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Oct. 21st, 2006
Homo Alone on a Saturday Night
Oct. 21st, 2006 08:43 pmThe 80s CD my mom sent me -- which Kevin hates with a passion -- is now in the stereo. Thick, buttery slices of white bread in the gut; second cup of tea with honey on its way down the gullet. Absolutely nothing on TV, absolutely no desire to read or rent a movie. Boyfriend away with old colleagues from the comic book shop he worked for years ago -- drinking in a pub downtown. David Bowie suggesting I might fall into his arms and tremble like a flower.
Today, a walk down Brick Lane, past the pouting & posing hipsters. Lunch from the Baigel shop: turkey with cream cheese, and a can of lemonade. Tesco shopping. Bus home. Kevin's clippers going up and down his head, then the scissors chop chop chopping the bits sticking up, the return of Vanilla Ice.
I remember, years ago, spending my Sundays on Livejournal, listening to Virgin Radio's 80s party. Eyes without a face after too many hours in front of the laptop. Some of those LJ friends are no longer here. I wonder if they just got bored... or died. When you are gone, who will treat your cyber life as worthwhile? Who will let us know you are gone?
My best friend in Brasil, Henrique, moved to Germany (to live with his girlfriend) and hasn't written or replied to my e-mails. Months now. I wonder how he is doing. I've had other best friends which I lost along the way -- some because I assumed they wouldn't want to know I was gay, others because we didn't have the internet back then nor letter-writing relationships. I hear one of them is now a father. I've been known to stalk the past through Google.
Today, a walk down Brick Lane, past the pouting & posing hipsters. Lunch from the Baigel shop: turkey with cream cheese, and a can of lemonade. Tesco shopping. Bus home. Kevin's clippers going up and down his head, then the scissors chop chop chopping the bits sticking up, the return of Vanilla Ice.
I remember, years ago, spending my Sundays on Livejournal, listening to Virgin Radio's 80s party. Eyes without a face after too many hours in front of the laptop. Some of those LJ friends are no longer here. I wonder if they just got bored... or died. When you are gone, who will treat your cyber life as worthwhile? Who will let us know you are gone?
My best friend in Brasil, Henrique, moved to Germany (to live with his girlfriend) and hasn't written or replied to my e-mails. Months now. I wonder how he is doing. I've had other best friends which I lost along the way -- some because I assumed they wouldn't want to know I was gay, others because we didn't have the internet back then nor letter-writing relationships. I hear one of them is now a father. I've been known to stalk the past through Google.
