Not Much

Boredom dominated my day. Laziness put me in slumber. Every time I got up from my bed, it would eventually pull me back. I verily knew that my chi flow was terribly truncated. Indeed, lethargy caught my body to rest languorously.

Despite my physical inertness, my mind was in an absurd restlessness. It jumped from one thought to another, from the real world to imaginary, from something clear to something blur, from focused to off-tangent, from bacteria to black hole. Insanity was gnawing my neurons one by one.

Nothing much happened today except for some mental traipse.

I remembered the film I watched last night, “No Regret.” It’s a Korean gay film coated with emotional turmoil while exposing the dramatic irony of unconventional love. The script was perfectly crafted that it projected certain epiphanies of my life. I thought of the boys I slept with, of the bodies I had explored, of the moments I enjoyed, of things I had done, both physical and emotional. I thought of myself trapped, chained, but not forever, in the intricate web of queer life.

I thought of Edmund White, of James Baldwin, of Gore Vidal, of Paul Monette, of all the gays who have trodden the same path. Then my mind flashed the faces of the people I had seen in G4M, in Friendster, in gaydar.be, in Myspace, in Hi5, Picturetrail, and DudeNude. My mind imitated the smell of male pheromones as exuded by my bed, to remind me of the bodies of the guys I slept with. I could see the carnal eyes of sexually thirsty guys standing in every corner of the streets, waiting to be noticed, waiting to be invited for a momentous evening. I could read the messages successively posted in MIRC. I thought of Boris, of Harley, of moments with them that had taught me lessons that would change me forever. I thought of my innocence, of my corruption, fleeting moments that jaded me. My world is unapologetic. But this won’t prompt me to regret. And I won’t regret every decision I made.

Then I remembered my dream. I was flying with millions of different butterflies around me. I saw the edge of the world.

And then my mind explored my neurons, brought up all the movies I had watched, all the novels I’d read, the storylines that were suppressed, the pages of the books that passed through my eyes. The life I created.

I was supposed to write a review of “No Regret.” But my mind was unwilling to coordinate with my hands. Then I remembered a lot of ideas had not been transformed into words, The Love in Schrodinger Equation, The Economic Stoichiometry of “Laswa”, the Meaning of Everything, and Conversation with Noah.

Then, there’s Wanda, the humor of his writings, the beauty of our lives.

All these years, I have been an energetic player in this circuitous queer life. However, the Fates and Furies reminded me of my humanness, my vulnerabilities and weaknesses. I was wearied by its inexhaustible possibilities. I felt defeated. Maybe it was just the start of my rest, of my retreat. It’s time for me to go backstage and observe, from afar, the queer world in its chaotic revolution. Saturnalias must end. And I saw the serious side of my life.

Then I remembered that only moments would matter.

Then I remembered the stars, the galaxies, the Big Bang, the role of infinity, the number zero, the first moment I learned how to add, the matrix, the chirality of molecules, the connection between bacteria and myself, the cockroaches, then Kafka, Camus, and the laundry stinking in one corner of my room.

For the first time, I felt the benign indifference of the universe.

Today, I am telling you, nothing really happened in my life. Not much. I was just there in my bed, in languid state.