7:55 p.m. - June 03, 2004
Wat voor nieuws is er?
Teleconference with Barbara-the-Editor this morning: Bad news. There is a delay between the printer and binder (separate companies) and Book I can't be released August 15. Relief was too brief - first printing of 8,000 copies will go out to schools and universities in time for fall sessions. Second printing of 6,000 copies for the general public will be in October.
Because of the delay, Books I and II will then be published and released simultaneously instead of the staggered disbursement that was planned. I don't know how that is significant, but it is - in a good way. First royalty check will not arrive in December 2004; it arrives March 2005.
Sometimes after talking with Barbara-the-Editor I cry just long enough to make me feel silly and ashamed. It is an overwhelming mixture of frustration and impotence: The sheer amount of detail and opportunity for errors are far more difficult to ignore now that deadlines have been met, release schedules made, and everything is out of my hands. Perfection is impossible. Had I realized - there is no point in wishing. The books are coming out in weeks. Three years ago the book was a rough draft and now the dates are circled on the calendar.
I am more bothered by the niggling wonder of why I am not proud of myself but instead am harsh and critical. I am embarrassed when mention is made: Oh! You're the one writing the book! as if the cards are being stacked atop my head and expectations are too high.
Tomorrow is my last class. I feel oddly whole. Instead of being Dr. Jason I will be the-one-who-didn't-finish. It doesn't bother me. Yet?
I'm attending a volunteer orientation at the LGBT community center on Sunday. I called yesterday to inquire into volunteer opportunities and voila - I'm wanted and I want to be there.
I let Ryan I fuck me last night and I felt nothing. No panic or fear, but no pleasure. Just nothing. I watched his face as he pumped and noticed the veins on his eyelids.
I just sent Ryan II home. The taste of his cum in my mouth is like licking too many envelope flaps. I like the sex, but I don't like him.
This morning I was told by a stranger that I have beautiful eyes. It felt tremendously good to be complimented by a stranger before boarding the train. It was a fleeting good, but good all the same.
