the beach at Arbroath, Scotland

12 April 2005
other crazy boys in my life

it was Sunday night. i was trying not to think about 9:45 the next morning. i looked at him, half-toasted now.

"if you weren't nineteen, gay and neurotic, i'd totally fuck you."

****

25 May 2005
um.

it's funny when you suddenly realize you're just totally over someone. when you look at them, and finally, finally think "wow. you're just a fucking idiot, and i really don't want you poisoning my life any more."

and wait a minute...can i please have back all the minuteshoursdaysmonthsandyears. i feel it's only fair. fucker.

this has happened to me several times throughout my life, and it's never been a definitive act or moment. more like a gradual deflation, the rot of neglect, the lack of communication, a lack not born of anger, but of disinterest.

****

4 June 2005
tell me what i should write

i sit down.

this is an exercise, i said. in active writing, right now.

he wanted very much to watch I Heart Huckabees. i wasn't having it. moreover, i really didn't have the money to buy it off on demand.

he looks over my shoulder at the screen. "moreover, whoo." he sounds impressed.

"I'm not." he looks disinterested, distracted.

so say something, i say.

"i'm going home", he says. he wanders out of my bedroom.

i listen for the turn of the deadbolt. he was just going to get more water. bluffer.

he watches me type.

"i'm going to pee." he sets down the glass he just filled and i hear the bathroom door slam a few seconds later.

Law and Order is playing silently on the screen. i listen to the I Heart Huckabees soundtrack he brought. i'm finding it very strange so far.

he's over my shoulder again, watching me type this.

what's your problem? i asked.

"just thinking," he says.

give me a good denouement, i say. go. right now.

"what's a denouement?" he says.

it's a good ending, i say.

he pauses. "a really hot boy comes in, and takes me out. that's what i want, i'm sorry, but i'm only 19."

he pauses again, watching the tv.

"prison jumpsuits are really not flattering. just so you know."

****

11 June 2005
place of space

i have absolute no energy to actually mess around with files, rename them, file them, create correct links and back all this up. hm. i remember when i actually used to like to design websites. i guess those days are over.

i miss writing into this void. maybe i'll start again?

it's so strange how my inspiration moves, sometimes. a couple days ago, i just felt myself open up. it's hard to explain other than just that, but i finally felt receptive instead of protective, like i could finally give life to some ideas i've had. ironically, it was hearing a report on NPR about suicide bombers that finally prompted this.

a man had compiled all the statistics on suicide bombings, who the bombers were, where they were, who they killed. there have been something like 400 suicide bombings since the 1970s, with thousands of casualties. i suddenly saw these tiny pieces, spread across a map, these gathering groups, this nexus of thoughts, feelings, ideas, suddenly destroyed and exploded. i need to get hold of those statistics. there's a strange power in statistics that fascinates me like nothing else. they simultaneously lie and tell the truth.

about three or four years ago, there was a newsweek cover story about a suicide bombing in Israel. the bomber was a young Palestinian girl (one of the first women bombers), her victim a young Israeli girl. the cover was split between their two pictures. side by side they look remarkably alike. it's a sad dicotomy that i've never gotten over.

more later.

****

16 July 2005
argh

i hate moving almost more than anything else in the world. it makes me wonder why i do it so much.

leaving for Houston in one week.

****

21 July 2005
with two days to go

we were standing in the threshold of his bathroom, i think he was showing me the skylight again, when he very directly said, i'm trying to get up the courage to kiss you.

it was all i could think of to squeak, sure, although it didn't make sense to me, why he would want to do that. i felt fat, ugly and sweaty from moving furniture all evening. but he did, pressing me up against the wall. it was, i realized, exactly what i needed.

all i could think later was how did it take almost 25 years for someone to kiss me like that.

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Hejira v.6.0, at long last edition
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