from sea to shining sea

i think she meant to say graceful, but instead she says gracious. you have such a gracious walk. she says it at least five times. i'm walking by that building on jackson street where the, mostly, pleasantly, insane live. i say thank you. she imitates my walk, and i think if that's really how i walk, then....i don't know how i've made it this far, or maybe i think, work, mama! but i can't remember now. i am wearing that new bright red jacket that's got gay written all over it, so i expect a little attention. i look at the hummingbirds. they're amazing. those wings are vibrating, girl. peter had just posted a blurb on facebook about how often he gets harassed in oakland. i was slightly offended, not that i need to defend oakland, but it's not accurate to say oakland is homophobic and san francisco is not. i've been harassed for being a fag all over this country, and world, for that matter, including san francisco, and including the castro. i'm not saying the gracious lady is harassing me, she's just drunk and and slightly crazy. she's bored, and she knows a hot walk when she sees one. i'm all about that shit.

better than roses on a piano

the oakland rose garden is nice. oakland is nice. i'm not nice. i'm like polished rice, only less shiny. or maybe more shiny, depending on the time of day. all the time i don't have to spend writing papers for school, i spend writing ads for craigslist. and then i spend all that time i used to spend procrastinating by looking at craigslist ads, building my new adam4adam profile. i think my neighbor in #503 responded to my ad. i wonder if he know it's me? i've always thought he was hot, but i didn't know how to pursue it. thanks, adam. but with all these security cameras, how will we be discreet? i know the hillbillies, or building managers, as they call themselves, are huddled around the monitors watching my every slutty move. so jealous. last night, instead having yet another trick over, i got picked up by my trick. speeding up the hill to montclair, i worried this might be a mistake. how old is this guy, really? but i was excited too. maybe because i knew he would worship me. and i like getting old straight guys to do things they've never done before. like fucking boy hole and loving it. but he can't really tell if it's in or not. i can barely feel it myself, yet i still want it. who explain these things? why am i not getting paid for this? he house has seven levels!

i'm leaving

watching Happy Together again brings back memories of earlier days in san francisco. hanging out with frank and being introduced to wong kar-wai and slutty phrases in cantonese. it also brings back memories of my trip to south america, partly inspired by the movie. i remember walking to the obelisk at sunset my first night in buenos aires. everything was purple that night. the hotel maipu was old and dusty. the street outside was loud and dirty. reading james baldwin's go tell it on the mountain , i got so depressed. there was that lesion on my hip which made me think i had aids. the cruisy bathroom at the train station was jumping. i went to eva peron's grave and no i didn't cry. three drunk guys sitting by the gates of cemetery, catcalling as i walk by. i peaked in the window of the bar sur. got caught in the rain with lightning and everything, and didn't enjoy it. there was a strike, i thought i might not make it santiago. i was so lonely. it was all so much better in the movie. i want to go back and do it again, do it better.

on the L Taraval

i celebrate the end of the semester by hooking up with my old fuck buddy, tommy. he's an emotionally unavailable, straight-acting, cock sucking freak. i've sworn him off a hundred times, but for some reason the sex is always super hot. so i always get lured back into his world of endless text messages about swapping loads and throat fucking. but this time, instead of a text message, he calls. nice surprise. i think maybe something's changed, maybe he's growing as a person. he even let's me come to his place which has never happened in the two years that i've known him. he's discreet. now i'm excited, rushing out of my apartment before he calls to tell me it's not gonna work. or course he calls when i'm on bart and says his roommate is home, so we'll have to be really quiet. his room is so cultivated straight boy aesthetic. oakland raiders flag, 30 pairs of sneaks neatly lined up against the wall, computer desk pilled with vitamins and deodorant, flat screen tv. it's all about mtv jams. the sex is hot, and completely exhausting for some reason. i know he's going to tell me to leave. he's all nervous energy like that. every time after we've had sex before, he always looks at his watch and says shit i've got to go. so i'm resting, waiting, trying to cuddle, knowing what he's thinking. but i want more from him. i want him to be human and not straight-acting for a change. he says you know how i am. i say, yes, i do and that's why i'm fucking with you. you said you wanted three loads! but no he's too nervous about his roommate. he's never brought anyone over before. i want to ask him to be my boyfriend, but he pushes me out the door before i can get the words out. i took the L Taraval for this?

no fun

walking by the lake at sunset is gorgeous. shockingly gorgeous. or maybe it's just because i've been staring at my computer all day writing an essay about images of modernity in the works of Foucault, Kafka, and Walser. oh, to be a flanuer in oakland. this is where i live? yes. but it's not enough. or maybe it is. i can't tell with this conjunctivitis blurring my vision. where did i catch this shit? maybe i have chlamydia of the soul. if i really let my mind go there, i have the urge to pull my eyes right out of their sockets. control, girl, control.

i am not a mannequin

the lady with the hairy chest came in library today. the fist time i met her was at folsom street fair with raheem. she gave me attitude and made me feel like a skinny white boy. there she was big and brown with her hairy chest and her super-butch, black girlfriend. who was i to rain on their brown party. but she was so friendly in the library, i guess books have that effect on people. i wanted her to remember me and then maybe she would tell raheem that she saw me working in the library and somehow that would elevate my worth in his opinion, because yes i still worry about what he thinks of me.

community theatre

he says it so cheerfully. yes, i'm into s&m and bondage. i giggle, and then he gets rough. i'm afraid of the hot wax at first but after the shock of the first splash, i'm all over that shit. it's the hottest, most massive load ever and it's all over my chest. he's so excited. i say, pour it on my nipples. really? it's too much, i can't take it. i want him to fuck me, but he doesn't fuck the first time. i like the way he pins me down roughly but kisses me gently. i say, i wanna be your bitch, and for a second i mean it. treat me like a dog and i'll know it's not a pointless hook-up. hidden desperation floods out in strange moments. but what would you do if you received a text message that says: but are you sure you don't have any stds?? honey, i've got everything!

five fairies and a ticket to vancouver

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hypocondria holiday

i had convinced myself that i had anal cancer right before he showed up. i was already in a fragile state of mind and anxious about meeting this guy, yet another craigslist hook-up. of course, five minutes before he arrives, there i am examining my asshole and what strange things they are under bright lights. something just didn't look right, some discoloration and a sort of protrusion. but amazingly after he finger-fucked me all my symptoms magically, and beautifully disappeared. maybe i was just horny. thankfully he didn't bareback me even after i begged. that would just have been one more thing to worry about. after he washes his hands and leaves, gil comes over and tells me all about his new york city sugardaddy drama. for the fourteenth time. he tells me he's never had a really good friend because they always want to talk about themselves and never listen, which is exactly what he's doing to me. i say, uh-huh. everything is going to be perfect for him in new york. but i understand. after i watched The Devil Wears Prada I knew moving to new york was the right thing to do. same thing with Blade Runner. LA never seemed like such a good choice. fantasy travel sugar city daddy. all i want to do is escape everything.

the tweaker arts

in the never ending to quest to make my teeth even more yellow, i drink two cups of coffee , a coke, and a cup of tea. i will be beautiful no matter what it takes. riding around in oakland in gil's car is fun. it's like a whole different world. from jack london square to temescal, it's gorgeous and alive. even the gas station is exciting. we eat ice cream and cake at whole foods. he comments on the sexual appeal of every white guy in the store. back in the car, he honks his horn at every white guy walking. i say, that's so miami. at the vibe lounge, i want to dance, but i don't. story of my life. i'm not sick, i'm not sick, i'm not sick. i'm just gay and thin. that doesn't make me tweaker!