RandomCha

It’s so completely oh-so-quiet still & peaceful outside, through my slice of window by this keyboard, no one at all moving in the courtyard and the snow piled everywhere and some Christmas lights are still on out there. I have 3 CDs playing on random in my CD player: The Best of Leonard Cohen, George Shearing: Latin Lace/Latin Affair, Moondog. The window is open so I can get some fresh air. I work tomorrow at 6.30 AM. Andy is still in Indiana but he’ll be back tomorrow night at 5. I’m not thrilled about working tomorrow. I’m considering having another glass of wine but already I’m worried about a hangover. Might make sleep easier if I had another glass. I could chase it with some water. I love my new chrome dish-drying rack. It’s hot in here. I don’t feel like reading, though I have less than 50 pages left of “Glamorama.” I don’t feel like talking on the phone, or chatting with anyone online. I’m for sure going to unplug the phone before I go to bed. My apartment seems pretty cozy. I wish the night would just stretch into day with me in my apartment, nestled in, waiting for Andy’s knock on my door, and the occasional sound of an airplane overhead coming in through the window and now of course I realize that everything I’m writing sounds exactly like Brett Easton Ellis but I can’t help it since that’s what I happen to be reading at the moment. I ought to simplify my life & switch to Hemingway.

I couldn’t work today on account of being sick. I really wanted to, I mean, I hated to just everyone there high & dry on the busiest Sunday before Christmas. Couldn’t do it though. I’ve napped & read & stayed in my polar bear pyjamas.

Zach stopped over to see me on his way to “A Hard Day’s Night,” sharing some of the things he’s learned since his breakup with Tim and how he feels about the whole thing. I let him just talk for most of the time. I listened. Sighing now and then. The irony (and also a bit of a cliche considering how often it occurs elsewhere) is that we’re much closer, at least much more honest with each other now than when we were dating. I wish he had been like this when we were together. Of course, I also think now and then of how I would have done things differently too. No going back. But it gives me a poignant feeling. Zach’s a good guy & I’m a good guy too. It’s cold out there.

Andy is on his way over now with some good soup & Thera-Flu. I’ll log off and read some more “Glamorama,” by Brett Easton Ellis. My turn to read it now. It’s really entertaining. Pretty far removed from my own life, too. Though as I read it I can’t help picturing what New York was like when I was there earlier this year. The insertion of fictional elements into memories colored by time. In other words, history.

A foot of snow on the way. Whiteness blows everywhere. Listening to Radiohead, “Kid A.” Pretty perfect wintertime album. Albeit a bleak one. Zach insists that it’s a hopeful album though. “It’s about taking control of your life, your environment,” he told me. Mankind overcoming technology, taking control of it. The swirling sounds match what I see through my window. Blizzard conditions by nightfall. 40 below with windchill. And I’m doing my laundry. Because it’s now or never. Finished my Christmas cards. I need wrapping paper now, some more stamps. Having dinner with Jessi tonight. Should I break out my geeky-looking snow boots? There goes the snow plow. We all need more time to just sit like this, sit & observe & record.

I’m always writing on here late at night. Why’s that?

Listening to some 1958 jazz before bed. Cold outside. Got the window cracked open because otherwise we’ll roast in here. That decaf is surprisingly good. Black. Work early. I think Andy is losing patience with me being on the computer just now. Or else I’m just more sensitive at the moment. After some time has passed. Ameritech is made up of stooges. I can’t access my damn bill online, even though I’d simply LOVE to pay it.

Last night I dreamed I was backstage with Dolly Parton. It was to be her first public appearance after restoring her breasts to their previous size; she had recently undergone a surgery to undo the effects of her previous breast reduction procedure. I was backstage, waiting to lead her through the wings and out in front of the audience. A theatre in Tennessee, I knew that much.

She came out of her dressing room. She was wearing a silvery dress that did indeed highlight her newly-restored cleavage, and she looked wonderful. I introduced myself and led her by the arm through a hallway. She seemed very polite and kind of amused when I told her how much I loved her work & how much she meant to me. I remembered that “Straight Talk” had taken place in Chicago.

Just as she was about to go through the door that would put her onstage, I told her that she could call me Rob. She smiled and said, “Thank you very much, Visa.” I fought off the impulse to hand her one of my business cards. Then she walked through the door & was onstage.

I don’t remember people applauding, but suddenly I was sitting in the audience & it seemed to be a flashback to before I was backstage. A few members of the audience were staring at me with great hostility. They knew I was gay. I turned to a fellow sitting to my right and laughed. I said, “These people aren’t used to homosexuals around here! That’s Tennessee for ya!” But he wasn’t amused either. I just remember feeling very superior to everyone else at that moment.

I haven’t had any coffee, but my mind is racing like crazy. It must be the long phone calls that I’ve had this evening combined with the non-stop Christmas music I’ve been playing. And yet I’m sleepy too. And I ought to get to bed soon so that I don’t sleep the morning way. But I’m jazzed! Seeing Ric & Andy interact, two of my boyfriends together, barhopping for 3 hours up & down Halsted, winter in the air & too much heat in this apartment, Peggy Lee singing “Happy Holidays” with a bossa nova beat from 1968 … it’s an awful lot going on in a short time.

I swear I haven’t had any caffeine. Nothing to drink at all, though if I want to calm down I ought to think about a beer. And gosh I’ve been horny. Sex this morning & jacking off twice. What the heck is going on? It must be related to seeing part of “Queer As Folk” at Spin & being around all the hormones and public interaction. Crazy. Don’t work till noon at least. I forgot to eat dinner. I’m glad I’m finally writing something, turning this energy into tangible form. These Christmas lights are great. Hard to think of all the misery that must be going on somewhere else in the world. There are times when empathy just seems abstract. Do we really live & die alone? I like being with Andy and losing my sense of ME, losing my sense of being me by myself always never being able to escape from myself. It goes away for awhile when we’re together. And I’m more aware of being with him, more aware of what he is & who I’m with.

George Shearing does a lovely version of “Snowfall” and so does Billy May. I’m going to bring all this Christmas music into the coffeehouse tomorrow for sure. I want to really try spiked egg nog this year. I want to add it to my list of experiences.

I’m typing a few words before bed while Andy lies on my bed reading “Glamorama,” by Brett Easton Ellis. He’s never read an Ellis before, but already he’s burst out laughing a few times. He just started it. I have to get up at 5.35 am tomorrow for work. Grr. Other people will be sleeping. But I did have today off. Real cold today. That wind. Felt evil. It’s so hot in here that we’ll have to keep the window open. Steam hissing like a snake. The merlot has made me warm & fuzzy, and I better take advantage of that.

I’m still suffering from jetlag. My body thinks it’s rather later. I’m going to bed early anyway because I have work early. I felt as if I was in a bank of fog all day at work today. Not quite there, not quite anywhere. I’m not feeling sufficiently verbose to articulate much more.

On Thursday I leave for 9 days in Scotland with my family. Meeting Mom & Dad at O’Hare at 1.00 … Mikey won’t meet us until Saturday morning in Edinburgh! He’ll fly transatlantic all by himself. That could be jarring for him. Either that, or he’ll just sleep.

I don’t care if it rains every day that I’m there. I don’t care if we don’t eat anything special on Thanksgiving Day. I don’t care if I have to drink a lot simply because there isn’t anything else. It’s going to be nice to be lazy. Simply be on vacation. In another place. I’ll be more comfortable than anyone else.

I wish Andy was going. Well, not with it being a family thing. It would never happen. “Ah, gee, can my friend Andy come? We’ll even share the same bed. It’ll be fine.” Andy will sure miss me. I won’t feel quite so desperate about it. I mean, I’ll be relaxed. And this means that he & I can be together on Christmas I hope.

Have film & batteries ready. I guess the president will get be decided upon while I’m over there. That, and Sundance will decide if “Kosher Messiah” is in or out. Haven’t heard from Tchavdar in 2 weeks I think.

This a huge country. We can’t recount every vote. I think Kafka, had he ever finished it, might have made up something like this for the climax of his novel “Amerika.”