091922
The unnervingly immaculate hipsterismat new-age ethnic joints like Woon, where Gen Z nonbinaries wear pink buzzcuts and baggy tees and munch on deep-fried ice cream bao in front of two chinese scroll paintings, in an almost-too-pleasant airy corner property lit by an ambivalent sun in Rampart Park, teetering on the edge of overt gentrification, in the waning evening light…
The recliner on ori and lukas’ eastside balcony, looking up from the valley to griffith park (where ori says there’s a serial lyncher afoot), always reliably covered in a layer of anonymous dirt, too thick to be called dust, that i have to sweep away with a paper towel before i sit down;
The unexpected and eerie turbulence of a delayed flight from burbank to sfo, black as night, landing at 11pm during an unseasonably rainy sunday night in september;
The smoke filled incense haZe of akbar (really probably vape juice from a fog machine) hanging with a stillness in the air under vaulted moorish arches, over throngs of faceless gay men swaying to uneven techno;
The sterile warmth emanating from korean coffeeshop Maru, los feliz haunt with a line at all times, the interior cheugy with a 2010s minimalism that fell out of style with normcore, the coffee decisively perfect, the clientele all wearing capital F Fits, where you have to cross 6 lines of traffic like frogger, classically LA;
The silly snobbishness of mediocre Peruvian-Japanese chain NOBU, resting on a pristine balcony overlooking the coast of Malibu, with their middling and strange tuna-asparagus roll, their famously pedestrian black miso cod, their chocolate soufflé a la a 13 year old at olive garden; the tall bleach-blonde girls encased in their bodycon dresses seemed to have to be cornfed, no semblance of the LA-born acumen or intuitive taste that would preclude them from wearing such showy outfits, having such egregious plastic surgery, or dining at such a laughably subpar restaurant.
091322
all caught up on moodring, on Amy and Claudia's lives... a moth harasses me in my bedroom as I try to lengthen this day, make it last forever, tomorrow morning I must work.New York seems so messy and tumultuous, I feel astute for recognizing that that kind of life doesn't actually suit me, doesn't bring me happiness, although once I thought it might. for the first time I feel really secure, like ketamine but in real life, in my life and in my relationship, although I could use some more friends (particularly ones who are interested in the things I am interested in.) it feels like my life is a dream, when I think about it I really can't believe I get to be in love like this, I can't believe he feels the way he does about me. I said to him the other night, "who am I to get to experience this?" and he said, why not you? it reminded me of conversations with my therapist—I feel so undeserving of love, so used to being alone, so incredulous that someone might actually like me, in a serious way, for me, and not because I am abstractly hot, or cool... it is a lot to wrap my head around, and hard to get used to. it upsets me a bit that so many people seem to not have this problem—seem to expect that someone should and will love them, that they deserve a healthy relationship, how did they become like that? I don't take anything for granted, not even when he puts new liners in the trash can, when he gives me a ride home, when he holds my hand when I cry... that someone would ever go out of their way to do anything for me is hard for me to believe...
I related so much to Amy's writing about wanting to dissect her personality and find the parts that were attractive, in order to sculpt herself more into whatever someone might desire. that always reminds me of these wilco lyrics that I'm relatively sure I'm misinterpreting: Oh, it's okay for you to say what you want from me / I believe that's the only way for me to be / Exactly what you want me to be. with Jason I said the other day that I feel like my whole life I've been criticized and punished for being myself — at home, with friends, in school — and I have struggled to be me despite all that, and it makes me so happy to feel that he appreciates who I am and have decided to be. I joked, "take it or leave it," and he said "I'll take two..." I feel so lucky, and not particularly deserving...charese said I deserved love, and I said "right...because everyone does, right?" she said I deserve love because I'm me, and why do I have to make it about everyone else, and just let her appreciate me for being me... I started to cry on zoom...
every second im with him feels like magic, it feels like I get sucked into a vortex and only when he leaves do I feel returned to earth, to my normal life that I have been building for myself over the past couple years. it feels like I've unlocked a new level, love is like this drug or a new pair of glasses that adds a different dimension to all life's experiences. I am excited to go to boiler room with Jason, it will be fun to rave together, a new adventure.
the other weekend there was a heat wave. he came over on saturday and I had thunk myself into a weird mood, not helped by my karaoke hangover. just his excitement to see me and his positive energy was enough to make me feel so much better, and I resolved to not let too much time pass in between seeing him, because my brain begins to adjust to life without him, maybe I start to feel rejected or something and it causes some aloofness, maybe even some resent. we did some shrooms and went to golden gate park and painted, with blankets and crackers and cheese. when it got cold we walked to ploy Thai in the haight and got the table by the window. I felt so enchanted that night, it was so special to spend time with him after even just a few days, totally enamored. on sunday morning we went to the farmers market and got a bunch of veggies, I made some veggie sandwiches and then we went to mile rock beach, sat on an outcropping and painted some more. when we came back we headed to San Bruno, where it was a hot hot night, atypical for the peninsula. I felt a tad bored, maybe restless with the heat, and proposed several ideas for things to do together (book a last-minute flight, get ice cream, take a blood oath.) we resolved to hop the fence next door and check out the unobstructed view from the hill, and also fuck outside, which satisfied my desire for adventure and intensity. I tore my leg while hopping the fence, but it was less painful than I thought, and felt kind of good. on monday we drove to la honda to check out an art fair in the redwoods—it was so sweet to do that with him, I dont feel any pressure at all to come up with interesting ideas for things to do together, but also we just end up doing so many cool things together—I didn't realize there were so many things that I wanted to do that I probably wouldn't end up doing alone. I like to think that I can and will do everything alone, and many things I do, but it is so nice to have him as a friend to do things with, things that my other friends probably wouldn't be super interested or invested in. im finally coming around to the feeling that it actually is nice to do things with someone you love, and in many cases preferable...before I would say things like, "its equally as enjoyable but just different to do it alone," and I still think doing things alone is really important, but sometimes it is nice to be loved...
after the art fair we went to the beach, where I fell asleep on him and awoke to the sunset. we got dinner at a silly italian diner to kill time and avoid traffic, and came back to mine via his to sleep. on tuesday the weather was so beautiful, we worked from home from golden gate park, the little table in the golden grove next to the conservatory of flowers. later, his friends came over and we played games into the night, before he left at 3am he said he loved me, of his own volition . . . (after the other, first time, when he laughed at me for being crazy and circuitous and convoluted, trying to both say I loved him but also get him to say it without really saying anything, like a child)
this saturday I was bumming about the walk, I finally told him how I was feeling and cried, a bit of a catharsis, and even though he didn't say anything in response I oddly needed no words (I mean, what can words do anyway...) but it just felt so good to be held and comforted by someone who I (finally) believe actually cares about me and loves me. we talked about doing things for several hours but did nothing, just made out and canoodled, finally at 1:30am after skipping dinner we made blueberry pancakes and ate them with peanut butter, cookie butter, and syrup, then we painted over a canvas we picked up off the street the other week until 4:30am, when we fell asleep in a pile of blankets downstairs. sunday morning we went back to the farmers market, I made gazpacho and we ate it outside on the patio in the strangely overcast but warm weather, accompanied with some toast and some free apple cider. we made some shroom tea and walked through the park, somehow for over four hours, traveling by Kezar stadium, through the music concourse, all the way up strawberry hill, returning at 10:30pm to make dinner (early by our standards). after a silly dinner of raw fennel (recommended strongly by michael's family friend some months ago), miso mushrooms, oriental polenta, and crispy kale, he left, shortly before 1am. coming up is many more concerts, I am traveling to LA this weekend, and hopefully some more socializing, with friends new and old...I am so excited to see him again, spend more time with him and get to know him better, there is so much to know, so much to learn, so much to do...
090822
feeling good about life, and about love, who left under cover of darkness last night, like a mystery, mi amor...090122
a new chapter, it feels like. when I returned from my travels it felt like we were distinctly in some new chapter, one after the one that immediately followed college. less allegiance to college bonds, more drifting, new and unfamiliar terrain ahead, or something. it occurred to me that I have more or less been gone since February—save for a six-week stint I did here with many, many visitors in April, between Mexico City round 1 and a month of music festivals. where does the time go? I feel myself sinking into a sort of funk, probably not uncommon for this time of year, but definitely somewhat unwanted. I'm not sure what it is, other than the ants, but im trying to sit with it and observe, non-judgmentally, like charese says to. today is my grandma's 90th birthday, and she massaged my head all day. there is a heat wave coming this Labor Day weekend, I'm hoping San Francisco will be happy, but either way I will get very drunk at karaoke tomorrow to avoid feeling my feelings, and to that I am looking forward.I carried some rooted basil all the way home on MUNI from the mission, and after I planted it in vain I watched it die an inevitable death, leaf after leaf dropping into the pot. a pile of dirt sits on my coffeetable. I went to karaoke at gray area for an sf arts staff mixer, where I made a new arty friend from oakland. we got drunk on sangria at radio habana and talked to all the strange locals who frequent the place, lurk. the next week at the opening we went upstairs so he could roll a spliff, laughably large beanbags and whiteboards abound in their second-floor office, like a startup office with impeccable mood lighting, a hazy red, green, purple glow emanating from every corner. when we went back to his apartment in Oakland, listening to a shintaro sakamoto record as I flipped through a book of his sketches, he tried to hit on me, which I politely declined, a very unfamiliar feeling, unfamiliar situation, at least from the past few years. "I love how your mind works," he kept saying, reminding me of robby's comments to Amy on some recent summer night in New York. I smoked a bunch of weed one friday and had a creative breakdown, after failing to paint two ideas I had, but remembered the CE artists and their complete, unbridled freedom, and it inspired me to make a mark. later that night I pointlessly indulged in some adderall and cocaine to keep me up through an altogether mundane night, no doubt due to some frantic desire for euphoria and excitement, some as-yet undelivered satisfaction, some need for speed. something to get me out of this funk, before I even recognized it as a funk... I got dinner with Darren at the chaat place across from Michael's that's open til 1am, a fascinating joint that evades description, a dive, swanky restaurant, late-night haunt, somewhere in between... when Jason told me he loved me, sideways, I broke my glasses, and got them fixed at the warby in Hayes on a monday afternoon, the unexpected heat burning me through my richmond sweater. I got a cappuccino from yuppie market, instead of ritual, because that guy is cancelled. in golden gate park I lay on Jason in the grass after we filled ourselves on dim sum and italian rum cake, the sun slowly succumbing to a fog, a bit of a melancholy post-high haze as he dropped me back off at home... I am now CPR trained, and im cold on weed these days, besides the fact ive smoked basically every day for the past couple weeks...I like smoking alone, save for the paranoia, and with my friends, and while out, in moderation, but im not sure how I feel about smoking with a lover, or at least one that I like to feel sexy around and close to, weed makes me dissociate and often feel anxious, unless I am in stable and sincere company, like ori, or Michael. Michael is leaving Helio for a sleepover while he goes to LA (!), and next week I have to go to the suicide prevention walk with my family that always makes me emo. good luck to me this lovely September...
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