The peaceful interior of St. Dominic Church, Washington, D.C., 2:08PM April 18, 2014.
I found out yesterday that LBJ used to go here occasionally during his presidency. I also found out the place barely survived the ugly "urban renewal" of the late 1950s / early 1960s.
Some Holy Saturday.
I am badly hung over and in pain. Yesterday was among the worst days I've had in a long time -- both workwise and socially. Some Good Friday.
My workday was just difficult. And my social day would have been good except for a terrible, horrible fight I had with Brady's dad. That would be Chris H.
He inexplicably and viciously turned on me (though he never really liked me anyway). He was spewing at me for reasons that I still can't figure out*, and I blew up pretty badly back at him, yelling right there on T Street at the 3AM hour. So I guess I won't be seeing Brady again. Indeed, he even mentioned that and that I would blog about it -- so here it is.
Consider it blogged.
Oh, and then he saw a cop cruiser and thought he could get me arrested because he just could. Yeah, right. The MPD roam the streets of D.C. at night looking to intervene in situations where drunk gay men are arguing. It's such a high priority.
There, M. WADE Tipamillyun -- now you can be happy. Oh, and I detest you, too.
*As near as I could tell, he was upset that I talked to the NPR correspondent guy who is married to the woman who runs the new restaurant where he works. He was saying, "You're not a good person ..." and other similar comments.
I never turn on people like that but I get that ALL the time, and there are oceans of antipathy and distrust and fear between me and others. I also react badly to being berated, especially in a hateful way when I've done nothing wrong in my mind. I don't handle that well -- never have, never will. Indeed, I don't think I should have to (should I?).
OK, yelling isn't good, but I inherited crazy and explosion. On both sides. Big time.
I deleted Chris's number and don't really know what to do. I guess there is nothing to do. Now he doesn't have to get and ignore multiple text messages from me.
Being a gay man is the worst thing in the Universe. It's an idiotic, ugly, unhappy, miserable reality. And in my case, everybody hates me anyway (well, except perhaps Quill and perhaps Miss Wendy). And I hate most of them back. Come on, Dear God -- let's see how a sh!t of a day today can be, too. There's nothing You can't do.
The presently-peaking double-flowering Kwanzan cherry tree blossoms. This tree and three others actually grow in the little yard at the corner of 16th and T Streets NW where aforementioned person lives. I took this yesterday (April 18, 2014) at 6:17PM.
I don't want to get up today but I also don't want to miss meeting my mom for our scheduled afternoon dinner in Baltimore at the Rusty Scupper. But somehow I have to make it to Union Station and schlepp up on the MARC to BWI Rail Station by 1:05PM. All I really want to do is sleep all day.
This song is stuck in my head. Not sure why.
OK, if everything goes right -- should I even finish that flippin' sentence?? -- I will be back this evening.