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\seventeenpointroman
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Dear luscious Josh,

It's been more than a week since I wrote you, an incredibly long
time. The longest ever I think. I've been nerding now for a whole
week, I think that's why. Time is compressed into one long blurry
day. Except for that short time (Thurs--Sat) when I freaked out,
unable to talk to you.

Today I went to General Bead, the big bead store? Guess what -- they
want 55\cents{} each! Crooks! I'll keep looking. Hmm\dots{} I have a
friend that works in a leather store; I'll ask him if he can get me
some cheap. 

Absolutely nothing has happened here worth mentioning. There was the
Folsom Street Fair on Sunday, but I skipped it. Partly because I'd get
a sunburn, spend money, and looking at cute boys would drive me
vaguely crazy without you here. But mainly because I was working on my
car; I found an abandoned 1965 Rambler in the Mission from which I
stripped many hard to find goodies I needed to complete my car, and I
spent Sunday putting them on. (Also Monday and today, Tuesday.) Weird
-- I went back Monday night for last minute items (the car is really
junky) and there was this guy hanging out in it. I said, do you mind
if I take a few things off, he said no go ahead. As I was doing so,
this other crazed guy came up and started yelling ``Hey!! That's my
car!'' and it sure as shit was not, he was just some crazy guy. He
started to get physical when I wouldn't back down; I gave him a dollar
``for the parts'' and I left. Sheesh. It would have been a very
strange thing to watch. I now have a real steering wheel, shift lever,
turn signals, etc. And the steering gear was horribly fucked up, is
now like new. Total cost: about \$15 in various stuff. Very exciting,
huh?! (It's now perfectly road-trip worthy\dots)

What else is new.

I got a good book in the mail, from AUTONOMEDIA, because someone there
likes me! SICK BURN CUT, about a bunch of gang-type drag queens in a
(near-future) economically depressed Seattle. I swear most of it takes
place in their favorite bars. (I think all of the named places exist;
the few I recognized were substantially correct, ie.~Left Bank Books.)
They all carry guns, rob people, hang out in bars, drink too much,
etc. I'll mail it to you soon; Diet wants to read it first.

I asked Dave Rock, do that many people really smoke, drink, hangout in
bars, etc? He says yes. That's what he does when he's in between
projects or or nights he doesn't feel like doing anything. This
bothers me a bit, because I have always assumed that people amused
themselves more or less as I do, doing whatever interesting or boring
things they come accross. He says no, most people actually hangout,
smoke and drink, in his experience.  Hmmm. I wonder how I missed all
this. I think that stuff is incredibly boring, and makes me feel
awful. Oh well.

I also bought a book, a foolish thing to do at the moment, but I had
to have it. Someone showed me a copy when I was in Dallas. It's the
NEW HACKERS DICTIONARY. It is done by actual hackers. Not the TV type,
the real type. I guess I'm one. The book is excruciatingly funny -- to
me. The introductory stuff is really good, I think you'd like it; it
explains how the jargon developed and the contexts. I never really
thought about how socially radical the hacker ethic is.  I must say
that I grew up in (yet another) vaccuum; these guys (mostly) were
connected to universities or big computer companies, and talked to
each other; us microcomputer hackers were sneered at until
``recently''. Fido, FidoNet and other things I did are in the
dictionary, quite flattering. It really was like finding ``my lost
people'' in a sense. OK, so it sounds funny, you'll have to see the
book. (There's explicit awareness of non-linear sexuality, as well as
lots of implicit stuff, too.) 

Cars, computers, networks. That's my life at the moment. In between
eating and thinking about you AT ALL TIMES. 

I got your letter and stuff. Thanks for the van Damme pix. Not sure
what to do with them yet. I have a boy-picture collage, maybe I'll add
him there.  Dorothy Allison's story is great! I have to re-read it. It
sounds like it's out of some larger context, maybe she's writing a
sci-fi novel (not SF novel, SF means SF here). 

Somehow I can do all this hacking because I know you're there. I'm
just biding my time til you get here. I rely on you being there, and
soon here! I really would move there if things prevented you from
coming here. I hope that fucking check arrives soon! 

Hopefully you'll be here before Halloween. It's the largest holiday
besides gay day. It's getting kinda icky though; lots of B\&T people
gawking. Always a handful of homophobes. It's something to see
anyways, 100,000--300,000 people plugging up the Castro. It's fun to
walk home from it after getting overloaded, as by the time you get
half way the contrast packed/dead is great.

I'm really tired, it's 1AM. I wish I could curl up with you in my
arms, asleep, and wake up occasionally and feel you and look at you.
You are part of every minute of my life now. I take it as an omen of
good will that my car's now road-trip-ready. I'd love to come up and
get you, and take two days to drive back. (We'll have to pack your
stuff so we can still use the futon in the back.) Consider the route:
coast or inland, or both. (Let's get the hell out of Wash.~as it's
dull, and the coast not drivable.) If we go to the f\ae rie sanctuary,
in Wolf Creek Oregon (on Route 5, 76mi.~north of the Calif.~border) we
can take the coast road down from there. It's a nice ride, I've done
it before. It doesn't even matter, just to be with you even in a
goddamn boring bus would be great.

I miss your smell. I want to wear your black pants so I can carry your
smell with me. I want to kneel in front of you, unzip your fly, and
lick the underside of your dick hard and make you come. I have your
dog collar on all the time, it reminds me of you constantly.

Call me soon!


PS: Griptape sticks to leather just great. (Good for under forearms;
scrapes up surfaces.) If you want any sew-on numbers, let me know; I
can get some at the boy-scout store. They're amazingly cheap, like
30\cents{} or something.

\bye