In the morning there was a cup of coffee waiting for me on the kitchen table. From there on all day I did nothing but walk on the beach and drink wine and spend time with my father. At one point late in the afternoon I look a very long walk along the shore. I stopped for a while to write METAPHYSICAL in the sand and then take photos of it. There was an attractive man watching me do it, and I had wanted to kiss him and then run away, but when I thought about it a bit, I realized I have enough romance in my life to sort through. I regret doing this, and did from the very moment I walked away and looked back to find him with his hands on his head inspecting what I had been writing on my hands and knees in the sand. Dad’s cousin came over for a bit, along with my Great Aunt Joan and her husband Jack. I haven’t seen them all since I was a child. It was lovely to sit around and have pleasant conversation with them until my Grandparents arrived for Thanksgiving dinner. We all ate and moods were well, which felt strange to me because it was obvious to everyone that we were there to say goodbye to Grandma. Ali and I were a bit drunk and we had a food fight with whipped cream and then wrestled on the floor and after a while everyone left. When everyone was gone we took vicodin and then walked on the beach together. She told me that the night before Dad had said to her that his will had declared me the conservator of Juan’s estate. I felt good about this. We went home and watched a movie with Dad. I was too high to pay too much attention to it. Ali fell asleep. After the movie Dad went and sat outside. I got my ipod and ran to the beach alone. I was feeling really stoned at this point. I walked for a bit listening to Philip Glass again. I don’t know what inspired it but I took off my pants and pulled up my hoodie and walked into the ocean until I was waist deep. I smoked a cigarette and listened to music this way for a song or two before I decided that it was foolish of me not to swim, the water was frigid. I went to shore and took off my soaked panties and my shirt and hoodie. I ran back into the water totally naked. I was afraid to go completely under the water. It was so so so dark. I thought there might be sharks or stingray or jellyfish. And the cold was so close to unbearable. But I just kept looking out at the horizon and felt so incredibly small that it seemed harmless to my life to swim for just a moment. So I waited for a wave to carry me and I took a deep breath and submerged. I swallowed a large mouthful of water. My lungs went tight and my whole body felt light, like it was hollow and my euphoria was more like a delightful frenzy for a moment. Then just as quickly I remembered how cold I was and I ran for the beach. I stumbled and fell in the sand and felt silly. I put my clothes back on and ran home. At home I took a hot shower and fell asleep with Ali on the couch. I slept there all night. My sleep was restless but I was still so happy.
This morning I woke up in Florida. I ate pancakes Dad made again and drank coffee. We went to my Grandparents house to say goodbye. Then we left. Ali gave me a Vicodin for the plane. It was a lovely plane ride. I felt comfortable the entire ride. I arrived home a few hours ago. Kyle cannot come over tonight, but he is coming in the morning when he gets off work and I asked him to bring cocaine to wake me up a bit. I am quite drunk now. I will go to bed soon.
The other day on the train I was thinking about satiability. I could not think of any time in my life I felt satiated in any regard, in respect to the things I desire and enjoy. I am still slowly mulling over that idea and what it means. I fear that it is just mostly semantic.
I would like to wax for a bit about the nicer parts of my week with German. I was so dreamy eyed and wrapped up that I forgot to write about him at all, and since this might be the last entry where I have opportunity to write about him without anger, I want to do so now. To start, last night seems appropriate, because of it’s freshness. There is a moment that should be noted here, because of how profound it felt to me. We had sex three times in a few hours and we were reasonably exhausted at 5 am. We laid on our backs, I had my arms around him and he had his head on my shoulder. I had just given him a back massage for about an hour and he was very lucid with his emotions. We were, at the time, talking about childhood. He mentioned to me his obsession with a South American folk singer he had at the age of thirteen. Then he softly sang a line in my ear. I told him how soft it made me feel when he sang or spoke to me in Spanish. Without continuing the conversation he sang to me Spanish folk for the next half hour. I stared at the ceiling while listening to him and I scratched his head and the nape of his neck. It occurred to me at many moments during that half hour how surreal this felt and a wave of elation kept passing through my brain. It was similar to the feeling one gets about two hours after taking a large rail of cocaine and the happiness is beginning to wane but still feels unnaturally good. It’s this space of thought where one has to enjoy what is happening while battling a sense of irony and sarcasm. I think it is the difficulty of doing so that makes those types of moments so elating, rather than what is actually happening in the room.
It’s 5:30 am and I cannot sleep. ******* is asleep in my room and has been since about nine last night. I’ve been crying a lot lately. Not for any distinct reason. Many things have been mounting on me I suppose and I’ve become incredibly tender. I’ve been wanting so badly for someone to hold me and listen to me, maybe even pity me but there is no one like that in my life. This is an unfortunate product of my lifestyle. If you refuse to be traditional and monogamous, people rarely see you as a romantic tender person. I have accepted this, but it still makes for lonely nights when I cant sleep.