Wednesday, August 24, 2005

waiting to cum

Two more things because I know I have become one of those persons lately that is updating about anything that happens, but I am unemployed and I don't know what to do with myself most of the time and really, I can't take today. It is too gorgeous. I don't remember what the two things are, can remember one, and this story I am about to tell you is not that one. But I just talked to my aunt (my dad's sister) on the phone about him dying, and she was telling me how he is contacting everyone basically saying good-byes and is incredibly at peace, and the whole time she was talking to me I was looking at the sun drenched ginkgo leaves outside my window and thinking that things are so beautiful, and hear not in my eyes, but in my ears is this news of the approaching death of my father and I can't focus or I can, and say it with Wallace Stevens all together now:

Death is the mother of beauty.

And maybe one of those things was coffee and bad news and family drama is the mother of nervousness, of being on the verge of wanting to scream at the top of your lungs if only your roommates boyfriend was not asleep in the bedroom right next to you, but I want to scream damnit! I am a mess, in every way.

And some boy that I met (this is number 2 of things I was going to talk about) that night I ran away from Metropolitan on Friday just wrote me saying:

Hey Charlie we met at Metro Friday night.
Cant tell if you are too much or just enough
I wanna hang out w/you

And I hate how you can't talk honestly or passionately with a gay boy without one of you thinking flirting is happening. I was really stoned that night and talking to him about something or other and being unrestrained, and I got nervous and could tell that he was interested in me and sort of found someone else to talk to. And I think his boldness is cute, his comment about me being "too much", but that's about all I find cute. And everyone's eyes are always looking elsewhere, never at the thing looking at them. And of course, I am not interested in him, and of course, none of the countless (although I did list ten for Paul) ones I like are interested in me and our eyes are wandering and God, my mind is today, and I am listening to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, because I am a Pitchfork slut and because they are fucking amazing and the music, that David Byrne yelp, and the coffee, let's not forget the coffee, and the weather, the slight breeze, the fucking blue sky, man, my eyes are watering and I want to cry but I can never climax, can never jizz these tears.

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