Is It Serious? I'm Afraid It Is

I'm sitting in Panera with Adecia. She's typing away on her paper like a good student. I'm staring out the window thinking of other nights like this (weather-wise). Wet and a bit chilly. Thinking of good memories. Living in Chicago with the electricity of something new floating through the air. The first times I visited Michael in the suburbs. It all seemed so perfect. Don't get me wrong, the present isn't a bad time either, but everything seems sweeter once it's over. There was an idealic quality to those times; I had finally met a guy who deemed me worthy of boyfriend status. (Not that the other ones had been good enough for me in the first place). I borrowed his Abercrombie-boy persona for a while. I was in a different place with a group of people that were entirely new to me. I was navigating the waters of being out of the closet...not that my mind often registered what that meant. I just do what I want to do, most of the time. Anyway, flash back to now. I feel like painting. I'll probably paint Hedwig, becuase I've wanted to for a while and maybe it will appease this fascination I have with drag queens. I don't want to be one. I just love them. I'm reading an amazing book, 'I Am Not Myself These Days' by Josh Kilmer-Purcell. It's a memoir of sorts about a particular time in the life of an alcoholic drag queen named Aquadisiac. Fabulous beyond words. And heart-warming and funny and sad to boot. Today I burst out laughing just as class was starting (I read this: "Two hours later I'm at approximately the level of drunk I was aiming for. Okay, so I may have gone a bit beyond. Okay, so I might have a slight problem standing. That's why God made walls.") and the room fell silent as everyone exchanged sideways glances, as if to say "who laughs out loud because of a book?" I do. And you will too because I know you'll run off and read it now if you haven't already. Well, I'm off. Time to hop on my vacuum and ride home.