9:05 a.m. - September 09, 2004
If I can see this now, what does this mean? What is the appropriate reaction and response? Does it call for immediacy - sell and move! - or a recasting of expectations or at minimum a welcome mat on the stoop? A party. That's what I want and that's what I will do. A party! I think I know enough people to - what the hell am I thinking? It was a nice fantasy while it lasted.
But really - a party. I could do that; I have a couch in the living room and stools in the kitchen. Reality bites - I'm out of town each weekend through October 30, then it's my birthday, then it's Thanksgiving and then it's Christmas. Silly silly me.
A dinner party. I am a fag, right down to the genes. But I don't have a table. I have dishes though, and napkins, I think, stored away in the little room.
I'm scared for today. I don't think I'm ready but I pledged, gave my word and it is too late to back out. I worry I'll run into somebody I know (unlikely!), worry I'll stick out in my ugliness like a bullfrog amid butterflies. I am too uncertain when around gay men. No, I am too uncertain when I breathe. Same uncertainty, different scene - it's all the same.
I'm procrastinating - I don't want to go. Bart to SF, take Muni or taxi up Market to a meeting about setting up a program for gay male sexual and physical violence. Sad this is apparently a novel idea but I'll find out more.
I look like a dork in my black jeans and button-down from Eddie Bauer. I feel like a dork, I already feel most unwelcome, already feel that swift gay-eye deal where fresh meat is scanned for its appeal and quickly passed over in a split second.
How quickly I set myself up for failure, to later say See, I knew what would happen and provide myself a convincing reason not to go back again.
I am just scared.