2003-01-21 - 1:50 a.m.

I went back to my home neighborhood, Jamaica Plain, with the Roommate today, in the bitter, bitter, bitter, and robust (and bitter) cold.

It was kinda a waste, but that�s just the day it was. What can you do on a day where ten minutes in the cold can actually freeze your skin?

When I was graduating from high school, the lesbian bookshop (which, sadly, no longer exists) sold these T-shirts in warm, funky colors, and they read Jamaica Plain.

I really wanted to buy one, but I was cash poor and also ridiculously stupidly concerned with the stigma of buying a shirt from that store. Chrissakes, that was a long time ago, and I grew beyond that anyway, about ten days later, but by that time the store had closed, and so had my window for heading off to college, fulla people not from Boston, crossing the threshold with a T that said fuck you--you got money, but I got being from here--so we�re even.

Well, after everybody came and went, leaving me behind, and now that I�m 25 years old, a quarter century, and I just wanna punch every sprightly spindly college kid in the face, I finally got my shirt at J.P.�s own kitsch store--the original Pluto.

Victory? I dunno. All I got was this lousy T-shirt.

Randy Research�s strongly recommended J.P. Seafood�s (for sushi) was closed due to holiday. Boomerangs bore no fruit--a candle holder the Roommate and I wisely decided we didn�t want in our house--a bargain isn�t worth the ghosts that come with it.

We ate at a horrible, horrible, horrible Indian restaurant (for chrissakes, they served beef), and it was a big mistake. We hardly talked.

The plan was to hit the Arboretum. Fat chance with the wind kicking our collective asses with every twist and gust.

The whole day, the whole weekend, down down down. �Cause I kept telling myself I hurt someone I love. Then, up a little, with yeah, but you really didn�t do anything wrong. Sometimes followed with actually, you acted like a man. I�m proud of you.. But always followed with some variation of yeah, but someone you love is hurt because of you

There�s so much love and so much cancer in my heart, I�m amazed that it still pumps blood. I�m only assuming it does--I can still move my arms, I can still feel myself when I pinch me.

I hung framed record albums today (and did a damn good job). I bought a coaster that reminds me of zombocom today. I cleaned my coffeemaker and showehead with CLR yesterday, and reaped the benefits today.

I woke up in the arms of my lover this morning, happy and nervous.

This was not a fine day, but it should have been.

And that�s OK. The jewel north of my wrist hasn�t started pulsating quite yet. I have time, and so does everyone else.

It�s true.

At the very least since the new year, I�ve been acting like a man, and although nobody has threatened my pride, I�ll fight every last person on earth to defend it.

Cause I�m clear cut right, and it feels good.

I�m having a Superbowl party next Sunday, and you�re invited.