May 1996

I flipped a coin. I'm going back to Chicago. The idea of staying frightens me. Staying anywhere. I'm going back, though tomorrow I will have reached a new decision. Either Bell will have to come live with mom or she needs to marry. I cannot take on the responsibility of watching over her. I can't believe I lasted this long. I might as well face the fact that pain will be a part of life whether I am here or in Chicago. Waiting for my push out into the real world. Still.

Or maybe not. Maybe I'm going to fink out of every decision and every plan for the rest of life. After everything Chicago taught me about pride I remain in the closet here. I have no one to tell my heartaches and pains to. Jhonna talks only about her life, her family. Robert is all about drugs and raves. Chicago is too big. Modesto is too small.
At work I had to take down a customer's driver's license number when I noticed his August birthday.
'Are you a Leo?' I asked.
"Yeah," he answered.
'Me, too.'
"Maybe we should go for drinks to celebrate our birthdays," he suggested and left the store.
I stood there and wondered if he'd been flirting, this older attractive man. He came in again on another occasion. Once more we chatted, and this time he scribbled something down on the back of a receipt and handed it to me. "Here, this is for you," he said. My heart fluttered with excitement. When he left I turned the paper over. He'd merely written his name on it- Cliff. Yet, no number.
The next time Cliff came in he wore his freedom rings around his neck. I found myself asking, 'What are you doing this weekend?' And wondered where exactly I was going with this. He told me he has a lover and we continued to talk about leather, Gurnville, and a spectrum of other random yet familiar gay topics. This time he gave me his number.
Yesterday Cliff came in to pick up some photographs and his smile and eyes sent me blushing, arousing me. It's almost embarrassing. But I have no intention of being "the other woman".
At the college I have met Rodney, another gay Assyrian, which is wonderful. Only he's kind of pushy and comes on a little too strong. I have to tell him to take it easy. It's not like I'm going to give it away. At least not sober!
As far as school goes, I hate the way my teachers (don't) teach. Especially Higgs, my African-American Literature instructor. He is white and arrogant, provocative. He reminds me of Lee. He pulled me aside one afternoon and said, "Try not to be so sensitive. But stay sensible."

How wrong I was to think that the older I'd get the better my grip on life! Everyone tells me I need a college degree to make it in life. What does that mean? And if I don't get a degree what will become of me? I wonder where the attitude that will take me to my dreams is? And to think that returning to Chicago will make things better is ludicrous. As always I would lug my uncertainties with me. I suppose that's why they call it "baggage". Well, I'm packed and ready to go!

Busy fighting reality. Let's face it, I've got a big city personality refusing to put up with small-town authority. Music and reading, as always, are what keep me going. I daydream the silliest things. I dream really hard! I love everyone enough to keep me going for months to come. My memories remain my jewels. I'd have things no other way.

Went to The Brave Bull again. Gary the bartender kept buying me drinks. Another boy- asshole!- gave me two hickies. Cliff was there. We made out. Boyd gave me his number and was teddy-bearish. Alexis used to me a man, offered to cut my hair, and flirted fiercely. Martin who is also Assyrian and gay helped subside my hickies with ice and makeup. Now I'm home feeling like a slut. But what a good time. Oh, Eno the Spaniard whom I know from the college was there. Another big flirt!
Lost in Chicago. Noticed in Modesto.
I can smell his breath and cologne on me.

William and I jerked each other off in a bathroom stall at the college. Then I rushed off to Screenwriting where everyone read one another's scripts out loud. Mine was read by a girl who is rather annoying.
I had to interrupt her, 'Excuse me, is this rude? But I'd rather read that myself.'
I got encouraging looks from a couple fellow writers.
'It's bad enough without someone butchering it,' I added and got up and took the script from the girl.
I read the dialogue as was described, with a British dialect and some emotion. When I was finished everyone applauded.
When I finally got home Cliff called. We talked and laughed. And once we'd gotten past all the bullshit I said, 'I've jerked off thinking about you, Cliff.' We talked dirty and masturbated on the phone. It was very sexy and hot. Erotic.

Jhonna and I took an Amtrak up to the Bay Area where we met her aunt Corless and Corless' partner Beth. On the train we met a young man named Johnny who had a bottle of tequila, which he shared with us. We invited a young Indian woman to sit with us. Her name was Shabi. Shabi was a twenty-seven-year-old nurse and did not drink. I took pictures. Once we met up with Corless and Beth we let them take over. Jhonna and I sat in the back of their car and took in the beautiful Northern California landscape. About an hour after leaving San Francisco we pulled into Gurnville, a small town north of San Francisco tucked in the hills, where the gay community retreats to get away on weekends and holidays. Camping at the Russian River was wonderful. One morning we had a picnic at the ocean. Corless has stage-four breast cancer but has the best attitude and spirit. She was more than willing to laugh and to live to the fullest. It was obvious that she and Beth truly loved each other. A truly memorable time.

As a gay man I have burdened myself with a label and liberated my soul with a community.