hayfeverish

two days in a row, as i walked along the willamette, i found a hummingbird buzzing around the thorny blackberry vines that grow along the base. the bird had a a bright magenta face and chest; a shiny, seemingly unnatural color. it made a whistling sound at me like a child's musical instrument. it couldn't seem to make up its mind whether to be afraid of me or not.

although we usually talk three or four times a week, i have not heard from madre in three weeks. i think my sister told her i was angry at her. i had mentioned to her that i had recently started seeing someone about whom i was pretty excited. she had absolutely nothing to say on the subject and could not remember my having mentioned anything about him in subsequent conversations.

i've found myself buying a lot of flowers lately. mostly cheap bouquets of daffodils. my roommate owen reminds me that there are daffodils blooming in the front and back yards, but i always reply that i want to keep those flowers there, that they're pretty to see when one arrives home in the afternoon.

and the afternoon, the evening no longer sleep so peaceful. they're longer. i find myself thinking it's four when several hours have passes and it is now six. it's past seven-thirty as i type this and the sun is hardly finished setting. the lawn is green and yellow and orange with sunlight. the trees dotted white with flowers.

forbidden colors. finished reading the yukio mishima novel by this title. is homosexuality always a narcissistic performance or have the interstices between living and desire for the homosexual been relocated? why am i attracted to men and can i live an authentic life or will my existence always be a performance in reaction to heterosexual society?

i saw a snake near my office the other day. i hear rustling in the brown leaves near my feet, stopped, and when i searched the brown hues piled there, i found a small, skinny dark brown snake with a red line down its back. i'm sure i had disturbed its nap as it sunned itself in the rare light.

when we wake up from the winter, it's a perfect time to ask yourself exactly what you want, exactly what you expect from the coming seasons. last year i was young, younger than this year obviously, but i felt young, i acted young. i was young and immature and i went to rooster rock often and took off my clothes and lay in the sand, sunning. but maybe this year i won't be content to just sun. maybe i want something more. gardens and garden parties; iced tea; front porches; little white gloves; plans and progress. a sensible summer. fun but sensible. right? sometimes you grow up believing you want a certain thing and cannot know that you don't want it at all 'til you get there.

i have always dreamed of a house and a spouse; a garden with children; quotidian routine; chocolate cake for breakfast. but perhaps this is someone else's dream i just grew up dreaming? can i live an authentic life or will my existence always be a performance?