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.