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4:53 p.m. - June 10, 2003
I think I'm high on nothing, which is daunting enough
The earlier inquiry into poppers was purely innocuous as I have absolutely no goal of trying the drug. While there are large gaps in what I recall from childhood, I do remember Nancy Reagan and Just Say No and why ruin a 27-year No streak? No drugs, ever, though of course alcohol is a drug but you know, it�s the little-d drug, not the fuck-up-your-brain drug. Unless of course one become addicted but if it weren�t alcohol, it would be something else so that�s an exculpatory bye of sorts and mind you, I�m uptight and conservative and I would enjoy seeing a wholly drug-free society. And please, spare me the decriminalization arguments highlighting the Netherlands as a prima facie example; Americans are simply too dumb to ever be as intelligent about drugs or for that matter, anything else the claim to be a valid looksee. As for Canada, let our august northern neighbor decriminalize all they want; won�t they enjoy all those upstanding American citizens taking their RVs and drug habits on a hazy Road Rules trip though their well-manicured vast empty spaces?

Speaking of Road Rules: A few years ago I decided I left behind young adulthood when I couldn�t stomach watching whicheveryear�s installment of RR and Real World but this season I�m hooked. Me, Jason, hooked on television � MTV of all inane, brain-sucking, chromosome-damaging Great Wastes of Time � and did I mention I like literally laying in front of the television, remote in hand, and powering down? The unfortunate downside is that I notice the dust on the floors (they�re wood) and I make a mental note to sweep, thereby disrupting whatever idyll is a byproduct of television zoning.

Bathsheba received her package today and sent me a great email, first complimenting me on my wrapping techniques. I�ve attributed these anal-isms as I call them (which friends call Jasonisms, e.g. the poo bathroom / pee bathroom, concern with sneeze-cloud residue, etc) to perfectionism and simply doing my best, but I wonder if it�s simply the gay gene manifesting itself. Lorster, you�ve received a package from me; was it really that bad? I sent her 4 CDs and a few new-office doodads and I fear I�m going to have to conspire to get those CDs back so I can copy them; erroneously I deleted the layout and if I say so myself, they are fantastic. Three classical, one Jason�s Favorites, and I didn�t burn copies for myself. Of course I could simply ask her to mail them to me after admitting my error, but I prefer those aloof tautologies and gouaches that obscure my wants. Did I mention I�m considering a nail bed? Jesus, what was in today�s water that�s got me so?

What�s the deal with guys, anyway? I thought the goal was giving or getting a good fuck (if I say so myself) and moving on to the next tchotchke but no, T. is giving me a headache. How am I supposed to stew and castigate and be angry and regret things if he�s not giving me any breathing room? Perhaps I�m being too harsh but I was not planning and certainly did not want further contact, at least not immediately so. Between the flowers and a telephone call I�m feeling he�s a bit . . . wonky, to borrow Milkmaid�s term. I�d like to talk to him more but I don�t know about see � if there�s one thing I need to get over, it�s feeling ashamed. In the meantime, the gay boys are supposed to stay away. Didn�t you see the memo?

 

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