“You got those Caravaggio moves”

I did try working on several viewing orders for my website but I was undermined at nearly every level by formatting issues. There’s a certain way that I like to work and it simply isn’t made easy by WordPress or the theme I went with, and it’s too late to turn back now. So that was unsatisfying. I ended up uploading a dozen LGBTQ+ movie reviews, which inspired me in passing to revisit Derek Jarman’s “Caravaggio”, which I was shocked to learn that I didn’t own. I quickly acquired a copy and re-watched it, enjoying my time with the movie.

I was very tired. All day I was tired and nearly slept. When it came time for bed I slept without taking any drugs, but I didn’t stay asleep. I had eaten a bit more than I should have yesterday and I had acid reflux, which thankfully doesn’t happen often. I’d had many vivid dreams in the few hours that I slept, involving theme parks and oral sex. Upon waking, I was reminded of my first visit to a theme park, Cedar Point in 1985 – and how my PTSD relationship to food first presented to the world as an eating disorder and how much this shamed me. I didn’t eat anything all day save a small box of Nerds – the cherry & orange variety that later went away for some reason. I later learned that I did not have an eating disorder, though I definitely suffered from disordered eating. I had to do an interview on the topic in 2013 to qualify for a surgical procedure. Finding anyplace that would do this interview was very difficult because they generally only saw women, but eventually a found a sympathetic center that made an exception for me. The interview was very thorough and very painful – which is a quote from Terry Hatcher from an interview with her on Inside The Actors Studio, which has always felt like an apt description of my experience and so I’ve used it every time I describe it – but this is the first I’ve ever explained the origin of my expression. She was talking about reporting sexual abuse, and essentially, this is what I was doing as well. In some ways it was liberating, but mostly, it was just horrible. The woman who interviewed me was sympathetic and supportive. I don’t know her name but I’ll always be grateful for her tact. She was amazing.

I briefly traded texts with Michael Eisinger, who I hadn’t spoken to in a long while. He had gone for a long walk, more than 6 miles. It was 70 degrees out and he was loving the beautiful weather – I believe he lives in Maryland? Meanwhile, I was indoors all day. It wasn’t quite 70 degrees in New York.

We did not go to Aaron’s pool game. He had told me early in the day that he wasn’t going, which disappointed me, but by the time the gametime rolled around, I could barely keep my eyes open, and so I likely wouldn’t have gone anyways.

I have two Star Wars: Maul episodes to watch, but like last week, I don’t feel like it right now. I might save them for next week and just binge the last 4 episodes of the season, but I’m not married to that idea. If I feel like watching them at some point, I will. It’s that simple.

Always

You tell him that sex with me
will be completely emotionless for you,
or at least that’s what I hear without really listening,
but what you truly said is that
our sexual activity
will be completely emotionless for US,
but that’s not wholly accurate…
because I will feel something;
if I didn’t already feel something
I wouldn’t even bother.

You say that people don’t usually
FUCK their ex-boyfriends,
which I find funny
because so far,
they’re the only people I fuck,
and why not?

I’ve loved you for almost as long as I’ve known you
and can’t / won’t force myself to feel nothing.

But there’s NOTHING threatening to others
by this potential reconnecting of interlocking bodies,
because while sex will ALWAYS be emotional for me,
I also hold no illusions that
my having sex with you will bind you to me,
making you a prisoner
to only satisfy my needs,
to only service my pleasure…

Our FUCKING will not reintegrate us
into some magical reiteration
of our former couplehood.

The idea is preposterous.

As preposterous as truth
and as honest as fiction.

Written by Jason Wright
October 2, 2019

For Michael E.

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