Crazy Fingers

• I haven’t explicitly come out at work. No pictures of Brian on my desktop.
• When my boss’ boss asked what I did this weekend, I said “I finished moving.” I didn’t say “my boyfriend moved in.” In other words, I’m not being open at work, the way I used to, and the way I think I should.
• Some guy (who doesn’t work here) made a homophobic remark in Fatburger at lunchtime, possibly directed at me, and I didn’t respond. (I was exploring the jukebox, which was playing a Willy Nelson song, and this guy walked past me and said “play some gay cowboy music,” obviously a reference to Brokeback Mountain.)
• An HR person here, who’s like a buddy of mine, commented that one of my coworkers (who I think is a gay woman) “is not such a lady,” and again, I let it go.

In happier news, I did run into my friend Jeff Wenger in Fatburger. He works across the street in the Jersey City planning department. I met him through a mutual friend at Salsa y Salsa over the summer. Jeff loves the Dead; he may give me a USB drive so I can give him all of my shows.

And yes, Brian did move in officially (i.e., his stuff moved in, much of which is still in boxes in the living room). He’s currently tormented about what to do with his apartment, and there are some outcomes of that decision that will cause the boxes to remain in the living room longer than other outcomes (i.e., if he has to go clean up his apartment, the emptying of the boxes will be deferred). It’s all good though. I’m glad he’s there. I would have posted about all this already, except that we’ve both been totally exhausted from the move. Soon, I hope to have the time and energy to post some pictures of the apartment, which now has furniture.