I went to a terribly set up panel last night on the future of gay art. There were no microphones for the speakers, the moderator failed to moderate, and there were too many rambling statements by audience members jumping into the discussion. However, Bruce B. was one of the participants and so that alone made the panel worth it, for getting to hear him say a few things. I just finished his book, The Romanian, last week and it had such an impact on me and I have failed to talk about those effects here for several reasons, cheif among them being that the book made me a total mess, depressed about my own life. I saw all of my crushes, relationships, etc. through the framework B. presents for his relationship with a hustler, that I too was obsessed in unhealthy ways, was involved in things and with people that looked at me as this hustler looked at Bruce. And on and on. These thoughts really did a number on me and came pretty close to ruining one of the most important friendships I currently have.
I would love to talk more about this, or I actually would not like to, and either way, the thing is that I have to leave for work in five minutes and am still in my underwear. But last night, I talked to Bruce after the talk about these things, talked about obsessions. It was so thrilling to talk to this man who gave a certain poetry to obsession about the matter. Perhaps more thrilling is that Bruce is supposedly going to call me, perhaps tonight, to sleep with him for money. I talked to him some more at the Cock and I really am so interested in the things that he has to say and am so fucking thrilled that I might get paid to interact with this really intelligent man. Fuck, the sun is out and I have to go!
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