Afterwards...

Like I can put anything into words. There has been an intense wave of anger at the failure. There is an annoyance at everyone's good intentions, but I understand where they are coming from and have been trying to accept it as best I can. I cry when I try to talk about anything of detail so I keep myself busy with organizing people's CD collections and media libraries on computers. I've started three different kinds of medication as of five days ago so I'm not expected to feel anything different yet...... feel different. Feel. Feel so much. There's no guilt.

Dull thumbnails

The veins running down my forearms to my hands remind me of deltas. They reach out to the knuckles. Marks on the skin remain longer, the the memories of how they got there are shorter.

Who's going to drive me home, tonight?

1/4 or A Quarter

$0.25. That's it... only one. Can't watch much porn with that, but it's enough to get the cute boy from the parking lot into the booth. The Old Man hesitates. But then motel room is so appealing and.. la la la la la... it happened... I'm in my room as this story is being told to me and I'm smiling. It's fun. I'm 30--almost. And this is what life is supposed to be full of; moments of touching sentiment wrapped in music--NSNYC. Mr. M-J-T.

The scent

Shivering. He's curled in a ball to my left, resting his head in my lap. I put a blanket over as much of him that I can, but it's awkward in the back seat of my car. It's 4am. The leather seats are cold and the night's cold is unrelenting. The heat of just moments before has faded and I stroke his hair, sharing my warmth to defrost his heart. I can't take care of him any more than he can himself, but I think about it as the scent of our sex disapates.

Home is this room in Irvine. Home is in the hearts of those that will share my birthday this weekend. Home is a blueprint waiting to be built.

Alex

Across the bar, he was a man for the first time. I saw his face differently. It was the visage of the masculine Columbian who was tender when I held him. Burning candles and tasty dust faded away as I watched him. So Cute. These type of memories are the best kind. Smiles upon smiles with giggles on top for cherries. Ha Ha. Tops. Cherries. His I'll have forever.

30

Thirty...almost. To me, it's an outfit that I bought years ago. Not quite formal, business casual maybe, and I never much wanted to wear the clothes, but they fit and I looked good in them so I did. It was never really my style. I've never been one to seek out the latest fashion. It's no wonder that my clothes grew old before my eyes.

allegria

when art sews a wound and tears seal it clean

Honesty Barrels

...a picture of these barrels just sitting around--aging. Like wine, like oil, like anything of value. I see us inside these barrels trying to find the truth of ourselves and ultimately it is only time that controls when this truth is found.

I am so very detached.

Kellan asks how I am and I tell him...
"I just work and then go spend the money that I made on food, going out with friends drinking, watching movies, and sitting in my room jacking off. Wow.... pathetic, but true.... But then... if I was married and had a family... I'd be working... to pay for the spouse & kids... the house repairs.. the vacations.... probably jacking off because we'd be too tired to have sex regularly... so I guess it's just a little different of the same."

I was talking with Cardwell on the phone, briefly, as he's about to leave condo to move to Temecula and be in his new home. I mentioned how owning a home changes people's responsibilities and things that they spend their money on. It forces certain changes. I've avoided it...and continue to do so. What keeps me young is partly the lifestyle that I choose to continue leading.

Thanksgiving is next week.... my birthday 10 days after that. Joys.

Pay Per Pee

Extinguished candle smoke rising above the toilet as I'm peeing and seeing that the B-complex vitamin has definitely dissolved. The bathroom is cold because earlier I opened the window in the shower a few inches. The sounds outside, the cold, the smell of candle & smoke, the water splashing... I remember a bathroom in San Francisco from 1999 that was more like an outhouse in this Victorian home. Hard wood floors, creeking, a candy dish on a coffee table, a gay couple--visitors, much like myself; one is a psychologist and talks explains that antibiotics and ecstasy would have no interaction and that they only used ecstasy maybe once or twice a year and kept it in their underwear droor.

This memory swept into my head because of the bathroom temperature. I leave the bathroom and think that a cold pepsi would taste good and that I should write about this.