who started the store lives on my corner and he’s seen me around the neighborhood, is he flirting or just friendly? I even do that thing where I decide maybe he’s straight, even though he says something about the glass dildo shop next door, when I say maybe the tourists don’t know what it is -- he says that’s one thing we all have in common: sex, the bigger the better.

Anyway, at first I look through the profiles on craigslist because I’m not banned anymore, but then I get exhausted so it’s later when I’m writing a new description, when I’m still exhausted but why am I writing this, again? Oh, I know -- because I banned myself from those sites until I created a new profile, I mean not profile but profile text, because I wanted to say exactly what I’m looking for, whatever that is. But anyway -- writing the text kind of puts me in a good mood, even though it’s too long and then I have to fuck my hands up -- the voice software wants to say “thought,” as if it doesn’t know how much fucking isn’t about thinking at all!

But wait -- I’m in a good mood, I mean I was in a good mood, which is maybe worse once I crash but Randy calls and asks if I’m going out-- just like that, as if I go out! Then I start thinking about the place I want to go, except for the smoke -- just so I could go somewhere and socialize or flirt or whatever, and then I get exhausted again, because I’ve already decided I can’t go there. You know what it is -- it makes my ears stick out too much -- it’s not really a hairline trim, I saw when he took out the clippers and started going up further, I said hairline trim it’s on the blackboard menu! But now I’m obsessing about my hair, and I wanted to get that hairline trim so I wouldn’t obsess about my hair.

So I feel awful, and I’m writing the profile anyway, but the profile makes me feel less awful, even when I post an ad on craigslist because it’s taking too long for the new profile text to be approved, and anyway nothing ever happens for me on those cruise sites. Here’s the thing -- I’m trying to figure out some way to have sex where I don’t end up feeling the pressures of compulsory masculinity, and online is really the worst place for that. That’s what was so great about last Saturday, when I went to that weird thing at Yerba Buena -- it was great, because I was an item as me, I mean in all of my flaming glory -- don’t get me wrong, I’m certain that many of these styley fags cruising me were probably as vapid or pompous as it gets, but at least they weren’t looking for the answer in hey dude, what’s up?

Oh, no -- am I allergic to the B12 supplement? Because now I’m getting that scratchy thing in my throat. But oh, the profile, I mean posting on craigslist -- I guess I might as well just tell you what it said:

I love walking up the hill late at night when the air gets fresh and then I can look down at all the lights and the sky, yes you can look down at the sky…

Sometimes I’m not sure exactly what I’m looking for, but who is? Like, do I want someone to talk to, do I want a hug, do I want to read a book, do I want to go over your house and dance to strange electronic bleeps and clanks and that bass yes that bass or do I want your come down my throat? Maybe all of the above! Anyway, I’m fun and smart and flamboyant although strangely butch sexually who knows where that comes from and I laugh a lot even when I’m feeling awful and I love making out and public sex and looking at graffiti and watching the angles of light over buildings and hugging and sucking cock and biting your neck and intimate conversations with people I don’t know and sex with friends although I’ve never actually succeeded at that one but maybe one of these days, right?

Oh, and I like big eyes and big smiles and big hair and shaved heads and thriftstore glamour and punk or preppy or whatever look you’re working and spit in my face and sitting in your lap and holding hands and laughter and public spectacles and funny adventures and jumping on the bed and long deep intimate sweet hugs, are you ready?

Oh, wait -- that first part was the original headline but it was too long so really the headline said: late at night when the air gets fresh, but with a capital L because I just don’t like capital letters after colons. Okay, my hair does look better after I style it -- even though this is day four without washing my hair, or maybe because this is day four -- wait: Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday -- yes, day four, and I always capitalize the names of days. I’m trying to wait as long as possible to shampoo my hair, so that I don’t have to stress out so much about oh no, why is it so dry -- is all falling out?
So I actually get a few responses to my ad right away. We all know that the ad they like the best is the one where it’s just a photo of your cock and it says something clever like suck my cock-- that one will get me like 30 responses in 15 minutes, but if I say something real than forget it. But this time two people respond right away-- the first one says very cute and sound like a barrel of fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And the second one says you sound like fun.....;=)) Lots of fun.

So we’re getting somewhere here with the fun, I ask for more info and the first one says I’m 59 and I’m in San Jose, here are some pictures just so you know you’re not missing anything. And the second one says he’s not comfortable being gay in public, which isn’t going to work too well. There’s another one is nice, but he’s lying about his age too much -- I wonder if there will ever be a time when people who are 21 said they’re 50, just to get some action, but the funny part is that I even feel better after these limited interactions. Then I go to the Nob Hill Theatre, which is one of the places I didn’t want to go but it’s also the one without smoke so then I’m there, in a good mood staring at one of the video screens that says VOYEURS ONLY and I’m wondering if you can have voyeurs if no one’s around.


kayti said...

your ad is so cute. better to long then too short.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Thanks, Kayti :)

Love --