hoodlo cafe, backward gaze toward friendship

andy pink, tuluth, south dakota —

hair tossed, check my nails —

officially, there is no tension between me and mike at hoodlo cafe. i think perhaps he is intrigued/bored with the rotation of my various eyeglasses and sunglasses — 'what is special about this bloke?' — but i think he is probably straight and, given his age, probably has a girlfriend. in the aftermath of the patrick debacle i will refrain from chatting with him and simply enjoy my performance from a distance. i find it difficult to get work done in ula — not only because of mike — but it's just a loud environment though nicely outlined and designed. there is a narrow wooden table — noticeably narrow — that i sit at to be in vantage view of mike but there's certainly no interaction and the quantity and quality of gaze has recently diminished to zero. sadly, i am over him, i think the tension has dissolved, and i fondly remember his black flag tee which so charmed me even if i can't stand that entire genre of music nor its associations.

as for patrick: i can only quietly gloat to myself that i nicely put the douchebag in his place — boxed in — without any real recourse beyond brooding, worrying, and plotting. i win — or perhaps stalemate — so candidly. the sad part is i would really like to talk to him about this situation — at some point it will become amusing, and perhaps even a solidly happy memory for both of us. i'm still a bit sore from the treatment — psychical gay bashing, i suppose — but what ultimately bothers me has been the practical annoyance of avoiding the store and walking all the way down to mccdonald's essentially because this guy is homophobic. i almost can't believe this happened, and i'm surprised that i haven't really figured out a way to have maneuvered around the obstacle. i would really like to talk to the full faced brown girl — if only to tell her in exasperation that i must be the only person who actually cares about the guy, who even likes the guy, since she was happy to cover for him. she cannot possibly believe that he is not gay — she would have to be more sophisticated and shrewd than that — but i can't understand as a friend that she would enable this charade. it's not good for anybody, and a good friend helps someone who is struggling to come out, or work through the difficulty. i'm not annoyed with patrick because he's in the closet or finds it difficult — it's all the more charming for that — what bothers me is that he treated me cruelly, i can't quite forgive him for that, even given the context. but i do regret that we will never have a laugh about it, i think it's quite a story and i've had a bit of trouble symbolizing for those who have not followed the story closely. i think massive misunderstanding is really only a fraction of the story — it's more about this tale of two people trying to communicate with each other without bothering to communicate with each other. in a bit, it will be a happy memory and perhaps a story he can share with his boyfriend. and i have tried to avoid feeling sorry for p*trick — possibly because there is a strength to him that is visible — but the cowardice of his choice of lifestyle is truly pathetic, especially in a city in 2016. he's quite feminine — the guy i went out with this weekend would certainly reject him, as he did me, for that reason — and i'm not quite sure he could get away, convincingly, with such a charade. his gf must know, his friends, if he has any, would suspect, it's such an unnecessary farce that leaves everyone a bit uncomfortable — and, speaking of myself, confused.

but mike at hoodlo cafe is not interested in me beyond my facial decorations and so i will simply enjoy from afar, an interval, and cherish my time with him. kate finally figured out who the guy was and admitted as much that she didn't think he was attractive. he is sort of pudgy, short, and unremarkable looking — i think perhaps my entire fantasy of him is structured around his eyeglasses, which are lovely.

i should write about the idiot i went on a date with saturday night, to clover and then paradise, but i'm too exhausted to try to explain it — he, nick, essentially called me out for being too feminine — which i don't even see, though i don't see myself much on a daily basis — but it did sting a bit. i would say i simply don't perform gender — one way or the other — and that i'm neither masc nor fem but simply so much more interesting that any mere categorization of gender. nick was masc — stoic, still, constrained, and boring. but i did like him and imagined spending quality time with him for years to come. the bar is so low at this point.

i went down from 1050 to 900 on the lithium last night and i think i will return to better form in the next couple of days. i always have the haldol with me, so i shouldn't really get into trouble if i can remember to take it. the issue is: must reconcile myself to being a little more paranoid and anxious — within reason — at this lower dose, but the payoff is that i will be lighter in my soul, happier on my feet, and generally more creative and fiery.

i think the 'what is sex with patrick like' section is pretty good; it's amusing, solid, well done, and i should think that perhaps he would appreciate it from a distance even if it stings a bit. i wonder if he has that kind of perspective on his closeted sexuality — i doubt it.

i jerked off twice last night and the bare mattress is soaked. i would clean it with my tongue — but why bother — the latina cleaning ladies will be here at 2 to happily mop up the excess, with gloves.

the other dimension is that having read the site he must know that we would be a perfect match. honestly, i was very impressed with the kansas check-in — took me some time to pick up on that, though that may be because i've had endless troubles with various analytics programs. but — as right — he would know that we have the right sensibility and aesthetic together, he would be impressed that i was able to forecast that identification so quickly and early. afterward, he knows me quite well and, in turn, i know exactly who he is and — to be true — i still like him, yet i wouldn't want to spend much time with him, simply too many issues to unwind, i don't have the patience at my age.

dear patrick,

i think the worst part is that we both have to cope with the stickers every morning. i regret that operation, especially since it failed to lead you to the farm. i'm surprised that you haven't found stickers to cover over them with, perhaps you think i should own the shame. mostly, i don't, and i think of this entire displacement as a shameful illumination of your cut soul and uncomfortable body. it must be dreadful to face that every morning before the green apron — i wish you the best, as ever —

andy p

friends and neighbors, i am aggrieved,

for what we have managed to achieve —

the 141 was mean. he would realize — immediately — not only how intense i felt about him but also plainly how much energy and commitment i had put into trying to make him smile — and how much effort I exerted simply to ask him out to the science museum. 141 was cruel, and it was a mistake. i cannot wrap my mind around the offense he took to the site — wouldn't the proper response be flattery? real problems there.

love, andy