Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The space between the end and the beginning

Okay, here I am with something like a burst of energy or not really a burst of energy I mean maybe it started with a burst and now it's past but I'm going to pretend anyway, I'd like to go somewhere flirty with hot fags like the ones I see on the street or even the one who cruised me at QFC all extra-friendly that's rare but I'd like to go somewhere filled with that energy of sex but not the despondency or desperation of Steamworks where I think I'll end up, I mean it would be fine if some of these hotter, younger, more styley or just not as given-in given-up I mean playing by the rules and forgetting there's anything else or just some variety and yes there's a bar where maybe that would be the case, but of course I don't drink and the bigger problem is all that smoke from the patio I know it will be there so I don't even want to go, nothing could be a bigger disaster than if I stayed and sometimes there's that temptation even when I sense the smoke pouring or seeping or whatever it does to get in, in is the problem and I was supposed to have a craigslist hookup, yesterday actually, and when he said I'm definitely not a flake while he was flaking I should have known that was the end but I kept trying anyway because you know how when you get so close but then somehow, and then you get so close, but then somehow, but anyway I could go to the park but that sounds far, further than Steamworks and a bit exhausting on a freezing night like tonight so I guess it's Steamworks, that's what it sounds like, oh and if only I could have a nice fun conversation as part of the flirtation but I know that won't happen it's Steamworks, where does it happen, it's not like it's more fun with some drunk at a bar I guess QFC would be perfect but that's not going to happen so here goes my third try at Steamworks, wish me luck.

The space between the end and the beginning, that's what I want to convey, something about how the music stops, literally I mean in this case, the music stops and then the whole place is darkness and I wish I could say groaning or moaning but mostly just quiet and a creak here and there, the flush of the toilet. I'm studying the blackboard over the urinal where people usually write things like BB in 108 but the board’s just been erased so all you see is the way that the black surface is peeling off and I wonder if that makes it harder to write but I try and can't tell. Maybe I'm covering the blackboard in little hearts or maybe just two hearts or maybe there are no hearts at all because I’m at Steamworks but no, I’m at Steamworks so there are hearts.

The end is when I've been walking around too long yes too long even though I started in a really good mood because of a funny exchange on adam4adam yes I try not to name that cruise site too often because it sounds so awful, what did Randy say the other day? Something about how deleting her account was the best thing she ever did in her life, and that's why it's especially funny that now I'm there, haven’t been since I left Santa Fe I mean I’ve barely even thought about it but what brought me here oh thinking about a conversation and the first person I notice, black nerd chic glasses that I guess aren’t so chic anymore so what are they when they still convey the irony but not the immediate burst of trendiness, better than the trendiness without the irony I guess anyway he's hot with those glasses and a sexy skinny muscular hairy chest but the best part is what he says in his profile although now I can't remember exactly, but I sent him a message and he says he was at my reading at Elliott Bay and can you believe that's the first time something like that has ever happened on one of these sites and even though it makes me self-conscious in a certain way because what am I doing cruising someone here who’s actually human, wait what am I saying I mean I'm saying that it doesn't often feels human here and so when I read what this guy says about rebellion and wanting to be a pirate as a kid and embracing your inner slut but, I know, when he says he actually went to my reading I get excited but maybe embarrassed too because he’s so much younger and sure, younger is fine for sex I mean in most of the sex spaces I go to everyone is older and that feels depressing because 20 years ago it made more sense but now it means that I’m walking around in 20 years or more than that 40 years of other people’s desperation but back to this exchange on adam4adam, there I said it again, now that our exchange is in the real world too I get back into the barest meant but I can ignore that and what I want to say about desperation is I don't want to feel that part too. Or maybe it makes sense that I would feel desperate about sex since I feel desperate about feeling so horrible all the time and why would it be separate, except when it’s separate, an attempt not to feel so horrible but then it doesn't work. I want something to work.

Anyway it's a cute exchange but it isn't going anywhere because he's working although he does suggest coffee at some point and I reply with a walk, either would be fun I mean of course I don't drink coffee but just some mildly flirtatious exchange with someone who isn't in a sex space, right? How many days later is it now, and how I was going to start by saying I want to write about something other than how terrible I feel, but I feel so terrible. And then I realized oh, look, all this writing from whenever this was, I'll go with the flow, as they say, ignoring my headache and the sound of all that drilling outside, what is that drilling although it's not the headache that bothers me the most it’s the way I'm so exhausted that I can't think, then I try to write something but I can't, especially if it's something other than how I'm feeling.

And now I can’t think again – did something about trying to tell you how I can't think bring on this headache, the pain of trying, but I still want to say something about going on a walk last night, this was the hottest day yet so even at night I could just wear pants and a shirt and a cotton sweater and feel fine, or probably I could wear less but I'm thinking I might make it to the park after dark and then I might be out for a while

So let's go to last night: I'm on a walk without energy, the bloating so awful I just need to get outside and see if something helps, a walk after dark so that maybe if I have energy I'll end up cruising Volunteer Park, or maybe even if I don't have energy I'll end up cruising Volunteer Park, and maybe that will give me energy or even just a brief escape from what I'm feeling now and what is sex if not that brief escape I mean I know it's something else or it can be something else but sometimes I'm not sure. But, actually, even though it's 8:30 pm, it's not dark yet. That's right – because summer is approaching and we are so far north, I remember this from before. So I'm getting glimpses of the sunset over the city, stopping at intersections to look at the changing light. I still don't have energy, but I have something with this light, something calmer. And then I walk further, to the cathedral or whatever that is, I mean the cathedral, that's what it says, and then into the park where the sky is that deep blue before dark, still a while away it seems, drunk straight guys making a bonfire on the main lawn but oh the silhouettes of the huge trees. I sit on the cement I guess tiled stone platform for the Noguchi sculpture, the view of the reservoir and hints of downtown, someone next to me is maybe passing out and then a big shaggy red dog on the other side with a guy who lies down on a cement bench and I study the way the lights reflected in the reservoir grow larger as the sky gets darker but still not dark, soothing anyway and I'm glad I'm here. Then it is dark, maybe, a long process when you’re watching, I walk into a bush to piss and then over to the part where people cruise now, into the different trees by myself for now and wow I never noticed how tremendous this one is, towering up above, wider down here winding up to almost a point at the top: it would be nice to have sex against this tree. But here's the one where people are around, some chubby pale white guy in biker shorts is fucking an almost naked Latino guy but when I come over he stops. Not sure why. I'm not going to leave.

Then the other guy there is fucking the one who’s almost naked and it's hot because of the drive so sudden and intense but not because I'm attracted to any of the guys I mean I'm not but that's okay I'll watch for a while and get hard and think about nothing except this feeling. Then it's over because the guy getting fucked is done, pushes the other guy off without saying anything and somehow he's already dressed or I assume so because now everyone is walking away.

And then eventually I'm in another tree, I say in a tree because you look for the ones that might hide something, on my knees in the ground my back against this tree I like the feeling of the bark. I decided to ignore the cologne and wash my clothes right away, I guess the highlight is this guy’s comfort or that's how it seems anyway, but the real highlight is afterwards, I've already come but then there's this guy who I'm really hot for, I mean the other one was hard to say, baseball cap covering most of his features and pants pulled up way too high may be to emphasize the chest or does that make sense and I wasn't sure but I just decided to find him attractive, not a good kisser but he did get intimate with hugs and caresses and that point where I decided just to pull him against me against the tree and that's when I decided to get on my knees for all that thrusting until he was tired and maybe I was tired too. It wasn't until after we were done that I noticed maybe he was Asian, it's interesting when race does and doesn't come up, like with the first guy getting fucked there was something about so much skin exposed that emphasized the racial differences.

But then this other guy walking towards me or maybe I'm walking towards him, that rounded face and buzzed hair that makes me wild, preppy guy maybe he's Middle Eastern is what I think and I pull him right to me I'm rubbing his head while making out and then he's pulling me somewhere, not sure exactly where and I say I just came but he says come over here just for a minute, so then I'm on my knees studying the way his diagonal dick throbs in my mouth like he’s going to come but he doesn’t, until I realize I’m going to sink back into the exhaustion so I get up, kiss him again and he's jerking fast but eventually giving up so we hug and make out and damn I would get together with him again in a second but he's already leaving, I know that's how these things work and then I'm walking home and yes we already know my jaw will hurt tomorrow, we already know my sleep will be awful anyway, we already know that it'll be another day of thinking how can I be this exhausted, thinking about when people ask me how I'm doing and I don't want to say, but I do want to say, thinking about why do they ask, and why do I feel so awful-- oh, and when people try to find reasons – because you just moved? Because of the tour? And I have no idea. It does feel like I'm getting worse, that’s the overall pattern and it's sad and I don't know what to do and I went to this fun event about internalized ableism the other day, fun because of the companionship and comfort in expressing discomfort and I realized this pattern of mine: I need to reach out in order to feel connected, but then I'm so exhausted from reaching out that I end up feeling disconnected.

But I meant to tell you about the beginning at Steamworks, after the end, when the music came back on, and I was dancing in the mirror and laughing whenever someone came by, dancing in the mirror and laughing and loving it and I guess if I can find these moments, maybe at some point these moments will add up to something else or even if they don't, even if everything else is still the disastrous overwhelm of disastrous overwhelm I guess I still have these moments.


Debbie Ann said...

do you ever read this blog -

I love seeing all the art in your apartment. it is fascinating.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Debbie Ann, I haven't read this blog yet, but now I will :)

And, glad you like the art!