3:39 p.m. - May 23, 2003
While I'm excited by transactions and signatures and pre-approval bric-a-brac, the real pleasure comes from the opportunity to make a difference. I was telling Twids that I want to use this property as an agent of benefit not only for myself but for those inhabiting the structure. Ideally, I want to cooperate with one of the agencies downtown that refer screened clients who need a place for refuge. I'm not motivated by profit - but I won't deny the tax benefits have gone unnoticed - and I like the idea of doing something good. There's a program in San Jose that locates housing for victims of domestic violence and I want to get on the referral list (I have all the information already) for stays of up to three years. The current tenants are very friendly and one woman insisted I hail from the Mexican state of Micho-something; perhaps it was my bad accent? I don't know. But change is afoot.
The flak, tongue-clucking, head-shaking, tsk-tsking continues. I frankly don't understand the minor hubbub. I went on one date with this guy while I was in Texas, had two telephone conversations, and told him tactfully and politely that I did not foresee anything coming out of this and ergo, be well, take care. Goddamnit, I was nice. Oz's bit about someone like me hurt him echoes Erika's comment that I stay away until I learn how to play - but damn it, I don't see what I've done to engender these types of comments. [Editor's note: By the way, Erika, thank you for the beautiful CD. Its arrival seems particularly poorly-timed, doesn't it?] Even John notes I could have handled things differently; reprise original question: How? I'm amused and irked that I am reprimanded when had I simply taken his blowjob and left and not even gotten his name, there would be little condemnation coming my way.
Arrgh. I need a fucking manual.