11/18/96 - Scenes From Squalor

11/18/96 - 435 14th St.

I must write more! This awkward upside-down journal might be part of it, but I just haven't felt the itch. November, while not quite as eventful as October, has had its share of happenings.

I'm still temping at Wells Fargo, answering e-mail best that I know how. It's OK, I know there are worse temp jobs out there. I interviewed with [a mental health HMO] in San Rafael a week ago, and haven't heard back. The salary promises to be [a shockingly small amount, even considering my unimpressive current take-home], which [I thought] would be nice. I really wanted to work in the city, but [the sister health agency to my ex-job in S.B.] has been slow to call, and they're not paying as much. So, at this point, all my eggs are in the San Rafael HMO basket.

Domestically, it's not perfect, but it's bearable. We guys seem to be stepping on each other's toes a bit more than I expected. [Here follows a bit of tedious domestic drama. Moving on...] I figure, if I can get some of these debts paid, I'm outta here in a year. [Made it out in nine months. I got lucky.]

I doubt I'll be moving in with anybody in any romantic way, however. I've been dating Julian since Halloween, but it refuses to become anything serious. We can't seem to get together often enough to have decent sex, for one thing. We also have pretty different tastes. It's not as drastic as Ben, and not even as wide as Gary, but it's there.

Besides, I'm enjoying being single. A couple of weeks ago, Sean and I joined his friend Bram at 1220, this bar I'd been to a couple of times in Walnut Creek. We were doing coke in the bathroom, Bram caught his boyfriend in flagrante delicto in the same loo, and we all (except for the boyfriend) adjourned to doorman Charles' apartment for more alcohol, coke, and Truth or Dare. By the time 6AM rolled around, Charles, this guy Mark, and I were the only ones left, so I had my first threeway in quite a while. I was a MESS the next day (thank God or whoever for three-day weekends), but it is something I'm glad I did.

I'm broke, of course, but I'm betting the farm (or the dinky room in the squalid flat) that the HMO willbe the answer to my financial worries. If not...the corner of Polk and Geary beckons. [Said intersection being where much of the male hustling in San Francisco takes place.]

[Both of my regular readers may be shocked to read of the drugs. Simmer down, it's not a regular thing. We all have boundaries, and mine are needles and anything used to tranquilize large game animals. Except for an occasionally rocky relationship with booze and boys, I seem not to have an addictive personality.]

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