Sunday, June 24, 2012

Trying to remember

Okay, I've made my decision, after lying in bed wired to all hell because of the smell of smoke surrounding me, listening to people making noise over my two white noise generators and I'm not sure if the noise related to the people smoking or not, but I've made my decision that I'm going to go down and ask them to move to the park next door, or something like that, maybe I'll even guide them there. I mean it's hard because whenever I smell the smoke I want to scream and I feel like I'm choking, so it's hard to go down and talk to people, especially when I'm worried they're just going to ignore me and then I'll have to see them all the time anyway and I'll hate them even more.

Speaking of pride, right, today? Can there please be a moratorium on people who actually know something about me insisting on saying something tragic like happy, happy – you know. It's not happy. I'm not happy.

And, remember when I banned myself from cruising online until September – that was a little over a month ago, and it's all going pretty well. The only thing I miss is the illusion that I might hook up with someone in the middle of the day, but why miss an illusion? Except, now that it's pride, I keep thinking I should try to get together some kind of amazing sex party – or, that's what I thought yesterday, when Broadway was closed off so that the gay underwear store could pull out their sale rack, Walgreens could tell us they were proud, drag queens could tell us we need to fight for equal marriage rights, and that drunk almost-naked older guy could twirl around for hours with his rainbow boa. Actually, maybe he wasn't drunk. Definitely high. I liked him – I'd be excited if you were out there every day.

Speaking of pride, there's that feeling of empty desire when I see these guys who I imagine I have nothing in common with, and I realize I haven't developed any greater tools for approaching guys I'm attracted to than 20 years ago. I just feel shut down an empty, and maybe the emptiness makes sense when it's people I probably have nothing in common with, but how will I know? How will I know, indeed? That's not the Whitney Houston song they were blasting – which one was it? A newer one. I'm trying to remember.

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