We’ve been fighting a lot though. I fight with him most often when he’s not there. I yell at him and say the most awful things. I apologize to him after the fact. This always confuses him because he was not indeed there for the fight.
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I enjoyed the show. I let the bartender make me a mystery drink and enjoyed the hell out of it. I’m an adult. I’ve done more than one and more than two foolish things in my life. But… maybe the past isn’t so scary as I thought it was?
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I walked back to the house, somehow confident that the deluge would not catch up with me on the way home. I was right; it didn’t. In fact, it still hasn’t. The temperature has gotten a little cooler and a little more breezy, but it’s still pleasant enough outside to stroll through. In fact, I kind of want to do that now. To go for a stroll.
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…Your face flickers
before my increasingly blurry vision.
I want you…
We sat together in the dark bar with our hands in each other’s hands. His face was aglow with appreciation as he watched the band and sang along with blues covers even I didn’t know the words to. His tie (he had dressed up for me) was undone and draped around his neck. Dear God, the boy was beautiful.
...read more hereI suppose that was the “mark.” Nobody else hit on me in the hotel after he spoke those words. Ha… that’s a lie… they hit on me all right, but not while he was present. Men seemed to tiptoe around him. They respectfully waited until he had left the room.
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Ergh… I don’t know if I drank too much… but I drank a hell of a lot…
...read more hereOh, me? I feel tired and in near-desperate need of a vacation. I’ve been dragging myself through the last two or three or seven days or so. I’ve been having very enlightening and necessary but also draining conversations with my friend in Harlem. I’ve been preparing for a trip to San Diego/Portland which may or [...]
...read more hereI ate my sandwich in front of the museum’s fountain. There were small children standing near the fountain. They’re not allowed to go in. It’s one of those fountains with many spouts that shoot off in sequence to make patterns. The children all screamed with delight when the fountain shot water high into the air, and then crouched in anticipation when the fountain waters were low. I poured a shot of alcohol into a Stewart’s root beer.
Ever go to a modern art museum tipsy?
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I came back with some cheap vodka. A one-dollar shot. Yes, in the middle of the day.
“It was this or cyanide,” I explained, pouring the contents into my coffee.
