The past few days have been spent in a stupor, a cold-induced and cold medicine-induced stupor. Today, I climbed out of it, woke up at a decent hour, went over to some boy's house in my neighborhood had anonymous sex, hot sex, the pig variety in which I sucked this person's dick, ate their ass, serviced their feet, and then was fucked on his living room floor. It was a nice start to the day. The bike ride over to his house and back was also nice, nice to be in motion on my wheels, thinking about springtime, the sun shining, and me imagining the coming months on this bicycle and the joy that would soon be here with warmer weather, with sunnier weather, with exposed skin and ice cream trucks. I did some yoga. I cut off a lot of my hair, probably having something to do with me being aware of spring's arrival, wanting to somehow change with the season, to renew myself also. The haircut feels good, like it always does, somehow liberating to have chopped off so much hair. It is nice to let it grow for many reasons, chief among them though would be the joy obtained from cutting it off - and in that, a metaphor for so many things - that there is so much joy in building something up to tear it down, letting something grow to trim it back. I don't know exactly what that is a metaphor for, don't want to get to specific, but I am sure that you, astute thing you, have some ideas of your own, some associations unique to you, and let's perhaps leave it at that.
Last night, I went to a show curated by Dave Eggers, saw this person that used to be my idol in the flesh, and thought a lot about him specifically, then thought about what he meant to me at a certain period of my life and what he means, or should mean, to me now and I resolved to get more serious about writing (and how many times can I resolve this (though I did write in my journal by hand in bed last night for the first time in ages)). I then saw Cry-Baby, the musical, and the dance numbers were fantastic but I otherwise have ambivalent feelings about the production and what, if anything, it said, or whether it would be capable of saying such things through such a mouth, through a musical, realized that Waters' movies have such a deft touch that is lost when translated to something else, when in someone else's hands. I am going to go to the Ryan McGinley opening right now and need to get dressed, need to go, but am feeling good, feeling really happy to be out of my sick slump and alive and able to interact with other human beings, and able to engage with myself also, to think about things I haven't in a while and to feel perhaps even inspired.
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