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9:21 p.m. - July 21, 2002
The winds stink of carcass
I come across as naive and wide-eyed instead of confident and secure, as if I'm in need of a Raggedy Andy doll to clutch and a pacifier or thumb to suck. In the most grown-up of places I feel the most out of place, the most childish, the most immature, the most unwelcome, the most angry at myself for being like this in the first place.

Damn emotional IQ disconnect.

Went inside a gay bookstore today and it wasn't the seedy, dimly-lit rat warren with chlorine clouds drifting out the door as I imagined it to be; instead, it was a regular bookshop if you didn't look at the magazine rack and the realia featuring what looked like Barbie dolls but these weren't Ken next to a section of lubricants and condoms and some sort of glow-in-the-dark stick things. Goes without saying that I didn't feel comfortable and when the sales clerk (gender unsure) approached me I wanted to squeeze between the covers of any book but don't you know it, I was standing in the BDSM section and that's not exactly for newbies. Meekly turned over the sheet of paper with a book title suggested by my counselor because I didn't want to say it out loud and was told This Is In Relationships and my blank stare must have triggered pity and was led around when all I wanted was to get o u t.

The Relationships section was one-and-a-half shelves, a fitting metaphor for my feelings on gay bookstores and the lifestyle that supports them. Fuck relationships, but I could research the nitty gritty on just about every other topic under the microscope as long as it falls under the rubric of Sex, Narcissism, Lust, and Perversion. Twisted values, and they want the right to marry? Yikes! Yeah, so heterosexual marriage isn't anything to boast about, either, but at least there's the pretense that marriage isn't simply about getting unlimited sex.

The shop didn't have the book despite its claim of being the largest bookstore of its kind in DC with at least one copy of every book related to the subject on its shelves. Do you know why I'm disappointed? Because I don't want to order it from Amazon or BN.com for what has to be the most ridiculous reason ever: If the far right ever gains control, I don't want any records linking me with that kind of thing. Absolutely bizarre and stupid, but true.

Laughed some at all the older guys with droopy faces and saggy skin and Pug wrinkles wearing tank tops showing off their bulging biceps. It's incongruous to me for no good reason. I want to talk to Madrigle about this.

Doubt I'll be back.

::::::::::::::::::

Went here before the bookstore and while it wasn't the most thrilling, I had a good time. My identity was Ian, a naturalized Canadian from Wopui, New Zealand, en route to Singapore and espionage. Had fun.

Went with Spec (please, no groaning, eye-rolling, bully-pulpiting) and the day ended badly but I don't want to talk about that.

You know, this journal sucks. The mediocre winds strike at about 120 or so, just as they did with Bigsky. Seem to be following a pattern of divulge, pack up, and leave. How tiresome.

 

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