Jan 18 3:08 (transcribed from handwritten notes)

Good morning journal, here it is 3AM and I can't sleep (for a change) despite having great sex and deep conversation with the man I love. Usually that at least "edges" me towards sleep and / or a relaxed state, but the minute I felt Greg fall asleep I knew I was in for the long haul. But its not so bad I guess... I get to sit up and listen to the sound of his breathing and watch the profile of his body and face in the soft light from the kitchen. But I'm a realist and that only takes me so far.

To give you a visual I'm sitting at the table (cherry wood) smoking a cigarette (Rothmans King Size) and drinking a beer (Grasshopper). I have two of Greg's sketchbooks open in front of me as I was rifling his stuff looking for paper to write on. There a small pot of lentil couscous soup simmering on the stove and two candles burning in the window sill. I feel almost decadent reading through his sketchbooks without his knowledge. Seeing different styles he's experimented with and reading the notes he makes to himself around the pages. Its similar to listening to someone's innocent self talk when you know they aren't aware that you're listening. Oh yeah, I'm listening to Tricky on the headphones as well, and I'm in white boxers and a baggy white T-shirt (not that that's really relevant).

Tonight was the first night I've seen Greg since I started back at work, and I never realized how it had felt to see him daily and then not see him for 4 days. Once I came over I was overwhelmed with how much I'd missed him. You know the feeling. The sound of his breathing, the heat from his body, the smell of his hair, the feel of his hands, but most of all the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes twinkle when he's trying not to snicker about something or someone. I know that  sounded terribly cheezy but hey, I feel kinda cheezy right now. It's my journal and I'll damn well get doe eyed if I wanna. Actually my face is a bit large for doe eyes, so I'd best stick to gopher eyes. Not sure if most heterosexuals are that familiar with gopher eyes, but I do know that all us fags are born with an inherent ability to give gopher eyes... must be something instinctual. If you're unaware and are just dying to know what gopher eyes are then feel free to Email me and I'll be more than willing to fill you in.

Greg started a new series last night and abandoned the last one he was working one. I quite like it but he claims it was just too time consuming, which it true as he's usually quite prolific. I asked if he was gonna frame and display the two pieces he'd finished and he said that he was wondering if I wanted them or else he'd just box them up and store them. Not one to turn down a good deal when I see one I snatched up the above. Actually have been mulling over in my brain how I'm gonna frame and hang them.I have two smaller pieces of his at home, one framed and one unframed. Therefore, I figure I'll flank one of the newer bigger ones with the two smaller ones and hang them in the front room. The last big one can just go into the bedroom, or above my desk. I've been giving alot of thought to the general scheme of the new apartment and what I'm looking for in a place. Even bought (in my mind) the lights I want to install. I'm going relatively inexpensive and highly effectual, with the help of a friend.

A different friend offered to come over and "faux" finish the apartment for me, it took every urge in my body not to knock her off the stool while screaming "BEGONE DEMON SEED." Ok, so it wasn't that strong a reaction but you get the idea... I politely declined having unicorns stenciled on my ceiling or mouseholes sketched on my baseboards. I'm still shuddering at the thought.

I've been drawing out the basic design of my personal page for when I redo it, not entirely sure what I wanna do, but know it needs a drastic makeover. Its kinda like that feeling you get when you put on some article of clothing on that is in your consistent "clothes I wear" group. But suddenly it slaps you in the face like a bad Russ Meyer's film, and you scream "OHMIGOD, this is HIDEOUS." Next thing you know you are running to the dumpster barefoot, ensuring you hold the cursed garment as far away from your skin as humanly possible. As you toss it over the edge you have a fleeting thought as to whether it'll re-emerge like a Ouji Board in some bad urban legend. Will you open your closet tomorrow morning to see it hanging there mocking you?

***BRB - I need soup and new music***

Ok, so I got the soup, but its a toss up as to the music I want to listen to. I'm feeling nostalgic so I've narrowed it down to Les Rita Mitsouko, Anne Clark, New Order, Chris and Cosey, and the B-52's. What's that you say?... New Order's Technique CD? Well that is a most choice selection if I must say so myself, and since I don't hear any objections.... then I guess I must. Hmm, upon writing that last statement I see that the well has run dry, and  on that note I'll bid ya g'nite...

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