2004-04-24
4:02 p.m.

a gorgeous Sunday w/o Ryan

In-fucking-credible.

Suddenly Clarice no longer hears the screaming of the lambs.

Today feels less like Sunday without Ryan and more like Sunday with Seth. A few people offered some observations and gave me some real thought provoking questions, AWA and G&P in particular. Then there's a support that even the author would not have guessed the impact. Chickpea981 had me listed as a favorite and her comment on me in her profile is: "recovering from heartbreak". The word that struck me was recovering. It's a hopeful word. I can't wait for her to be able to change that participle to recovered!!!

Is this a corner turned today? Oh please don't let it be a false hope!

Last night was fun. I was convivial, didn't drink too much, and just the freakin' funnest life of the party. SB is doing far better than I expected. Her biggest challenge now is walking, but she doesn't need the walker anymore. She loved the book and the story that went behind it. (It isn't just autographed, it's autographed TO HER. Go me!)

This morning I had a lovely bone and worked it. The LO was lying right there next to me. Rather than a fist hump I lay on my back and had a proper dry wank, thumb across the back and fingertips strategically placed on the meaty belly of my crank. I thought about Philip, that young guy at work I spoke about earlier. It wasn't a story being concocted (could have had fun with that word but won't), it was simply his mounting me missionary, gracefully sliding in, and sensuously pumping away. When I shot, boy did I shoot! My load -- and I have a copious load (that Ryan never lost a drop and swallowed it all greedily without the slightest gag is proof of just how straight and ultra-conservative Christian he is. Yeah, right.) -- uh, I lost the thread. Oh, my wad this morning. It hit my chin, just out of tongue's reach. Damn. I told you I'm a shooter. I wiped what I could off my goatee with my finger, and went back to sleep. I could have gotten out of bed then, but preferred to spoon up with the LO, so that's what I did.

I'm still on the hunt for a good look alike of him (Philip). I found this one this morning. It's the closest I could find. Philip is a fair deal more beefy, broader of shoulder, and better of haircut.

I've downloaded a fair bit of porn today, but I also got a lot of errands run, papers shuffled (still tons left to do there. Bleh (as Ryan used to write. Up North it's more of a throat clearing blech).

Oh, for future reference, I can now confidently refer to Ryan as distinct from JWB.

Ryan was frighteningly observant, sweet, doting, obsessed with me, and the best kisser. Neither of us had ever made love before. On parting he always told me he loved me, even if it was mouthing it from a distance or through the windshield of his car. He had a social conscience and a hunger for learning. He's more musically gifted than anyone I have ever known (with non-bow string instruments, but given his prowess at kissing, the deft of his hands, and the way he sucks cock like a pro, I'll bet that given the chance he could learn brass or woodwind in minutes. I mean that literally. And he can't read music. For him it's all ear. I handed him a dulcimer once. He goofed with it for a few seconds then started playing the most beautiful song. I said, "Babe, what was that?" He said, "Dunno. Just made it up." Bastard. Then gave me one of those grins that made me melt, and as he saw me melt, he leaned over, grabbed the back of my head, pulled me to and kissed me. On parting from the kiss he stroked my face, gave me the eyes, and mouthed, "I love you."

Now honestly, people, which part of that would you not cave for? Are there any questions as to why, after 5 years of being treated like furniture, fell head over heels? For fuck's sake he'd been chasing, flattering, fawning, worshiping me for 2 years when I caved. He was so good and attentive to me. He knew the tiniest details of my habits, could read my moods, all kinds of shit like that. Does it mean anything, do you think, when you find someone wearing your clothes (without asking to borrow)? (For het readers (not counting transvestism) one of the cool things about being queer is that if your partner just right you can double your wardrobe! Woohoo! (or woowee! as Ryan used to say.))

I'm enjoying this entry. Remembering Ryan is fun now (or today).

JWB is a scary, selfish, irrational coward. There was no glide from hither to yon. I suspect that in his weakness last summer (drugged up no less) his even scarier hard shell Southern Baptist vagina dentata of a mother refused therapists and forced evangelists upon him. He was weak. He'd been Campus Outreach, fled that because it's bogus. He is intellectual, but I suspect BP like me, yet worse, and he fled to me, with whom he already had a crush. At the time I wasn't aware. I mean, for crying out loud, he'd started courting me way before he broke with them. I had a bomb on my hands and didn't know it.

He gave me what I needed. Plus he's worthy of the love I gave him. Ryan is amazing. The next phase of my hurt is regret. I didn't reach him. I saw shit going on within him, but didn't try hard enough to act. I didn't want to lose the endorphins he supplied me with. I was addicted to him as he was with me.

**Real life cracker drama out my window. Excuse the pause ... Mommer caught the skank (granddaughter to my across the street neighbors) smoking dope with her skank cracker boyfriend smoking dope in his car. They walked. There were words. Now the three of them are in his car. Who knows where they're going or what for. Living in the South is so tragic. And to think they just came from Jesus-Wejus church.**

Well, that's where Ryan's from, so JWB is not a surprise. What IS a surprise should be that over-educated Seth fell for yet a THIRD Southerner. Dumb-ass me.

This is partly why I'd gotten into Civil War reenacting. I get to shoot at Secesh without repurcushuns. Dennis, Vic, Ryan. Three times, you're out. Besides, I've got the LO. Now that (after 6 years) he's done obsessing with his career (though old habits will be hard to break), I'll break them.

Quitting smoking, cutting way down on drinking, getting exercise, caring again about my work, back to meditation, physical therapy for my arm, returning to volunteer work at the animal shelter... I need these things. They will cure my psoriasis, calm me, make me able to have more erections than just the REM induced ones.

SO HOW COME DON'T I?

JWB has turned me into such a loser. I loved and trusted and believed (and believed in) Ryan so much. More than anyone ever. I was totally vulnerable. I suppose he was as well. As a 22 year old man, he's not a boy, but he is still searching. He found me. Not an easy touch like all his others. I was a challenge to him, as G&P said. He had to work for me. Plus I am way, way, more than heads and shoulders beyond the easy pickings (he used to only go for former unfucked 'girlfriends', or just 'friends' whom he knew crushed on him. Easy touches. Me? Not so easy. Plus, I'm a man.

His game got him deeper than he'd ever been. He panicked. From Jan. to July he went through 7 girls that I know of. Guys? Damifino. They gave it up, and once given off you go. Except me. I'm the constant. Or was. Who's he doing now? Can't say. But it's someone, I sure. This Calvinism shit is a ruse, and he knows it, and it will mean another suicide attempt, but I fear not a gesture this time.

There's my real quandry in the end. Ryan: love, miss, respect, admire, want the world for beyond expression. Take a bullet by force if necessary. JWB: fuck off and stay there. In the middle of all that is someone beautiful. I can't get him there. I so wish I could! He's so wonderful!

So I've spent 3 hours on this entry, and gone through as many matinis, triples as I'm wont.

Fuck.

But I do feel freer than ever. Ryan I miss, JWB I'm emotionally safe from, but there's something in the middle of him, someone in the midst of his violent pendulum swings, that is so worth holding out for, not as a life partner (for me), but just an extremely beautiful, amazing being. I want him to continue. If he doesn't take his own life, he'll come/speak back to me again.

I love Ryan. He's gone. I wish him peace.

Sex stories, or emotional next best thing stories will no doubt appear, but he's my Ryan.

News of JWB may or may not appear. I may or not learn of it.

Please let my heart have settled in this quiet place. I don't heal fast. Scars always are left. This will be the biggest scar, if it ever heals enough to scar. I have my doubts.

**The car's back, he's missing, and on door opening shrieking banshee mother emerged. And man is that daughter, like her mother, a banshee! I've never heard a bitch so loud! She can be inside that house, windows closed, and I can hear her! Skanky daughter is walking up the street, brushing her long oily hair from her face as she goes.**

The house next door has been up for sale for almost a year now. The pud teen kid a few houses down used to take her there. The back door was unlocked. I went over there once after they'd left, hoping to find a jizz filled condom or something indicative that they'd fucked. I'd have jerked off there had that been the case. But all I found was the smell of dope. Damn. This wasn't the pudge today, it was a fellow skank. You know they've fucked. Seeing the two together I can see it all, all unerotically all. Yuck.

And fuck. I wanted to take the opportunity to round up all my few sex toys and take a snappy. I will soon. Chris wants a tour and I want to give him one. A tour too. :-p

Aren't there sex toy parties, not unlike Tupperware (registered trademark... what's the key combo for that symbol?) parties?

We need a nap now.

I was about to ask if any college (or even HS) students who read this rag of mine have their own diaries and want to share. I'd really like to hear. (and not for just salacious reasons!)

Yeah me!

Ryan = lover
JWB = lost boy
the real man yet nameless = I fear for him, I love him, I admire him, I want him in my life in whatever capacity.

Unfortunately I'm not a white or black kind of guy. Everything depends. Life is gray in various shades. Nor is anything static.

If you think that, you are a fool.

Wakey wakey.

Love me, lust me, lump me, or leave me. Or hump me. (I forgot that option.)

I'm Seth, dammit. I ain't got nothin' else to offer.

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encroaching increase of darkness - 2008-11-02

Bones - 2008-09-20

random bitchings and musings - 2008-07-09

Man with Huge Cock - 2008-07-04

Eric and other crazy shit - 2008-06-29

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Thinkin' 'bout: Sam, but only the second of the day!

Dog(s) keeping me company: shit left to be done

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