When I was out this morning on my run, I saw a couple sitting on a park bench down at the river. Birds were all around them; ducks mostly. The birds wanted what the couple had in their bag, and tried to get the girl’s and the boy’s attention.
But the couple on had eyes for each other. I recognise the look they had; when they look at each other and just feel like their insides are on fire, and they just can’t contain the laughter and joy.
I feel like that when I’m with Mark, but we’ve never sat on a park bench down by the river in the morning, feeding the ducks, and looking at each other like that. And that made me so intensely jealous and sad.
When people pass that couple by, they would smile and think about young love, and the world would seem a little brighter. If people would pass by me and Mark, if we sat like that, they’d frown and think that we should keep that stuff to ourselves.
Sometimes I hate being gay. Sometimes I hate it so much. I want to be like everyone else. I want to sit on a bench in the morning with the one I love, and get admiring glances for what I have. I don’t want to always have the question “is it safe?” in the back of my head.
I want to hug Mark, and give him a kiss, and show the whole world what I have, and I want people to smile and wink and think about young love. Not think about sex, because even if I never had sex again, I’d still love. What makes me gay is the love, not the sex.
When we get married, we’re going to have this terribly public thing, and I am not going to care about negative responses. If people want to feel bad, then I’ll rub it in their faces that I’m happy, and they’re miserable little creatures.
Today we’re off to the cemetery in Sussex, which is why I’m up so early. We’re going to go in our car, and we’ll just fetch Auntie and go.
I woke up three hours ago, having slept too much last night, and that was why I was out running. The strange thing is that I love this time of day, even though I don’t experience it too often on free days. It’s still cool, and the world just smells fresher in the morning.
Watson and Lady have a realistic grip on mornings. They just want food, and walkies. As soon as we stir, they’re there at the bowls or at the hat-rack where we put the leashes. Me? I get maudlin in the morning, as I stare out of the window over a big jug, and this sappy thoughts about love and life and me and Mark.
I love my current life. I never want this to end. I could do with a bit less homework, and could do with more books to read. One day I want a huge library with thousands of books, and then I’ll drink tea in a leather chair and read stuff while I wake up. Imagine, just sitting there in the undies, waking up like that.
Realism tells me that I’ll most likely have an e-reader on the side-table, and think back to when I wanted to be a writer. How silly I was then, right? Who would be a writer. 🙂
The publishers have responded to the DOJ lawsuit against them and Apple, which I wrote about here, and so it’s up in the news again. I’m not going to reiterate what I wrote there, because nothing has changed since then, except that Apple and the publishers have responded to the law-suit.
The responses in the comment fields to any article that deal with this is interesting. It is the future. These comments can generally be summarized as “defending so called indie authors against the vile publishing industry now that authors have the chance to strike it rich by doing everything else than writing novels”.
It struck me that Ron Paul-supporters must be authors, because it’s the same religious fervour about Amazon and self-publishing. Self-publishing has its place, but it’s not the panacea for readers that the zealots portray it to be. It is the slush-pile made public, and the good voices will be drowned by the torrents of pure muck.