*

On the road and already a whirlwind! --Both good and bad. Very mostly good. A lot of the bad was just... I just had to learn how I needed to deal with it. And I did!

Haven't had this much of me in front of people since the turn of the decade. I thought it would feel fully good on its own; it did back then. I loved that people saw me and saw something beautiful. Girls thinking it was funny and sweet; guys thinking it obviously quite a bit extra. Before I met Cryssie I couldn't think of myself as anything (if I thought of myself as anything at all) besides freakish or ugly; I could make myself "cute" or "pretty" but it was never for anything nice, never for anyone good. It was doing what I had to do. I couldn't feel good about it. Lorenzo made me feel outright sick about it. --Then, living with Cryssie, being with Ricky, made me shed all that. Then getting with the band made me feel a bit uncomfortable about it all again. All those eyes on me, all those cameras. Then I got used to it. Then everything with that stalker girl happened. Then everything with Nathan happened.

I don't know why that still hurts me as much as it does-- that he was drunk the whole fucking time, every single time, was only accepting what he got from me in the off chance he was able to grab more for himself. I knew he'd be like that. It was obvious he would be like that with me. I remembered the way he stared at me at that Halloween party back then. He looks at me and sees that and wants that and wants it in a very particular way, but can't even fucking admit THAT to himself unless he's drunk. Fucker. He probably thinks he's soooo different, too. Like guys like him aren't a fucking dime a dozen. He's a pretty one, but that doesn't matter any outside of what we already got from each other. Whatever. I'm done letting guys like that touch me.

Anyway. Like I said, I don't know why that still bothers me so much. I won't have to deal with it for awhile yet. Guess everything else just made me think about it. Everything else being: dancing, even showing the bits of skin I do (and I haven't even taken my shirt off completely or anything), to audiences that are more likely than not a lot more gay than my usual ones, but still not all the way, still too straight, making me feel so sick I want to puke. I wanted to show off! I wanted to be more myself! Walter isn't around! He can't see any of this! And sometimes I still feel like a circus animal (meet and greets are more petting zoo exhibit and it's awful, young women'll want to hug me and my immediate thought is "don't you dare fucking touch me"). After the first night I really did make a beeline right to a restroom to vomit. It had gone GREAT! Everyone said so! I could tell myself!! And I still had to puke my guts out about it. I'm used to it enough that I could clean up in five minutes and Benny was none the wiser, thankfully. Being around him was such a relief... as soon as we could find a place to ourselves I wanted him so badly I could barely keep my lips off him, and him fucking me (and then me fucking him) nearly erased all the dread and nausea from my system. Nearly.

The only thing so far that's been able to erase it COMPLETELY is dex. And not just one little pill. Usually about three for an entire show. Which I'm not too pleased about, of course. But it is what it is. Figured it out enough to know when to take 'em so I'm not twitchy on-stage or anything. Shake it all out beforehand. Then I'm just ON. All I can see and feel and want is to knock 'em all dead, and that's what I fucking do. I do that, I do all my fan stuff, I walk off 'n pop another one and drive Benny wild, I'm every fucking thing he could ever want and I cum like I know it. Not to say he's not the one really making me cum, but FUCK it's just so good riding him, keeping him on the edge of it til he's begging, getting HIM to fucking beg, UGH, and how hard he fucks me when I finally allow him to, all that wanting breaking through any hesitation or fear of his of seeming too rough, too hard, too anything. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting what he wanted, and pleasing me as much as he could.

So I guess what I'm saying is things were almost bad. I could see them getting that way like stormclouds on the horizon. But I figured it out. What I figured out isn't something that can work in the long-term, but this isn't very long-term. Again, almost thankful now that this is going to be as brief as it is. On the other hand, annoyed with the idea of Walter being right about me this time.

*

Haven't been to Europe since '81 (recession) and it was nice to see it again! Robby's on tour, so didn't get to see him when we hit England, but it was still great. Don't really have that anonymity over there anymore like I used to, though, unfortunately, so I couldn't throw any extra risque anything in this time the way I used to.

Still wrapping my head around the whole on-stage sex symbol thing. It's different than how it is with the band! Maybe because ALL the attention's on me. On the one hand, very flattering! Even moreso because it's a sexiness I've had more of a say in, and expressed closer to the way I want. The fact that that's seemingly broadly sexy (not just for a particular type of gay man or whatever) does feel good and validating in plenty of ways. I mean, I remember all the way back when I was working on our second album being so annoyed that critics only expected angelics from me. Even by the time Jeff came around they talked about my ~boyish charm~ and things like that. Sometimes it was easier to just lean into it. It was what they expected, what plenty of people liked, it kept them from asking too many stupid fucking questions. But then I got old enough that "boyish charm" was suspect, too. I was thirty-fucking-four, like no duh that couldn't work anymore. That was what I'd gotten used to, though. There was something safe about it. I could be cute; I was able to handle that. I was used to it.

All this was about breaking out of that box, and I DID. Most of me is quite proud of myself that I did, and not only that, that I'm thirty-five (too old for cute, but also potentially too old for certain kinds of sexy) and was still able to do it. It's such a vindication in so many ways; I can be closer to myself, use my actual name, be as dark as I normally am without worrying about it, have my diamond stud in, not worry a single damn bit about how ~dangly~ my wrists are on stage, be seen like that and liked, wanted, etc when Walter was so damn sure no one would like me, that it would ruin things for not only myself but everyone around me. Fuck you!!!! And UGH walking back into the studio after all this... walking past Nathan. Ha.

All that though and there's still parts of me that feel sick. Sometimes I'd feel that little pinprick of darkness right at my center, the one I noticed when I first started trying to seriously dance, the one pills had been keeping quiet, and it would take all I could to breathe it out, not panic, keep going. Crushing them works, though. Ugh, I really didn't want to do that. It was more than a year not needing to even THINK about doing that. But you do what works, and I really forgot how fucking fast it hits when you take 'em that way. Sometimes you need that kind of instant escape hatch, and I did here. Like I said, you do what you need to.

*

So it's speed. So I'm snorting speed again. Whatever. What the fuck ever. It works and that's what matters right now. I hate that that's what works, I hate that I STILL can't be stable and stay on an even keel for even a little while clean. I mean, ugh. I guess it's not like I've been "clean" for a couple years, now. It was easier to pretend when I wasn't crushing the pills. A lot closer to a real prescription. Self-medication. I mean, even Cryssie called it "using" with that and I know she was still right, it just didn't feel good. God I'm fucking pathetic.

No one knows that, though. At least for now. Hopefully never. I mean, I've been able to do EVERYTHING I want to do, including with Benny. And that's been SO wonderful... everything I hoped it would be. Well, I don't sleep: that's the only thing. But when have I ever? And we've been able to see the sights around London n' Paris n' West Berlin, get a taste of the gay scenes there (and in Paris especially, a taste of the food...! London n' Berlin, not so exciting there). Take some silly Polaroids (...ugh, I'm tempted to buy a fucking lockbox for that. Maybe I will. Ben'll think I'm nuts, though). And we fuck and make love and I sing him to sleep in the most beautiful hotels, and he's out like a light and I just hold him, and even if I don't sleep it never feels boring to just close my eyes and be there in that moment, with him. I told him once, very silly, that I wish it could be like this even when we got back. Not all the luxury necessarily. Just being able to sleep with each other every night in my bed. An even sillier part of me wishes dearly that people could know how hard we've worked together, what we've accomplished together, how much we love each other and what that love has done. But I know all of it is silly, and it was good in the end for Ben to remind me that it was silly. "You always wanna bite off more than you can chew but I'm glad you can dream big. It ain't easy for me." I mean, it isn't always easy for me either! Last year nearly severed that from me...

I really did need this. Even though I'm silly and broken and can't even handle something GOOD without... ugh. Without assistance. And I was able to for such a damn long time... five years completely clean, another two years in a strange sort of compromise state. Maybe Shann being around made it easier. Like, I'd see how she'd be after benders and knew I didn't want to end up like that and didn't want her to get any worse. I mean, I'm not going on benders like that anyway. That's not what I've ever used speed for. --God I hope she's okay. She didn't want to come, I didn't want her to have to. Maybe I'll just call her. I just-- ugh. I just remember finding her after everything with Nathan happened, in that dark hotel room, her curled up and groaning. I know she wasn't trying to kill herself or anything like that, and she'd reassured me of that too. It's just-- ugh. I should call her. I'm just going to call her.

PS: She's fine, and moreover, annoyed that I called her at 5 in the morning. ...I forgot about time zones. I'm stupid.

*

Japan as the last stop! Such a perfect endcap; Japanese fans have always been so fun. Still remember how reserved they were in the beginning, how security was so serious about keeping everyone in their seats, how excited they all got when we gave them permission to go crazy (a little too crazy, once, with Greg-- ripped his shirt off! Lovely to see, but then I was getting grabbed too, till everything got under control again). Now they're accustomed to western-style concert craziness, so the chaos was minimal! The girls are still so shy after, though, ha! I come up to sign their stuff and they shrink away a little, curl into themselves with nervous laughter. Being able to break 'em out of that feels good. That sort of thing's always felt good. A funny kind of sweetness. American girls'd probably trample me in a stampede... funny in its own way, but after everything with the stalker girl not too funny[58].

This all was so much better than I'd ever dreamed it would be... I mean, plenty stressful, too. But I mean just-- I wanted to be able to more truly express myself, I wanted to know I could stand on my own, I wanted to have enough leverage if and when I got back that Walter couldn't touch me anymore[59]. I wanted to use that success not just for myself but to raise money for people I loved, people that are like me. I wanted time for myself and Benny to have some real fun without me ruining it or making him even a single bit worried. I accomplished all of those things. And that... god, it's still washing over me. I can't quite believe it. It feels like a dream. And it's a dream I got to share with Benny, finally, in a more clear way. When I was singing to or about him, he knew it. I tried my damn best to bring heaven down to earth for him, to take his hand and show him around it myself, even if he had to keep hold of my hand (metaphorically, of course) or else he'd lose it. Like swimming with him in the pond, before I was stupid with it. Holding him through it so he can experience it, so he can experience it through me.

I am worried about the extra attention... but I have to have faith that Lou can handle it with and for me. I don't want to have to shrink my life down any more than I have to just to be able to be more authentic in my work. What a poison pill that is! One I'd been taking for too long! I don't think I had much of a choice at the time, of course, but I might now, and I hope to do something with it. In fact, who says I have to go back to Walt's little kingdom just yet? I have one more album on my contract but it doesn't say when I have to do it, does it? And I've heard Nathan did one this year too, so that's two for him... why not one more for me, then? Right? Why not!!

PS: Flying back home in a few hours. Sitting outside an airport (inside has too many people coughing all over the place). Thinking about getting back to more of my regular life, and the difficulties of it. Is Dave still here? Is Cryssie still relatively stable? Ugh. I'm going to find out whether it's good or bad. Steeling myself for it.

*

When the fuck will I be good enough for him to stay. What will it fucking take. All I wanted was one fucking holiday season with him. I made certain that he'd make enough damn money from this tour that he wouldn't have to take any other gigs for the rest of this year and maybe even the next and he just fucking leaves anyway. We've waited years to be able to truly be together. We've worked so damn hard. I've put up with so much fucking shit for this. And the minute I'm more free than I've ever been he runs off to his stupid fucking truck.

What's missing. What the fuck is missing. I've given him so much. Shared so much. I haven't hurt myself. I only puked once. I haven't slept around. I've taken the absolute bare minimum of speed lately (and even before then it was just to get through shows) even though by the end of the day my head's pounding. He knows what this does to me. He knows him leaving is like a knife in my heart twisting every time. And he does it anyway. It's like he's punishing me for something but he'll never tell me what. I'm trying to throw myself into as much busywork as I can to stop myself from thinking about him, to stop wanting to die, to stop wanting to do any other stupid thing to fill the empty space, to stop oscillating between loving him so much it hurts and hating him and hating myself. But so much of the busywork is pain and misery. Dave's dead. He died halfway through the tour. No one wanted to tell me 'til I got back and I understand that, I want to be thankful that they didn't put that extra stress on my plate, but I almost resent them keeping it from me all the same. It's like they all think I'm too fucking crazy to handle. I'm caring for Cryssie I'm caring for Mom I'm caring for more and more dying people now and I go home and I'm waiting by the phone hoping he'll call so I can at least talk to him at a distance about the fucking hell I have to endure and get something of a break from it.

He'd probably have a hell to endure too if he wasn't such a loner. It's a lot fucking easier to live life running from love and responsibility and community; when you can just drive away from the pain. Some of us aren't so fucking lucky. For some of us that pain is there whether we're on the road or back at home.

I say I'll give him a piece of my mind once he's home but I know I'll just cling to him like the life raft he ultimately is. I'll do everything I can to make him stay. I'll give him anything he could possibly want. And he'll probably still leave. And I'll keep letting him back, because I love him and love makes you a fucking idiot.

PS: ...Maybe this is just hitting harder because Shann is gone, now. Thankfully that wasn't too stressful for either of us in the end. But now it's so... quiet. No her, no cats, no nothing. Just me, my thoughts, and the knowledge that I'm a fucking idiot.

*

[58]And having more legal help with all that has been good in that I rarely have to hear about when some other stalker bullshit almost happens-- one psycho tried to threaten my MOTHER, and Lou didn't tell me right away because it apparently wasn't serious, Mom never even knew about it, him and his people had it all under control very quickly, and he knew it'd worry me sick for no good reason to know about it before it was swiftly dealt with.

[59]Ugh, even better imagining seeing Nathan around... he was so sure I'd miss him. Silly boy. Maybe I'll ask him if he missed ME.