bj's gay porno-crazed ramblings

Monday, September 08, 2003
Last night. I went out for "the usual" - sunday night roaming and pacing the familiar turf at the local sexclub. I had been saying to a pal how unfullfilling, disappointing it has become there, and yet I go back. At one point, I am climbing up this rope/ladder thing to a small perch-like area to smoke some pot, and BAM! my Timberland boot-wearing foot hits some guy in the head while he's lying in a sling waiting for some action. Jeez! I apologized profusely, but somehow it made the night more tolerable, if that makes sense. I guess it just made plain the silliness of my pursuits there - going to a place for something that surely won't be there, and then leaving several hours later, not finding it. (OK, ok, so I did actually have decent sex by night's end). Ahhhh, so what is the "it"? I dunno. I am in a fog of late, and the routine of looking for justsex is becoming just that, routine. Maybe the return of CrazyFrenchMan in a week will turn into something, or maybe it will be "oh, god, he lives way way uptown" and nothing more than one or two dates will come of it.

Meanwhile, once I was home, I grabbed the keyboard here and started reading news, emails, etc online. About 3/4's through this New York Times piece - 9/11 Still Strains New York's Psyche, Poll Finds - the jury duty part, the tears start to fall. Not big ones, just the normal little bits you get when your brain starts to shudder and you attempt to block out as much as possible, but a bit seeps through, materializing and falling down your cheeks. For some reason, I went to my old emails, the ones from September 2001, and started reading. I'm having trouble remembering things accurately, but I think I have only left the city once since then, in 2 years. I went to my family in Chicago that Christmas, and since then, nowhere. I keep telling myself it's financial, or that I don't want the hassle of airports and all the nonsense that entails. And while those are true enough, I suppose, there's certainly more to why I haven't left the city, nor even given much thought to it. Something I sent to my Mom a few days after 9/11; I dont think these feelings have changed at all since then.

i feel a need to get away, but I cant really handle much time away from home. It's more like I would so much like to spend a long, lingering evening with you, sitting in your livingroom, eating snacks, talking about trivial things, getting hugs, and just "being". And then I can come home, to my little apartment, and my things, and feel the simple security that that seems to afford me, too.