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Well, that was certainly a surprising change from boredom and lack of motivation to... well... inexpressible.
Tony showed up and took me to the Pride festival, which I'd forgotten was today. We walked around the whole thing a couple times, admired the androgynous lesbians, and finally met up with Reggie.
I don't know, perhaps because it's been so long, but it was a shocking kind of desperate joy I felt, rounding the corner of Half-Price books and seeing him there. I'm trying so hard not to own him, keep him, that I don't ever see him. He was falling secretly apart all through the time I've been gone from PVA, and then he left and became someone I hardly know.
I hear (and not from him, which hurts) that he drinks. It used to be anathema. I know he goes to clubs. In one of my traditional forays into his pocket, I found a pack of fancy gold-filter cigarettes, and he saw my confused shock and said, in his half-joking, self-deprecating way, "Don't judge me." As though I would. The boy of soft eyes and careless black clothes, the Pathetique in darkened practice rooms, composing and improvising at the drop of a hat, at the hint of interest, railing against social norms, stereotypes, age, expectations, and sex--that boy is gone. Or so far hidden I'm afraid I can't find him. I'm afraid to try, because I don't want him to hate me for it.
He said he'd come by later. Tony just left, finally. I'll wait up all night, but my hope is nearly dead. Still. This is a torch I will never drop.
We three went to Katz's. Cheesecake shake. The irony hurts. Tony still eats like a bird. I probably won't need any food for a couple days, what with a third of shake and a whole cobb. Reggie peeled off to join the ones who brought him, and I spent the remainder of the evening with Tony, opera singers, and the Bat Boy soundtrack. He has been educated. Here's hoping for further company tonight.
Tony showed up and took me to the Pride festival, which I'd forgotten was today. We walked around the whole thing a couple times, admired the androgynous lesbians, and finally met up with Reggie.
I don't know, perhaps because it's been so long, but it was a shocking kind of desperate joy I felt, rounding the corner of Half-Price books and seeing him there. I'm trying so hard not to own him, keep him, that I don't ever see him. He was falling secretly apart all through the time I've been gone from PVA, and then he left and became someone I hardly know.
I hear (and not from him, which hurts) that he drinks. It used to be anathema. I know he goes to clubs. In one of my traditional forays into his pocket, I found a pack of fancy gold-filter cigarettes, and he saw my confused shock and said, in his half-joking, self-deprecating way, "Don't judge me." As though I would. The boy of soft eyes and careless black clothes, the Pathetique in darkened practice rooms, composing and improvising at the drop of a hat, at the hint of interest, railing against social norms, stereotypes, age, expectations, and sex--that boy is gone. Or so far hidden I'm afraid I can't find him. I'm afraid to try, because I don't want him to hate me for it.
He said he'd come by later. Tony just left, finally. I'll wait up all night, but my hope is nearly dead. Still. This is a torch I will never drop.
We three went to Katz's. Cheesecake shake. The irony hurts. Tony still eats like a bird. I probably won't need any food for a couple days, what with a third of shake and a whole cobb. Reggie peeled off to join the ones who brought him, and I spent the remainder of the evening with Tony, opera singers, and the Bat Boy soundtrack. He has been educated. Here's hoping for further company tonight.
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