i have been successfully avoiding this for days now. My apologies to anyone who has been disappointed.
Shoot me.
I think sometimes I have to get more depressed than when I was younger in order to avoid the pain. Used to be I could get through the holidays without much depression at all; and could even handle imitating normalcy by doing the gift-giving, 'We wish you a merry Christmas' routine. This year I couldn't do it. This year the emotions were almost more than I was able to stifle. This holiday season brought a spring-tide's swell of emotion, uncommon and overwhelming.
I found myself at the very top of a water-tower, trying to manage the up-swell of tears. I tried every trick I know to prevent the tank from rupturing, even had to resort a little bit to actually crying. That's how close it got.
Did you ever have a headache that wouldn't go away? I'm talking about a squint-your-eyes and knit-your-brow kind of headache that starts your stomach turning, a huge pressure in your head that wants to pop an eyeball and gush out through the socket. That's the crying that I won't do.
My tanks held, and the pressure is lessening. I am beginning to relax the intense vigil I maintained for a month, as I watched for welds to crack and seams to burst. I'm even starting to look for sex again; my libido had been almost entirely lost in the flood. It's subsiding now, and who knows where it goes. Even the tightest municipal water systems lose tons of water every year--apart from the leaks they know about. They never find them.
They are all unaccountable losses.
i'm getting sick. This bug that's going around is not a quick, passing storm, but a lingering season of symptoms; increasing, then seeming to subside, then increasing again, like the tide. Just when you think you have survived and the sadistic invader is gone, it reappears, again and again--like Jack Nicholson in The Shining--worse on each return.
Excuse me while I vomit...
If illnesses go to hell as punishment for making people suffer, this particular one deserves it more richly than any other. It's a stomach flu with abdominal pain and intestinal chaos, but an upper- and lower respiratory infection too, with a head so stuffed-up it feels like a college dorm hamper, and a chest so irritated that you can't breathe without starting a new episode of rib-cracking coughs, which are dry as sand--except for that one cough every ten minutes that sends a barbed-wire bullet of phlegm up through your raw, sore throat. In waves of fading lucidity, suicide is beginning to appear moral.
All the old-standby remedies for ailments of the past fail miserably now. Comfort foods make you gag; merely the thought of anything richer than water can actually precipitate yakking. You are so listless and weak, you remember the once universal remedy, chocolate. This makes you not only gag, but makes your butt cheeks clench, too.
these are my favorite guys on the web. Rage is from Florida, reX is from San Francisco. They partied together New Year's Eve in Seattle, they came home sick. awww. I feel bad cuz I love them.
rage, I suspect, is bored with the minimal challenges of life, which are immense for many of us--overwhelming even. He finds them simple, even tedious, I think. He speaks several languages, spends as much time on intercontinental jets as I do on busses to Boston, and seems to effortlessly meet all the demands of daily life. There's fresh flowers on his coffee table all the time.
I have never spoken to him, have only watched him on his cam at home, and at work before he quit there. I've seen his cat, and the puppy he bought a few months ago, and I watched him take care of the puppy when it broke its leg just a month after he got it. I have tried to only watch him for his physical beauty, but inevitably, I've seen more, and I can't help but think Rage misses something. Not something one can easily put one's finger on; something subtle. I can't help but think Rage is kinda longing, for what, he may not even know. It makes my affection for him almost unbearable.
rex is my soul's knight in shining armor, a sparkling-eyed beautiful boy in whom I never expected to find generosity. I have been trying to run, stumbling and tripping, from things all my life, and Rex has all the stuff I'd need for a swift and graceful flight from anything; he's cute, young and successful, bright, socially charming, and--if it's not too retro to say--cool. But in listening to him (his voice I've heard on GAYBC Radio) and in watching him, I realized he is not taking advantage of those gifts for flight into exclusivity and stand-offishness (as I might), he is instead being fresh and real and sincere and innocent. He's not running away; I love him and he loves me back. He makes escapists like me want to stay.
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