Evasive Maneuvers

And, once again, done: over, finished, no more. That’s OK. It wasn’t love. It was hot sex and some tenderness, which is plenty to mourn in its own right, but not enough to feel anything more than passing sadness. She wants to keep the tenderness without the hot sex and I am cynical of such a desire- but past record bodes well. I have, despite all my efforts to the contrary, maintained friendships with most of my past lovers. So it seems likely that the end is not so final, after all.

I didn’t come here looking for love, I have no specific anger that I haven't found it. I came here to get a long way away from love, from awful, stupid, useless, unwanted, undesired, enduring love. Californians respect one-sided emotion far more than Australians do, I have noticed. There is a sense that in a world where people are so cut off from their own emotional lives, to love at all, even when it’s not returned and is greatly inconvenient in the larger scheme of things, is a step forward. A newly-devout Buddhist (surely the most Californian of creatures) tells me that it’s wonderful to be able to feel so strongly in the face of such opposition. The pragmatism in me has trouble with such a statement- life would be far easier to deal with if this would just go away.

But the more time I spend away, somewhere else, the more it feels OK. I can forgive myself for feeling the way I do, in a way that I couldn’t for a long time. I have some slight amount of respect for being able to spin a wonderful adventure from such banal and uncreative beginnings as love-gone-wrong. And the impossibility of action feels like something I can live with now, different from the urgent dismay of a year ago.

My new house is wonderful, high up and full of sunshine. My bedroom is huge and seems made of windows. I like to open the blinds up wide before I go to bed so I can look at the city sparkling across the hills, and wake up to sunlight and trees whispering. It feels just so much better.

The zine is all but done- I predict it will be ready for the torturous process of copying, cutting and folding by the weekend coming. How exciting! And pony pictures have been accepted into an art show- I hope that Miss Blonde will be proud.

I had a fairly trashy weekend, pleasantly so. Sucked dyke cock onstage at a strip show, attempting to display deep-throat techniques but I’m not sure I got all the way there- difficult with the irregular thrusting of the person possessing the cock, who was quite pleased to be showing off I think. Anyway, the crowd seemed pleased enough, and I sat down and reapplied my lipstick in time to cat-call for the rest of the acts. One- a butch stripper- blew me away. I’ve seen plenty of strip, some of it boring, some of it exciting, some of it remarkably interesting and engaging, but I’ve rarely watched someone else gyrate on a stage (or screen for that matter) and had a genuine erotic response to it. The butch stripper caused exactly that, I think my jaw hit the floor when she came on, and oops, there went all my money (down the back of the leather chaps). Very different from the skinny boi strippers who often grace the stage, she had the essentials- curves and muscles, a wicked smile and that burning arrogance that I cannot resist. Yeah. Hot.

Sunday night a dear friend and I attempted to go clubbing, but the music was awful and the crowd was bland. I’m certain it could be much, much better, and I’m willing to try it again. I refuse to believe that a city like this could really exist without a half-decent clubbing scene.

Central to my weekend outfits were a new series of necklaces, spelling out in diamantes “QUEER”, “FILTHY” and “SLUT”. Plenty of worthwhile combinations can be had out of those, don’t you agree?

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And this is why I could never raise children in the USA:
"In the rest of the industrialized world, it is assumed that the more equally and widely the burdens of illness are shared, the better off the population as a whole is likely to be. The reason the United States has forty-five million people without coverage is that its health-care policy is in the hands of people who disagree, and who regard health insurance not as the solution but as the problem." (Source)