New Year, New Me.

At B's place in Astoria. Just finished an awesome episode of 24. Jack is about to enter the compound to save his love, even as the Marines are preparing a strike on it. Arghh! Eeeek! Yaow! I am so hyped over it. That and the fact that I'm all anxious from my most recent encounter with Narc.

I feel so fucking lovesick. My stomach feels so queasy when I think about it although I don't know why. It just doesn't make any fucking sense. I guess I should backtrack a little though.

Last week I was stuck in bed with the flu. The week before that I was in Puerto Rico with my family and Hammer. Not a super-eventful trip except that it filled me with wanderlust and some bourgeois self-hatred.

The trip started off New Year's Day. Liu was here for New Year's Eve and the two days prior. It was a very coked up visit. December 30th was the "Billy-boy" encounter. He was so cute-- a British boy. He fucked so hard. It was awesome. Two days later I glimpsed myself naked in the mirror and I had two enormous purple bruises on my belly from getting banged against the kitchen counter. On top of that, I found out later that he's only 19-- a fucking baby! Oh well... It was fun. He was so sweet. Bought me flowers and kept trying to impress me. Left me $100 to pay for his coke too... a sweet guy.

Anyway, the only weirdness for me was that he's the only guy besides Narc that I slept with since I told Narc in November that I love him. It confused me and I definitely felt guilty and torn about it. But, what could I do? Narc made it pretty clear that there's "nothing more for us" and that he doesn't want me because my "life is shit" and I don't even approximate the "muse" that he's looking for.

So... I was resolved to forget about Narc. And what better way than with the adorable (and excitable) Brit? All of that life is meant for 2004, though. I'm determined to get my shit together in the new year. No more drugs, and the drinking has to get under control. Puerto Rico was good for me in that way. In some ways, so was the flu. But then there was Narc this weekend. He texted me on Friday: Out and about tonight? I wrote back the next afternoon that I was asleep-- taking it easy lately.

Went to the Frick and saw the new Raphael. Brilliant.

That night I stopped in at Cheers to say hi to IrishBird. Stayed for too many drinks-- my first real debauchery of 2005. Took myself home by midnight.

Narc had texted me around 9:30:
Thought we might catch up at some point.

I wrote back:
New Year. New me. Don't want to fall into the same old, same old.

Then I called him. He called back, said we don't have to sleep together and offered to come up by me. WHAT?!?! Is this the same guy??? Ok. He won me over with that-- big time. I felt heard. So nice.

Anyway, I went down there. Got wasted. Probably embarrassed myself big time. I can't worry about that too much. But, I woke up with him the next morning. It was so sweet to be held by him. I just love that feeling more than anything. So much so, I don't care how fucked up everything else is. The only thing that makes me nervous is how I can't get it off my my mind now. Well, not exactly-- he's not really on my mind. It's more like he's on my chest. And I feel so anxious. I feel so out of control with him. I hate the anxiety that comes with feeling out of control. But, maybe that's the very feeling that I'm seeking because I always end up in situations that create that dynamic for me.

Last night I couldn't sleep at all. I wanted so badly to call him, but I didn't. I have to be okay with all of these space, you know? Even if I'm not. I called today though, and asked if he wants to go to the Whitney. If he doesn't call back soon, or if he avoids the issue or says no, I'll know that nothing has changed and I really am just a "call girl" of sorts for him. My fingers are crossed on this one.

I finally fell asleep last night with him in my dreams. I kept thinking about kissing him. About how we used to kiss in the Summer. Just so much kissing. And the sweetness of the thought enveloped me and at around 4:00 am, I was finally lulled into sleep.

Today the nervousness (or anxiety) is back. I'm nervous being at B's tonight. I don't know if I'm going to be able to sleep and I can't watch TV all night. I might have to take some sleeping pills. It's 10:30 and I still feel so wound up.

God damn it. I just need him to give me a chance. I hate the way he thinks of me. It's hard for me to be myself. And I miss myself so much. I so badly need to get my singing back in shape. I cried about that all afternoon. I sang my mezzo arias really well, but that stupid vocal chink is making my passagio really difficult. Parts of "Donde Lieta" were just unbearably exhausting. And my diaphragm is so fucking weak that everything wobbles way too much. I just don't know if I have the energy to jump in and fix all this, but I have no choice. I have to try because I don't know who I am when I'm not singing. I want my voice to be free again. It's the only time I feel purely happy. It relieves all this anxiety. And I have to stop burying my anxiety in the bottle.

I won't die like my dad.

I'll never let it happen.