Monday, June 11, 2007

just another word for nothing left to lose

Saturday night, things finally blew up with Bruce. It is too bad that it couldn't have happened on Tuesday because following that blow-up, I had such an amazingly good time in Miami. He blew up at me after days of my distance from him, saying that I was unexcited about everything and that I could pay for a cab if I wanted to go these gallery events I had wanted to go. I told him that I was going to spend the night at Rebecca's and that I was just going to leave from there for the airport. He told me he was going to pay me in that case and left to go get cash somewhere. While he was gone, feeling the freedom close at hand, a castaway almost at those other shores, I started to get so giddy, so happy. Rather than wait for him to come back, for him to feel in any way like I needed him or his money, I packed up my stuff quickly, wrote him a note, and left the building. I walked to the busstop, hoping I wouldn't encounter him along the way, and felt so free. It was the happy ending to a movie, the person finally walking away, a long shot of them walking down the road, a smile on their face slowly widening, the grin irrepressible, and in that smile, that quick strut, a knowledge, and a happiness in this knowledge, that they are free, that we, human beings, have this ability to put one foot in front of the next and walk away from places we don't want to be, to go new places, to say good-bye.

The bus came soon after I got to the stop and once I had paid my fare and sat down, it felt complete, my freedom. The getaway was going to go off without a hitch, cops lost in the dust back around that last bend.

That night, I went to galleries with my peers, young, and that youngness, its attributes, very distinct, were made very clear. A car full of us, the windows open, most of us drunk, the night air, heavy Florida thing, pressing against us, and music being played probably louder than necessary. With little sleep, I woke up early and other people were up early and we went to the beach. I had conversations about things that really interested me, did that and played in the water, tried to swim out to the buoy with Julia, being stopped by the whistling of the lifeguard. The contrast was very clear to me between this day and the prior ones, between many, many things. The water also was very clear, clearer than it had been all week, perhaps due to the gentle, barely present, waves. The clearness of the water seemed meaningful, still does.

Last night, so happy to be back in this city, to see the people who make my life a life, who give me joy and pleasure, I went out to some Tonys afterparty for Justin, but spent most of the night on the street, drinking beer from the bodega, talking with friends and strangers. I met this boy last night, Spencer, and on the subway ride home, I asked him if he wanted to come home with me. He said yes. The sex was so hungry on both of our parts and, for that reason, so fun. I haven't had such pleasurable sex with someone in so long. He fucked me for a while, it happening so easy and feeling so great, it increasing in roughness as the night went on and me only wanting it to be rougher, needing at that particular moment to have my brains fucked out as they say, an apt and perfect metaphor for the mental release that intense sex enables. There was dirty talk, lots of noise, some biting. We came and then fell asleep. I woke up not too long after, horny again, and started to pet this boy, waking him, and we had sex again. Then a bit more sleep followed by another round of sex. And then again this morning after waking up, we had sex, my dick sore from it all but still hungry for more despite the soreness. He was skinny and young and brought me back, set me free, helped me let it all go, all of it.

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