the view

just a stay at home girl

again, sometimes it's just better to stay at home. forget every good thing i've ever said about oakland. i take it all back. one night out, that's all it takes to erase every dream and possibility you ever had about a place. now i know i'm just a skinny bitch white faggot. always, forever. and somehow it was all my idea. i asked sergio if he wanted to go to this hella gay party. i met him on adam4adam, of course. we had a burrito on tuesday and that was fun, so let's see where it goes. he asks if we can stop by his friends house first, they're going to the party, too. i don't want to, but i say okay. so there it is, the real problem right there. doing things i know are going to be horrible. but still let me blame it on oakland tonight. they're all educated i guess. but loving their drugs and bad tv. the nicest one says, "i like watching tv, you don't here many people say that today." sergio is loud and bitchy. i don't have much to say, big surprise. how do i get myself into this shit? their house is all middle class but i guess they're some kind of cutting edge lesbians. on to the party and sergio is now driving after drinking two beers and now i'm really just wanting to be at home. he's dancing as he drives. why me? the party's on san pablo in a neighborhood i've never been to. i like seeing the different neighborhoods, so that's a plus. it's an interesting space. funky, red and black. behind the bar, "hella gay" is blinking off and on. dirty oakland stank skank realness everywhere. sprawled on sofas, legs on coffee tables covered with bottles and butts. smoke everywhere. mean people everywhere. skinny nerd chic. tough butch style finesse, with highlights. what's up? the dance floor is moist. i think i see michelle tea in the corner, taking notes for her next novel but it's just my imagination running away with me again. if all the women left and were replaced by men, this is exactly the kind of place where i'd liked to get fucked in public. my vodka cranberries aren't doing a damn thing for me. and i still don't have a damn thing to say to these people. why doesn't ms. coleman have anything to say? that's what one of those high schoolers says. oh jesus, let me out here. then the butch one says, or maybe i just imagine it, he's a faggot, he doesn't say anything. definitely the word faggot was used more than once. am i offended? they liked to talk about white people a lot, probably to make me uncomfortable, which it did. i am working some castro clone look, i realize, but they probably don't realize that i realize it. they probably think that's castro realness. if they only knew. it's all horribly wrong. i don't like sergio, i don't like his friends, i like looking at the people dancing for like two minutes, but then i need to get out of there. they want to go to some other party. i go home and i love it so.

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!