All These Blank and Tranquil Years . . .

Moving, moving, moving along.

After two breakdowns this week and endless discussing of my graduation. I am putting that one to rest. Done!

I have been going to therapy and enjoying this little adventure of exploding emotionally once a week. The support group is back too. I joined the GMHC and will soon be getting free lunches every time I am in Chelsea. Oh to be poor and in a system.

I'm getting over the fact that I feel like I'm using the system. I am poor and unemployed. The government has systems for me. I will use them. I am slowly applying to jobs, nothing serious yet. I have an interview.

This is a plus. A possible job so quickly. I know how to survive this jungle. Tra-la! So much to do and the Tony Awards are coming up. Oh hurrah, they have become more sad than ever.

Take Care of my Mind

In between shows. In between shows. Why this morning did I wake up and email the Tall Man?

It was a simple email. Just asking him if he was back in Brooklyn. He's been on a work trip...why the FUCK am I explaining his life? It wasn't the best moment of my life, as I wrote the letter my pulse increased and I started to shake.

M-A-R-T-Y-R

I'm not letting him give me a phone call before he flies off around the world and get away scotch clean. Sure I can't look him in the face yet, but it's taking a step in the right direction I am sure. Be it hours of screaming and crying when I see him. Or hours of conventional discussion. It needs to happen. Why are you doing this? You care about him and want to make sure he's okay from his trip!

Fuck convention. You'll scream when the time comes. You told him that stuff happened when you hung up that phone. That's all you needed to tell him, that's all he needs to know for now. You won't mention the breakdown yet, or the crying, or the pain. The breaking of his umbrella, well you'll mention that. In time.

He wants to be your friend, then he gets the whole package deal. I want to scream so much sometimes, until I pass out. Don't tell me to DO it. Who screams until they pass out? I'm a broken soul and life hasn't made sense in months. I feel more unsure and comfortable than I have ever known before.

I just finished reading The Normal Heart by Larry Kramer. Powerful play with some really upsetting moments. What it must feel like being the only person screaming in a silent room? I want to scream. Don't tell me to do it! Why do I hate the idea of being touched anymore? Why couldn't I breath normally this morning?

My friend said The Normal Heart is now a history piece. What's historical about gay men fucking blindly and getting HIV? What's historical about not writing about AIDS in the news anymore? What's HISTORICAL about the fact that we're pretending these issues have been fully resolved? What's historical about the fact that I am where I am right now and living with this?

Oh my head feels light. And I'm trying to be deep...tsk, tsk. Has is only been three months? Fuck.

Oh, and I hate happy people.