Breaking the Silence
12 December
I dunno. Maybe I'm beginning to move out of the depressive phase I've been in for the past couple of months. I'm certainly starting to communicate once more.
Few things I missed from previous EJs. Quentin Crisp joined the ranks of those checking out before the Millennium. My winter jasmine is out in the front garden. The sun is low in the sky. Ross and I went for a trundle round Docklands, visited the Canary Wharf Jubilee Line Tube Station which has to be in a film soon and met a complete space cadet serving at Crank's.
Colin sent the first Christmas card of the year.
The EJ count for this year has passed the thousand visits mark. And we are nearing the
hundredth entry. I've been looking at the entries for the review of the year and there's
still vacancies in the category Best shag not including Ross if anyone's
interested in applying. 
I went to hear Berlioz's Benvenuto Cellini at the Barbican on Saturday night. I last went to a performance 23 years ago. I guess it will be another 23 years before I try it again. It's just not very good though the performers gave it their uttie.
The major news is that Ross will be moving in to his new flat on Monday. This will be a great relief to us all. I was round there most of today packing things in boxes, cleaning his bedroom, assembling his bed. The place is fab. From his bedroom window, you get a clear view of downtown Docklands dominated by Canary Wharf and, at the moment, cranes outlined by fairy lights. There's a sort of back garden and they may well have a barbie out there next summer.
We did talk at last over the cleaning and the Christmas card writing. We've said a few home truths like
- I am fed up with being taken for granted
- Ross admits to not having any idea as to the amount of effort I put into making his weekends as restful as possible
- we have both been hurting
- I need some nourishment
- Ross needs to speak up more
- we need a holiday together
- I want Ross to do some fucking housework when he comes round to my place even if it's only washing two cups
And, of course, it ended with a fuck. I've not mentioned our love life recently; not because it hasn't been happening but because it hasn't been something to write here about. We've been holding back. Now, in the shadow of Canary Wharf, we let go. We not only broke the silence but also filled it with noises aplenty.
I've just finished listening to a performance of Beethoven's 9th Symphony Choral which was a sensation. I lay in the bath in the dark and wept for the fervent, revolutionary joy conjured by that monumental finale. And then I wept some more for the knowledge that, by the time of its premier, Beethoven was so profoundly deaf that he himself never ever heard it performed by others.