Monday, June 24, 2013

open windows

It is back on, the romance between me and New York. It has its ups and downs, but the past couple weeks have been great, full of lots of ups. The summer always makes me fall hard for this city. It becomes that place I fell in love with even before moving here, the sights I see, especially in Bushwick, are the sights I used to see in photographs, older ones, specifically from the 1970s of this city. Large swaths of Bushwick are frozen in time, could easily be scenes from 70s or 80s New York, which is why it kind of breaks my heart whenever I see some organic grocery store open out here or large condo project made from gray bricks and lots of glass. I spent the evening tonight, walking around, looking at barbershops, and exploring my neighborhood. There were families hanging out on their stoops, the weather outside cooler than lots of apartments right now. There were open fire hydrants and kids running through them. There were hand painted signs for storefront churches and restaurants. There were shirtless, tough looking teenage boys riding around bicycles on Knickerbocker. And there was the sun heading toward the horizon, still out at eight, giving everything a beautiful orange glow.

I didn't get my hair cut. I just walked around and thought about how much I love this place. 

I had just fucked some guy from Scruff and it was actually pretty fun, though after it was over, I was very eager to get him out of my house. He was this Polish or Russian seeming guy, older, stockier. It was fun. At first, I was holding back a little, aware that this wasn't the sexiest person. But then some common sense came over me - that coupled with him kissing my neck, my back - and I submitted because I realized (thank God) that there is no point in having sex and being distant, in being too cool, that by doing so you only shortchange yourself of the experience, that there is no one else here to impress, no one that will think you are cool for appearing distant, above it. I rubbed my hands all over his sweaty chest, his sweaty back. Both of us were dripping sweat. It had been a couple months since I had last had sex and I forgot all the pleasures of touch, of what a comforting feeling it is to have someone touch your body, to touch someone else's.

Earlier, I had planned on getting my haircut after I went to the gym, but at the gym, I saw this man that I have jerked off with a couple of times in the steam room. He was lying on his back naked in the steam room alone, this sexy exhibitionist. We started to jerk off, but I got nervous that someone would see us through the glass. I went to turn on the steam but then a couple of other people came in. The moment was gone. We exchanged eyes as we were changing. I wanted to give him my number, to tell him how much I wanted to suck his dick, how much I wanted to worship that gorgeous body of his. It's a pretty straight locker room and so I couldn't really do this. I went upstairs by the exit and hung out there for a while, thinking he would be coming up soon, and that I could tell him these things. I waited and waited. I went outside and talked to my mom. Twenty minutes later, he still hadn't come out, and now I feared I would seem creepy to still be waiting to talk to this man. I left. I did not get my haircut. I wanted to stop at home to pee and to jerk off first. That led to cruising Scruff, which led to this nameless Eastern European on my bed.

I got a meningitis shot this afternoon. My arm is sore. I was cruising guys at the Chelsea STD Clinic. I feel safer now, like I should have sex, could have sex.

This weekend, I biked around the city for the first time in a long time and I had forgotten how much fun it is, what a thrill it is to bike around these streets, how much more beautiful everything looks from a bike. I hung out at the piers one day. I hung out at Riis Beach the other. I saw a porn star finger a guy on the beach. I asked to see his dick. He showed it to me. It was a beautiful thing, absurdly long and thick - the type of sight that makes your jaw drop open and language halt, that you don't even know what to say. But I was drunk and stoned so I said something soon enough. I swam in the Atlantic Ocean, rode some waves, did handstands underwater, and crashed my arm into a rock while swimming against the ocean floor. It's scrapped and swollen. 

I have eaten way too many burritos. I am boy crazy. Nothing is new and yet everything is.

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