I'm working on a novel which is, essentially, a fictionalization of this journal. If I'd met Ethan in the book, I'd have the benefit of being able to tell you why he chose to first invite me over for sex, then reject me, then show up on my doorstep looking for sex. I could relate it to how his parents abandoned him or how he has a fetish for making people uncomfortable. Maybe I could invent an ex who was a writer who was hung like a an elephant with elephantitis and shot strawberry flavored semen out of his cock. Semen that not only tasted great, and cleared up your skin, but also built up your self-confidence, and shampooed your hair.
But I'm not an omniscient narrator of my life. I asked Ethan what was going on, and he left. Sure, I know where he lives. I know his phone number, I even know that he reads this LJ (do you have anything to say for yourself Mr. Stalker?). That's all I know. And while I do have some degree of fatalism and curiosity, I can't bring myself to knock on his door, or give him a call. Then I, too, would be a passenger on The Psycho Train.
This whole incident has me thinking of sitcoms. How much easier it would be if my life was confined to a cast of revolving characters. I could have run into Elvis at the gay marriage ceremony. He would have been marrying Tommy. I could have stepped in and stopped the whole thing. Presented the list of Rex crimes, confessed how much I missed Tommy and his tongue. We would have dated until the cliffhanger season finale when Liam would have shown up on my doorstep. Why? You'd have to tune in next season to find out.
What if, instead of a sitcom, I hired Chris Carter or M Knight Shyamalan to write this journal? Would Ryan come back from the dead? Maybe Elvis, Byron and Rex would actually be three different people. Clones, perhaps. Maybe Ethan would turn out to be a brother from the family that gave me up for adoption. Hmmm...these ideas seem a bit more like "Dark Shadows" or "Baywatch Nights."
I guess I have to settle for taking what I get. Living what I'm given.
What I got from Ethan was a sense that I need to slow down before I end up a character in the next SLC Punk. Big City Fags? Sodom 90666?
Maybe the next book will focus on my religious conversion. How I became a Mormon minister. Or better yet, a Republican fund raiser. I'll call it "The Way Things Ought to Be Part 2: The Right Way." My book will be sponsored by Wal-Mart and MobilExxon. I'll move back to Pieceofshitdeserttown and sell coffee while I listen to really crappy poetry about how Dick Cheney is baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.
Maybe not. What's most likely is that I'll stay reclusive until the book is done. When it's over, I'll --- ok I don't have a clue what I'll do. Anyone have any ideas?