Wednesday, December 11, 2002

Some sort of sadness set in Monday evening, not long after starting work. Vague, but somewhat overpowering, the urge to cry out, or just cry, seeped in. It being a slow night didn't help, and my coworker "correcting" everything I did for the first hour didn't help either (she stopped after my witty, but increasingly sarcastic, remarks helped her realize she was overdoing it -- i.e., "if I had a nickel for everything I've fcked up since I walked in the door..."). And you know how it goes. Once the body tells you to be sad, the brain starts searching for why. The realization that I can't fit an Xmas tree in my tiny overcrowded apartment? No sex in how long? Eyebrow man is straight, but couldn't he have held off letting me know a bit longer? Few friends, who I see rarely. Directionless and inertia, in terms of finances and a more challenging job... "Would you like anything else?" Take the money, they leave, you go back to trying to get more depressed. Thoughts of the last time I had really good sex -- I mean bedsex that included sleeping together, waking up "here's your coffee" sex....

Then I wanted to go out. Drinking, hunting, searching. Of course, bike is broke, it's 20 degrees out, and it's a Monday night. Somehow, all that forced me to think, and thinking made me realize going home after work was best. Sex, if it was possible, wasn't going to do it; and affection was terribly, terribly unlikely. Any Day Now wasn't too sappy, thank god, the guac and chips were good; then Al Parker and Mike Davis helped me get some sleep. Tuesday was a day off -- some walking around the neighborhood searching for a belated birthday gift for my godchild, no luck except seeing that every trendy campy store has the same JESUS figure from Japan. What would Jesus do? (probably get all giddy about his goddamn upcoming birthday, no doubt, what with all the myrrh) I did some cleanup around the house -- ya know, a freshly washed kitchen floor can make you happy for about 2-3 hours! But it's okay, sadness, depression, blues, whatever you call it, it's a process. If you use it properly, you start to go over the stuff you need to go over, figure some stuff out, make a few small decisions to start with, prepare yourself for other, bigger ones (but don't ask, I haven't even begun to let myself think about those). I watched some videotapes I made about 2 years ago -- gosh, I used the Wish You Were Here album for a lot of whacking off clips! Actually, it was kinda cool, I kinda miss that buzzed head of mine - or maybe it just looks good in blue lighting.

The thoughts spin around, I realize there are a few things in the short run to do to help. Baking usually helps - it doesn't last long, as there isn't the "yummy" sounds from a boyfriend, coworker, or what have you, but the actual baking is therapeutic, makes me think. And the Bronx Zoo. Less than 3 weeks until my membership runs out, I always have a good time up there, especially during the off periods. And I can get some Xmas gifts for the nieces and nephews. But I miss affection, and sometimes wish I wasn't being so picky about sex these days. But other times I know that bad sex isn't always better than no sex, especially when sex isn't really the point. Contact is. And sex without the wonder and dreaming about who this is in front of me just won't do for now.