[CW: self harm (including puking) mention]

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Finally met Cryssie again-- I'd missed her so much and she didn't even hug me, started right out the gate with "If y'all think you're gonna be free from what the grand-wizard-in-chief is gonna do to the rest of us, you’re in for a rude awakening, rich bitch." Like-- wow, slow down and take a few steps back for me, will ya?

The long and short of it is-- as I had picked up, in fact, through having a television and reading newspapers, actually, Crystal-- the racist old husk of a B-movie star that was our governor (and who fucked my chances at going back and graduating college!) just became president of the United States. Enough people thought we were stepping out of line a little too boldly, I suppose. They wanted to drive a nail through the last remnants of the sixties left standing. And, unlike what you assumed, Crystal, I am in fact pretty damn worried about the whole thing. For myself and for you and for Benny and-- G-d, all of our friends? It's like she really did assume I just stopped caring about everybody because I could afford a new car.

I can still get frustrated with Cryssie, like now, but the worry she assumed I didn't feel is really what's permeating everything. I think of Benny and I know that if I get fucked by whatever's coming, he could get fucked twice as bad. If not worse. And what do I do about that? I want to be with him. I want to protect him. But then to protect him, I almost feel like I'd have to stay away from him, and I don't want to do that if I can help it; even the thought of it kills me inside, but the thought of hurting him does, too. G-d, I just want to know what to do. Or I suppose, more honestly, I'd like to know what it would take to be with him. Exactly how much pain and hiding and running we'll have to endure for each other. If I knew, it'd be easier. I've already endured a lot. I'd like to think I could take it. For him. --I don't know, I'm just rambling and saying silly things, now.

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Odd being at an age and place where everyone around you is getting shacked up. Less and less time to be around gay friends, too, so it's even more suffocating that way. Marriages and children and marriages and engagements and baby showers and engagements. A lot of them associated with people I care about and am happy for, like Anna and her fiance Jake (who certainly seems like a nice guy)! Like Rory! And then Greg, of course, but well, you know (and no, I have not been invited to his wedding, and I wouldn’t have gone regardless; we both made up excuses for the rest of them about my absence). But the more people around me do all those things, the more I fear I start to look more obviously different and/or lacking when at this point, much to the wailing and gnashing of teeth of my grandparents, I'm probably never getting married or having children. I'm a ~famous~ ~musician~ so some eccentricity is assumed to be built-in, so I have that, at least. And more and more people are choosing different ways of being for themselves; not everyone-- even straights!-- necessarily want the white picket fence shebang. --Do I? It's been so out of reach for so long (and I would've been a horrendous parent for most of my life and likely still would be) I rarely think about it. My smart (nerd~) friends have made interesting critiques about it as an ideal. Emotionally, I do sometimes feel that emptiness over likely not being able to start a family of my own but-- I feel that emptiness about a lot of things, and I think that particular emptiness is mostly silly. It's hard to parse. And so easy to feel lonely!

I do need to find ways to discreetly hang with gay friends more again, I really do. Even just for silly little coffee get-togethers or Chinese night type deals. I try to phone people as often as I can, and write them when I can't do that, but that's not the same. I start to feel like a fish out of water when I'm on tour with the guys, no matter how well I'm getting along with them. Even with Benny and my friends on the crew being around. It's just SUCH a long time on the road, it all becomes such a blur and then you're trying to recover from it and you have to record the next album already. So little time to really recuperate after so much go-time! I know I shouldn't complain too much. I'm so lucky to be able to make a living singing in front of people. It's what I've wanted to do for ages and ages. But so far it's come at the cost of many of my external-to-the-band relationships (family, friends, etc) and I still haven't found a way to keep everything going at once in a way that makes everyone happy. If it's even possible to, that is. Mom's been very supportive of it, tho... she understands what the time away is about (and I have been good about keeping up my weekly calls throughout this whole thing, of course!). And she's wanted this for me for a long time, anyway. Having her support, and Anna, and even Marv... that almost makes up for the fact that I'll never have my father’s. Almost.

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Wore my diamond nose stud for holiday dinner w/Mom, Marv, Uncle Lev, Razhani-Mendoza cousins (Auntie Roya has the flu! Poor dear :( But she wouldn't have wanted to be around anyway, for reasons I'll get into). Wasn't really thinking about it too much when I did, just wanted to look nice because it can be fun to look nice, and I thought the diamond stud looked nice. I suppose it did-- just TOO nice, with everything else. Ugh. I shouldn't have worn it. Or I should've at least not worn the silk threaded shirt with it. Totally ostentatious. That works for events with the band, not a fucking family dinner. Moron.

Mom didn't say anything about it at first but I could tell something was bothering her. Her smile to me was so tight on her face, and I wanted to ask her what was wrong, I TRIED, but she spoke before I could. She asked me if I brought anything, and I realized I hadn't-- apologized, told her that I didn't remember her asking me to bring anything, but maybe I misunderstood...? Her upset began to more clearly show in her expression, then, and I knew it was all because of me. I tried to make it better. Told her I could go out and get something from a liquor store or the grocery store if it was open. --It's not like it was Xmas day, things were probably open. Or that I could cook. "In that beautiful shirt of yours?? You'd risk staining it? You'd be that careless with your things? Are you that careless with OTHER peoples' things??"

She was barraging me with questions I had to quickly "no, ma'am" while she yanked at the top couple buttons of the shirt, cousins staring dumbly at the whole scene, and then she glared at me again, told me to go upstairs and change into something "respectful", and I did; trudged to my old bedroom, found the flannels from college I'd left behind, picked one at random, cooked in that. I thought that would be the end of it-- hoped, maybe-- but dinner was still tense. Mom was quiet almost the entire time. Marv and Uncle Lev tried to fill that quiet up as much as they could whenever I or Anna or Esther or Ebi couldn't. I asked Mom if she liked dinner and she said it was "fine". Anna and I exchanged a look, then. She saw the anxiety in my eyes. I saw the sympathy in hers. But I didn't want her involved in whatever blowup Mom was going to end up doing-- it was inevitable at that point unless I was able to figure something out after dinner. And did I? Well, I tried. Not hard enough.

When Mom went up to do the dishes, I said I'd help. Once we were alone in the kitchen she said "Who do you think you are, Julian Aziz Rajani??" What?, I'd asked --I knew what was coming, though. Another endless barrage of questions. I could see the darkness in her eyes. "You heard me, BOY. Who do you think you are, walking into my house looking like some spoiled little prince with your silk shirt and a DIAMOND stuck in your face? Do you think you're better than your cousins? Do you think you're better than your grandfather? Do you think you're better than your step-father? Do you think you're better than me? DO YOU?" I was shaking my head and saying "no ma'am" as quickly as I could to each question but I got a full slap across the face anyway. She apologized for it immediately with a gasp-- but was still upset enough to have it all burst through again. She started talking breathlessly, half in panic half in anger, about how my father thought he was better than her too, how much she must've spoiled me as a child, how she thought she taught me better than to "strut around like a bourgeois peacock", and "What would your Grandfather have said if he saw you like that??"-- I must've tuned out at some point, but I came to once I saw Anna walking into the kitchen. She asked if everything was all right, and Mom was close to herself again. Smiled tight, told me she could do the dishes herself, but thanks for the offer. I was trembling. I hated that I was but I couldn't fully stop myself and I wouldn't be able to stop myself till halfway thru my drive home.

Anna asked me later what had happened, but I couldn't say. I knew if I tried I'd just start crying instead, and I wouldn't dare. I'd held them all in the whole damn time Mom was in my face and I didn't want to ruin things any more than I already had. I just shook my head. Told her Mom just didn't like my nose ring, which was still technically true. Anna just blinked once, set herself a little straighter, and said, "Well, I do." Sometimes, in dark moments like this, I think she might be the only person in my entire family who actually understands me. I wish I was more understandable than that. I wish I was capable of it. I try so damn hard and it never does any good. So I couldn't even feel fully relieved there, with Anna. In fact I almost hated her for a second, for intruding on us in an obviously private hell, thinking she could just drag me out herself. Like it was that easy; like I'd ever leave Mom behind in it. I put her there anyway, so it's my responsibility to stay there with her, at least, if I can't be good enough to pull her out. I hated the part of me that wanted to rush into Anna's arms and cry like I was a kid even more. Little twerp.

--I kept it together till I could leave, and was able to cut things short as politely as I could. Mom was so close to normal the rest of the time but there was a familiar edge in her smiles to me. I'd ruined things for the night, and she couldn't quite forgive me for it. Beyond that, also an underlying threat to not dare bring up anything that had just happened (to not ruin things even more). Even writing about it now is so difficult. I feel so guilty and the guilt itself makes me want to dig my nails into my shoulders and scrape.

I puked up dinner on the way back home. I'd wanted to in Mom's bathroom, but I knew everyone would've heard me do it, and then everyone would know I do that (and assume I do it all the time, and then I'd never be able to eat in peace again and there's already enough I can't fucking do in peace in that house--). And then Anna would try and save me some more. So I found the nearest vacant rest stop and did what I had to do; thankfully didn't make a mess of myself/my clothes (I nearly left the silk-threaded shirt behind I was so upset with myself over it all, but Anna or Esther must've tucked it in with my other things at some point. Probably Anna).. There was a payphone there and I wanted to call Benny there so desperately, but didn't want to bother him. I felt like I'd just bother everyone. Somehow made it all the way back home after that-- it was early morning by that point. I haven't slept. I'm used to that, tho, of course. Not sure if I'll be able to before sunrise. Stuck stewing in my thoughts. Wanting speed to get my mind stuck on something else. Trying my best not to do anything stupid (I filled my stupid-quota with the puking). Feeling small and very alone. Wanting to cry, still, but I know I probably won't be able to now.

I just hate that I'm like this. That I can never be good enough at caring for Mom. That I'm always too selfish, too vain, undisciplined. I want to call Benny again but I also don't want to admit to him how badly I need to be held. I don't know why that would feel like a defeat to me, but it would. It's like I said before-- I don't want to need gentleness. I want to be able to get by on my own. I hate that I'm as needy as I am. I want to be able to do more things for OTHERS, and I can barely do things for myself. ...G-d. Maybe I should smoke the rest of this joint. It's not great for my throat (neither was the puking... ugh I know I know I know) but it's a fuck of a lot better for me than the other options.

Happy fuckin' Chanukkah and Merry fuckin' Christmas.

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