(no subject)
yesterday i woke up and watched ghana beat the united states in the world cup, and some kids from lothlorien came over with a keg. i drank beer at 11am and then andy and then alfred invited me to come to loth for what alfred hopes was an early example of the future american tradition of Pride Dinner. its like thanksgiving or 4th of july, but for, you know, queer rights. the layout was pretty impressive and i think alfred organized and financed it himself. i wish i knew more about him. after that i agreed to go to a bookstore in san rafael for this krishna/radha concert/religious thing with a bunch of white people in saris and facepaint. my guts objected but i danced anyway. they were very good singers and drummers. the whole day, i was ebullient and friendly such that im driven nuts trying to decide if i was full of shit then or if its now, in the reflecting, that im full of it. i do that a lot these days. i guess i spend a lot of time, way more time than ever before, balled up super tight, full of intense fear and harsh, meandering criticism and self-doubt. when anyone asks anything about me, like where im from or what i study or what kind of music i like or anything, really, no matter what i say, i feel like im lying, and im also terrified that all of the even semi-truthful answers belie, in glimpses, the vast vast ruins and sea of blackness that i feel like im constantly creating with everything i touch. im sure that its the way i say it. i could say i was a homeless heroin addict and registered sex offender, and if i said it like raymond or tom polley people would not get that half-second of look on their face where they can smell the thing thats wrong even though they usually couldnt ever say what it is. i can sometimes be just charming enough, hang on tight to the moment just enough to like, not emit an atmosphere of discomfort, and to just have fun for a second, but its always thin and i have to concentrate on it, to keep it from dissipating. i talk too much because when theres quiet all this terror fills up the space and im sure its my fault, or its an indication that this person and i will not get along. i really want to get along with everyone in this hilarious way, where i kind of feel like my whole life is a search for something inside of that, something inside of having people be pleased and endeared to me, and ultimately i put that at the top of my priorities, unconsciously. i really want people to know me well, to know whats really true about me and care, and so naturally the biggest problem turns out to be how i can keep anyone from doing that. i stare forever, but i cant sustain eye contact for very long. i feel weirdly starved for hugs, but im a shitty hugger now because i feel bursts of fear when other people start to hug me, so i hang back kind of, do one of those partial-contact/tapping hugs, unless im forced into something tighter. even then, im jumpy as hell. its incredibly stressful to hang out with people like annie or justin or people like that, who are brilliantly empathic and attuned to the workings of others, and also incredibly compassionate and acomodating by nature. nothing sends me into crazy overdrive like people being what i without fail see as unduly generous or forgiving, or doing anything i think they might feel obligated or sympathized into doing. i love annie but whenever she and tank laugh at my jokes i feel like im asking them to give me money or something. friday night annie and tank pressed me into coming out with them with bait of dinner bought, and i thought i could hang but i was already real far into shaking and bad thinking when i got there and then dinner and then tank's friends were really Yalesque and kind of boring, and not clearly into my thing so i just hunched my shoulders, holding the front of myself with my arms, wide eyed, and they kept asking what was wrong, and it was hell for a lot of it but really i hated myself for not being more fun for them. when i was in boulder, justin and his family fed and housed me and bought me a pool ticket and took me outdoors for no reason, and justin listened to me talk for a week and its insane how calming his presence is, how sweet and smart and understanding and generous, and then the extent to which it took me off-guard was disorienting and then scary as hell. now hes coming here anytime now and im scared as hell. i want to be able to camouflage this almost as badly as i want to just generally be calm and accessible and trusting.
i think all this is making me worse at sex, and i really hate it. i think that always feeling awful that so much badness is constantly visible and feeling like i should be apologizing for it has finally leaked out and started poisoning my physical self-image. everyone keeps commenting lately that i look skinnier but i dont see it at all, and thats usually a kind of bad sign. its not just lately, its been going for years now, but now its at what i hope is the peak. i feel really unattractive so much of the time that its hard for me to be in the moment the way i think you need to to really enjoy sex. i just feel like i dont belong there, a lot of times. there are some exceptions, and there are a lot of weird other ways that sex is interesting and rewarding, but i think i used to have this jewel of exhilaration which is dulled by the bright lights of my incredibly loud other instincts. i think in a sense even the best sexual relationships ive had in the past few years were at least slightly affected by that feeling. i dont want anyone to touch any part of me that is so fundamental and foundational because really thats the thing i want more than all the other things. i dont want anyone to see me as a person naked. thats what i mean when i draw all those animals, and collect crabshells and dead bugs and that mouse and stuff, and why im so obsessed with documentaries and real-things-based art. its why bdsm was so easy and exciting for me, because its you naked and telling the truth but you dont have to really tell it, you just tell it by creating this situation where someone can kind of steal it, like, they can break into you as if you were a house, and look inside your closets and drawers and pantry, and find all this ambiguous stuff and just make up their own story for it. it would almost be really effective for bonding except the thing is not that youre actually telling the truth, its just that the voice of the other person and often the physical stress drown out your inner monologue, so youre just making yourself forget yourself. youre just shutting up, but really thats just another kind of lie, usually.
i banged the hannah's drummer after one of their shows, probably about a week or two ago. i felt super balled-up the whole time. we both drank, and he had some good moves, but i just felt awkward, like i wished i could be touched through a bubble or with very long arms, i dont know. i felt satisfied with my choice but it did not shine the way i should probably be holding out for. i feel like i want to take it easy on super casual sex like that. im really comfortable walling myself off in that specific way, though its worth mentioning that that was my position when i met shaun and i excitedly jumped right into that. im bad at boundaries of that kind. its true that i didnt really miss it, but as soon as it called my name i was excited to pull it apart and see what it was. he was pretty cute and very nice, and i had fun with that whole adventure but the extent to which it brought out the bad in me just made me feel tired.
oh yeah also i called the russian on the day i was sort of supposed to, and he didnt answer, so i spent the evening sighing, tired of thinking about it, slowly drowning the whole thing in postmodern, meditative dismissal. he called around 11 or something and the conversation lasted a really long time and it was kind of clumsy and strangely easy and we didnt talk about anything of note, though i suppose we will tonight. i dont know if i even really want to but yeah i do, i guess.
i think all this is making me worse at sex, and i really hate it. i think that always feeling awful that so much badness is constantly visible and feeling like i should be apologizing for it has finally leaked out and started poisoning my physical self-image. everyone keeps commenting lately that i look skinnier but i dont see it at all, and thats usually a kind of bad sign. its not just lately, its been going for years now, but now its at what i hope is the peak. i feel really unattractive so much of the time that its hard for me to be in the moment the way i think you need to to really enjoy sex. i just feel like i dont belong there, a lot of times. there are some exceptions, and there are a lot of weird other ways that sex is interesting and rewarding, but i think i used to have this jewel of exhilaration which is dulled by the bright lights of my incredibly loud other instincts. i think in a sense even the best sexual relationships ive had in the past few years were at least slightly affected by that feeling. i dont want anyone to touch any part of me that is so fundamental and foundational because really thats the thing i want more than all the other things. i dont want anyone to see me as a person naked. thats what i mean when i draw all those animals, and collect crabshells and dead bugs and that mouse and stuff, and why im so obsessed with documentaries and real-things-based art. its why bdsm was so easy and exciting for me, because its you naked and telling the truth but you dont have to really tell it, you just tell it by creating this situation where someone can kind of steal it, like, they can break into you as if you were a house, and look inside your closets and drawers and pantry, and find all this ambiguous stuff and just make up their own story for it. it would almost be really effective for bonding except the thing is not that youre actually telling the truth, its just that the voice of the other person and often the physical stress drown out your inner monologue, so youre just making yourself forget yourself. youre just shutting up, but really thats just another kind of lie, usually.
i banged the hannah's drummer after one of their shows, probably about a week or two ago. i felt super balled-up the whole time. we both drank, and he had some good moves, but i just felt awkward, like i wished i could be touched through a bubble or with very long arms, i dont know. i felt satisfied with my choice but it did not shine the way i should probably be holding out for. i feel like i want to take it easy on super casual sex like that. im really comfortable walling myself off in that specific way, though its worth mentioning that that was my position when i met shaun and i excitedly jumped right into that. im bad at boundaries of that kind. its true that i didnt really miss it, but as soon as it called my name i was excited to pull it apart and see what it was. he was pretty cute and very nice, and i had fun with that whole adventure but the extent to which it brought out the bad in me just made me feel tired.
oh yeah also i called the russian on the day i was sort of supposed to, and he didnt answer, so i spent the evening sighing, tired of thinking about it, slowly drowning the whole thing in postmodern, meditative dismissal. he called around 11 or something and the conversation lasted a really long time and it was kind of clumsy and strangely easy and we didnt talk about anything of note, though i suppose we will tonight. i dont know if i even really want to but yeah i do, i guess.