NYC Diary #4
7:44 a.m. Write one sentence. Stare at it for 15 minutes. Write another sentence. Stare at it for 30.
9:01 a.m. Not in the mood to talk today. Not in the mood to work out either. So J rambles and I lift things. There was this kind of hot gay guy who used to overlap with me last spring at 9. On Mondays. And it was weird because we had talked on Grindr years ago. But never hooked up. I always wondered if he remembered that. I don’t know. I followed him on insta once. Then unfollowed. So I’m paranoid I’ll see him again at the gym and have to “confront” that. I just can’t have sex with someone who posts about pride month on social media. Sorry! It’s just not me.
7:37 p.m. In the Slope for my friend W’s dinner party. He says it’s the first of many. And that Monday nights are a big fuck you to everyone except people who would…..you know. Go to a party on Monday. I guess I’m one of those people. Duh.
9:48 p.m. Bunch of fiction writers. I just watch people cook lol. And get drunk on W’s weird wines. I’m wearing a black sweater with a sprinkle of abstract stars! Get into it.
10:30 p.m. A brought D. Who I have a crush on. He talks about his time in prison. This guy has the best energy lol. Gemini. I say a bunch of crazy shit and he doesn’t bat an eye. Just smiles throughout my entire rant (what am I ranting about?? faggot things like literature!). We just get each other. But I feel exhausted and too tired to flirt. I’m at 60%. It sucks. (And I’m going to take out the “work” portions of this diary. They’re boring. I work too much anyway. Literally running from one place to the next being an adjunct. Which is killing my mind and body! Lol. Insane I don’t have a tenure track job or something more stable. Time for some life changes soon.).
12:06 a.m. We all go to Commonwealth. A and I talk about how fucked up we feel. I can tell this is going to be a sad week. After the second week of November life is hell until May. I try to spend a lot of that time in Miami writing. I did that last winter. And I felt better and anonymous. More like myself.
1:14 a.m. Before bed I remember that my friend S (who is sort of my angel) asked me if I wanted to do an event in San Francisco. It was during the party? I was drunk? And her people would fly me out but it’s too short notice. In a week. And I have a million things going on. I want to get all these desert color tees for my birthday in Palm Springs. Aesthetics over everything! Despite how exhausted I feel I really think something is going to change. I’m just kind of done taking everyone’s shit! My friend N says I need to start asking for what I’m worth. I feel that.
8:27 a.m. Depressed.
9:00 a.m. Writing.
10:56 a.m. Head.
11:38 a.m. Rain.
1:10 p.m. $120 of vitamin gummys. I get D3 cause a friend told me to. I really don’t know what the fuck these vitamins mean. D84 X19 P13. Who cares! I just buy stuff. And hope it’s good for me.
2:30 p.m. I said yes to this random Raya guy. The weird thing about Raya guys is that they like meeting during the day. I find this odd. New York is not a day city. Also no one looks good during the day. This isn’t LA! But I meet him on 74 and York anyway. The plan is to “just walk and get coffee.” I’m so fucking bored already. When I walk, I really don’t like another person next to me!!
2:41 p.m. I literally was halfway there and turned back. I can’t do this today. Sorry random Raya guy. The universe is indifferent and so am I.
9:20 p.m. Drinks with K and N. I’m wearing a Supreme sweater I love that spells out New York. The last time I wore it was at the Bowery Hotel on my birthday in 2020. I have this new ritual of going to California for my birthday. To the desert. Alone. (Last year I did a ton of mushrooms there with a Gemini. I was supposed to be alone. But the Gemini just sort of happened. It was actually really dope because we made out a lot and I saw Jesus in red cowboy boots.)
1:39 a.m. Comedy is more interesting than tragedy. Because it contains tragedy.
6:30 a.m. J says, “you look really good.” Really? I feel like I’ve been stabbed to death and thrown off a bridge. I want Azealia 212 on so I can wake the fuck up.
5:40 p.m. In the back of a cab. Feel really weird. Sort of like I’m about to pass out and I remember Robert Lowell died in the back of a cab. I always remember this. But today it’s freaking me out. Because what if I die here too. Then they’d say “Robert Lowell and Alex Dimitrov died in the back of cabs.” I don’t like that! I would rather have a unique death!! Anyway. My driver actually turns around to look at me. I must be moving weird or something. You’re pale, he says. Okay. This is bad. A New Yorker wouldn’t do that unless it was bad. I try to change the destination on my phone to an ER I know. While I’m fumbling with it the driver literally just passes my apartment and is already taking me to one. New Yorkers are no bullshit. Maybe we don’t do niceties but in trouble we’re kind of the best. One time I saw a woman’s water break on the A train. They literally found a doctor who was on the train between stops. And then people took her out at the next stop. Like they lifted her up. Lol. But yeah. I’m kind of having trouble breathing. Guess it’s my time!
6:12 p.m. In the ER. My hands are cold. There’s a little kid screaming. Also a businessman who’s super hot and in a Thom Browne suit. I’m pretty sure. It has those three stripes around the left arm. Well. If I die it’s kind of nice I get to look at a hot person. And I actually love Thom Browne!! God stans the gays. He probably wanted this for me. (Sorry to assume God’s gender!!)
6:27 p.m. I have the same feeling like when I’m getting my blood drawn. Like something is being pulled out of me. And when I have my blood drawn I usually tell the person doing it that I need to constantly talk about dumb shit. To distract myself from the reality of the blood filling the vial. And I end up going on and on about what I’m reading and what I last bought and what the best boxers are (Lacoste IMO). And so the time passes and I forget about the blood. They also give me candy. Very nice!! But. Well. I have that feeling again now. In this ER. And I’ve never had it before while not getting blood drawn. I feel like if I don’t start talking to someone I’m going to pass out. I have no idea what’s wrong with me.
6:33 p.m. Waiting for a doctor to see me. Fuck. I text the only person who’s taken me to an ER before (in New York anyway) but she’s going to the NBA after party. Have fun!
6:39 p.m. I go through the list of people I can text. No one with kids. Because they have enough shit to deal with. My friend A. But he left for Thanksgiving already. My friend S. But she’s in DC tonight. And I guess other people are at parties! Ok!! Well. I guess the only person left (I love to lie to myself lol) is my toxic ex? I guess he was my ex?? What even was he. “Someone who is scared.” “Someone who doesn’t know himself.” “Someone who can never give you what you need.” Blurbs by my friends!! Thanks for the blurbs guys! It’s definitely NOT working though. Lmao. I text.
6:50 p.m. The nurse takes my vitals. She looks at my blood pressure numbers a little too long. The doctor comes in right away. What’s going on, he says. What happened today. He tells me my blood pressure is “quite elevated.” Well I’m very passionate, I say!! Asks if I get panic attacks. No. Asks if I have anxiety. I mean. I live in New York. Next question. The next question sucks by the way. How often do you drink or do stimulants. I mean. Again. I live in New York!! I start pacing and kind of can’t breathe. Okay. Let’s do an EKG, he says. This really freaks me out. Am I dying? Don’t think about things you can’t control, he says. I want to fucking murder him. What kind of an answer is that. I guess God really is in control!! Lmao. The guy I shouldn’t have texted arrives. He comes in the room. Right as the EKG drama is going on. Okay, I want to tell the doctor. I’m a dumb bitch and shouldn’t have texted this person because he actually raises my blood pressure!! Let’s just all take molly. But I don’t say that. Obviously lol. I just tell my maybe ex to leave because I don’t want to take my shirt off in front of him. Not because I don’t look hot! I just don’t want to have this moment at all. I’m so fucking dumb.
7:10 p.m. Doctor comes in again. EKG seems ok. But you should go to your regular doctor this week, if not tomorrow, and do an echo. He also wants to take my vitals again. They’re worse than the first time lmao. He asks me if I’ve eaten anything. No, I say lol. He tells me I should eat something, go to bed and not drink. I can’t drink anything?? This is New York. And I literally have like 4 jobs. Sorry!! I’m going to drink.
7:40 p.m. Dinner at The Mark with my bad ER choice. He’s just like trying to make normal conversation. I’m literally dying. My head is killing me. My ears feel like I microwaved them. And I think I’m going to throw up. So I go to the bathroom and try to throw up. But I can’t. I do this super pathetic thing where I text bad ER choice from the bathroom. “Just don’t leave.” Because that’s his history. He always leaves. He’s the only person who just leaves in the middle of dinners, drinks, dates, etc. I already have insane abandonment issues. I need someone to finish their fucking salmon this time ok!!
9:11 p.m. The dinner is fine. I kind of am losing track of time. I’m there but I’m not really there. And start to feel like I’m going to pass out again. Something is wrong with me but I already knew that lol. And Bad ER choice takes this as an opportunity to tell me about the people he slept with this summer. Nice! My blood pressure was 174/105 but tell me anyway! Great choice. Great way to get that last bit of attention baby! Needless to say, this completely breaks my brain. And then I have to pay for my own dinner after the ER and after he makes an astronomical amount of money more than me? Check please. I clearly am sexually attracted to cowards. Not after tonight tho. Take me Jesus. I’m ready for the kingdom of heaven!!
12:20 p.m. Talk to my friend S on the phone. She’s convinced I texted him because I want him to “show the kind of care one is expected to in an ER room.” And he doesn’t do that normally. I mean sure! Yeah. She’s right. But it’s never going to happen, she says. You’re never going to get it from him. And I know that’s true too. Can I get a voucher or a coupon since I’m Catholic again?? I would like to trade in this experience for something else! Or get my money back.
9:17 a.m. Everyone texts or calls. Except Bad ER choice. He doesn’t even text “are you okay.” Nice! I have always had exceptional taste in cowards. My head feels like it’s being slammed against a wall and I think I’m going to pass out again. That blood is really pumping baby!
11:23 a.m. On the phone my friend D tells me she’ll make the doctor’s appointment for me. She is the only one who’s actually like, you have to go in. But I was just there, I say. Lol. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t go in again. But I promise. And I like to keep my promises. So I book it and think I’m seeing Keanu. But then I realize that’s not the location I usually see him at. This one is in the 50s. Am I seeing someone new??? Maybe he isn’t working today?? Fuck. Can I at least have my hot doctor. Is everything going to be taken away from me this week! I would like to have a word with Mary. Praying to Jesus just isn’t working.
3:00 p.m. New doctor. Keanu is at the 60s location. Oh wow. I really thought he would just show up at every location. Lol. Maybe something is really wrong with me after all.
3:14 p.m. New doctor is a Scorpio. I ask lol. He actually tells me! He’s super chatty. OMG I love him. Not hot. But so, so nice. Much nicer than Keanu!! As usual this confirms my suspicion that I want attention and care from the coldest people. Groundbreaking sweetie. You and every other faggot. Okay so new doctor is like, how was our night in the ER. Was it a party? Lmao. I love him!! Weird party, I say! And I texted an ex. Oh man, he says. And why did you get off prep. I think I don’t have enough sex for that maybe?? He’s looking at my info on the computer. OMG does he know all about my sex life. What’s enough, he says. Good question, I tell him. Lol. You should get back on, he tells me. Just for safety. Well okay, I say. I really hate having my blood drawn so that’s actually why I stopped. I’ll send it in anyway, he says. And up to you, yeah? What a nice guy! Then he freaks me out and is like, I also want to do an EKG, an echo, some sleep tests, some neurological tests, and I’m like hold on. Hold on sweetie! Am I okay?? We don’t know yet, he says. But we’re finding out what we can. OMG. Maybe medicine is just like poetry. Yeah, we really don’t know anything, I say. But he doesn’t think it’s deep or interesting lol. Something about his energy makes me feel good tho. He has so much empathy and looks me in the eyes and can tell I deal with everything bad through humor so he’s giving it right back. I’m so glad people like this exist. These are the people who see me.
4:40 p.m. I walk out and go pick up the pills he prescribed. For my blood pressure. And I’m carrying this sleep test and this thing that attaches to my phone or finger or something. I didn’t pay attention when he described it. I’m not fucking testing my sleep. Wtf. I feel angry and sad all at once. No “are you ok” text from bad ER choice. Why do you even want that!? You’re so fucking dumb Alex.
7:00 p.m. Take a hot shower. Collapse into bed. Still have to do a work thing. So I read and write and do it. And my head feels like it’s going to explode.
9:25 p.m. I pass out.
12:20 a.m. Wake up and text some more. Pass out again. (I want to see Jesus in my dream and ask him how the tests will go lol. This is literally why I became Catholic again. I just want to know about stuff before it happens.)
8:05 a.m. I’m going to pretend like I’m immortal. And when I die, I die. Everyone is going to die. There’s nothing special about it. So anyway! I’m okay!
10:16 a.m. Try to write. Can’t. I feel sick again.
3:07 p.m. Running. It got cold. And the dark is creeping up. I hate this time of year.
7:10 p.m. At dinner by myself at the bar. Same place as Wednesday ER dinner. Why am I doing this to myself? I love to suffer!! This Pisces I was supposed to hang out with on Monday texts and is like I’m around. He lives in LA. Okay. I tell him we should just hang out tonight. Don’t know if I’ll be alive by Monday lmao.
9:10 p.m. I avoided caffeine all day because the doctor was like no caffeine for a month. And here I am ordering an espresso martini. I actually forget it has caffeine in it. Honestly!! I don’t do this consciously. I’m just gay and stupid. In the middle of drinking it I’m like oh. Fuck. I feel the caffeine.
9:40 p.m. Pisces comes. We drink. And talk about lit stuff. LA. And New York. And decide to go downtown to the White Horse Tavern where Dylan Thomas and Whitman and O’Hara drank. I kind of don’t care though lol. Is that bad to say? I just don’t fucking care tonight. I’ll probably be drinking with them in the afterlife soon.
10:36 p.m. White Horse Tavern is all straight people. It’s also packed. Ugh. We drink then go out for a cig. I guess a girl’s sign right off the bat. Taurus, I say. OMG how did you know, she screams. I just did. From the boots. And the energy. And your eyeliner. One time outside Boiler Room I guessed a guy’s exact birthday. March 3. Which is also my agent’s birthday. I almost guessed the exact year too. 1987 but it was 1988. I tell the Taurus all this. OMG she says. She can’t get over it. She wants to keep talking to me but I’m kind of like no baby. Pick another gay. I’m not playing best supporting actor to a straight girl tonight. I’ve had a brush with death! Everything is different now.
11:26 p.m. We take a car to Clando. Pisces sort of looks like Clark Kent. I’m drunk. I see D from the pod at Clando!! OMG. Hiiiiiii. Meet his girlfriend. She’s kind of mean at first then nice lol. I respect that. Who cares. It’s all good. And then I talk with D’s roommate about Richard Howard for the longest time. D has holes in his sweater and I put my fingers in them. Lol.
2:34 a.m. Still at Clando. Clark Kent keeps walking in and out of the bar. Is he ok lol.
3:03 a.m. Take a car home. You know what. That made me feel so much better. After getting emotionally and physically ruined on Wednesday I just needed to put my hands all over a guy’s sweater!! I literally want to text my doctor and tell him I found the cure.
8:05 a.m. Writing.
11:20 a.m Running.
1:00 p.m. The random Raya guy messages me. He’s pissed. I guess he also messaged the other day when I walked away but I didn’t read those. Too much!! This time he’s like: that’s just a rude thing to do. I almost died, I tell him! Like Robert Lowell in the back of a cab. Who’s Robert Lowell, he says. Lol. Ok. Enough humiliation for one day.
8:11 p.m. The MTA is cursed. I’m a million hours late to meet my friend N because the Q is trash. This really cool gay guy wearing pink chucks next to me is listening to Lana Del Rey super loud. Since I know her entire discography I can tell he’s listening to Nectar of the Gods. Best song on her last album. I really want to tap him on the shoulder and ask what he thought of Chem Trails. The album before this one. I kind of thought it sucked except for White Dress! But White Dress is a masterpiece. So it’s okay. (DOWN AT THE MEN IN MUSIC BUSINESS CONFERENCE!!!!!!)
10:26 p.m. With N. Tolstoy the dog comes up to our table. He’s so cute. We pet him and everyone takes his pic. Star! I love a celeb! My friend N makes me feel so much better. She’s just one of the smartest people I know. Next time you’re in the ER, she says. Call me. We’re both kind of non-normative weirdos in a way.
1:03 a.m. Home. My work is going really well. I love what I’m writing. I hope my body doesn’t give up on me.
9:20 a.m Running.
10:34 a.m. Drinking mint tea cause I can’t have caffeine. It sucks. Fuck you mint tea. Not even close to coffee.
11:00 a.m. I meet my ex (lawyer, July 4 birthday) right outside of St. Ignatius Loyola on 84 and Park. We barely say anything to each other and just enjoy the service. It’s Catholic. I feel at peace. Nice to do something with him because things were so weird once. Time softens everything. (Thank you God for keeping me alive this week.)
1:20 p.m. Writing.
3:09 p.m. Read some John Donne from the Collected. Read passages I love from Middlemarch. They make me believe in fiction again. Because contemporary fiction really lacks this (whatever Middlemarch has). It might be fiction but it’s not art. And I only care about art. Middlemarch is art.
9:00 p.m. Phone call with west coast M. Thank you to my real friends who got me through this week. Fuck everyone else. (And thank you Jesus for dying for our sins! That was major.)
10:37 p.m. Pass out to the Stones Beast of Burden on repeat. I think masculinity is making a comeback. Because Jesus was a top. And not a coward. He didn’t leave or walk out on anyone. I think that’s inspiring. That’s a man.