Sorta thinking

I forgot all about you.

I kinda moved on.

This summer I spent at the river, doing poppers, barebacking latinos who barely spoke English born on this or that side of the border who would then follow me back to my upscale tony neighborhood and cry outside my window while I would be crying inside the window, wishing for them to leave...

Finally, I dragged my aching body and its night sweats to a psychiatrist and to a doctor...while I didn't have acute HIV infection, I did have severe clinical depression.

Medications were prescribed which knifed my libido in the back.

Several months later now, I have no idea what is happening. I can't give a shit about you and your boyfriend, or about my dad in the hospital, probably dying.

I want nothing more than to smoke some pot and lay on the couch watching Drawn Together or Aqua Teen Hunger Force, which I have pirated off the internet via BitTorrent sites and burned onto DVDs using Popcorn.

It's occurred to me that perhaps I should aim a bit higher. Go back to the therapist and see the psychiatrist about changing medications.

So here we go again.

It's also occured to me that I can't talk about this on my main blog where all my friends and colleagues follow my every word. I gotta come back to this here, my little secret.

This secret blog has become part of my stratagem again. We'll see how long it lasts.

Anyone who ever thought they could love me or my words, please come back and send me an html kiss.

I'll be back later to fill you in on things...