Oh, I could likely cry happy tears right now. I got to see Kyle. He and his friends picked me up around 2200, after I'd gotten home from work. And then we all went out to some fancy-ass restaurant that I've never been to before because I could never afford it, and he bought me lunch. As much as I hate it, there are nice things about having a boyfriend who's well-off.

And after dinner, we drove out to the lakefront. Kyle and I snuck off and sat on the shore and cuddled, because it was actually a bit cold and I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. And it was the single most sweetest thing I've ever been able to do with somebody before. Then we drove around the city for a while, and eventually we ended up at my apartment. And I feel a little teased, because all I got from him tonight was a goodbye kiss. Grin. It was nice, though.

This is really the first guy I've actually dated without immediately jumping into sex. So I guess there is a lot to be said for taking things slowly.

But right now I'm incoherently giddy. I guess this'll all be dashed tomorrow, though, when I go out with my father for "driving lessons." I'm half tempted to cancel, because I'd rather sleep, but I guess I'll never get this done unless I push myself.

However, for now, I shall wrap myself up in my little bubble of bliss and feel that all is right with the world. Au revoir.

in my dreams I'm dying all the time

I have been working on music. All day long. Today has been one of the rare days when I've been in my "zone" as far as this stuff goes, and I've been able to devote my attention fully to working on music for nearly twelve hours straight. And I actually finished a song, which is quite an achievement. I'm fantastically happy with it, and I've decided that it's going to be for Kyle. Because he sortof inspired it. I told him that one day I'd sing him a lullaby to help him fall asleep, and that idea was bouncing around in my head today while I was trying my best to put the sound of raindrops into music.

You see, it has been storming all week. Really violent, pounding rain. And today was the first day of this storm that the rain has died down into something softer. So I wanted to capture that. And with that idea came this song:

• Joshua Meadows
  ("I'm a Rainy Lullaby for a Stolen Sunday")
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I'm insanely proud of it. So proud that I decided to do vocals, as well. And I realize the lyrics are hard to understand. That was the point of them. I was going for the scratchy, broken record sound. But just in case you've no idea what I'm saying, here they are:

I'm a rainy lullaby for a stolen sunday
I wait all night and sometimes he comes
though I must wait, sometimes he comes
he plays my song with all its words
though I must wait, sometimes he comes

So, I'm goosey inside, because Kyle really enjoyed it. And that's what mattered to me the most.

I am very pleased that I have two days off, finally. I had to work a nine hour shift today, as well as host a party, and I'm exhausted. Very glad to be home.

In XY news, I got in touch with the editour today and he said that the magazine will be in stores in approximately ten days. I'll get my copy sooner, but for the sake of not giving away any top-secret information before it's supposed to be out, I'll wait to post anything about it until I know it's on newsstands. I'm still very excited about it, though.

I don't know if I'm going to get to see Kyle tomorrow, which I find upsetting. I dislike this inability to actually get to where he is…. I guess that's the big push for this driving thing. Even though I hate spending large amounts of time with my family, I guess I'm willing to stomach a few hours of it in the eventuality that it'll pay off later.

I did notice something that made me feel better about our relationship, though. Last night we were talking on the phone, and sometimes I think to myself, "Who am I kidding…? How can this work out?" whenever I'm feeling particularily shitty…. I guess it's a normal reaction, all things considered. But I was in that state of mind last night when I was talking to him, and since I'm fabulous at being self-destructive, I started to pick at things. Things that I knew were touchy with him, because they've been reasons why we've stopped talking in the past. I'm great at pushing his buttons, because it seems I know just what to say to wound him. But then again, so does he. And as I was bringing these things up, I think I wanted to push it as far as I could for two reasons.

One, I got scared. And although I wasn't scared enough to the point of wanting to break up with him, I don't know if I would've fought very hard if he told me he wasn't going to call anymore. I was in a shitty, petty mood.

Secondly, I wanted to know if he'd really changed. And the response I got from him proved that to me, in Big Red Letters. We didn't even fight. Things that would've bothered him immensely, he shrugged off. And totally saw through what I was trying to do. He immediately knew what mood I was in, and adjusted for it. That right there was a demonstration to behold, because the old Evil Kyle never would've done something like that. So I apologised for being an ass, because I was being one rather intentionally, and he told me not to worry. We talked for a lot longer, and I fell asleep with a silly grin on my face. And I woke up at seven am like I'd wanted to all along.

And all my fear was gone, which was a very good feeling to wake up to, when you're Insane Psycho-Paranoid Josh.

I'm drowning inside your head
help me to answer
help understand
why it's been so long since we talked like friends, oh
please, forgive me
I'm just a man
who's made mistakes

Well, I am pretty certain that my manager got laid last night. Remember the bitchy, pissy, yells-at-me-whenever-the-smallest-thing-goes-wrong manager who makes me hate my job? Yeah. Well, I think she got laid. And judging from how she was acting today, it must've been some fantastic sex.

You see, I tried again to get up early. And it worked totally in reverse, because I didn't wake up until eleven-thirty. When I was supposed to be at work for eleven. So I screamed shit a lot and jumped out of bed and called them up immediately to let them know I was a dumbass and I would be ridiculously late. And she replied, "Oh, I hadn't realized you were late yet." I was totally at a loss for words. Because every other time I've called in like that, I've been greeted with a lot of yelling and threats. I had even braced myself for it. But no, she just laughed and told me to get here when I could.

And when I got there she laughed because I was covered in sweat, cos I'd rushed to get there as fast as I could in a hundred-and-three degree temperatures. She said, "I'll never realize how you kids can manage to sleep so long. I was awake today at five in the morning." So, she was in a good mood. Which is unusual for her. But at least I didn't get yelled at.

Also, I've decided to quit caffiene. I'm on Day Three of this decision. It's horrible, and I'm actually very upset over how horrible I am feeling. The first day was hell. I had a headache worse than any headache I've ever had, and my hands trembled so badly. I was in a shitty mood at work and I wanted to eat several of the customers. The headaches are getting better, at least, but I'm still irritable and trembling. And I'm frightened of this, because this is really the first time I've had an addiction of anything drug-like, and I don't like how it's making me feel. But it's been three days and I haven't broken my decision yet, so that's good. Let's see if it lasts a week.

One of my friends at work told me today that she was pregnant. Which was a bit of a surprise, because she's sixteen, and I still prefer to be naive and assume that the general population of teenagers do not practice such unscrupulous activities. But she told me while I was in the storage room and we were relatively alone, and she started crying about it because she doesn't know how to tell her parents. And I had no idea what to tell her, because the longer I talked to her the more I began to realize the scope of what it was she was telling me. Because she said she was going to keep it. And, I can only be glad that I don't ever have to worry about that. Because I have enough things to worry about, and I don't know if I'm strong enough to deal with something of that magnitude as well. She's gonna try to have the baby and go to school, and I really wish her the best of luck. Because that's a great thing she's undertaking.

I had a dream about Eddie last night, and I woke up feeling as if there was a bad taste in my mouth. Because I sortof miss him, even though I think he's an ass and I'm mad at him. It's always easier for me to get over a guy when he does something that I can get mad at him for. It's always easier if I can just hate them. Because then, whenever I want to get back together with them, I remind myself of what it is they did, and then I don't feel quite so bad anymore.

Laugh. As I say that I immediately think of Kyle. Whom I never expected to speak with again, really. I'm glad he's here, though. Very glad. I hope I get to see him this weekend. Because that would make me very, very happy.

Since I seem to be catching up on all the psycho events of today, I decided to buckle (somewhat) and call my father on the subject of allowing him to teach me how to drive. For purely selfish reasons. Kyle doesn't want to get a car right now, and I'm getting irritated with having to wait for him to get ahold of a friend in order to visit me. So it would be far easier if I could actually go get him. And in the event we break up, it'll still be something good to have, I guess. Ah, I feel silly now.

I'm going to run. Goodnight, folks. I shall be back again tomorrow.

• Jonatha Brooke
  ("Steady Pull")
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can you love with such misgiving
this crooked little heart I got from you
disdain in your demenior
can you love through irony, fear and truth
the fear to repeat another's life
the irony of dying much the same way
expert at nothing
master of omission
a day to day

I have to laugh with each distraction
my heart is rearranging time
there's order in my mother's house
but there is such disarray in mine
and this is god's own creation
and it is such a familiar scene
the endless conversation
of "missing you"
of "things might be"

what they say
what we are and what we were
will never be the same

so I will love without misgiving
this crooked little heart I give to you
cos there's order in the meaning
of all that's innocent but true
and this is god's own creation
and it could be such a perfect scene
hear the culmination
of "loving you"
of "things that ARE"

what they say
what we are and what we were
will never be the same

I really thought I would do it. Last night I got it into my head that it would be a really good thing if I set my alarm early and got up a couple hours before I needed to go to work, instead of getting up half an hour before I was supposed to be there and end up rushing and getting there late anyway.

So I set it for seven am, when I didn't really need to get up until nine thirty, ten at the very latest. I thought it'd give me time to make breakfast and meditate and everything, so that I could start my day off better.

And seven came by. I set the alarm to eight. Eight came by. I set it to nine. And then it was nine fourty and I was bitching at myself for my lack of willpower.

But at least it was worth a try, I guess?

I played hookey yesterday. Well, sortof. I did feel sick in the morning, and I didn't want to go to work, but I probably could've. I just decided that after working three weeks straight, nearly fifty+ hours each week, I needed more than just one day off. So I took another. And this is perhaps the second time I've actually called out sick from work in the seven months I've been there. The only other times I've been out was when I got hit by that car.

And still, my manager yelled at me. I expected it. I braced myself for it. If I hadn't been determined, I might've buckled.

I hate working there. Because if she's not yelling at me for something beyond my control, she's guilt-tripping me for something else. I hate it. And I hate it even further that I'm a high-school drop out living up to that stupid fucking stereotype, and even though I know I'm smarter than that, I can't find another job to get me out. And I hate that, too.

But I talked to Kyle today, and that was good. I told him that I was feeling like our relationship was very Lifetime-esque. And he said that in the made-for-tv movie, big beefy actours would play us. And then we got into a really ridiculously long and silly conversation about the movie. And it made me feel good when I realized I'd spent that long talking to him about such nonsense.

It felt good to have somebody I could be silly with. Especially when I have to be so fucking grown up all the time. And I'm not even a grown up yet.

and what can I tell you my brother, my killer
what can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you,
I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.

I make no sense sometimes. I sit up late at night even when I should be asleep cos I have a stupid nine o'clock shift to get up for and spread out three hundred notebooks that have collected of my life. And I tell myself that I'm going to sit here and write, but I know that I'm full of it and as soon as I open one of those notebooks up and begin looking through them, two in the morning quickly becomes four in the morning with no chance of sleep in my plans.

Because I make no sense. I have journals and pieces of writing from very far back in my life. The only ones I've got in this apartment go back to the very end of 1999, post coming-out-to-my-parents. And I read these pages over and over, 'til the pencil writing becomes faded and I become extremely psychotic and convince myself that if I don't act quickly I'm going to lose every word on the page to time. So I sit there and I recopy at least three months' worth of journal entries into ink. Because, I think that's what I'm afraid of. I write a journal in the first place because my memories (even though I'm supposedly gifted with a photographic one) are not infailable. I forget quite a lot, I block out quite more. And I write in my journal so that my experiences will survive, at least as long as I'm here, forever.

Anyway, I'm digressing. This all started because I talked to Kyle until four in the morning. And in the space of a night he's gone from being Evil Kyle the ex, to Kyle the Boyfriend. It's such a very drastic transition that I wonder if maybe I blinked when it happened and that's why I'm still so surprised about it.

But surprised in the good way. Not the, "oh fuck, I'm in a relationship again" way that I've found myself feeling the morning-after every time I've started dating somebody post-Kent. It's ridiculous, and it used to make me cry. James was the first guy I'd dated (more or less) since Kent. And that had been practically six months after we broke up, less than one after I found out he'd killed himself. I wonder now if I just jumped right into it because Kent was gone and I wanted to prove to myself that I was "over him." But by that same token I guess I could ask the same of myself about Kyle, but I'll save that for later.

Anyway, I used to cry about it. Because James and I dated three weeks. The shortest relationship I'd ever had at that point. And it was hardly even a relationship. I mean, I had never even kissed him. I rarely ever saw him. He bought me a birthday present, though. And allegedly a three-thousand dollar keyboard which has never manifested itself, but no, NO, I am not bitter. Bah. I still want the keyboard, though.

But, my point is, even with that total lack-of-a-relationship, I'd wake up at two or three in the morning almost every night shitting myself with fear. Because I was so scared. I still don't exactly understand why, but almost every night I'd cry myself back to sleep over it. I'd have a panic attack over some stupid fuckhead who meant very little to me, and I'd cry myself to sleep with the effourt it took me to keep my fear under control and tell myself that yes, I was ready to date again. But I knew I wasn't. I knew I didn't mean it, I knew he meant nothing to me, and that's what upset me. He meant nothing to me, he was a filler-boy, and I couldn't even handle that. That still made me deathly sick.

But. I haven't felt that way over Kyle yet. And I hope that's a good sign, because in the past the terror immediately struck me as soon as I'd "signed the contract" and put myself back into Boyfriend of ______ status.

And I've been brushing my teeth all day, because he smokes and I've got the taste of his cigarettes in my mouth from when we kissed. Still. And normally that would annoy me. I mean, it's not like I find it sexy or something stupid like that. "Oh Kyle, when you breathe on me with that, you have no idea what it does to me…." But it doesn't bother me as much as it has when I've kissed guys who smoke before. Cos it's Kyle. And, I'm happy to just be kissing him.

Last night he said something along the lines of, "Trying to get me to quit smoking will be really hard, I want to tell you." And I paused for a second, because I had to sit there and think, "Did I say anything like I was going to make him quit?" And I couldn't think of anything, so I asked him. And he half-thought that I would pressure him. That really suprised me until I realized that when he knew me, I probably would've tried to get him to quit. But after Kent, I rapidly grew out of the trying-to-change-people bit.

I don't know. I'm still adjusting to this. Because Kyle and I have a lot of history together. And I'm stupidly giddy that I'm dating the first person I really loved again. Because that's how it happens in movies, and I've always held on to the thought that my life will end happily ever after, nomatterfuckingwhat.

I think I've been reading this site too much today. It's because David had it linked as "Rated R" and I had to see why. And I realize David is christian, so his version of R is by far less riske than mine. But I've been reading that site and reading as far back as the beginning of 2002, which is unheardof for me. I never spend that much time at somebody's website the first time I ever see it. But I've been reading about him and about his boyfriend, and I want to be in that position in a couple years. Hell. Knowing how accellerated my life is, I want to be at that position in a couple months. With Kyle.

It would make me happy to have a disfunctional relationship like that. Disfunctional in the way that there are fights but they're never serious, there are arguements but never over anything important. There are tears, but they're normally happy. There are loud voices but it's almost always singing. At the end of the day we come home from wherever we were all day long and we're happy to be together, because we weren't fifteen minutes ago. And we eat dinner at the table together. The dinner that one of us cooked for the other because it was a long day for him. And then we'd cuddle. And fall asleep. And I would feel safe, and happy, and I'd feel like it didn't matter what was going on, as long as I could grab him at the end of the day.

As long as I could hold on to him at night, I could survive anything that anybody could do.

Is that naive of me? I really, really hope not.

As it is the day before I will know for sure whether or not this is actually gonna happen, I've decided to let all of you in on my little (big) secret. I'm unbelievably excited about this, and I just hope it pans out.

A couple days after I wrote this journal entry, I was contated by Peter Cummings over at xy magazine. I was fairly surprised at first, and I made him prove his identity before I'd believe what he was asking me.

Him : "I'm the editor of XY!"

Me: "Prove it."

was pretty much how the conversation went. =) But he wanted to publish that journal entry in the magazine. So, I'm still rather bewildered over that, several weeks later. But the magazine comes out tomorrow, so tomorrow everybody who reads the magazine will have access to this website. I mean, there has to be somebody who doesn't just get it for the pictures, eh?

So, I'm gonna make the attempt to get a new layout done. Because sometime soon I'm supposed to get hosted. And I think I shall revive the poetry section of this website. I've been meaning to do that before, but insecurity and laziness has stood in my way. Let's see what happens, though.

For now, I'm heading off. G'night, folx.

Kyle came over last night. And I have not had a happier night in much of my life. We talked. Talked for a fucking ridiculously long time, but talked all the same. About the past, about the present, about us, about each other, friends, family, experiences, memories. Everything. An entire lifetime crammed into less than twelve hours. The words spilled out of my lips like nothing I've ever experienced. I've never clicked with anybody so wonderfully. There was hardly a pause between us, except until the end. But I'll get to that.

We didn't really discuss the relationship until near the end of our night together. I guess I figured it would happen that way, because I didn't want to push it nor bring it up until he did. In the past, a good bit of the problems between Kyle and I was his indecision and confusion at what he wanted out of things. So I wasn't going to make a move on anything until after he did. It was his turn to fight, I told him. (I'll also explain that.)

So, I'm totally losing my train of thought. I haven't slept in forever and thankfully tomorrow's a day off, but I really want to get this down in some medium. Anyway, he apologised. For fucking me over, for hurting me, la la la. And he was sincere. I've never seen such a thing from him before, and it was pretty surprising. He's never been that honest nor brutal before. He was practically in tears. So any doubt I had that perhaps he was leading me on for some malicious reason was kicked in the face. He meant what he told me. All of it.

The entire time we were talking about this, I wanted to touch him. To hold his hand, hug him, touch his face… anything. But I wouldn't let myself, because, like I said, I wanted him to make an overture. So at one point when he was about to cry I patted him on the shoulder, not really thinking about it, and that was the trigger. He took my hand and held it and we sortof inched closer together during the exchange of words, until finally I was lying maybe an inch from his face (we were sitting on the couch-bed that Jackie and I have in our living room. Well, lying on it, I guess). And he leaned over and kissed me. And it was such a wonderful kiss. Because, in all of Josh's relationship experience, he is ALWAYS the first person to do anything. Nobody's ever grabbed me and kissed me, it's always the other way around. Sounds a little picky, I guess, but I become annoyed with such things.

And then for the rest of the night that's what we were doing. Kissing. Not making out, because it wasn't fierce nor sexually charged, but kissing. Something less sexual and more spiritual all at once, or perhaps just something. Or it could just be my imagination. But I've never had that kind of kiss.

At some point I know we went to my room, because when we woke up I was in my bed. No, we did not have sex. I had already decided that, anything else not withstanding, we would not have sex then. We've had (and probably will have) many chances to fuck each other over without involving actual fucking. But that's when my memory of the night gets blurry, cos I felt so safe and content that I just fell asleep in his arms. And didn't wake up until he had to leave at three thirty. I would've much preferred him staying, but he couldn't, and I understand that.

As for where we are right now, I don't know. Things would point to a relationship, but he didn't offer that up last night, so I'm still a solo bird until then. However, I want to see him again. I want to give him another chance.

Because now, this time, I don't feel that it'll be in vain.

wait, I thought I had this down
I built all my cages and my hide out
and I covered all my bases
I locked the door, I shut all my windows
but you
you creep in like a whisper, it's true
I try not to listen, yeah, but I hear you
I'm not really sure just what it is you do
but do it again– I'm amazed

I'll try to keep this short, since I should've left for work ten minutes ago. My past couple of days have been somewhat uneventful except for the fact that Kyle is now back in my life. Something… I didn't expect to allow myself to happen again. And it's rather ironic that I initiated our current communications in the first place.

I guess I missed him. The last time we stopped talking wasn't because of a fight, as usual. We just… stopped talking. He has grown up so much though. He used to be arrogant and proud, and something has happened in the time we haven't been talking to drastically humble him.

And I guess I'd be lying if I tried to tell myself that I still don't care for him. The only thing is, I'm afraid to trust him again, with all of our past history. He's one of the few people I've allowed to hurt me repeatedly. And when I think to myself, "No more!" he comes back and does it again. I guess that's love, in some bizarre, masochistic way. Because he never does it maliciously… back then we were too young. Too unsure of everything. I mean, christ, I was fucking fourteen.

But now? I don't know. I hope things are different.

Anyway, he left me this piece of conversation that was a bit of a bombshell for me, since he's never told me this before: "I still count you as my first Josh… Even though we didn't have too much in those early years… You were always special to me." So, I don't know how to feel. I'm a lot stronger and more patient now… maybe things can be different.

Anyway, due in part to the overwhelming response I've received on the issue, I've decided to not go straight. Jesus, I got fourteen emails that night from it. Not to mention the other instant messages I got, references on other peoples' journals, and other ways you yelled in my ear that I was nuts. Don't worry, like I said, I was only half serious.

But I'm gonna leave for work now. Live long and prosper, or something like that. G'day.