Sunday, June 13, 2010


When I have a sinus headache like this, it seems so much worse that the sun is still out. Of course the sun is still out -- it’s not even 4 pm yet. I have absolutely no idea what to do at 4 pm, I mean what to do at 4 pm when I’ve already been up for six hours. I guess I should go back outside, even though I don’t have any energy. What happens outside, again?

Oh, good -- the phone is ringing, a blocked number: hello?

Hello, Melody?

There’s no Melody here.

Did I get your name wrong -- this is EJ.

Oh, EJ -- he’s the guy who’s always smoking a cigar at the café down the street, he moved to San Francisco after Bush stole the election, or something like that, because he was living in Florida and he decided he just couldn’t do it anymore. Retired there, I guess -- from the military, at least at some point -- he seems nice enough, I always think I should get to know some of the older fags around here. Anyway, he says how are you? I’m exhausted, I say -- I feel terrible today.

He says: are you feeling horny, or sexy?

What? No, I’m exhausted. He says: I’m horny, do you want to come over. Me: no, I’m not interested in having sex with you. Oh, he says, how come? I’m not attracted to you. Do you want to come over? I’m not having sex with you, I say, losing the pretense of friendliness because he’s so persistent. Why, he says.

Gross. Now what do I do? I’ll have to avoid that corner on today’s walk, this is the time of day when he’ll be smoking a cigar and reading a book about metaphysical something-or-other. Before, I thought he just wanted me to come over his apartment so we could become friends. He kept talking about the pictures on his wall of naked guys, I thought maybe he thought that might entice me. But I gave him no signal whatsoever that I was interested in sex. None. I don’t know where he got that idea, I mean except in his head -- it would be fine if it stayed in his head.

Not that I don’t understand his loneliness: I’ll probably be back on craigslist in a few minutes.

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