I haven’t been very diligent about my blogging lately. I’ve been unfocused, shall we say. Really I’ve had little on my mind that I’ve cared to mull over. The holidays, house hunting, the ongoing hem and haw of my work life worries… none of this is very interesting. I’ve had a cold, and then a sinus infection of some sort, all of which has worn on me for nearly three weeks now. I’m tired of not being well. But I’m nearly back, I think. Nevertheless, I need to get back in the routine of writing, even if it’s not interesting. I’ve felt very uncreative lately.

A few nights ago I watched a documentary on the life on Degas. Images of the Paris Opera, ballet dancers, and a bluish gray afternoon in a quiet Paris are enough to stir something in me. Paris has become for me shorthand for all that is worthy of the effort, tedium, and drudgery of everyday life. It is beauty, the hallowed past, strange places, and new experiences that fill me with energy.

I’m such a cautious person that sometimes I seem incapable of action. But it usually feels good to finally take action. This week I actually made an offer on a house. In the end I didn’t get it, but it felt good actually DOING something. Well, it didn’t feel good at the time—mostly just a little scary—but after a little while it felt good. I made a good decision, even if I didn’t ultimately get the house. I think I usually make good decisions. I wonder, though, whether I’m actually capable of taking risks, real risks. I’m not sure. Maybe well considered risk, which is not so risky. I don’t know.

Below is something I wrote a week or so ago but never posted. I thought I somehow wasn’t hitting a groove. But I’m still not, so I screw it. This week I’ll post more, hopefully something that is more to my liking.

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Today is New Year’s Day. Last night was New Year’s Eve. It was an odd time, not good, not bad. More of that later. Vacation feels as though it’s winding down, and I haven’t done much, or at least not much that I can point to. I hope to have my CD database nearly completed, which is something. I’m not sure what the point of it is, though. Lately I’ve been pre-occupied with finding someone, some guy, to have some satisfying sex with. A couple of months is about my limit, before I find myself needing it, unable to brush it aside. It consumes too much of my time and focus. I’m a gay on the prowl—a role I’m not really comfortable with. It seems, somehow, dishonorable, unworthy of the image I have of myself.

I have no new year resolutions. I do believe there are some things I should be doing this year, however. Last night I hung around with several people who are either unemployed or under-employed. I don’t want to be one of them. It always alarms me to talk to people who seem bright and able, in my age range, and yet are regressing rather than progressing in employment status and financial stability. I need to continue to work on gaining a stronger financial (and employment) position. Doing smart things now will pay off later. And I need to push myself this year to branch out, and to truly pursue the law and Oracle, two areas that I believe hold the most promise for me. This all sounds like advice from an astrology reading.

I spent last night with Jason, Ben, a nice transsexual whose name I’ve forgotten, and the occasional coupled lesbian/bisexual stragglers. I liked them all. It’s the sort of group that I enjoy, a hodgepodge of sexual orientations and appetites, and an openness about it. I felt somehow out of place, as if I were the straight, stiff button-down one, the sensible adult among them. It wasn’t the sort of gay crowd that I’m accustomed to, and that I enjoy—you know, the crowd of gregarious, well-put-together gay men full of pithy chat and endearing flirtation— but it was good to be exposed to something different, to be reminded that the gay world is not all smartly dressed gay men with wandering eyes and hors d’ doeuvre breathe. For christ’s sake, there was a transsexual dominatrix in attendance! So cool. I’d like to get to know her. The evening was rife with geekiness. Ann (I went with Ann, of course) thoroughly enjoyed the geekiness. It’s her sort of crowd. I enjoyed watching her enjoy it more than I enjoyed it myself. Loosened by wine and a few beers, she laughed and engaged everyone. At one point during our viewing of the Talking Heads’ "Stop Making Sense" video she blurted out in glee, "Oh, my god, that’s my favorite song of theirs." That was sweet. After a short while I realized I’d rather be alone reading Proust. So often in such group activities I realize that I’m not so much into communing with the hip, with interesting people.

There’s some guy reading this over my shoulder. Damn him anyway.

Someone in Java’s restroom has written on the wall, "You’re all a bunch of coffee-drinking wankers. Go to a bar like a real man."