03-13-04

the beverage you are about to enjoy is extremely hot.

Here I am sitting in starbucks (market square) during open lab time in class desperately wanting so badly to not be as horrible as I have been. Here, I have a lot of explaining to do, I might as well get started.

Last night after class Clinton and I made plans to get together for coffee, be it starbucks or my apartment if starbucks (free markets) wasn’t open. So starbucks wasn’t open and he came over for tea. We were sitting around playing chess and he asks “do you like Indian food?” Of course there was a motive behind this question and about 30 minutes later we were walking down to Kauffman’s to catch the 61 to Oakland.

I had never taken the bus in Pittsburgh so it was a definitely unusual experience… considering it was torrentially down pouring on us while we were waiting, then it stared to snow. So forward to the restaurant, yum, had mango lassi, drank myself sick on it and could barely finish my lamb curry. Waiting in front of starbucks (Oakland) for the taxi I invite him to sleep on my sofa so I didn’t have to take the taxi home alone and so that he didn’t have to walk to squirrel hill in the dark/ran/sleet/snow/one AM.

So back at my place and here is where all hell breaks lose. He’s laying on the pull out on my floor, I am in my bed, we are bullshitting till the early hours and he sits up, lay back down artist boy. Talk some more, puts head on my bed, bad artist boy, talks some more, gets look in eye. Oh no artist boy, oh no. I yawn, should go to sleep…early wake up call you know, he kisses me. Bad artist boy, bad!!!! And kisses me, good god artist boy, good god. And asks if I wanted to cuddle, um…no?

So I sleep in his arms all night till the alarm wakes me up at 8 am. I make tea for us, we bullshit some more, he rubs my back. Late for work at the Innovation Center we grab some breakfast at the coffee pagoda in the Allegheny Center. We walk to the bridge and he kisses me good bye. He Kisses ME!!! A bunch. I laugh, smile, turn around, walk about twenty yards then the OH SHIT realization hits me. He’s not Bret…..

Lunch with the bosses, we bullshit about the political/economic turmoil Mayor Murphy has Pittsburgh in, how to generate more business downtown, more affordable residencies, more young talent. We talk about Kierkegaard, Raymond tries to get me to say Marx is bullshit, I tell him only as bullshit as Plato bringing the conversation to familiar turf as far as our own political structures based on bullshit. We talk of movies, The Piano Teacher, which makes me regret it as soon as I mention it. Ray’s seen it, hated it, calls it trash, confusing. No, I say it was disturbing but created an intense emotional response so I had to respect it. In that aspect it was good. Still no clue what the point was other than to create numbness. Crossed the bridge, lugged my three hundred pound computer to class.

Called Aaron, called Beth. Both tell me I am horrible. I am horrible. I feel so bad right now, who would have believed I could go from bad to worse, I am crazy about Bret, I adore him. Clinton is wonderful but I can’t do this. Another fucking person whose heart I have to break. And in the end I know devil boy is going to break mine. I of course have to ride it out, nothing more I can do. He’s not bret….