Another day almost missed... almost, but not quite. I had many profound discussions throughout the day, but zeroing in on one of them is difficult at the moment. I spent a large portion of the day with James, which actually kind of great. I spent various moments throughout the day (especially once alcohol was introduced, especially one everyone else was removed) thinking “why aren’t James and I better friends?” I’d almost always immediately counter, saying we are good friends, and if we lived in the same place, we’d probably spend more time together. I feel like a loser for not seeing him more when he lived in New Haven, and can’t help but wonder if he, too, feels a bit like a loser... I suspect not. I don’t mean that in the self-effacing way it sounds, but in just the reality of the situations.

At one point James and I had plans to go get smashed in my neighborhood, but we were waylaid, first by food, and then by Susan and Kat coming home. Susan poured us glasses of wine, and we sat and talked; eventually the conversation turned to the subject of Scientology (Susan and Kat had just gone to see Mission: Impossible: III) and, realizing that none of us had even a basic grasp of what the religion was all about, popped open the internet to see what we could see. The Wikipedia article is simultaneously thorough and mystifying, through one gets the sense that that has more to do with the religion than the encyclopedia; one succinctly described section about the different “levels” of Scientology (I can’t remember exactly now, but I think there are 8 stages of “Clear,” and how upon achieving each point you get to hear more and more about the mysteries of the universe), which seems to employ the same psychological underpinnings that drive pre-teenage boys around the world to want to reach the next level of whatever video-game they’ve got going. I just think about that moment before these Scientologists reach the last level: it must be so great to think you’re about to find out the answer to life, and I wonder how many of them tell themselves afterwards that they’ve actually heard it.

James told me today that his older brother is gay. I was pretty surprised. I always felt vaguely disconnected from James on my gay front, like it was addressed to meet the standards of politeness, but outside of that really had no presence. He asks me from time to time if I’m seeing anyone, and has been known to say every now and again, “Charlie, you need a boyfriend.” Not in a despairing or patronizing kind of way, but in a genuinely concerned way. Anyway, because, I don’t know, because I’m off my rocker in more directions than we’ve got names for, my mind immediately starts scanning anything and everything to see if he’s been prompted by his brother’s coming out to reevaluate his own sexuality, and for the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t help thinking about how nice it would be if James were gay. I think it has something to do with something we talked about; the subject was relationships and the fear associated with them, the learning of the other and the giving of the self, blah, blah. And I realized that James and I would need hardly of that giving/taking stuff, because we know eachother fairly well. Right? Maybe we don’t. That scares the crap out of me. James is going to China next month with a program, on which will be a girl he is interested in (and perhaps has something going with?), where he will probably have beautiful poetic relationship experiences, and I will lose him forever to the far-off land of people in relationships. Another one bites the dust.

Lucky bastards.