Saturday night I went to the ashram with my friends. I usually pick people up from Love of Ganesha. When I got up to Haight Street I noticed that my ex-lover, the Nicaraguan guy, was standing outside. I thought, "Oh, is he driving up with me?" There was little to be said between us. He said hello to me and I to him. The awkwardness of the moment was offset by the fact that there was someone else driving so he could go with her. Good. The two people who rode with me I consider very good friends. They listened as I spoke about what had happened after the ashram in November between me and him. I haven't thought of a good name for him yet. Perhaps I will turn this into a faerie novel. The faeries reunite on another plane of existence only to find that ageism and economic circumstance keep them apart.
and competition again: he had to ask me how my life was going. I said good, he said great. What is the purpose of this? Ego warming? The poor ego is lying in its nest needing more warmth, the warmth of put-downs? We did have a meaningful hug, however. He took my face in his hands and put it next to his face and held it there for about two minutes. All our friends were very happy that we could come to some form of love expression. I was happy, too, but the next day I felt sad.
Oh, I forgot about the shootings. When we got back to the city at about 2 a.m. we were near the EndUp bar on 5th and Harrison. There were about 20 people standing in line, all guys. I needed to get some gas, and there was a huge half-block gas station nearby. But we heard about 3 or more gunshots, saw three guys running away, a get-a-way car and a man covered in blood. I still wanted to get some gas, but my friends talked me out of it! If only I could see danger more clearly and be really protective of myself.
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