In the Park Again

18 July 98 ~9:10 pm Friday

In the park again, wondering why I don’t get out more often. I picked up a little trash tonight, but there really wasn’t much to pick up. Now I sit listening to Kiss 107.5, Planet Soul doing “Set You Free,” backed up by a solid, droning chorus of cicadas and crickets.

I wonder again about the soul of gay Memphis. I wonder who I really am — am I just treading water here? I feel like I’m in an edgy place of transition at Wild Oats. Do I really want to stay there? Do I really have a choice, without changing my profession? Does my money really allow me any choice?

Remember: I always have a choice. As long as I have free will, I have a choice — I can write my destiny. At rock bottom — following Thoreau — one can either suck out the marrow of life or one can pick the meat off its bones. One can either kick around in the shallows of the river or wade out into the main current and sink feet down into the mud until one hits bedrock. So says one person.

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Right now, I’m asking myself what I’m doing here. I have groceries in the car that are getting warm and yet still I sit in this car, unable to relax. I have the radio on, though I’m unable to concentrate on it. I’m much more interested in a couple of cute guys caught in the cruising loop, seemingly not paying me any attention. I want to join in, but I’m still not sure how or if I should. (Note — interesting slip of the pen here: “want to join in.” So perhaps I just crave attention, friendship, companionship, contact and though I hope to find it here, on some level I still doubt it is here.)

The only interest so far comes from a man who probably is mostly curious why I am sitting here.

If I were to see me from the outside, I might wonder who I am, whether I’m an undercover, why I persist in sitting here but refuse to join. I might think, in fact, that I’m an asshole. I might.