May 13, 2014
Saturday I went to visit Bogart and his mother was there. He saw me come in and he was more excited than usual, but I didn’t think that was possible. He came up to me shoved me a few times until I was against the wall then he took me by the shirt and slammed me against the wall a couple times until he embraced me tightly around the neck and head. Seriously he’s like a St. Bernard jumping all over you and knocking you over, a giant puppy using every bit of the estimated 6′, 175lbs of himself to express his affection for you. He was blabbering on in his Cockney through it and I had no idea what he said. Finally he pulls me over to his mother and was like, “this is Constable, ‘e’s me ol’ china, me best mate, mum, the fuckin’ twat, me ol’ china, ‘e is,” seeming to not recall that I’ve met her before. Then he grabbed me by the head and actually kissed me in a forceful, slobbery smack on the mouth and wrapped his arms tightly around the upper part of my torso. By the time we sat with his mother I felt like someone had thrown me in a clothes dryer for an hour, then just pulled me out and through me onto the chair.
The visit was strange with his mother there. She’s strange. And when she and I were leaving the institution she was quiet, but before we walked in opposite directions to get to our cars, (I was using Iona’s that day), she mumbled that she was done with him, that I could have him, and that she’d be contacting me. Interesting prospects on the horizon.
Later that night, Sharly’s coffee house had a female singer and her band, and the audience was the largest assortment of women who were either feminists, lesbians, man-haters, or any combination of those categories, that I have every seen. I felt very out of place. There were some men there. They were either the sensitive, earthy types or gay. I’m sensitive in that I’m compassionate, and I’m earthy in that I’m vegetarian and I like nature. But somehow these men are different from me. The difference from the gay men is obviously that I’m not gay. But the other guys, I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because I’m Sicilian. I’m not so much hippy as I’m bohemian due to my gypsy blood. I’m a gypsy punk cowboy blues man. That doesn’t describe any of them. So I reiterate, I felt very out of place. Don’t get me wrong, they were all cool people, except the man-haters kind of freaked me out. They either looked upon me like I was scum, or they treated me like a piece of meat. I mean they literally objectified me. A few of them even had a conversation while I was standing within their group, as I usually go around and check on how people are doing or whatever, and they talked as if I wasn’t there but addressed me directly saying that I was a good specimen for procreation, as they looked me up and down, because apparently that’s all men are good for. We’re all just sperm donors as far as they’re concerned, and useless for anything other than sex. Feminists and man-haters are not one in the same, though sometimes there’s a crossover. But for the most part, the feminists individualized and didn’t hate men as a whole. It’s ironic that I say that while I generalize all these categories. It’s just a cross section of the crowd and not intended to limit anyone to the confines of stereotype or generalization. I’ll leave that for the men-haters to do.
On Sunday, I spent time with my mother, of course. I got the time off from work and we went to the Museum of Fine Arts, and even had lunch in the expensive third floor restaurant, and later had coffee in the café. It was a good day with my mother, though as usual, when I have time with her like that, I just wish I could go back to childhood and make some things different and have her solve all my problems and guide me in the right direction without my resistance.
On Blues Monday, we practiced our set for the coming weekend when we will be performing at coffee house. We’re going to get together a few more times this week. I have been practicing my song for Emma also, because Howard taught me how to play it on the guitar. I’m not very good but I’m getting better, so I’ve been working on it as much as possible. Cola is the only one outside of The Convoy who has heard the song, by default, because she’s living in the same room as me. I’m really nervous about the whole thing so I don’t want to focus on it too much right now. But at least I know for sure that Emma is coming.
Later Monday night, which was last night, Iona, Cola, and I went to Pete’s. It seems Sweetheart has left. He said he came home Sunday night after visiting his mother, since he’s been re-establishing his relationship with his parents, and Sweetheart was gone. She left him a note thanking him for everything, but she left nothing for me, which kinda hurts and confuses me. I don’t understand why she would disregard everything we’ve been through together by not even writing a simple note or anything, but there’s nothing I can do to change that so I guess I have to move on. And I don’t want to talk about that either. And even last night, I blew it off, like I tend to do when something hurts me, I put it aside, especially when I’m around other people. So we just hung out and played some games and talked.
Iona started talking about running again, we did go on Saturday and she could only make it a mile, but we walked a lot too. I ran more around the track than she did, and she was okay with that, not so concerned about abduction since I was in the vicinity. So she was talking about that and saying how good it felt to run, her body felt awesome from that one day. Then she began to talk about how she used to always feel she had a certain sensuality that came natural to her, but somewhere along the way she lost it, and she’d like to have it back again. She said to me, “like you, you’re naturally sensual, it just comes from within.” Cola said, “I’d like for his sensuality to come within me.” Nice pun. C-O-L-A Cola. Then she said, “But I also feel sensual, and I don’t think I lost it.” We all agreed that we didn’t think she could ever lose it.
Then Cola said that Amy Winehouse’s song “You Know I’m No Good” reminds her of me, she said, “In an abstract way influxed with opposites because I’m very good.” Yeah, it’s strange. But I’m making it my theme song for today.
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