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So, I'm laying in bed at 4am this morning when I realize that someone is playing classical music. It's a soft sound, coming through the window from own the street, and in a neighborhood more noted for kill-all-the-white-people hip-hop/mariachi, the music was…unexpected.
The birds, the dark, and the cool morning air added to the surreal experience - and ensured that I would not be going back to sleep before my 5am alarm. There was just enough light for me to see the bedroom. My bed was a restless mess, balls of blankets, sheets, and wads of snotty Kleenex from the tail-end of a cold. I felt…old. Especially as my T-shirt had worked its way up my chest during the night, and once I stood up, I had to pull it back down over my belly. My cat watched me from the corner, unsure if I was up to piss or up to feed her. As luck would have it, I was up for both.
The birds, the dark, and the cool morning air added to the surreal experience - and ensured that I would not be going back to sleep before my 5am alarm. There was just enough light for me to see the bedroom. My bed was a restless mess, balls of blankets, sheets, and wads of snotty Kleenex from the tail-end of a cold. I felt…old. Especially as my T-shirt had worked its way up my chest during the night, and once I stood up, I had to pull it back down over my belly. My cat watched me from the corner, unsure if I was up to piss or up to feed her. As luck would have it, I was up for both.
A friend got out of rehab yesterday, and we texted several times throughout the day. He's a nice guy - someone I'd considered dating at one time - but I backed away fast when I realized the extent of his alcoholism, something that hit me too close to home. I didn't ask many questions. I imagined that his detox was similar to my psych-ward stay a few years back. I did ask him though if he wanted to go with me to IML next week…specifically to the "Leather Recovery" meetings. He said that he would, but in the spirit of full disclosure, he was celebrating his sobriety by doing shots of Jack. I was reminded of last week's episode of Elementary, where Sherlock was playing quarters with AA coins. I was glad that we were texting, rather than talking face-to-face.
I've been doing a sort of "Sleepless in Seattle" thing this week with a dude who lives in Texas. He works for one of the area's gay leather bars, and he responded to a postcard I'd sent, promoting Goodbye to Beekman Place. At first we spoke through Recon, then later on YIM. On paper the guy sounds like a solid match for me, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit to imagining, "what if...?" But again he's in Texas - a long drive from Chicago. Murphy's law, he's one of the few guys from his club who's not traveling to IML next week, so meeting him at the Marriott won't be an option. "Someone has to watch the store," he chuckled. "And it's always the boys who get left behind."
On a completely unrelated note, my roommate caught me masturbating yesterday. Yeah, I know, I should have opened with that line, but as the first few paragraphs of these blogs tend to get posted on social sites, I figured I'd better leave it for the end.
Annnnnnnnd, there goes my alarm.
On a completely unrelated note, my roommate caught me masturbating yesterday. Yeah, I know, I should have opened with that line, but as the first few paragraphs of these blogs tend to get posted on social sites, I figured I'd better leave it for the end.
Annnnnnnnd, there goes my alarm.