*

Sometimes writing sessions with Jeff feel like cheap psychoanalysis sessions or something, and I don't know if I like that. I mean, we're in a band together, we work together, we write together, it pays to be friendly. But still, who the hell is he, y'know? Ugh, again, it's just so lucky I'm good at saying the bare minimum with a lot around it. The more I know him, too, the more I can just ask him stupid questions instead. And it's definitely been helping produce songs-- even things I'd think were just work-related topics. Like Nate. "He, uhh... takes things personally pretty easily, doesn't he?" Like what? "Things that just come up all the time with writing. I mean, they did in my old band, anyway. We tried to make that riff of his work as-is. Didn't we? We gave it a fair shake!"

So I told him some of my recent frustrations with Nate, too-- just the sudden insecurities, little jealousies, but not the content of those insecurities. It was something I kept thinking about even after our little ~session~ that day was over. I was driving home in my car, it had started to rain, and I remembered that one night, a few years back, when it rained on us while we were sharing a joint. How he was so good at cheering me up back then and was there, too; grabbing my hand and pulling me under a tree, both our heads under his jacket. Then again, he's always had his... well... spoiled brat moments, too. He looks like a man, now, at 27, but sometimes it's still like talking to a belligerent fifteen year old. Greg would always go on about my intensity as a negative, but if I'm intense, what does that make Nate? He's his own kind of intense! And for whatever reason, that's never a problem. Or, if it is, it's one that's always smoothed over.

But I was still stuck on my frustrations over it all-- at him, but also at myself. It hurts more than it should. But I was thinking of all that, and that rainy night, and blasting Rumours in the car after everything with Greg, and then about how elated I was that first time he called a bit of my singing "perfect". How exhilarating it was working with Ricky, being with Ricky; how it still somehow never felt like enough, and then he was dead and I felt evil for ever having that thought even once. And then, all of that, distilled: the things and people and experiences that make me feel the most incredible can bring me an equally incredible amount of pain. And why is that?

Wrote as much as I could down in my memo pad (with all necessary omissions), brought it over to Jeff the next day, humming the chorus melody I came up with (in lieu of sleeping...) on the drive over, and he had the idea to flip it into a sort of relationship metaphor. And UGH it really did turn out so well; all it needs is Nate's guitar parts and it's finished, basically. So I hope Nate's in a good mood. I still don't know how I feel about Jeff personally, but writing with him really has made things both easier and more interesting than they ever were.

*

So first I had to encourage Jeffrey to even finish writing his stupid song. It's dedicated to Teri so that's cute of him I guess. Making me sing his love songs for him. Teri's a darling, fabulous woman, though, so that part's whatever. Then I had to fight on his behalf to even get it on the record. AND THEN, after everything, after ALL that, after I start singing his stupid fucking song for him in the studio, I see him and Nate having a regular laugh riot over it all through the booth window. I tried to ignore it for as long as I could, but it just kept. Fucking. Going. And the anger in me kept boiling until I unplugged my headphones, stormed out of the booth, and flung them at Jeffrey's head. He flinched because of course he did. Pathetic fucking rat. Went right up to his face and told him that I'd spent too much time and energy on him and his stupid fucking song and if he thinks I'm ever going to go out of my way anymore to help him after how he was treating me, he had another thing coming. Nate's laughter turned into nervous little giggles and I wanted to fucking kill him; picked up my headphones and kept smacking his stupid curly head with them telling him to shut the fuck up. Which lead to him pushing me, which almost lead to an actual physical fight. Walt heard the commotion at that point, though; ran over and broke us up.

He took my side-- I was a little surprised by that at first, but now that I think about it, if there's something Walt and I have in common, it's that we hate cowards. They get right under our skin. And we could both tell that Jeffrey's a coward. A hateful coward, though Walt likely cares less about that part. As soon as he learned that Jeff wrote the music for the song he was calling me a faggot over (more or less), that was it for him. His expression fell, shook his head slow. "What a fuckin' moron you are." He pointed at Nate, then-- "Hey. You. Did I teach you to be a fuckin' sheep?" (Arguably yes in some respects but ANYWAY...) Nate shrugged, said it was nothing personal, that he hated the song. "I didn't know it was Jeff's, man, I swear."-- he said this to me. I told him to be less of a "fuckin' sheep", then. Left it at that. Took a fifteen minute break outside to breathe so everything'd stop spinning. Thankfully Walt didn't bug me till halfway thru it. Told me he talked to Jeff-- that he wouldn't bother me again, and to tell him if that ever changed. I didn't quite believe him at first, but Jeff was pale as a sheet when I walked back in. Blubbered apologies at me. I said it was whatever. I wonder what dirt Walt has on HIM...

This does change things a little, though. I figured Jeff might not be the most ~gay friendly~ type guy in the world already, but I hate to be proven right. And he's a little rat about it besides, which is the worst thing-- now see, THAT'S the problem with "sensitive" straight guys. If they clock you, they hate you. You're actually the thing (and you ARE a "thing" to them) that other guys called him, that other guys maybe even beat him up for in a case of mistaken identity. Right there in the flesh. All the pent-up frustrations he has have a chance of getting taken out on you, and he's even more likely to be an asshole to you to ingratiate himself with the more masculine straights. --It's quite unfortunate to have to be even more careful with Benny on tour this time around (and just generally), but at the same time, that might be as simple as letting a lot of the crew know about him and his bullshit. Obviously I'll let Benny know as soon as I can. ...G-d, did Greg know how Jeff was beforehand? Did Walt? UGH.

*

Walt warned about things "getting worse", but I don't think he was talking about Jeffrey being a shitty little rat, or Nate having a little macho-panic, or about getting a marked increase in straight guys-- strangers, people who don't know who I am either, as far as I know-- shouting things at me, shoulder-checking me, gripping their bulges and leering at me in a way that says they want to humiliate and hurt more than they want any sort of pleasure. All of those things are things I'm used to in a vacuum. Hell, even all at once, at various times. The older I get the more like a cycle it all seems. Every round of the cycle just makes me that much more tired of it all.

So I cut my hair a bit shorter (juuust below the shoulders, so nothing too drastic-- it was halfway down my back before), had it styled a little more "masculinely", get some additions to the street and tour wardrobes that aren't hyper-butch or anything but a bit more of a down-to-earth, slightly punky vibe. And a plain matte metal hoop for my nose instead of the gold one (and not the diamond stud of course)-- it would probably be smarter for me to let the piercing close, but the bratty princess side of me is clinging to it for now (and I do adore that diamond stud, even tho I know I shouldn't...). I mean, the punkier clothes might make the ring read that way, too. I can leave it out for longer times now, at least, tho there's always a small risk of it closing up; cartilege is strange that way. --Probably won't wear any makeup at all on the next tour. Or at least, nothing noticeable. Nothing too flouncy, not with Jeffrey around. Whether Nathan'll treat me any better remains to be seen-- again, I wish I didn't care. It's so stupid that I care. It's stupid that it hurts. Why the fuck should it hurt, why should I care what he thinks-- but I do (then again, if he likes me, we likely synergize better on stage in all respects. So there's that part of it).

All this kills me a little bit, even though I should be used to it by now, even though my whole life's been about navigating thru hostile territory, and I guess in a way I am used to it. It just doesn't feel GOOD to be used to it. At all. It makes me feel like a coward. I can only imagine the choice words Cryssie would have for me... G-d, and Walt's been bugging me about getting with a woman more and more lately, saying how much harder I'm making his job by "not being able to compromise". As if all I've done with my appearance isn't already a compromise (at least I'm still not trying to look lighter than I naturally am)! If I do get with a girl, it'll be a dyke. That's for sure.

-Either way, if all this is what it takes to be with Benny, too, and safely, then that's what it takes. He's seen n' fooled around with me since my quasi-de-femming and still calls me his princess boy, and we still drove each other wild, and that's what matters most to me in the end. I seemed a lot more keyed up about the Jeff/etc stuff than he was-- makes sense really, having to deal with Phil all the time (that's a helluva lot worse than Jeff...). Him being calmer about it calmed me down in turn and made it easier for me to begin accepting him as a new obstacle alongside being a co-worker. I still would rather there be LESS obstacles in our way for once, but what can you do. And I'd obviously rather not think of Jeff as an obstacle, have a good working relationship with him-- we were starting to have such a wonderful one, and he preferred to squander it in order to get one over on the faggot.

Well-- maybe we can still have a decent working relationship. After I let Jeffrey learn what the score's gonna be from now on. Walt laid into him already, but that's Walt. I don't want to have to rely on him if I can help it. Especially not for something like this. And I have my own ways...

*

It's time for Nate to record his various guitar parts and solos n' things, and I've always enjoyed sitting in on those. It's obviously been more fraught between us lately, but his playing's always cut through that. He's not happy with me either, of course, but he still let me know when to come by. I don't get in the way. I'm quiet, unless he doesn't want me to be. Sometimes, I know he forgets I'm even there. I'm alright with that, though. It's not about me. And when he's lost in his own world, I can close my eyes and try to find myself in it. I've still never asked him what he thinks of my singing-- in a serious way, that is. I don't know. I'm afraid I won't like the answer.

Anyway. One of the things he played today-- and nailed it, first damn try-- was a solo for the up-and-down relationship metaphor song Jeff and I wrote. I said he nailed it, and it was technically precise, but it wasn't just about that. It was... he just got it. I don't know how and I didn't ask him (again, I'm always quiet for these things unless he wants my word on anything). And it was so sad sounding, so... frustrated, if that makes sense for something to "sound" like, and there was a repetitiveness to it, like a pleading...

Ugh. Maybe that's why he can get away with so much, even with me. I heard that and I just forgave him. Quietly, in my mind, but I did. He might go and ruin it soon anyway. But I'm still giving him the chance. Stupidly, maybe. But he deserves one more than Jeff does. There's something different about Nate. Jeff and Nate both want to puff themselves up in that way all straight guys do around each other, but I still go back to that night in the rain... there's still something so free about Nate that Jeffrey's already lost.

*