Time’s Encomium/For The Good Times

Not too long after writing my last journal entry, I quit Bank of America, and the horrible people it constituted. I left in my wake my lovely copy of Lolita in the hands of an obese, toothy coworker of mine named Omar, and my long awaited-for copy of John Cage: Writer, with my friend Rick, who I’m trying to locate on MySpace. In any case my body and my mind are much better for it, but my finances are in shambles, and I’m in debt up to my eyeballs. For about two weeks I have worried about work, and it wasn’t until yesterday that I did something about it. The job hunt is now on: I have submitted my résumé to a staffing agency in order to minimize the length that it would usually take in finding a menial job. Needless to say, I’m very terrified about what’s going to happen to me, but I am partially optimistic that good things will happen and that everything will come out in my favor.

I finally did something I thought I could never do: I stood up to Ryan and told him about what bothered me about his behavior. And he responded in the usual way, timid and unsure, while I interrogated him about our relationship. He said that while he liked me physically; that while I light him up sexually, he still didn’t feel the “spark” romantically. I was livid. “How could you not feel it?” I asked. “I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you know how much I love you. I think that’s just an excuse,” I said. “If anything you won’t love me because you’re not man enough to.” He said, “Well, at least you’re getting some balls on you to tell me what’s right and wrong.” I said, “Have I ever questioned anything you’ve ever done? Have I ever been critical of your actions and deeds?” He said, “No.” I said again to him, “I have always respected everything you have done; I have never treated you maliciously.” I made sure to quote a line from a folk song included in Luciano Berio’s Folk Songs: “I love the grass whereon you stand.” He got quiet and for a moment we just didn’t say anything to one another. I finally said, tearfully, “I’m going to give you an ultimatum: I want you to think about me and what I mean to you, and I want you to determine how important I belong in your life.” And I left it like that. Ryan went to New York City to attend a wedding; I called him twice, bored for conversation, and when I asked how we was doing replied that he didn’t honestly think about it. I knew from the way he was speaking that he was hurt too–hurt that he had hurt me, because of course he cares alot about me, so he doesn’t want me to feel bad on top of the things that had happened. I was depressed for the most of August, for one reason or another.

This is my position on the whole Ryan situation: I honestly believe that in order for us to ’survive’, I need to be physically up there with him. And he agrees with me. There would be nothing more pleasureable than to see him at least one weekend, and to come over to his house on the weekends, and just live together for those two to three days that I would be away from school. Romantic inclinations aside it would be really enjoyable to have him around, since we get along well together. And I think for the most part I would escape the dreary situation I’ve been exposed to ever since I got back from Lubbock. It would a great chance to explore other opportunities with someone as lovely and as enjoyable as he. But for now, all I can do is apply myself to that dream, and get a new job soon, and God willing, I will be back next to him.

Mother’s still recovering from the contingincies of July and their aftereffects: her wound, which once threatened amputation and necrosis, is still tender, but otherwise is almost healed over. She leaves in the mornings to attend Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy, and returns around the early afternoon. It’s been like this for some time now. She will be all ready to return to her beloved domain of work in October. I cannot blame her for feeling depressed about not working. It is an unbiblical, undesireable feeling. I for sure know I wouldn’t want to be without money, as I am now. I have learned so many lessons.

On other fronts, I’ve been dealing with friends and their life choices and outcomes of it, and I’ve been companion to new things and opportunities opening up for people. I met Saul Sandoval at work some months ago and we’ve been talking and hanging out. He’s 26. What started out as a really cool, interesting relationship has now developed into something akin to therapist to patient, with Saul officiating as therapist, dispensing sometimes unwanted advice and otherwise making me feel as if all sorts of things are wrong with him. I did have slight feelings for him, but those have been effaced away. I now spend my time trying to avoid his presence or situations with him. I had asked him about a way to lose weight, so he introduced me to the world of low-carb foods, which he swears are the panacea of obesity. He used to be bigger, too, so I think his own personal philosophy of not being “negative” or “critical” goes to his advantage. Saul, I think, is my polar opposite in everything. He seemingly has everything that I don’t have: a car, self-esteem; hell, sometimes, I think he’s better at writing than I am. He demonstrated his authority by telling me that my work seemed “slow” or that it tended to “drift aimlessly” with no point whatsoever. I’ve read his work, and I think it’s fairly good. Saul was reluctant to say anything good about my pieces, but said that I “was good”. When I wrote some pieces based on cut-up technique, he refused to read them.

We went to Austin over the weekend, after he expressly said that he wouldn’t take me along because I managed to make him feel uncomfortable, and I reckon that will be the last time I will ever go out with him again. I cannot have for a friend someone who can’t include me or simply won’t because of his other friends. All along the way he made me feel as if I was someone in the background, whilst he talked to his friend Daisy, whom we stayed with while up in that city. Saturday we walked around the main city and took in the sights and The Capitol, which was refreshing. I saw the lovely fountain drawn up from the main artesian well, which was refreshing. After a somewhat tasteless dinner with friends, we did Sixth Street. I was apprehensive about going into a trendy gay bar, which is what we did. I was neglected and angry for the most of the night. We left and visited other bars, and at one I met a very nice bartender who happened to originate from Ryan’s hometown-area, and who also happened to be one of Ryan’s old neighbors. She might have even known him. I dropped his name right and left, and everyone thought I was classy and refined.

After a breakfastless morning at a local restaurant seemingly run by the modeling crew of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue, we went home. I slept til one. They had lunch (he offered to pay and I flatly refused) at some desolate barbeque restaurant, and then we started out for home. I said to him in the car, “I don’t think we should do this again.”

I intend to make that promise expressly clear the next time he goes out.

I am now deciding what to do with him, because, to be perfectly honest, I cannot bring myself to be next to him. The next time I am it will be brief and short and I will wish him well. As for any continuances of friendship, however, I think I am not inclined to. I can’t be dependent on him for continous emotional outlet. I can’t do that to people anymore. I have to find a way of expressing my emotions–all the pain and anger and remorse and resent and bitterness–into something that is more productive and resourceful. I have learned the ultimate lesson that I am not a helpless child anymore, but a man who is not acting like one. I Now I have a mandate to be upright and do all that I can to make sure that I don’t find myself in such a bad position in life.

I don’t recall ever being in such a precarious position before; I feel, as in other times I have experienced this, like my whole life is before me as if like some inaccessible and far landscape, and I am standing before the chasm that seperates me from it, and I am presently leaping into space to reach the other side. I leave behind me the excess and uselessness of the summer, and all its empty desires, and long for a simpler, more conventional life.

I know that if I keep on striving, I can get back to where I was, without anymore delays or (in this case) intrusions. I place all my dreams and desires in the Hands of He who made me, and wish for the best.