Again, here I am at my computer with things I want to recount and a tiredness preventing me from doing so. I did a lot of editing work over the past couple of days, went to yoga for the first time in a while, which felt great and which I need to get back into the habit of doing. Last night, Metropolitan with Clay and Niki. Went home with some boy, house painter, 20 years old, big, manly - name possibly Alex, Felix, or Max. An X is involved I believe. Funny sex with docking, an attempt at piss drinking, and lots of dick sucking. I left after and came home super late, woke up not too many hours after and went in to drop off something at work. Found my way to Central Park, found my way to the Rambles, and messed around with someone in the bushes there, the Bethesda Fountain in view, right across the water. Superheroes fashion exhibit at the Met with Ethan. Terrible text accompanying the exhibition - terrible academic pomo jargon, confident that it was saying something yet saying nothing except what a tool the writer was. Back to the Rambles with Ethan. Sitting by the pond, smoking cigarettes, talking, throwing pebbles into the water. A trip to QT to sit in the steamroom, play in the pool, and eat oranges. Dinner ate at home before being called out to Chelsea for sex work with a really sexy man, the encounter way too hot for it to be work, me wondering why this man was calling me. NY Review of Books read on train until I fell alseep somewhere underneath the East River on the slow L train, waking up at my stop, and finding myself here and ready for bed and listing things because I wanted to poeticize them but found myself too tired, too desirous of sleep and the comforts my bed only feet away promise, and because of these things, instead here they are listed, these days, these happy days of change.