Three consecutive buffet days instead of the recent norm, two. I reasoned it’s good for my emotional health. Last night I listened to “Damage I’ve Done” by The Heads, the resplendently dark and cathartic song (featuring haunting vocals by the inimitable Johnette Napolitano, who will always hold a place in my heart) that I only listen to when perturbed and in need of transcendence.

An adorable young South Asian guy sat down across from me on the orange line and had a sort of smirk on his face while he took me in. I wonder what was on his mind. I stared at his adam’s apple for a moment, then read a few pages in “Happy Baby”, which he glanced at.

Though I needed to get more accomplished last night, I really needed the long talks I had with Mom and drunken (he said “tipsy”, but I argued that he was firmly between tipsy and hammered) Dussan, who spoke more candidly than usual about missing me, wishing that I would return to San Francisco yet respecting my “wanderlust”- my need to be free and transient, and his undying affection. I awkwardly tried to offer my sincere reciprocation, but I think mostly he just needed to say those things- sentiments I am grateful for. I told him San Francisco in the future in a serious possibility, that I definitely want to live there again at some point, but there has to be job prospects. There is so much that I love about that city, but somehow, as we were talking, I was also reminded of the homo-smugness that annoys me (not because of Dussan, just my own train of thought). The hipsters and the mainstream A-list type fags both have this sort of uppity-ness that can be irksome. Bubble mentality. Dussan’s stubble is adorable; he said it’s to conceal wrinkles. He speaks about age too much, refers to me as “young-ISH”.

I had another story idea today- well, a development of one from a few days ago- but it’s sexually explicit, which limits its usefulness in getting me published- maybe.

The Library was open today- power returned. I picked up “Eminent Outlaws”, a literary history of important gay writers, and three cd’s from the return cart, as is my habit. This time I selected Soul Asylum’s “Grave Dancer’s Union” (last night I got into nostalgic mode by listening to Catherine Wheel’s “Chrome”), Mates of State’s latest, “Mountaintops”, and Archers of Loaf (appropriate combination because I am mates of state with them, though I have never actually given them a listen).

Will Dussan and I be mates of state again in the near future? I kind of want to be mates of state with a Texan, even though Texas is largely revolting. Austin is calling.

Today I am working on the two email interviews (Travis Mathews and Oday Rasheed) that I am doing for EDGE and trying not to dwell on the fact that a certain someone, who is going out of town for a week starting tomorrow, has not contacted me. Ah, well, by now I should have accepted the impermanence of all impassioned consolation. This evening I’m scheduled for some consolation from Ro, my current mate of state and city who is soon to not even be a mate of country. Fine, take off to Kenya, you smug bitch, see if I care ;)…..

 

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