8:36 a.m. - September 12, 2004
I just placed my head on the glass tabletop to cool my face. Brief success.
Decided against participating in the sexual / physical abuse project in San Francisco. The behind-the-scenes bickering and political maneouvers were disappointing - there's a bloc of staffers who feel diverting funds to this new project will take away from their commitments elsewhere. Understandable and I was relieved when another staffer mentioned funding the Folsom Street Fair may not be as high a priority. Like Portia's soliloquy, a gentle rain... but I couldn't get past the overwhelming foreign-ness or discomfort being there. I was, however, recognized as the guy who does the Christmas Eve program for the gay men's chorus and when I blushed at the compliment he said you're so cute! and I cursed myself for being a fool and not in control. I've been hoping my reticence does not stem from a brief comment about p.r. and using hot faces to draw attention, but I think that was it. At a table of gay men (easily half of whom were neither kouroi-like nor Calligpygian - [I find the image on Flood's site amusing]), the general consensus was that gay men don't look at posters or signage unless there's a pretty face attached. Apparently only the pretty people get hit but I understand how campaigns work - you appeal to the broadest spectrum and draw in the marginalized by appealing to their - their what? Again relieved to see my take also aired by others.
Called Brad to inform him I wouldn't participate and I think he was disappointed. I resent his assertion that sharing my experience could be helpful to myself and others because I am an articulate and powerful speaker. Powerful my ass and articulate, never. Standing up in front of a group of people to talk about physical abuse is not my idea of therapy. If there are other travelers with whom I shared a boat, notice the past tense - that experience has been filed under ago and will not happen again.
Last night Jon called to see if I wanted to watch a movie. He was horny and I declined. Somehow sucking dick doesn't make me feel closer to people. He offered a massage - again, more grey-laundry lines - and you know, I'd like to be able to do that. Get a massage, I mean. Consistent touching is too difficult for me though. Still navigating my way towards being comfortable in situations involving physical proximity with men. Handshakes aren't a problem but hugs - I still have a ways to go. (Speaking of hugs: Everybody at the center hugged and many did the French bises. I stuck out when I said I preferred to shake hands. Not smooth, Jason.)
Finished Anna Karenina. Decided to save Beowulf until the November or December darkness when I can read it aloud by the fireplace (I can't wait - it's been ages since I did anything in Old English and even though I don't know the meaning, I can pronounce the words!) and read the side-by-side English translation.
Haven't decided my next book; don't want Dickens or Faulkner.
I'm going to get ready for church.