Thursday, May. 02, 2002 - 8:24 p.m.
Briefs On The Soul Of Writ
“It’s been a week, you know,” Joey intoned, accusingly, on the phone this afternoon.“Huh?” I said, confused, wondering what I’d forgotten to do now.
“Since you last updated.”
“Oh, yeah,” said I. Duh.
***Now that I’m on this schedule of “creative writing” daily (one hour every weekday, two hours a day on weekends), there’s little time left over for online journaling. I don’t intend to cease QS altogether, I don’t think, but entries shall be sporadic for a while, dependent solely on finding fuck-the-dog time at work.
***Oh yeah, and by the way, ladies and gents, I’d like you to meet Cyrus.
***Stuff I Wish I Had Time To Write Up
1. An Unforgettably Odd Orgasm (brought about by Cyrus’s dick rubbing against mine for an extended period, finalized, unbelievably, by the accidental friction of my wrist as I masturbated him)
2. What It’s Like Discussing Queer As Folk Each Week With My (Straight Female) Boss
3. Watching My Old High School Buddy Scott Have Gay Sex in the Canadian Arctic (in Monday night’s dream)
4. The Various Intensifications of Cyrus and Me
5. Almost A Year To The Day Later, I’ve (Slightly) Reinjured My Shoulder (I believe the message here is to renounce working out with weights, permanently; Cyrus says he’d love to give me some swimming lessons….ahem….and he gives a fabulous rub, let me tell ya, and he’s got a bottomless supply of, um, massage lotion at his, um, fingertips…)
6. Almost A Year To The Day Later, Mick Resurfaces (thankfully, indirectly: back in the city I used to live in, he’s apparently just got a job where Matt’s lover Trevor works. Matt’s the extremely jealous type and I shaln’t be surprised if Mick attempts to seduce Trevor)
7. Playing Footsie (and Kneesie) With Cyrus In A Café Last Weekend (giggling like schoolgirls)
8. Cyrus’s Bold Claim: The Ability To Clench One Sphincter Without Clenching The Other (of which I eagerly await the proof)
9. Witnessing a Deadly Hit and Run On A Busy City Street, Chasing The Car to a Nearby Shopping Mall Where Four Thugs Got Out, Writing the License Plate Number On My Hand, Being Noticed, Being Chased Into The Mall Where I Hid In A Men’s Clothing Store Change Room, The Older Austrian Salesman, Obviously A Homo, Standing Outside The Change Room Eyeing Me Lasciviously; Getting A Blow Job, I Thought, Would Be A Fabulous Way To Pass The Time Till The Danger Passed (awaking from this dream at 1 am today, I did my bit to mark International Masturbation Month)
