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8:42 PM

Henry finally called me. We hadn’t talked since Wednesday night.  I’m going to an L.A. party with Laura and Vidal.  My sweet little baby is so cute.  I’ve already had two shots of tequila and I’ll probably have more.  We have tickets to Lollapalooza (I don’t think anyone knows how to spell it.) Beth, me, Francie, Roxanne and two other people I don’t know.  There went number three.  I’m gonna be sloshed.  My baby was on my shoulder.  She’s very cute.  I don’t want to go to work tomorrow and Monday and Tuesday.  I was mad at Henry for not calling me but as soon as I heard his voice I couldn’t be angry.  That’s not good.  I think he was going to ask if he and Dave could come over here or something but he didn’t ask soon enough ’cause I had already said yes to Laura.  I’m not going to say no to anyone because Henry might call or Henry might ask me somewhere ’cause he won’t.  If he wants my time, he’ll have to ask me ahead of time like he did for Duchess de Sade.  He’ll learn not to take advantage of the fact that I have no social life.  My baby plays with everything now.  She really likes my feet – to attack them because I’m walking.  Henry couldn’t remember when he had seen me drunk – he thought it was at his house.  So he couldn’t remember but in the background Dave said at Duchess de Sade and I told Henry that Dave was right.  But how would Dave know?  He wasn’t there.  But obviously Henry does talk about me.  Yippee.  I’d like to talk to Dave to find out what Henry says about me.  Or get Laura to when we go camping – if we’re still going.

I’ve had sex outside a few times.  Ok, more than a few times.  The roof of my current building is a favorite spot for blow jobs.

I consider blow jobs sex.  (Insert cliched Bill Clinton reference here.)  I consider pussy licking sex.  I consider mutual masturbation sex.

There are two guys n recent memory whom I’ve not fucked, but whom I’ve had sex.  One I’ve been with twice.  The first time I tossed a couple of condoms his way, because I always have condoms.  I jokingly said, “I guess that’s presumptive of me,” to which he didn’t respond other than to not use any condoms because his penis entered neither my pussy nor my ass.  Which is not to say we didn’t have a great time, because we absolutely did.

And that’s why we had a second time.  The second time was a lot of fun, but in a different way.  We didn’t have to do the bother of getting to know each other since we’d already fucked.  When we got back to my place after lunch we went to my room and he fucked me with my njoy Eleven.  That thing kicks ass.

I get a bit – just a bit – of the idea that he’s fascinated by my pussy that will take a lot.  Even if he isn’t, he’s fun, and goes along with the dirty things I do.

I first had sex outside when I was 16.  I was seeing a girl, Erica, about whom I’ve written in my “A Diary Entry” posts.  We fucked in a small cemetery in a field outside our work, a Round Table Pizza in Cameron Park, California.  For whatever reason, the cemetery had been fenced off, and “preserved.”  There were maybe four graves in the “cemetery.”  I can’t imagine that with all the development that must’ve occurred in that area that that cemetery hasn’t been forgotten except by the few of us who fucked there.

When I was around 20 years old, I fucked on the roof of a building and was subsequently caught by one of the building’s security guards.  The building was the Pasadena Civic Auditorium.  The Emmy Awards were held there for a while, including the year I fucked on its roof.

When I was in Bangkok for the second time, I fucked on the roof of my apartment building.  It was hot as fuck so we sought shelter in the rooftop laundry room.  It was still hot, but at least there was a breeze and a view.

I’ve been propositioned on a roof:  There’s something about the fresh air and expansive view that makes a guy want to pull out his cock.

I’ve “lost” my pants on a beach:  There’s something about the fresh air and sound of crashing waves that makes me want to expose my ass, and run to allow the sea air to tickle my clit and tease my pussy. I’ve fucked on a beach, being careful not to let sand get anywhere it could cause irritation and damage.

Right now I have someone “after” me to get it on on my roof.  He and I have fucked plenty, just not on my roof, yet.  Maybe soon ….

When I was in sixth grade I moved in with my father and his family, my sister, my step-mother, step-sister, and step-brother in Palo Cedro, California.  In our back yard was a creek in which, on at a very few occasions, us kids skinny dipped.

There’s a naughtiness to being naked outside.  Having sex outside is not only naughty, but it’s also clean, and fresh, and free.  It’s pure.  Outdoor sex is not dirty, or nasty, or rough, or wrong; it’s natural and right.

I look forward to camping with the Viking at the end of this month.

I swear.  True story.


I don’t want to listen to Peblo Bryson.  Erica called me.  We had a nice talk – she about Michelle and her fighting me about Henry.  She really wants me to go up there but I don’t want to.  Cleo gets poop on her butt.  Henry hasn’t called.  We had a nice conversation – I was being a friend and I really didn’t feel jealous.  Cleo purrs very loudly.  I wish Henry would call me.  I want to put everything out on the line – to tell him how I feel.  But I guess he’s not gonna call.  I’ve totally broken out – I had better look better by camp time.  I have an interview at Nautilus Aerobics Plus tomorrow at 5:30.  I’m not real nervous but I would like to have the job.  The cat is very loud.  I have to get another pair of tweezers for my Swiss Army knife tomorrow – they’re only $1.25 I guess I can afford that.  I’m glad her little collar has a bell so I know where she is.  Channel 4 doesn’t come in very well.  Maybe this summer I’ll go up there.  But when I want to and when I’m ready.  My bed is shot – it goes backwards when I sit on the edge and when I’m in the middle I think it’s gonna fold in on me.  Oh well maybe I should call Mom to ask what I should do.  Get rid of all my furniture and get pillows to put all over – that’s what Henry suggested.  I’m thinking about it – turning it into a hippie pad.  NOT.  I am thinking about it but not to be a hippie.

11:31 PM

Hadn’t talked to Henry since Friday morning when he apologized for being a flake Thursday night.  So I broke down and called him today but he had to go.  I thought I did something wrong but then realized that I haven’t been doing anything differently.  Now I’m once again waiting for him to call – he said it’d be around eleven – does that mean within two hours?  But I’m also waiting for my damn clothes to dry – I’ve been doing laundry all day but I’m almost done.  Saved my whites for last for a change.  My bed’s finally kicked it.  I think that if the frame can’t be fixed easily then I’ll just put the mattress on the floor – that’d be cool and hippie-like huh.  Cleo is getting used to me and being here.  She’s very cute and right now she’s on my writing arm – she’s soft and warm and oh so cute.  She has the trots and it stays on the fur by her butt and I have to wash her off and she hates it.

Now I’ve gotten my laundry and I have no reason to be up any more.  Except that Cleo will meow when I move her.  Maybe a few hands of solitaire.  I really don’t want to go up north.  I actually have no desire to have year-old memories flood back to me.  Besides, I’m a mother now and I can’t leave my baby alone.  A video tape will do.  And with the time I’d rather do something with my friends here.  Henry me camping tent close acid soon now call ring cards sleep

Well, it was alright. Sat around with Cleo all day. She sure does make a lot of noise. Henry offered to take me out to dinner but I had already promised Laura and Deanna so I had to decline. So then Henry was going to meet us at the Brewer house at 11 but the fuckhead never showed up. Why does he have to be flakey [sic.]?  And the thing is I can’t really get mat at him – I’m not quite sure why.  But he did say something about taking me out tonight.  But not until late cause he has to practice with Duchess De Sade.  Laura and Deanna gave me pot – that was very nice cause I was out.  I have to wait to go to bed until my comforter dries ’cause I had to wash it ’cause Cleo has pooped on it twice today.  And now she’s scratching me and driving me crazy.  I think Henry got me a pipe.  Laura was gonna tell me but I like surprises.  I’m irritated.  Why does he have to be like this?  I better get taken out and get some action is all I can say.  Does he even like kissing me?  Does he even want to?  Thank god Cleo has calmed down.  Why do I let Henry have so much power over me?  Should I just tell him – lay it all on the line?  Fuck I don’t know.

Before the Dyke March, the Viking and I walked over to Dolores Park to ogle the ladies.  When we were on the way I texted my high school ex-girlfriend, Erica.  (You might recognize her name from my diary entries from the early 1990s.)  She had texted me the day before letting me know she’d be in town for LGBT Pride.  We went to high school east of Sacramento at Oak Ridge High School in El Dorado Hills, California.

She assured me that she contacted me because she wanted to see me.  Nonetheless, I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t contact me after I let her know I was at Dolores Park.  The Viking and I walked around the park doing some serious people watching and finally lie down in the sun.  It felt so nice to have the sun shining on our faces whilst the breeze was blowing over our skin.

I had wanted to see the truffle guy.  I assured the Viking – on several occasions – that the truffle guy had some very tasty, and potent, truffles.  I kept telling him that the truffle guy had copper vessels that shined in the sun.  We have been to Dolores Park on numerous occasions, all without seeing the truffle guy.  I haven’t seen the truffle guy in ages, years.

But when we were lying on the grass I saw a guy who had an army green messenger bag with a “Magic Brownies” sign on it.  I called him over by saying, “Hey, brownie guy, over here!”  The Viking and I shared half a brownie.  We decided we wanted to have dinner at Dosa.

Dosa, however, wasn’t open until 5:30, so we walked to the Latin American Club and had margaritas.  Latin American Club’s margaritas are delicious and large (just like the best cocks).  On the way back to Dosa, my phone rang.  My ring tone right now has a guy saying, “Shut up and fuck him.”  I laugh nearly every time I hear it.

It was Erica.  She said her phone didn’t have service until just then.  I hear service in San Francisco is shitty, though I rarely have any trouble at all.  We were off to dinner; she was off to do dykey things.  She said she’d contact me after some other events she was attending.

Dinner was delicious, though they didn’t have the specific things I wanted, these round shells that can be individually made by the diner to taste wonderfully spiced.  Everything we did have at Dosa was tasty.  We may go back for brunch, when the shell things will be served.

This is the Dyke March Lego person.  She is a militant lesbian.  She has long hair because she thinks doing nothing but putting her hair in a ponytail is the easiest way to take care of it.  She is a “larger” gal.  She goes to Ren Faires.  She’s a LARPer.  She would have been at Dolores Park today wearing something a little too tight, a little too revealing.  But we wouldn’t have messed with her because of her extremely large axe.  (The Lego thing will make more sense after reading June 21, 2010‘s post.)

I swear.  True story.

Is he getting to like me like I like him or do I just like the idea of him?  But actually if I just liked the idea I would’ve gone for Dave Luke – he’s definitely got good genes and would be more demonstrative with his feelings and towards a relationship.  But the standoffishness is sexy, masculine, manly to me but of course he’d be caring with the kids if not by words then by actions.  And we’d of course be loving.  Why do I think like this?  Guys don’t do this not to this extreme maybe not in groups but they could by themselves like I am.  But Laura and I were also doing it together.  Henry must like me a lot – he talks to me no me now it seems at least twice a day he calls me when he has nothing else to do bad – he’ll think I’m always home good – he’ll become dependent on me or maybe he really does want to talk to me that much like junior high relationships of getting to know each other over the phone (oh she’s talking to Henry again – no still) because they can’t get together that often outside of school ’cause Mom and Dad won’t drive them and how can you make out with parents around.  But this is sweet – he calls me all the time.  But I want to know him know his feelings what he thinks.  I want to know him and know he really cares about me when we kiss or anything else.  I totally want to make out with him – just kiss and roll around with no pressure of sex but if happens then that’s nice.  And I realized that I’ve never even had to worry about contraception but I’ve had the sex.  Well, maybe now I’m mature enough.  And I just would love to get to know someone so well that I know hat they want in bed and to start out awkward and become so graceful with time but will thinking about it too much make it not happen?  Or when it doesn’t will I just be that much more depressed.  But I can see it so clearly does he ever think like that?  No well the only reason I haven’t said anything is because I don’t know how he feels.  Are his feelings still growing for me?  Are mine for him?  Or am I at the point now where I just have to get what I set out for – sex.  But I still don’t really know him but I want to so far everything is physical – his face, his cute little legs, his guitar playing.  It’s all physical not emotional.  Like if he told me why he liked me was because I’m cute (Does he think that?) and I smoke pot.  Fuck why does he like me?  Does he really?  Why do I like him?  Sometimes I have to say he’s brilliant – when he asked me why I liked him I told him ’cause he’s cute and sweet.  He found out that it’s only physical so he tested me by not getting so to see if I would get bored or lose interest.  No, I only do that when they do like me.  But why do I like him – nothing physical … I don’t know how he thinks so I don’t know him except for the physical – the strong, warm body next to mine, the sweet fat cheeks, his deep brown eyes squinty from being stoned, the full lips on that little mouth, the way that mouth could make me feel, and those sweet little hands touching me my waist and his strong arms holding me will we ever be more than we are now I think we’re working on it now but I don’t know how he’s thinking – how he feels.  Will I ever know?  I would like to know what he thinks of me.  Or how he thinks of me.  Obviously, we’re going towards sex ’cause we’ve kissed and he’s still speaking to me – and I don’t just mean sex I mean a relationship where there is sex and feelings involved.  But do the kisses mean we’ll be progressing further?  I’m letting him lead this journey cause I’ll go wherever he wants me to.  Yep, I’m pretty sad.  Does he ever want to kiss me?  He does it but does he want to?  I have been wanting to ask but I’m too embarrassed and I don’t want to hear the wrong answer.  I think about him all the time – doesn’t that mean I like him or he’s just filling a void.  But he could’ve been any other guy – what about Chris – either one – I could’ve pursued both if I wanted to.  It could’ve been Dan Higgins.  It could’ve been anyone but they weren’t Henry he’s what I needed wanted, had space for.  But sometimes it seems like I’m forcing this puzzle together but only because I don’t think the piece fits.  Apparently he thinks it can work.  It’s just cause I’ve never done this before – it seems too normal and average.  I think I’ll fit in and all – sort of – not.  When the damn time comes – jump ahead about 10 years (at this rate).