Fluoxetine Journal 24.01.10

Less light notes: I just realized it is two days from now when I will have to seize upon the very real possibility of visiting jail as an inmate, because of my reckless stupidity, and then I am all this cool writing about feats. I should be pissing in my pants, but I am not. Worst of all: I am so naïve as to think I can get away with this so easily, even after the aide for my present situation was one of my close friends. All in one night, too much really… Losing a job, then losing a home, then losing many friendships at once. Got to live with it though. Only one night, then a whole week sleeping, and you wonder why. Months building up, one night to tear it all down, and weeks to recover; funny shit… I remember Levinas now, the stuff about Leon Blum, that when the present is fading away under one´s own feet, it is when one allows himself to imagine the most distant future. Yet I don´t think this is that extreme, well, not practically, but emotionally it is certainly a point of departure.

Movies: They always make things seem easier, and the ends flat and disrupted. Life is never that kind or that mediocre, so to say. Although I enjoy seeing Jude Law each time, it only bothers me that it is only a woman who kisses him. I have international experience in relationships broken because of geography, and then easily forgotten (well, not that easy, a few years let´s say, not that one didn´t have flings on the sides in one´s own country at the time). Writing e-mails is difficult and lengthy, letters I wrote only for one woman and I do it no more. Then there are all the early promises, and then those vanish too, together with the passion and with the image of the person himself. Lastly what you´re left with is an image of yourself when you were there, and overtime this serves no purpose at all. One key detail I remembered: I was obsessed with constellations as a young boy; I also used to step into the backyard with the map of the stars and would spend a long time on clear nights trying to find constellations. I am just hoping this gives me some insights about today; it does not, at least not yet.

Another memory: Summer of 2005 in Safed, Friday night walking around the old town after the sabbatical meal, the view of Galilee and that sky, open sky, bruised with as many stars as can fill any child´s mind, and the sounds… Young men, white shirts, lying on the ground of empty descending streets, just watching that broken and bruised sky. The next morning: The artists´ quarter and the religious Jew chasing after me for sexual favors. Hell, how immature I was then, but probably today I would act as erratically as well. I can´t remember if he was beautiful, but he was certainly desirable in every possible way. I wonder what could be of him today. I remember being so naïve as to look for him online once. This is but a sweet memory, so sweet. A few years later I passed by, or through somewhere very similar at least while on vacations with Nimrod at that beautiful hotel, the inner pool and the view of the Galilee with the wooden Jacuzzi outside. I smile again; I remember my shameless way to flirt with the Arab workers there.

This brings me to another topic: Men. It is funny to be gay and 26, and perhaps not one bit of the intellectual I used to be, however that is just a matter of practice. Now I fancy younger men, in fact, the youngest men, so young that they be desirable as soon as the young boys are old enough to start becoming adults. But it doesn´t end there: I still fancy mature men, but with less respect and more humor; and I think I am attracted to all kinds of men, each one his way, sort of the Bohemian lover type but a lot less patient or gentle. Then something awkward for me, or better for my prejudices: I don´t think I am not attracted to more feminine kinds of gay men, insofar as other standards are met. They´ve proven to be no less good or bad than more masculine acting men in sexual intercourse, and somehow they happen to be fascinating at times, loving, talkative, less prudish and less hypocritical. They know how to laugh. What I despise is certain type of sleaziness and the discotheque kind of guys. I will need a lot of days to get clear on this one. Well, this also has to do with Hugo, even though it is hard to talk about because I spent only one night with him, but then the same happened with Santiago, there was the same wit and charm, the same commitment of life at that very moment, but then no! I wish I had a way to complete my sentences now. Perhaps it is because Santiago never disappointed me, he angered me in crazed manners, but he never disappointed me. Never. 3 weeks to plan a life, full knowing that the plan might be shattered as soon as it is set into action. I might never reach the final destination, but after all this, which I´ve kept silent about for almost 3 years, that´s not so important. Threes, trees and teens. It seems pairs are good no more.