Closets and Alleyways

I turn down the back alley. The entrance to where I live exits onto a cobble stone lane running parallel to Toronto's major street.

A man walking casually down the lane says hello.

- Hello

- How's your night?

- Fine. I just heading home. Tired.

- Oh... Looking for some fun?

- Heading home.

- Not even for five minutes.

He motions to the dark area around the corner of my building.

- Sorry. You should head to Tango. It's fun.

Obviously a closet case. This guy needs some gentle prodding. Such a suggestion might help.

- I'm not gay. I just have never touched a dick before.

- Well, I'm not the guy to help you out. I have a boyfriend.

A lie.

- Just five mintues.

- Sorry.

- Ok. What's your name?

I give him my name.

- I'm Richard.

He offer his hand for a hand shake. He pulls me in. A kiss on the cheek is not objectionable.

- Good night.

He forces my head in order to kiss me on the lips.

- That was my first time. I mean, I'm not gay. I have just never done that before.

- Goodnight.

- What's your name?

- Goodnight.

- Five minutes.

- Goodnight.

I leave him to the alley way at two am in the morning.

Let us make meaning.

I Only Remember the Dead

I was suspicious of memory and history.

We carry the past with us at every moment. There is no need to give it the attention of photographs and journal entries. Even if we can not remember, the past is with us at the present.

My dog died last week.

Now I know why we remember.

I fear I will lose the memories. I wish I had a photo of my dog in my hands to hold.

Nothing To Be Done

When there is nothing to do, and the day is free for whatever you chose, nothing still seems to happen.

I spend my days waking up later than I should, checking email and casually surfing the net, then outside for the mere sake of being out of doors, then back to the computer in a vain effort to find some worthwhile employment, then to some reading, or writing, then masturbation just to pass the time, then back to reading or writing or the computer or whatever other empty activities I'm inclined to at that particular moment of that particular day.

There seems to be so much time available to me, but I seem to be the least productive and creative despite my freedom.

I hope, somehow this summer, I will escape from this emptiness.

I have to write this down before I forget.

I remember- What does it matter?

The future has more...