Ben Harvey was on the show tonight and I was feeling guilty. I was practically the only person who missed the GUMBO one year anniversary party a few weeks ago. And I really should have gone, if not to support my friend Ben Harvey, whom it is well documented that I love, then at the very least to have something to write about in my sorrowful, long neglected blog. So ironic that as I struggle to finish my book on the collapse of my nightlife that my nightlife should fall to such disrepair that I have nothing to show for it after a month. But more on that later.
Ben was happy to see me and made positive mention of my blog, most notably how optimized it is for search engines. Apparently, if you type his name into Google, my blog is the third thing that comes up. How nice to have someone say how happy they are to see their name so associated after the previous complaints I have received: for instance, the guy who told me that if you type his name and ass-eating into Google, my blog is the first thing that comes up. First of all, I don’t know what sick universe in which such a search would even take place. And second, if it did, your beef should be with the person making the queer query and not with the person whose blog is at the end of the string.
It doesn’t much matter, I suppose, since my own string seems to have come to an end. It has been at least a month since I wrote anything in my blog and the worst part about it is that it isn’t me being a lazy writer. It is me being a person who never goes anywhere or does anything. I suppose I could chalk it up to the recent travels to Chicago and Columbus which left me busy or this Spanish flu I have been grappling with for the better part of a week. Or the change in Metro North schedules that has caused me to change my travel patterns in such a way as to make spontaneous post show adventures a thing of the past.
Unfortunately, the cold hard truth is that I just don’t want to go out anymore. I’ve had enough. I see the guys there and instead of seeing possible boyfriends, I see grown men with problems. Sad, lonely, desperate problems that I have no interest in getting involved with. I really like my house and my quiet patio and sleeping late and alone. And talking to you will just work to prevent from continuing all that happiness I already have in the way that I have grown accustomed. I suppose I used to be very worried when I would go out that no one would like me or want to go home with me, now I pray they don’t notice me and am grateful when I can leave a bar unsullied by human contact.
It would be great if I could at least claim that I have been throwing myself into my work, or better, too engrossed in finishing my new book to make myself available to others. But the sad truth is that I have been avoiding my book almost as much as I have been avoiding my own social life. I know what the problem with the book is: I just don’t want to deal emotionally with what happens at the end of the book so the closer I get to the end, the slower the writing goes. And the dread that pervades my writing habits spills over into the night and in the end what suffers is my poor hapless blog.
So now it has been a month and I haven’t gone anywhere or done anything. Even tonight with Ben. He came on the show but then I didn’t even offer to hang out after the show. He has a hot boyfriend and I have no will to live the night life. So I sit on the Metro North train enjoying my venti vanilla latte and not writing about a night out on the town. But at least I wrote something, and since it is the last day of the month, I got it in under the wire. So now you know what happened to my August and perhaps I will pull myself out of this mess and make something of myself in September. I’m kidding. See you in October, Ben.
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