More is Revealed


“Sounds like you are depriving yourself”.

She said to me over iced coffees in the Castro.

I was once again in the city, the city that beckons me back and back and back some more.

Come home to me, Carmen, she seems to whisper on soft cat paw feet swathed in fog.


I am giving it my best and it does seem to be heading that way, does it not.

I love me some Graceland, I do, I am here, at the moment, my room-mate and friend watching Eddie Izzard on the telly and the cats meowing and the teapot steaming and the squeal of tires doing side shows off in the distance.

Riding home tonight was an intense experience.

A lot of cops.

A lot of drag racing happening around me, not directly on International Ave, but quite close, I felt rabid with speed on my bicycle, I just wanted to get home, get off the streets, get inside.

Soon, though, I will be back into the city.

I have some choices, I have some options, and I had another put in front of me today.

A place that may work better for me than the other that has been offered to me.

Both would require some waiting, but not too much, just a tiny bit, just until, oh say, after I get back from Burning Man.  This seems like the thematic here.  I am staying in East Oakland until I get back from the playa.

This lovely home is a transition place for me.

My friend who I had lunch with today has a place out by the ocean that she was in the process of purchasing when I was just landing in Paris.  It has an in-law and it is in my price range.  I said yes, let’s look into it.  It seems more viable a space for me than the other room that was also offered to me in the Bayview.

I have to repeat, I have options, how nice is that?

I like this idea though, my own place, my own little kitchen, my own little bathroom, a newly remodeled place, out by the beach.

You know my favorite smell in the whole world is driftwood fire smoke.


I could go out to the beach and get myself a bonfire every weekend.

Every weekend.

It is still being worked on and it won’t be ready until oh, around the time I get back from Burning Man.  I said yes.

Yes, I said yes to my other friend too.

I can say yes and then I can say yes to something else and I can see what would work best for me and take care of myself rather than taking care of the other person.

I can change my mind too.

“Yeah, so I went vegan,” I said today, “and I feel like that restriction has led to me getting a little wonky in my head around my food,” I explained.

And it has.

I don’t want to admit it, but yeah, I have been indulging in some popcorn.

I have not eaten sugar and I have not eaten flour, but I have been getting some popcorn on.


I have been checking out with it.

Munch, munch, munch, don’t think, don’t feel, don’t stress.

I don’t want to feel is generally what is happening.

I have gone vegan a number of times and each time it is about me controlling my food and restricting myself and depriving myself.

I am vegan no longer.


I had me some meat tonight.

Damn it was good.

Wild Salmon at Local Eatery on 24th street.

I had a dinner date.

And it was lovely.

I like him.


And I explained about having gone vegan while in Paris and he said, “sounds like you were trying to control the fear by focusing all your energy on depriving yourself.”

Fuck me.


He eyed the plate in front of me.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said with a laugh, “I am vegan no more as of this minute.”

And I had a nibble.

It was delicious.

I had another nibble and I felt relief.

I felt like, oh yeah, I get to do this.

I am not going to over indulge and I am not going to be eating any sugar and any flour, that is enough restricting for me, besides, I have some real serious issues around sugar.

I have never, however, over indulged on salmon.

I have on sugar cookies.

I could have over indulged in him, I caught, every once in a while, a whiff, a soft sugar-coated, brown butter, ginger spice, whiff of him and wanted to cuddle up under his arm.

I restrained from that.

We are both in a precarious place.

Neither here nor there.

His living situation and my living situation are both wonky.

But we agreed that we were both attracted to each other.

“Oh, I’m not attracted to her at all,” he said, in regards to a woman who moved to the city after I moved to Paris who wants very much to be with him.

“I’m attracted to you,” he finished and smiled over the coffees on the table at Ritual.

“Good, I feel the same,” I smiled back.

And I will leave it at that.

There was no kiss, just a sweet hug, a lovely meal, some good catching up, and some stories of the time since we last hung out.

He is house sitting and I will be soon house sitting.

He is looking for his own place.

I am looking for my own space.

We both are transitioning and it was good to acknowledge it and I did not feel pressured to make some declaration of intent or desire, I know we’ll see each other again, and I know when I least expected he will lean in and kiss me.

I see it, just there, beyond the horizon of Graceland.

Perhaps on the beach in front of a bonfire.

Perhaps on a hill swathed in fog.

More will be revealed and I am content to let it happen.

And while more is being revealed I will only deprive myself of being mean to myself.

That is the only restriction I put upon myself.

No more meanness.

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