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2002:April:27
Greetings. Hope you are well gentle reader. I again, regret my absence. I have been anxious to talk to you. I guess I have been sorting through my previous entries coupled with the recent ones that I lost in my mind. Much has transpired in the realm of that which I had sworn off to you.
I was weak. Weak! I worked that day and I had stopped to see Ed. Poor Ed. Sigh. He has been dying for months now, finally took a turn for the worse, and, as of late, getting better. He was wheeled out onto the golf course. Good for him. Etc. Etc. Anyhoo, so I stopped by to see him with someone from work to make it less freaky. And, sure enough, at the time, he was dying, slowly and miserably in front of us. Oh, Ed is my boss's husband. My parents withered in a similar fashion. Their ride was a bit more painful because, unfortunately, they decided to take the treatment, i.e. chemo, etc. But, again, and I feel selfish for saying this, but those are the details. I am afraid everyone is dying. A woman passed me, in a car, this morning on the corner of 5th and Market, while I was waiting to cross the street. An oxygen tube was under her nose and she smiled at me as the driver rounded the corner.
When I see the face of someone dying, I see the face of everyone that I have lost, the people that I could lose, and all the people I do not know who are dying as I think of them. Sigh, no wonder, I am such a freak. Mortality. It must be considered.
And yes, you are right gentle reader, I could very well be wrong. She may not be dying right away. But she will. I am afraid we all will. So what are we waiting for man? I get so pissed with myself for my down time, or slackness, rather, weakness. Why do I not insist on writing it all, letting it all fly?
So, with that in mind, brace yourself gentle reader. I turned around in the cul-de-sac, leaving Ed's house and I saw this beautiful roofer working on a house with some other guys. I was feeling so low, gentle reader, but I am a man, and enjoyed the distraction immensely from the fortress of my mind that was dripping down rapidly. I knew I would continue to drip. No appetite.
I drove straight to the park.
Mind you, gentle reader, I have not cruised at all, except for the unexpected visitor that I mentioned to you before. He came by yesterday and I turned him down I am glad and sad to say. I saw him, in his car, as I was crossing the street to return to my apartment for more laundry. I was as sober as a judge. The weather was dreadful. Hot. Such temperatures tend to make me feel cranky and fat quickly unless I am baked.
Unfortunately, the sun was quite bright, and I was so not baked, and so not attracted to him in any way shape or form. I never was. I guess we just fooled around a lot because he would happen to show up when I was fucked up. I am afraid I am always sober by the time it is over though. Jeez. I thought to myself, self, what do you have to say for yourself now? I digress, the dripping already. I cruised for hours that night. The close misses were quite unlike my other easy and quick experiences. Due to chance, of course, and me too, really. I talked to two guys.
The first guy was young and signaled for me to follow him to a dark part of the park. We never got out of our vans and trucks, respectfully. We talked about how weird this whole tricking thing was. Creepy old men, etc. etc. Then he left.
The next guy was older, maybe 32, anyway, details. He could not look at me. He was wearing a baseball hat and I caught glimpses of his blue eyes as I asked him if he had done this before. He had cruised only twice before. He had not yet died inside for it to give into the addiction. I was very bashful myself at first too. I talked more. I remembered what they looked like, etc. etc. and some of the details of their lives, their wives, their children. I was past that as I stood there talking to him though. I was in robot mode. Waking the necessary tools for release, if you will excuse my frankness, please. I promise it is for a purpose. So he ran too. Funny, as he slowly walked away, I felt comfortable enough to ask him if I just was not cute enough for him. Not like me at all. He responded, and honestly, I think, that no, that was not it at all. He still has regrets. I guess he was the better person for driving away instead of getting his rocks off with a stranger.
I should have stopped there. But, of course, I did not. I drove around for a bit more, window-shopping, I told myself. I finally left and headed for the village markup for more smokes and chocolate. I did the downtown haunt by accident, but I fell right in to the pattern again. I finally got out and walked down the street and a guy pulled up beside me that I had fooled around with before. He asked me if I had anywhere to go. I lied and said no. He offered to go to his place but he lives way out and I declined. So, I thought that we would just fool around in the car. Well, ok, we started to, but he kept driving past downtown and then pulled into a weedy parking lot with old dump trucks and a shack by the river. I did not really have the best time with him the last time. He was another one of those cruisers who get so passionate.
Jeez.
So here I am, with him, hiding behind a truck that faces the road, half naked and, of course taking too long for my liking. I looked out to the trees that bank the river and told myself that I could hear water over the traffic as he kissed my neck. As he drove me back to my car, he seemed quite refreshed. He even said that he would sleep well that night. I sat quietly blinking in bed. I cannot do this anymore, gentle reader. I felt so dead inside when I was trying to hear the water. What have I become? I asked myself over and over again.
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