MONDAY
7:10 a.m. I only snooze once. Somehow make it out of bed. But then go back and this Grindr guy who’s been talking to me forever messages. We never meet up. Just talk. At one point the illusion that we would have sex was there. But now that’s gone too. And we won’t ever be friends in person. Neither of us will say this. But we know it. So we just keep talking and getting personal and the stakes are low and high at the same time. High in the sense that we tell each other things we wouldn’t tell other people. Or is that low? God this is so fucking depressing. Being a human being is humiliating. I need to write and shut up.
7:40 a.m. Writing.
9:00 a.m. J and I talk about Tom Cruise. I don’t think he’s hot. Ugh do you know what I hate? Ab stuff. Like I’m probably never going to have abs. I hate suffering through any kind of ab work! But I do it. Do I secretly like suffering? Catholic aesthetics are beautiful. I’m so glad I don’t live in LA. But I love LA. And would move there forever one day. Fuck New York. It’s annoying. Fuck people with abs.
10:15 a.m. Get ready for work stuff.
1:20 p.m. Work.
5:10 p.m. Grindr guy and I should both be in therapy. We talk about this on my commute home. We don’t even have each others’ numbers. Just message in the app. We love this weird intimacy. (He’s an actor.) And talk about how we wonder what it means. (I love actors.) Well, I have a brilliant friend who’s a psychoanalyst. N. But I’d never ask her. (He’s kind of well known in certain circles.) You should just let your friends be your friends. Not make them work. (It took a long time for me to figure that out. Because we both don’t have Grindr pics. Just a black box baby.) Why am I so against therapy? I’m not. I just already know what’s wrong with me. Everything lol.
6:00 p.m. Walk up 75th and smoke a cigarette. Love Park Avenue and how quiet it gets around this time. Walk down Park then up. Have another cigarette. Walk some more. Watch the sun set and wonder why I wore this weird sweater. So hot today. Totally threw me off. I miss summer. But even in the middle of summer I miss summer. That’s just the person I am. (Sometimes living in a small studio feels like living in a box. I can’t imagine ever buying an apartment here. This makes me sad.)
7:20 p.m. Go to NR. Drink wine. Look at what I wrote earlier on my phone. After one glass of wine you are a very good editor. It goes something like this. Trash. Awful. Bad. Cringe. Take this out.
8:30 p.m. The bartenders at NR know and like me because I’m there all the time to work and think and unwind. Tonight they ask if I want to learn some Japanese words (they’re all Japanese except J). I say yes! And then remember how this summer I really wanted to learn Italian. But didn’t. Because I keep putting off doing the things I really want to do (write for Hollywood, dye my hair purple, play tennis consistently). Why? What’s the point? We’re all going to die soon. Does anyone want to go to Italian classes. I really want to learn another language and watch an Antonioni film without subtitles.
9:10 p.m. Walk some more. Up Second Avenue. Messaging Grindr guy. He’s a Libra. He’s in LA a lot. But then also lives here. I actually first started talking to him in Palm Springs because we were both staying at the Ace lol. And then we just kept talking. He asks me if I believe in soulmates? God, actors are so stupid sometimes. But do I? I don’t know. I think I used to. I don’t answer him. We just talk about sex. I have no feelings today. Just sex. I don’t want to process. But we’re like verbally fucking each other. So is that what we like more than sex?
11:00 p.m. In bed. Hated this day. Not sure why. Four new Raya guys message me. “Hey how are you?” “Hey, what’s up.” “What’s going on?” “How’s your week?” God. Kill me. Idiotic. All of it. Love is probably not worth the mundane reality it comes with.
TUESDAY
7:40 a.m. Writing.
9:00 a.m. It’s November 1. I hate the holidays.
10:20 a.m. Anyone who likes the holidays is deranged. And boring. Except Mariah Carey.
11:10 a.m. Go for a run. Sometimes people’s dogs are more beautiful than them. Ah, to be a dog! Don’t have to write poems. Don’t have to talk to people. Well, kind of. I mean, you don’t have to deal with people’s inner lives. We’re all so insufferable. Should I get an iced coffee?
12:25 p.m. I get an iced coffee. Drop of oat milk. No sugar. Actually, I think people are fine! Everything’s fine! New York is beautiful!
1:00 p.m. Writing. Blueberries. Orange. I’m going to Palm Springs soon. Thank god. I hate New York. You can’t find love here.
2:10 p.m I was fake and wrote for 20 minutes then this guy was like why don’t we meet up (Raya, if you can believe it). For coffee. Right down the street. Cause he lives in the neighborhood. Okay. Well, I already had coffee. But I don’t say that. I walk to meet him. Dumb.
2:20 p.m. Not hot. Please god help me get through the next 15 minutes before I “take a meeting.”
2:30 p.m. I like his brain. But yeah, not hot. Banker guy was hot. Bad brain. Is there a perfect man out there? I know there isn’t. But who cares. Let’s just pretend that there is.
5:40 p.m. Work.
9:20 p.m. Sit at the bar. Have dinner. I’m writing two endless poems on twitter. Love and Loneliness. I add a line to them each day. I give myself the objective of coming up with these lines while I eat. I believe in always working. I’m an American. And sometimes it’s really effortless to come up with the lines. And sometimes one comes harder than the other. Will I really write these poems until I’m dead? Yeah, I think so. What else do I have to do. I’m also single and gay!
11:30 p.m. Before I take the 6 (train of my life!!) I go to CVS and get vitamin gummies. Mostly B12 and stuff for energy. Gummies cause I’m a child and regular pills bore me. And since I stopped eating candy forever ago I love the illusion that they are candy. For a second I think I’m getting sick. But really I just haven’t been sleeping. The 6 train was my first train in New York when I lived on St. Mark’s and 3rd. I would feel sorry for myself on the 6 all the time. Around 2016-17, when MP and I were hanging out a ton (miss her she’s in LA), I would take it from Bleecker to 77th, super late at like 1am. And Fran Lebowitz would be at the end of the platform at Bleecker. Just coughing and standing around and waiting for the train too. This happened twice! I love her. One time at Cafe Loup my friend W (who is obsessed with her) saw her and was like wow, I can’t go up and say hello. She’s my idol. So I went up to her table when he was in the bathroom and was like, hey my friend loves you can he say hello. She was direct and kind. The best. Fran forever. But why doesn’t she just take cabs. Maybe it wasn’t her.
3:40 a.m. Drink a ton of water. Take bunch of vitamins before bed. Can’t sleep. Feel like something is profoundly wrong. I don’t know what. I’m terrified of death. And why do I keep switching tenses in this diary. Maybe that’s what life is. Switching tenses.
WEDNESDAY
6:10 a.m. When I see a kitten in a bodega I feel my spirit rising. I love kittens. You’re so beautiful!! I love you!!! No one deserves you!!
6:30 a.m. Haven’t slept so am bad at working out today. Just like kind of not trying. When I’m like this J asks me a ton of questions. What did you do last night. What did you eat. Have you been running. And I just try to change the subject. But somewhere toward the middle of the workout I remember something about myself. Not sure what but I get it together. Before death, there is always time to get it together.
9:00 a.m. Work. (I’m supposed to meet up with my newish Sagittarius friend in the LES tonight. The one from the party last week. But will I? Why do I feel like we’re both kind of flaky. Typical Sagittarius energy.)
6:30 p.m. Cab to Ten Bells on Broome.
8:20 p.m. This Sagittarius is fun and smart (about poetry and other stuff). Lots of eye fucking. Kind of. We just both make great eye contact. I went through a period (last 4 years) where I was friends with people who didn’t make great eye contact. And were always like “sorry gotta go to this other thing with my friend so and so” after an hour of hanging out. I’m ready for that to be over. I like duration. And real presence. I make great eye contact. And am more interesting than your other friends. So dump all your other friends for me. Hello! I’m here. I exist. I’m insane!
9:30 p.m. We go to Bacaro. I’m kind of way too drunk because I ate nothing today. Three people text me about The Drift party tomorrow and if I’m going (Taurus, Leo, Sagittarius). I don’t want to go. But I like all the people who texted so I say yeah. The Sagittarius also tells me he’s going. Ok fine. I’ll go. And pretend to like it. (I like this Sagittarius. THE ENERGY BABY. It’s all about energy. Most everyone is so boring.)
11:10 p.m. Cab home. Sad. Drunk. Buy a leather jacket on my phone. Why is my Apple Pay (and Amazon!?) linked to everything. I can literally make an impulse purchase in 2 seconds without filling out a thing. This is dangerous for fags like me! Is this capitalism?? Oh no!! Suddenly I’m compelled not to buy it because I remember certain people of the “bourgeois Brooklyn experience” (lmao) whose parents pay their rent (!) and have paid for everything else probably (!!) educating us about socialism and communism on twitter.com. You know you have some on your feed too. You’re so radical baby! You’re so resistant! Me? I was just born in a communist country what the fuck do I know about communism and how fucking stupid it is. Anyway, sometimes I love when I have to fill out a shipping address because it slows me down and I change my mind about an impulse purchase. But not tonight. No one can stop me from buying stuff!! This is America! Leather jackets for everyone even Karl Marx! (I will regret pressing CONFIRM PURCHASE in the morning lol.)
3:10 a.m. Can’t sleep. Wake up. Don’t regret the jacket. Just my entire life. I don’t want to be a poet anymore. Not that I ever had a choice. Maybe I’m just this forever no matter how much I try to stop. The poems keep coming lol. They can’t be stopped!! But the poetry world has never known what to do with me no matter how hard I work or what I write or how I act. They just don’t get me. They don’t get it. But at least I’m free. And can change my life anytime. I can do anything. I can be a kitten in a bodega at sunrise!! Because no one owns Alex Dimitrov! Not even me lol. (Am I starting to believe in god??)
THURSDAY
6:40 a.m. Asked people on the Elon app what my next drug poem should be. Ketamine 29%. Ecstasy 35%. Peyote 15%. Ayahuasca 21%. Lmao.
7:30 a.m. An Aquarius I’ve flirted with for years is going to be in town. I haven’t wanted to fuck anyone in a while but I want to fuck him. I think he’s married though (to a guy). I think?? Something tells me that won’t stop either of us. Unless I get shy. Sometimes I get shy. People have a hard time believing this because I’m so good at being social. But I’m reserved at times. Really. Must be my communist upbringing!
8:00 a.m. Should I move to Taos? I got super high in Taos once. And saw ghosts. In a house with a red tub. But they were friendly ghosts. One of them told me to keep going. Thank you ghost. I haven’t forgotten you.
10:20 a.m. Lost my phone charger yesterday. Good. I want my phone to always be dead. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Don’t text or call unless you have something beautiful to say. Don’t DM me either. But wait. I have a driver’s license and can’t drive. Is there Uber and Lyft in Taos?? Everyone knows gay people can’t drive. Omg I’m a virgin who can’t drive!!!
12:30 p.m. Sometimes when you do something new it’s important to ignore everyone because they just remember the old. And the old is never new.
1:17 p.m. Phone died. Typing this out in an email.
3:00 p.m. Sometimes you have to push everyone away just to see who comes back.
3:14 p.m. Fuck. I missed my haircut. It was at 1?? What was I doing. Probably thinking all this dumb philosophical shit. Shut the fuck up, Alex! Hair is more important than philosophy!! I charged my phone btw lmao.
3:30 p.m. Not me walking into the barbershop pretending like nothing happened. Me to O at the front: If I don’t get my fade I’m going to kill myself, sir. O gets me. We just talk at the beginning and end. When I pay. But he gets my vibe. He’s like, please let this fag get his fade or he’s going to start a war. I’m anti war though. But if I don’t get my fade!! Knife emoji.
4:10 p.m. Got my fade! I love everyone! Fuck Taos. New York is king. I love poetry! Maybe I’ll even go to this other party Saturday. Omg why did I buy the jacket. I have like 7384829921 leather jackets. People at Stonewall didn’t fight for me to act like this!! Should I become Catholic again. I’m tired of being gay. In my next life I just wanna be a sick fade!!
5:00 p.m. Phone call with my friend M on the west coast. She’s a real artist. Capital A!!! We used to have these routinely. But fell out of a groove when I was in Europe last summer. I just really look up to her. She is the most creative person I know. She tells me to read May Sarton’s Journal of a Solitude.
6:14 p.m. Ugh do I really need to go to another party. Also I ruined one of my favorite shirts last night. I take it to the dry cleaners but know this spot won’t come out. Fuck me. I’m gonna wear this garbage bag looking zip up thing to The Drift party. Because I feel like shit lol. Garbage bag by John Elliott. PLEASE SPONSOR ME IF YOU’RE READING THIS JE. I just want to wear John Elliott forever. Please.
10:13 p.m. My friend N and I are hanging out with Z at The Drift party. It’s in Boerum Hill. I feel good. I get two drinks and double fist cause I know I’m gonna drink the first one fast and don’t wanna wait in line for another. I hate waiting for anything!! Lots of people texting me if I’m at the party. I don’t respond. I mean show up and find out. I hate when people need to be babysat or convinced. I’m not your parent. Be adventurous.
11:10 p.m. Thanks to the cool girls who came up and told me my poetry was sick lol. Gen Z is alright. We’re gonna be fine. I like the kids.
12:30 a.m. I get asked to be in a play. Lol. Am so tempted. Just also so busy. I feel like I’ll say yes to a play at some point. Is it now? I don’t know!! I love acting. I love actors. I love theater.
1:40 a.m. Car home. Feel good. Feel creative. NEW YORK!!
FRIDAY
9:40 a.m. Anything that makes me feel free interests me.
9:53 a.m. Fear is not interesting.
10:00 a.m. I need to run and write and ignore everyone.
11:20 a.m. I run and write and ignore everyone.
1:30 p.m. Also need to change my sheets. In some ways I’m such a guy. In this gross way. Who cares. I love being a guy. Masculinity is amazing. I love masculinity. Masculinity forever.
4:00 p.m.
Men who dislike me:
Cancer
Virgo
Taurus
Men who hate me:
Scorpio
Capricorn
Men who like me:
Sagittarius
Libra
Aquarius
Pisces
Men who love me:
Aries
Gemini
Leo
Open to being wrong. Hope I’m wrong actually. Because I would like to be loved by someone other than those last 3 for once.
8:39 p.m. Maybe instead of getting drunk I’ll change my sheets. This task will take me 16.4 hours because I have trouble putting the comforter in the duvet thing!! Sobbing face emoji. Please god send me a boyfriend so he can change the duvet thing. Then leave. Bye! I don’t want to see you until next duvet thing!
SATURDAY
7:20 a.m. I’m going to bring Night Call back either this coming Feb or Feb 2024. First time I did it was 2014. I want to do it every 9 or 10 years. And 9 is a holy number. But 10 is a whole number. Is anything whole? Ginsberg said everything was holy. Or was that Whitman.
11:42 a.m. Guy I hook up with sometimes texts. Clearly a do you wanna bang text. Like. If you were in front of me right now sure (he lives in Tribeca). But I can’t type out stuff and do small talk and blah blah. I’m over it.
12:10 p.m. Writing.
3:40 p.m. I have weird insane sex. Makes me hate myself. Okay lets repress that! We have a party to go to. Pull it together!
9:33 p.m. N’s party in Brooklyn. Wearing my garbage bag again. What if I just wore this until the end of time. I love N. She is so smart and brilliant. And then my friend M shows up. She is also so smart and brilliant. I ask her if she thinks I’m living a real life. I tell her I don’t think I am. By this I mean normal life. Like for normal people with houses and kids and stuff. She says, do you think Frank Bidart ever thinks that. Or something of the sort. I can’t remember cause I’m typing this after. (I LOVE YOU FRANK. LET’S NEVER BE NORMAL.) She tells me I’m living a life an artist would. And I tell her yeah but that’s hard. Anyway. I loved tonight. Talked with both of N’s kids. Both girls. So much female energy. I love women. I want to learn Italian. M and I decide we need to take classes. Her Sicilian friend at the party says I have perfect pronunciation. M’s pronunciation sucks. Yeah. That’s why I want to learn it. I like being good at stuff! I can do the Italian r very well. I can’t do the French r. Well I can, but I don’t want to try that hard. I just want to change my entire life. (Brazilians and Italians love me the most. If I had to do a country breakdown like I did a zodiac one earlier, it’s Brazilians and Italians always vibing with me. My friend M says that there is no sensuality left in American life. I agree with this. And in poetry too. Should I just move to Rome or Rio?)
SUNDAY
9:10 a.m. In bed watching Djokovic. I love that he makes everyone mad and just lives his life on his terms. I love a “one man” against the world story. Fuck Nadal. Fuck Federer. They never inspired me.
10:00 a.m. Marathon Sunday makes me want to kill myself. You can’t run. Cause they’re running. You can’t cross 1st Avenue. You can’t get drunk in peace later because the runners are in every bar. People are screaming and cheering and stuff. The entire day!! And so you can’t sit and write either. That’s it. I’m moving to LA.
12:11 p.m. I go to the corner of 76 and 1. See J pass in the marathon (I can track him on the app!!). He doesn’t see me but I see him. Omg I am so emotional!! All these people running. I love the marathon!! Trying to finish a piece of writing is kind of a marathon too. (Deep thoughts! Lmao). People are so strong and beautiful!!!! I feel inspired. I go write before I meet a new friend I’ve been texting with all morning. (J is an Aries. He just never gives up. Life is about not giving up.)
1:20 p.m. I invited some people to my Palm Springs birthday. Then uninvited everyone and got mad. What is wrong with me. I did this in May btw lol. But now people are like hey are we still going. Maybe I’ll just say yeah to the people who are coming back the second time and asking. But why am I so resistant to being loved. Ew. Bye. I can’t believe I even wrote that.
2:11 p.m. Every time I feel down about my big writing project (which is going well! just taking a long time because I want it to be so beautiful!) I think of west coast M. On the phone she said “I believe in you.” Idk why but that almost made me cry. No one says that to me. Not those four words in that order.
3:00 p.m. I go meet my new friend in the West Village. I need to get out of the neighborhood. It’s marathon chaos. And new friend is a Virgo with a Gemini moon and Cancer rising. Care taker vibes. (Why am I drinking in the middle of the day. You moron.)
4:20 p.m. We get a drink. We get two. Four. Five (well…I get a fifth). Then go to his apartment in Williamsburg.
9:00 p.m. We talk a bunch. He’s so funny. Smart. Reads me very well. Also has read my poems lol. We kind of fuck. Talk some more. Kind of fuck again. (Virgos really care about your orgasm. Fuck ya.)
1:37 a.m. I call a car.
1:55 a.m. Get home. Hit up the kitten bodega. OMG it’s closed. Wtf. Make some edits on the diaries. Look over a poem I wrote yesterday. Go to bed. Can’t sleep. Need to change the sheets. But don’t. So what. I don’t care. I don’t want to be a real person anyway. I want to be an artist.
please keep writing these I feel seen
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