When I sit down to start writing about it, I feel that it’s already slipped through my fingers. But this time is different. The actual moment may be gone, but I’m changed by it. Gay guy Thursday. Something so beautiful and rare happened last night, the kind of thing that will set me on a different course forever.
Energy can always get redirected somewhere else. You can follow it down the path that interests you the most. If there’s a path that you don’t want to go down, you don’t have to go down it. There’s often a path that seems the absolute most viable, like all the other ones actually are nothing. The glowing path.
in a Montreal bar on a Thursday night. Wanting to have a Lorde night and then the bar plays tennis court. Sharing a long island iced tea and your heads touch when you lower them to the straws. There was something purely magic about the night, and to describe it with any more words would be an injustice.
It’s the kind of thing that makes you not care about life circumstances and the shit that you’d typically get hung up about. Why is it that I wanted to kiss G---- so bad, but I didn’t? That doesn’t really matter. I think that’s a common trap: to wonder why the night didn’t offer you more. I don’t think it’s healthy. But I don’t know.
We started a group chat, the three of us. I made sure of it. It was so rare that the desire is to bottle it up, even if the bottle captures everything but the thing itself. Maybe by having the proof in our phones we’ll remember it, even if we never speak again. G----, M---, and me.
I wanted in every fiber of my being for G---- to invite me back to his place when the night was over, but he didn’t. I walked home smoking a joint.
I don’t know where this puts us or me or anything or anyone. I do know that I need to be around gay people. It’s not a question anymore, not an optional thing. It felt so transgressive, so right.
Three gay guys talking about sucking dick but in a disgisting way, talking about bouncing on dick but in a disgusting way, dominating twinks, how one can never be dominated by a twink, reclaiming (M---'s) Blackness, spilling martinis as a prophetic act (and it actually being prophetic), committing to bits that you don’t even know are bits, …………………
There’s nothing in the world like it. It’s why god made me gay: to be with other gay people and to come alive in their presence. There’s no other presence around which you can truly come alive. Those are my sisters. That’s my fucking family. And you could just tell right away, from the moment we sat down and this bitch was fucking screaming. Screaming and dropping glasses on the floor.
There’s always more that I want. I want to see G---- again, just the two of us. Every time we have a girls' night, it turns into the most cursed, insane, fucked-up thing in the world. Unavoidable, inescapable, unforgettable. I just want to be around him. I want to be around him more of the time. And I want to keep touching him. Touch his leg with my leg under the table, grab his arm when he’s talking, let him grab mine.
I think I need to be with him, in a way that goes beyond any way I’ve ever thought about being with someone. I don’t even want to be with him in that way. The way, you know, the way you’re thinking of right now. It’s not like that. I don’t know what it's like. It's like I wanna be around him because I see what happens to the universe when we’re together. Everything feels uncannily right. Even when I get embarrassed and think I'm saying the wrong thing, it doesn’t matter, because there’s always, always a more interesting thing to say. We can redirect the energy somewhere else.
Maybe I’m overly romanticizing a single night, but I don’t care. It was too rare. It was too different from anything I’ve ever experienced for me to not want more more more more more of it.
Let’s pause and try to assess the buddhism of the situation. What are we doing in terms of the whole desire thing? Obviously I desire being with G----. I want gay guy nights every night for the rest of my life. I want the glitches in the matrix. I wanna touch him. I wanna kiss I wanna cuddle I wanna be together I wanna laugh uncontrollably. I want all those things, and I want them with him…………. So what is that? Is that hedonistic treadmill or is that love or is that samsara? What the hell is it? Is it a trap to want more? Am I supposed to be conducting myself differently?
He said he has my location and he’s been watching me since I saw him in Nova Scotia two years ago. That was the first thing he said. I said that feels good, like you’re my guardian angel.
He’s going West soon. I need to see him before he goes. That’s sort of non-negotiable.
But of course it’s negotiable. I can’t force anything. I can only let him know what it meant to me and what he means to me and that the universe expands to the point of almost bursting when we are together and we need to be together more of the time, if only to see if it bursts.
The love was there from moment one with M---. We had something from the jump, and by the end he was bellied up to our table. He put his arm around me at one point, and I wondered if he wanted a little something additional. Especially with all the talk about how
more gay More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay. More gay more gay more gay more gay more gay more gay. All signs point to it. More gay people. That’s my family. We understand each other in a way that no one else could hope or think to. More gay more gay more gay more gay.
Where was I going with that? Doesn’t matter. Where I’m going is more obvious all the time. Theres’s a pretty obvious answer in every moment, and I want to follow the obvious directions whenever I want.
I talked to A-- last night about studying for step 1 and how it’s all about listening to the tingly voice in your head, creating the proper circumstances mentally, bodily, for that tingly voice to be heard and understood and confidently followed. I feel the tingly voice, but I also see it, hear it, taste it. I can feel it now. I felt it last night. M---'s elbow, wet because he kept putting it on his table, still dripping from the prophetic martinis.
true Writing isn’t enough. I want to live.
moment I want to follow the tingly voice, and I want all that comes with the following. All the other shit in my brain doesn't matter. The only thing I need is the tingle, and just a little spark from the conscious mind, the match striking itself.
What about the fact that I’m running on four hours of sleep? What about that? What’s a girl to do with four hours? I guess just figure it out. It’s not going to get in my way, because I’m an unstoppable force up against this immovable object that is the world. What are you supposed to do but keep going?
This is the whole thing. This is the whole thing. 8:20 AM.
No business right now. It’s still the middle of the night. I should be asleep. I’m not asleep but I should be.
This is the inflection. Just let it happen.