10:11 p.m. - June 08, 2003
On Magnifikaís stalwart advice I picked up Julua Glassí Three Junes and instead of ticking off each item on my To Do list I read and wrote old-fashioned pen-and-ink letters. A novel and four letters later, I proclaim an excellent weekend overall.
Annaís words above have stuck with me since completing the book, hovering like a miasma as I did laundry, dusted, and made sure each window has a dowel in place to prevent unauthorized entrance while Iím away. Amateurish to engage in self-deconstruction based upon the words proffered by another, similar to baring oneís soul on television only to find the audience bored with your revelations because your slot followed the titillating polyamorous cadre or yet another abused childhood so when Ricki Lake pronounces Such a shame, such a shame! one takes her words to heart with fervor and validation, but the basic need for reflection remains the same. Unabashedly unoriginal, always.
Iím lonely because thatís what I want, isnít that right? Letís face it, Iím solitary because I donít trust people and being honest, itís what I prefer because Iím afraid of people. When I meet new people I have little intention of formulating something deeper, always seeking the way out and a return to the predictable solitude that Iíve made my own. I can teach, conduct trainings, stand before hundreds of people and not be bothered at all because the anonymity and distance precludes infringement upon my security, my plan. When a stray individual ventures close I feel the desire to open the door, I yearn to feel the sap the same way maples yearn for the spring thaw, yet despite appearances or immediate wants, it is not my intention to alter the course. Thatís what Anna means, highlighting the inexorable contradiction between What I think I want and What I really want.
So Iíve reflected on this lilí bit oípreference exploration and really, itís obvious to all but me: I have no intentions to follow through. My intentions are solitude and I would think itís the overriding schema that requires alteration before turning to intentions as demonstrated; intentions are merely the foot-soldiers of the man on the horse waving his saber. I think for someone like me itís better to be solitary yet have good friends here and there because the struggle to be otherwise is just that Ė too much and too against the grain. Maybe I shouldnít be struggling so hard; what is the point and use of exploring the homosexual mystery if I already know I donít want its fruition? I meet gay guys and with some, have had gay sex and most of the time I am no more really turned on than when I am with a woman. It hasnít clicked, Iíve received no sensory indication that Iíve found my calling. I want to say Iím trying too hard and itís pointless, senseless, especially when those intentions arenít already laid out. Maybe itís better to fantasize about men occasionally and leave it at that and just be myself, by myself, and return to that which I can trust, simply because they canít hurt me the way a man can. And maybe itís wrong to fantasize about men while being with a woman and having children, but as long as I didnít act on it, is it so heinous?
That seems also like a pat, dour, pointless conclusion to draw as well. I admit I want, I crave, but I donít intend to settle for the pale shadow on the wall.