12:51 p.m. - March 16, 2003
Holy shit, this is what one means when referring to a Waste of time
Yesterday talked on the phone with Bathsheba and then last night with Spec and trust me, I not only catch the contrast, it hits me in the face. I asked Bathsheba a while back not to read my journal any longer and I have no reason to suspect she still does and I wonder if it hurt her feelings when I made the request; I think this because she made a comment along the lines of I don�t know what�s going on in your life any more and I shrugged it off � well, of course you don�t and I suppose that is the burden of friendship, keeping people informed about the bric-a-brac of one�s life. Or maybe I just don�t get it; I don�t know. Caught her up on some of my goings-ons and she found much � too much � humor in the San Antonio job � a quick aside; speaking of bric-a-brac, maybe I should write about these things as well? I don�t think much of these details for some reason � I applied for a position at a college in San Antonio and found out yesterday the job has been offered to me. And I told her I will soon have to craft a polite refusal and avoid revealing that the only reason I applied for the position was to see whether or not I would get it because who would want to live in San Antonio? Yes, yes, there�s the Riverwalk and bats and Rob says the hill country is beautiful but Texas I won�t do. Why is it all the jobs are in the Southwest? I�d be content to find a college position in New Hampshire or Virginia � or this week�s application, Connecticut � instead of a region where water is measured in drops and if it isn�t, it should be because they�re living off water imported from elsewhere and speaking of, I heard that older homes in Las Vegas don�t have water meters so what a crock is that, living in the desert on a literal pipe dream? Talk about an invitation for consumption.
I digress.
So we talked about teaching and massive layoffs and pupil-teacher ratios and how next year she�s going to let me do her taxes because this year her return is a measly $250 and change (unbelievable; she says I became noticeably agitated) and in sum, I felt it was a good conversation; I enjoy the distance. And it makes me sad. I would consider Bathsheba one of my closest friends and it has been difficult for me to talk to her about the things on my mind � particularly the Spectual issue (heh, get it?) � because of the being-gay-is-a-sin thing, but one no better or worse than any other sin. It�s frustrating and actually hurts to avoid or censor the elephant in my life but it reminds me, better to be solo than open, the opposite direction I�d like to go.
It�s easier to be facile and superficial, keep you at a distance.
I could tell my Jason-is-stupid stories, update you on the new one that occurred yesterday when I walked directly into automatic doors that I trusted would open but didn�t and I was momentarily confused, questioned whether I walked into a window or a door. But I�m not a good story-teller, cannot write a comedic journal entry that captures the humor and disorientation of the event and my horror that there were several witnesses.
I could say nothing, which is tempting enough.
But you know, I�ve always been distant from people; even my closest friends, which aren�t very close at all, often remark that there�s much they don�t know. Somehow, sometime, I�m going to have to realize that nobody is going to hurt me � if that�s what I�m worried about � and not be so uptight.
[Tangent.]
Rob is in Dallas until late May when he returns to London and wants me to visit and I�m not really pleased with this cling-y vibe thing I�m getting. How awful is that? It�s because I feel like a hypocrite, I know, and overwhelmed by being his confidante. You know what it really is? I�m worried he is too interested in me and this bothers me now that I know he�s gay. When he would call me from London or Dallas at strange times � my insomnia and time differences collude � to talk about shit and frustrations and his girlfriend and mine, I was never bothered; but now that I know and he�s begun calling more often than ever before (easily twice a week) to talk about things, I want to push him away. I don�t want him to know about me. I worry he can tell, how silly is that?
[Tangent.]
I am sick of thinking and writing about the gay shit.
[Tangent. Right back to the gay shit.]
A heated discussion with Spec last night � but in a good way � over admitting things. Out of the blue he asked me to describe a guy who turned me on and I was quick to say that I don�t think of guys like that, that I don�t have a �type� or inclination � and this is, generally, true. So he asked me about women and I could rattle that off no problem: The smarter the better, kind and generous, moral and chaste, petite, B-cup tits, long hair, good skin, shaves her legs and neatly trims her bush, neither a stretched-out whore but not repressed. Yeah, I know � good luck finding that! But I�ve always been lucky in the past, no sense thinking the streak is over.
So I caved. I won�t say I�m attracted to this type but this would be a workable ideal in terms of a guy.
Taller than I, intelligent, someone who laughs a lot. A man, not a boi, someone who doesn�t have an obsession over shaving every natural hair on his body � but please, trim when a trim�s needed, eh? � or for that matter, obsess over abs and trips to the gym, someone who prefers the mind to the clubs. I like eyes and smiles. Either a larger or smaller cock than my own � how odd is that? Larger if I�m going to defer to him, smaller if he�s going to defer to me, perhaps that�s my motive. Good skin. Someone who doesn�t think an STD is part of being gay or knows where the closest bath house is located. I�m full of shit. You know what I really like? I like the � heh I don�t like saying it � the daddy top type. You know. The ones who�ll swat my ass and is sure of himself. Something like that.
Whew. Okay, now I�m embarrassed. Not quite as bad as walking into the door, but still � it�s bad enough.
I wouldn�t say that Spec�s my ideal because he�s not and I�m unsure whether I have an ideal or not; that�s what he wanted to hear and I wouldn�t inflate his ego. Out of the blue he remarked that he�s attracted to me because I do my own thing, unconcerned about what�s in style or popular, am not a victim of the herd mentality � a phrase he�s stolen from me � and I thought You don�t know what you�re talking about but didn�t say it. I mentioned I�ve gained more weight � perhaps more a Why don�t you rethink your visit statement � and I can tell he�s disappointed. I am, too. Maybe this is how I can get him to go away, huh? Maybe that�s what�s going on inside that head of mine.
It�s Sunday, I didn�t go to church � why bother now, it seems � and I�m writing, listening to music, watching the rain. There�s one bird on the fence and I feel just like he does.
Holy shit. What the hell have I written here other than drivel?
