In my previous life I used to be a straight man

I don’t get colors. I know yellow isn’t good for my complexion. And green makes me look like seriously seasick. But what comes to what shade of red our livingroom walls should be, I’ve no idea. I like the color we have now. Apparently it’s too dark. So if it’s too dark the obvious solution would be painting it a lighter shade of red. But no. Instead I’m looking at samples of yellow. Wtf.

Money money money...

It is amazing how much information there is in banking statements. I went through them yesterday, oldest dating back to around 1992. Apparently I’ve had lots of money back then because there were many payments made to me from different people. Either that, or I was a dealer and it just has conveniently slipped my mind. Oh and the amount of sexual innuendo! Well, not so much innuendo really… using the words “thanks for a good shag” in the message part is not very subtle… Maybe I should destroy them all, and not leave behind a stack of paper which makes me look quite suspicious. Especially if I turn out to grow up to some Mother Teresa kind of figure. Fortunately the likelihood of that happening is beyond miniscule, it’s downright negative.

1 + 1 = 3,7

I got the most straightforward bootycall ever a moment ago. At this point in my life it only made me smile, chuckle a bit and politely decline with a ps. I’m getting married. That prompted a quick happy congratulations response and the exchange veered into neutral things, such as where do I work now, what he is up to and so on… I know it might sound a bit weird. After all it’s been almost two years since I started dating my lovely gf. Like did he just suddenly after all this time remember me? No, he’s an old friend and a fling and a few other things. We talk about every six months and he knew that atleast the last time we spoke I had a girlfriend. But there’s no harm in trying, right? And we’ve had this “call me up when you’re in need of easy uncomplicated sex” thing going on since… let’ see… since fall of 1994. It only ended 10 days short of two years ago, when I met my gf. At that point it had been a while since our last “strangers in the night” type of encounter but the possibility still was there.

And now to the subject I’ve been thinking about for a week. At the Pridepark one of my friends said that I am a really good person. (Funny that, she has also said that I’m a cold cruel bitch but opinions change I guess…) I don’t feel none too good as a person. I even said to her that naw, I ain’t good, I’m just good at pretending to be. Is that as good as it gets? I mean I do have strong emotions towards some people, I’d do anything for certain people, like for the little drunken midgets. I am protective and gentle and can act kindly. But in general, I don’t care for people, I dislike most of them, I intently am cruel sometimes… the list goes on. I don’t really have that much morals either. I KNOW what is right and wrong, I don’t FEEL it. Not most of the time anyway. Isn’t it something you should just feel in your gut? I have this icecold clear feeling instead, calm and calculated. It’s just willpower. And choices. Should I have to choose? Shouldn’t it be obvious, what is right and what is wrong? Do other people feel like this?

And for the record, these two paragraphs have nothing to do with each other, I am not contemplating about returning that bootycall. No need ;)

One track mind

At the moment all I have in mind is sex.

But before you yell “yikes” and stop reading let me assure you, I’m not going to write about that.

Prideweek is over and I’m slowly coming back to my senses. For the whole week I pretty much worked in overdrive, on sheer willpower and nothing else. I made some new friends, learnt a lot (like if you are planning on distributing balloons you have to have a permit, city’s airspace and all that), slept way too little, missed most of the actual fun stuff and had the biggest adrenaline rush all through the parade. Some future year I will not be involved in arranging this thing and able to just enjoy and bitch about this and that performer/lackofperformer/foodstand/ticketprice/schedule/whatever.

I wish our Lesbian King would have been there with me. There were moments when I would have needed her sense of humour to pick me up again, or her around to solve problems by suggesting dwarfs.