Archives for posts with tag: Roleplaying

The past few weeks in his arms.

This morning we woke up next to each other one last time before I leave.  The dog needed walking so I headed over to Grumpy on 20th St and ordered the Guatemalan special.  I drank mine there then limped back to the apartment. I forgot to wear my ankle brace.

He was waiting in bed, tangled in the sheets.  His monochrome tattoos: insects and art nouveau chrysanthemums.  He is agile and muscular like a wild beast.  His wiry beard and jet black, beady eyes.  Yesterday he did standing push ups against the wall.

It never occurs to me that he would want the same of me.  Super fit, super defined.  I am neither.

We watched Harold and Maud in bed last night.  The old woman and the young boy.

He is a man, 32 years old, not a boy.  Half Italian…half black…he has lived all over the world, indulging his wander lust.  Taking refuge in the roads.  He speaks Italian, spends time at an Indian ashram, collects art, makes art, cooks me dinner and today we are kayaking on the Hudson.  He has already seen Visconti’s Rocco and his Brothers.

In bed, we take turns with who plays the aggressor.   He kisses me, feeding me his spit, his cum, his ass.  I stand over him, telling him what to do. He holds me down and pounds me.  He holds up his ass and I push my cock in him…holding it there, relishing the connection.  The first time he came he shot his load under my arm pit.

I don’t make the same mistakes.  When I feel that loving feeling rush over me.  No travel fantasies, no ownership, no LA visits or career help. No promises, no name dropping.  Nothing I can do to make him love me.

We lay together or walk together.  He bikes over the Manhattan bridge, he hates the Brooklyn bridge, he says that there are too many tourists walking in the bike lane.

He wants to show me a picture of an old lady torn to pieces on the subway, the picture he sold to the newspapers for $300.  Her hand stretched out, trying to stop the train ripping her head in two.  I don’t want to see it.  Imagining it is enough.  Do you want to see?

Last night he took me to Washington Square Park.  Hundreds of young, nerdy kids fighting each other with light sabres.  A forest of drawn weapons. Some had arrived just with their sabre, others with friends, a routine and rehearsed lines from Star Wars.

(He is doing a hundred push ups.)

As we were leaving the park a young girl indignantly told her friends, “I don’t need to see Star Wars to play with a silly stick.”

He cooked dinner.  It’s Midday on Sunday and we are getting up again.  I am boiling some eggs.  He likes them soft.

I went too far this time.  Vile beyond description.  Going quietly insane here.  Not so quietly.  Very publicly insane.  Somebody wrote to me imploring me to get help.  I don’t really know how.  The feelings are so overwhelming.  This has nothing to do with anyone currently in my life or recently out of it.    I was reading over my blog pre January and it’s like reading a different person.  I have become madder than the maddest man in madland.  Totally unhinged.

You can read what he/she said at the end of the DEAD WEIGHT blog.  For some odd reason it cut through everything and made sense.  I took notice.  8.43pm on Monday night I am taking notice.  I dread the morning when the fear sets in.  The fear and loathing.

You have to believe me I am battling with terrible demons at dawn.   Lost and empty.

Trying to juggle everything so I can get back to London and go to hospital.   Perhaps it’s just time to let the balls fall where they may and leave.

What he/she said about Jennie and the big dog was accurate.  I make myself vulnerable and then I punish those about me who see it.

Listen, I’m not trying to excuse myself.  Today there are no excuses for my behaviour.

I’m just trying to work it out.  Trying to navigate my way back to sanity.

There is no therapist.  I just have to accept what is happening and go home.  It’s time..but I’ve said that a million times.  It’s time to buy goats or leave a situation or..well..there are millions of examples of just how I say I want to do something then I never do it.

Rather flagellate him I flagellate myself.  This wasn’t how it was before.  I can read the difference between me then and me now.

I would really like to cry but I can’t.  Too many tears shed for nothing.

It’s amazing that in less than three weeks I will be celebrating a sobriety birthday.  Huh.  Perhaps I should just say I have one day.

The pain in my balls and back is getting worse but I think that this might just be in my head.

What would it mean if I just took one drink?  If I could drown these terrible feelings of loathing (and self loathing) I am overcome by?

A day off.  I want a day off from Duncan Roy.

Nothing.  Nothing to say, write or comment on.  In my own head.   Do you know that feeling?  When life is so overwhelming?   I could not sleep last night.  Perhaps it was the cheese again.  Must stop eating cheese before bedtime.

It is easy to look over ones life and just remember the things one has lost rather than what one has found.

I am going to New York this weekend.  Staying on 10th street again.   Comfortable.

It seems like for the past few months I have made one bad decision after another.   If only I could tear myself away from the self-loathing.  To love myself enough to give the man I see occasionally in the mirror..a break.  Do you think that is possible?

I just made a huge pot of black coffee and drank it all.  Friends arriving from London today.   Dinner with Toby last night.  Saw Please Give with Katherine Keener.   It was a lovely film.  Very New York, very sad.   I shed a tear at the end.

Did I ever tell you that for a short time I was friendly with Katherine Keener?   She has a lovely house in Santa Monica, beautifully decorated with really well-chosen furniture.  She has the most amazing taste.

I tell you what is happening in my head.  I feel as if I am in some terrible competition.  A competition that I can never win because it’s not my game.   I am not like ‘them’ so I can’t win.    I feel very unsafe.  Not like I was going to die because that would be easy.  To know for sure the time and place of ones own death.

Unsafe, because I want something so badly knowing that it can never ever happen.    That something is not a person or a thing or a place but the peace of mind that has eluded me for so long.   I have learned that nothing can fix me.  Nothing can make it better.  Maybe a more complete relationship with God but to have that relationship with God I must remove the lead cap I am wearing that keeps me in the dark.

I sat in a room yesterday morning with 70 men who all looked so fucking miserable.  Every man in there just trying to make sense of what and who he was.   today, I have no idea what the answer is.

To wake up with no answers is a terrible thing.

The little dog is sleeping.   He is waiting for me to pull on my pants and take him for a long walk.  I used to think that if I could just keep on going, keep the momentum then everything would be ok but I have nothing to look forward to right now.

Just a gaping hole where a life should be.