I feared that it was going to be a sunny day, as yesterday was. I woke up this morning and there was a slight rain outside. This was great news and I only hope that this gray weather continues into the afternoon when I will be working coat check at some party for seven hours so that I will actually have things to check and the ability to make tips.

This week I am working at least sixty hours for some reason, the offers to do overtime and work coat check at two parties coming my way, and me unable to say no, me desiring to rebuild my bank account, to begin saving money in the hopes of perhaps moving in July. I really love the location where I live and actually like my apartment a fair amount, but I either want to live by myself (which is the preferable option) or with people I have slightly more in common with and where the rent is cheaper, me feeling slightly out of place with my roommates because of their age, their straightness, and their something elseness. They are nice though and I rarely see them since I am home so infrequently, leaving early in the am for work, coming home late from going out, and really just crashing here for brief periods. And so perhaps this situation is ideal for that, especially considering its location. But I am convinced that I can find something for not too much more that I can live in by myself, and in which I can be moody, be constantly naked, masturbate whenever without feeling awkward because people are hanging out right outside my bedroom, and where I can blare music when I wake up at 6 am everyday because I won't have a house full of sleeping roommates.

I am in love with taramasalta. I am reading books again, currently am involved with The Botany of Desire. I saw Outrage yesterday and it was meh, wasn't as great as I had hoped, and in some ways bothered me, the politics of outing people something I am still conflicted about despite the film's argument for the practice. I haven't had sex in quite a while, probably at least a month, and I think it's making me a bitch. Some people have commented on how I have been increasingly bitchy. I found myself getting outrageously frustrated with the people working at the movie theater yesterday and with the person I spoke with on the phone today at Callen Lorde when I needed to reschedule my appointment I had for tomorrow (because of this coat check job) and was told that the next appointment was in six weeks. I am quick to get angry and to throw shade and I am becoming increasingly convinced that this is because my life is absent physical intimacy lately, of touch, of the release and pleasure that comes with such things, and that things are blocked, that that frustration manifests itself in other ways.

Also it seems that once you stumble, the harder it is to walk upright - bad analogy. What I am trying to say with that is that the longer one goes without sex, the harder it becomes to get it. For a long while, it was something that I wasn't so focused on pursuing, something that I didn't have to make an effort to find, that it just happened. Now, however, I am not sure how it happens, find myself sometimes thinking, as I did two nights ago at Metropolitan, how it was that I so easily used to end up going home with someone, what it is one says to someone, how two people, strangers most likely, can agree to this thing. I am becoming more and more removed from this process, am thinking it too much. And as such, my attempts to hit on people are more and more resembling my early attempts to do so when I was 20 or 21 and inexperienced and lonely and desperate and a bit socially clueless as to how go after things I desired. People can smell it, the desperation, the lack of casualness, the lack of ease, and it gets harder and harder.

I smoke lots of weed and listen to music and walk around and feel great. I find myself getting stoned quite often these days.

may

I got back to this city, New York, sometime early yesterday morning, two am or so, having spent the previous days in Tennessee for the Beltane celebrations at Short Mountain. I am still processing my time there, which was time spent processing my life as of late, and so perhaps really I am still processing my life, trying to understand what path I am on and what adjustments should be made considering the shortness of this life and my desire to live it as best as possible.

There was a fair, perhaps excessive, amount of substance consumption, including acid, weed, opium, whiskey, box wine, and poppers. These all were probably unnecessary, as the most insight I had was riding in a car through the rain with Matt Savitsky, listening to a mix CD he had made, this my first kinda sorta boyfriend, some six years ago. Surprisingly, he was there amidst these faeries and I reconnected with him, spending quite a bit of my time there hanging out with him, having quite a lovely time in his company. Also in these gay woods was Diego and his boyfriend. Also there was Gabriel. The three of these people together in this rural out-of-state setting seemed more than coincidence, seemed some sign signaling something. The three people that have consumed my erotic imagination for my most of my time in New York were all there and so that subject was explored, as were ancillary ones along those lines, such as what I have been doing, what I have been pursuing, what I should be, the nature of time, of attraction - the usual.

Matt and I escaped the mountain one day, the rain and boredom of being in the rain leading us into town. We were talking about relationships and friendships. We would occasionally smoke cigarettes. Melancholy songs would play, some of which I didn't know, would ask him who the band was, would make a mental note to download the band when I got home. I kept looking at his hands on the steering wheel, remembering how attracted I used to be to his hands. The town we drove through seemed like a nightmare to live in, so isolated, so nothing but strip malls. We ate at a Cici's pizza buffet and went to the Goodwill next door.

It rained pretty much nonstop during my time there. My tent flooded. My sleeping bag was half wet and I slept in an awkward and uncomfortable position to sleep in the dry part of my sleeping bag. I danced a lot. My last night there, I asked Matt to make out with me, me again quite attracted to him after spending so much time with him, my dormant crush on him having been called back to life. He said no.

I have resolved this before, but this week the travel guide is going to be written. Matt was in Tennessee for this reason, so was Diego. Their being there was as clear a sign as any that the project needs to take shape, needs to happen, was a bit of an emotional refresher on what it is people from my past meant to me, what they mean to me now, the seeming distance between those (past and present feelings toward places and people), the actual closeness of them.

I am home, or what is home these days. It is still raining and apparently will be for the next few days if the weather forecast is to be believed.