on the threshold

I have 3 days left until I'm on a plane bound for Miami, then Panama, and 4 days left before I see Alexei again. As I sit here in the Lower Haight, gazing at the morning fog hovering over the San Francisco skyline, I imagine myself in a matter of days in a foreign land, interacting with a foreign man whom I haven't seen in a year. How will I feel? How will he feel? Will we shoot the shit about music and films and books, or will we try to figure out if we have a future together? Just a few more days and I'll soon be gazing over a different skyline, contemplating more questions, probably with a cervezita in hand and looking onto El Capitolio or El Morro as the sun sets into the Caribbean Sea.

Julie C. and I were talking about relationships the other day. A few years ago, she was with a great guy, but for some reason she was stalling. Something was holding her back from making the plunge with him. Then James came along and she knew he was the one. She said, "I know it sounds cliche, but it's the truth. You just know."

I saw M.W. on Friday night. I was walking to the bus and deliberately went out of my way to pass by the Dog. He was walking out the door to smoke a ciggie as I peeked my head in. It was precisely where I ran into him in the first place about a year ago. We exchanged a few meaningless words, and then I ran to catch my bus. I was left with an empty feeling after our visit, because it was an empty exchange.

Two nights ago, the tall Dutchman invited me to see Dave Chappelle at the Punchline. Or should I say two mornings ago, because the midnight show didn't start until 2:30 and didn't finish until 5:30... I am embarrassed to say that I may be the only person in history to fall asleep during a Chappelle show. But you can't blame me, I've been sick with a nasty cough lately, and the cat has been crawling all over my head every night. Even in my semi-conscious state with my eyes closed and my head resting on my date's shoulder, Chappelle's jokes wandered in and out of my brain, and I appreciated his genius delivery, but I must say that in the future, unless it's the Stones, I won't be attending 2 am shows.

Jeffrey Daumer is just a gay Gargamel. Enough said.