tatte in the mourning

andy, in a secret location in harvard sq —

besides thinking cup, there is now the tatte in harvard sq, i am able to sneak in without buying beverage or collation, and i sit in the back corner by the leather couches, a nice spot, and i get the occasional look from a cute boy waiting in line at the toilette. i've never seen bathroom action here, and suspect that it's not happening here, except for the occasional gay couple that storm the toilette, just for the thrill.

i can't see any hot guys here because i don't have the view of the bar, and it's too hectic, all day long, here and so i basically have to subordinate my libido to sublimation. thinking cup will be the exclusive spot on mon and wed, teaching days down by the river.

class was good yesterday, despite a 22/3 split of women to men. very queer. it's not my fault: i haven't taught a course like this at my present destination, and i haven't taught over there for 2 years: so i don't know. the course has the word "queer" in it and i imagine that it is probably considered an outdated (and hence deplorable) word to the baby dykes and twinks in enrollment. i never liked "queer," i always thought it was too political and doing too much "cultural work." i've always wanted my sexuality divorced from politics, hence the class having virtually no relationship to politics (which may be of some disappointment to the students).

Related: of the LGBTQIA+ i'm really only interested in the G, I have no interest in bisexuals, or even queer, which is too political for me, and too ambiguous and amorphous for me to feel committed. and in the end, i only want to sleep with someone who has a firm grasp of their sexuality, namely: G.

i will have to have sex soon, as i am jonesin' for a cock in my mouth. i got all hot and bothered with the rich situation (1369), and so i'll need to fulfill my punk fantasy with a good homosexual hipster (my forever type, and younger). i should probably go back to the bars, but from what i can see some have them have disappeared (covid), and i'm not sure maskless is acceptable in these loci. mask is unsexy, and in the end you don't know what the person looks like until they disrobe.

i have put the temporary kibosh on my own work, i'm tired and will need to defer for some months before i can return to that project, sober. i'd like to write some fictional works, like the torso talk, or add to this website, which i basically haven't touched for years. it was so fun to make this site, i think it has 1000 or so pages in it, with the twists and reversals. as i can see from the click paths, most visitors do not abide by my explicit instructions to pump up the jam and click-away with trashy dance music on. it must be frustrating to experience the website in the normal way, and this site was built to create an alternative experience of webpages. i'm a bit surprised over the years that wix hasn't nixed this site for its graphic sex but i suppose wix is hosting a bunch of sex sites, mine only barely noticeable because of its sexuality.

on the med front: i am seeing a nephrologist in a couple of weeks for dx of possible kidney damage due to lithium (which usually happens, eventually). of course i am ultimately worried that i have cancer, my late sister, molly, and i always imagined cancer in any interaction with the medical industry. i always go to diagnosis of cancer but molly went as far as death (though not beyond it). i still miss her, and consider her a tragedy must greater than my father's tragedy.

i've been totally stable for more than a year — really stable, almost boringly so — and my psychiatrist has suggested that perhaps i will never need to return to a hospital again. usually i have a good time at st elizabeth's, and ran into one of the nurses at market basket a couple of months ago, who opined that the staff missed me (though also hoped not to see me). it's a good floor, even better that i'm the sun (son) when i arrive there. i do strangely miss it, though all patients — including me — are pleading to be discharged once in the pen. i miss phil camp.

the mostly veiled thesis of this entry: i need sex play (blowjobs).

love love love, a pink