and fling it from the top of the brill building

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new york was good, full of tasty food and old friends, of laughing until my stomach hurt. i got salt water on my face & realized how much i’d been craving it. now all i need is some seaweed in my mouth & i’d be good. riding the train back to the city to meet up with sheena & emily for indian food & then greyhound for the long ride home, i didn’t look out the window at all. i used to be distracted by the window, fascinated by everything. now i can ignore it. it isn’t mine anymore. ironically, while on the train i was reading an essay by sarah schulman about gentrification in nyc and was dumbstruck by this sentence: “i stayed put, and my home left me.”

now i am back home, quote-unquote, and it sucks and i’m not entirely sure why. well, right now i am at work and surrounded by extreme negativity & cloudy skies, but other than that there’s no real reason. the 48 hours or so since my return have been full of friends, intense crusty trannies covering “papa was a rodeo” at a house show & having my hair stand on end because of it, laffs, halfway-decent books, good movies, writing well, cooking well. it’s like, what else do i need. well. it takes a long time for me to react to things that have happened to me. i go through months of being numb & surviving before i can really feel things. & now, all of a sudden, i am experiencing the true heartbreak of this year.

this year has been all about betrayal by my nearest & dearest. it’s been about a month since the last bad thing & now i am finally feeling it all. when i was in the thick of the bad things, i was focused on survival. i was trying to feel okay, and it often worked. but it was distraction. not absolution. i wish i could be honest about what i need, about what i want to do, without people freaking out. this year has been about facing unpleasant truths. this year has been about things that i thought were solved years ago rearing their ugly heads. this year has reminded me that what i thought was over will never be over.

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