11/2/25 - Multitude

Few days back a friend in Palestine showed me a receipt of a man asking her to send nudes for donations.

There is a feminist, principled way to talk about this. That's not authentic to the feeling... I'm just gonna say what I'm thinking.

Some people need to fucking die. Men like that are the scum of the fucking earth.

Today I woke up from a dream where one of the guys that plays basketball at work was listening to me describe the pancakes they sell at the Disney World restaurants, and then he tried to fuck me. And I woke up before we actually started fucking, but after we kissed(?).

I'm hoping that dream doesn't mean anything other than the basic fact that I like dudes, that much I already know. I don't like this guy nearly enough to warrant all of that.

I had a bad cold that prevented me from going to Samhain XXV. What a bummer. But I went out to get food with my friend, and I left my wallet at home. We were in Dearborn and the biggest rat ran across the street when we were trying to park for the taco truck. That was a little Nutria, what a sight. The tacos were incredible, by the way. But we were talking for such a long time, she wanted to help understand my whole deal with... the psychosis. And what I feel about this new girl I texted.

I was telling her about everything that bothered me with what I feel like might be bubbling underneath the lid with all of this stuff. With this psychosis, as I call it. I want to focus on maybe meeting this new girl, I don't want to step into dangerous waters with what I've been feeling for the past year. I've written about it so much, you know. It’s uncomfortable, now. Because my friend, we'll call her Taco Girl (bc we ate Tacos while we were talking) was able to surmise something more tragic about this saga I was describing.

I don't want to entertain the idea of having any serious chemistry with... Titania, as we called her before. I just can't think about that. If beautiful gorgeous is reading this, please don't take this the wrong way. I can't tell you how to feel, just know that I mean it when I say I wouldn't lie to you. You deserve transparency.

I really am the worst. Guys and girls running through my head, and it's never just a crush. It's so much worse. I remember reading Spider-Man: Blue, by Tim Sale and Jeph Loeb. The greatest Spider-Man story ever written, ever painted.

I'm not saying I'm Peter Parker, no. But I'm saying that this confusion is all too real. I feel horrible. I don't want to wrestle with this, you know. Is it Gwen Stacy or Mary Jane? Who is who? What do I really know?

I want to forget what I was feeling for Gwen Stacy. I want to focus on Mary Jane. This is not a comic book, this is a disgusting thing to express. These are real people, not characters. I don't understand why I'm like this. I don't.

Let me ask you guys a question. Have you ever got along with someone really well, had someone on your mind, really cared for someone... but it just... couldn't happen? It could never be? No matter how many times you talk. You're with someone else, they're with someone else. Even when you're single, you need time. The circumstances, they're too much to bear the risk of speaking up. So it never happens. You wish that things were different...

It's much more serious than being a hopeless romantic. It's a very real sacrifice. To choose to let go of something because it wouldn't be right.

In humor, we reveal our conceits. In silence, we reveal our longing. I choose a mode in between the lines, and I find myself ruminating on things so heartbreaking.

It's crushing. I feel afraid of talking to her again, Titania. I don't want to think about it. I want to stop caring so much about her. I want to stop myself from ruining my peace, from sabotaging something safe. She deserves to never see me again, to never have someone remind her of... I just can't say it.

You know, the sensible solution is to not write about this stuff in my fucking blog. To just shut up about it and be normal, and let things go as they should go.

Don't go near the water...

But I have this problem. I like to throw my feelings on the fire, to put myself in danger for this vulnerability. I think it's best to entertain the possibility of losing everything. I don't gamble with money, I gamble with gossip and emotions. I wager myself, I chance an opportunity to lose out on knowing a wonderful lady. I wager my friendship with someone so trusted, so beloved.

I have a gun pointed at me, and I'm unbuttoning my shirt to let the bullet run me through. I choose... chance. Cosmology, God, a black cat crossing my path.

I wash my hands of agency of this matter of the heart, and I give control to the hands of fate.

I think if Beautiful Gorgeous reads my words... they may rightfully feel disappointed. Maybe they'll understand what I mean. Who knows? I really do admire them, I want to preserve any connection we might potentially have... but I know that my candor in these accounts can be caustic, unruly.

If Titania sees fit to read my words today... I would ask something of her. I would ask for a hair beneath a brushtroke of oil paint. An artifact in the corner of a digital collage. An apple on the table behind the subject of a photograph.

I ask for a sign. A sign I may not deserve to see. A sign to tell me if I should go away.

What a cowardly thing! If I were a man... that would be something. It'd be so much easier.

If I were man, I would already know.

I love you all. I'll see you soon.