I woke up early this morning, another 7am shift, and my body has gotten used to them, but there are costs, mainly that by the time midnight rolls around I am usually passed out and the life I used to take part in before, that of nightlife, is now something I am less and less taking part in, something that in and of itself is not bad, and maybe even a good thing, maybe this is what happens as one ages and becomes more and more of an adult, whatever you want to take the word to mean. Maybe it’s not a good thing though and there are certain things that happen late at night that I am missing out, interesting conversations, one’s own mind turning over restlessly and exploring thoughts, going off down trails it doesn’t generally go down in daylight hours. I am missing out on dancing. I am missing out on spending too much money on alcoholic beverages and am missing out on terrible hangovers. I am still drinking, still sometimes going out, and definitely not getting enough sleep.
I am not sure what life is going to bring for me, not sure what I want it to. I am still going through the emotional hoops that birthdays bring with them, wondering about aging, about where I am in my life, where I thought I would be at this age, and where I would like to be, whether I am measuring up to various yardsticks, and which yardstick exactly I should be measuring myself with.
There are some things that are constant though and that aging has not changed. I still feel trapped on sunny days when I have to be at work and imagine being at the beach, think about ways to escape, look at weather forecasts to figure out whether my days off will be beach days. Tomorrow is supposed to be 91 degrees and sunny and I just could not imagine having to be sitting in a fluorescent-lit office tomorrow morning during such lovely weather. I started planning my sick call today, thinking of how I could possibly call in sick given that I have long ago already used all my sick and personal days and also given that my employer is starting to get a bit annoyed with me calling in sick so frequently.
And so tomorrow I am going to go to Sandy Hook with Jacob and swim in the Atlantic Ocean and lie around in the sun naked drinking vodka. I cannot wait. I should be writing tonight but am having difficulty doing so, cannot focus on myself, on my thoughts, on writing. I am realizing that I am out of touch with myself. Reading is hard. Writing is harder. I need to reconnect. I am working on it and I have a short time to get back in the groove. I am reading at the “Brother, My Lover” series this Thursday night at Envoy Gallery and so need to prepare something excellent to read. I am very grateful to Robert for asking me to read there again, am still grateful he asked to read there the first time around. It’s a bit of a problem that my inspiration to write often comes from deadlines like these. I need to construct for myself more deadlines, more reasons to write things. The performative nature of reading a piece makes me more aware of how I need to make something good, something that an audience might hopefully enjoy, something that doesn’t suck.
I have been having lots of thoughts about exhibitionism lately. Yes, I am going to the nude beach tomorrow. Yes, I do like having sex in public, at bars, in steamrooms, in front of other people. Cam4 and ManRoulette eat up far too much of my time. There is something in that. These things are the cousin to this diary, to me reading, to me writing – all forms of exhibitionism, some desire to be seen, getting off on this knowledge that you may see my body or read about it. I don’t know. I want to explore these thoughts at length but don’t have the drive to chase it tonight. I’d rather work on this bottle of wine and continue to listen to Bob Dylan and maybe read some more of this book I am reading.
I need to spend less time on Facebook. I need to get back into doing yoga, especially since apparently my knees do not also share the pleasure I take from running. I want to read some Greeks and Saint Teresa and the Bhagavad Gita and 19th century novelists and everything really. I need to eat more vegetables. So many things to do, to start doing. I am not so old that I can’t work on some improvements, don’t think I’ll ever be that old, hope so.