More weekend life in Fag City. Too many fiery cigarettes, glaring. Talking about boys from the past, gin drinks. Sex on a pile of Casio keyboards. On the floor. Naps to keep myself nocturnal. Panic, danger, and intrigue. I felt, on Friday, very invisible. Like a vapor. By Sunday I felt so bodied and real that I had to run out of the grocery store rather than say hello. Sort of scary to realize that other people can see you. I felt like an empty fishbowl, but realize now that I just live in one. Today is a weird week. Big things at work. Crush on coworkers. Travel, lunch, decorations, contracts. Organizing! Fag City is humming with our effort to put away our preserves for winter! Creating catalogs. Cataloging as a past-time. Hobby.
Jessica gave me a new haircut and I like what I'm seeing.