:: an anomalous list of thoughts by an anomalous guy ::

• The "oh-fucking-shit-I'm-fucking-single-and-I-fucking-miss-my-dog-blues" crashed through my front door on Sunday and I was not a pretty site.
  
• Shame because I had a blast playfully flirting with the self-proclaimed cock-tease and a much milder and subdued Sam
  
• The gay scene in Tucson could make "anyone" appreciate sex with livestock.
  
• Screw April Fools Day - it's quarterly bonus time - cough - the fucker -up.
  
• I think I blew it with Bachelor #2 - I'm just not ready to start having sleep overs no matter how hot you are.
  
• I've fallen in a mire I hoped to never see, clumsy, muddy, uncontrollable thoughts of hatred aimed at my ex.
  
• My house lost half it's life and all it's love when Baby scampered out that door, her food and water bowl still sit on my kitchen floor - I can't bring myself to put them away. Someone suggested to me lately that this aspect of my life has the perfect makings for a country song.
  
• When I told the guy at the house party on Saturday how much I appreciated the chance to play with their 6 week-old Yellow Lab puppy - I don't think he could have ever imagined how real I was being, shame.
  
• I've become heavily "naked" anxious - and amazingly stressed out about the first time I stand naked in the bedroom in front of another man.
  
• Charlies back - I find that oddly reassuring.
  
• I'm debating the beard for White Party next month.
  
• Thank GOD - Swish let me know he was alive, I was getting sick of hanging out in public restrooms looking for him.
  
• I'm really worried that Bachelor # 1 may be getting serious.
  
• I actually really, really like Nicole Kidman - but babe "are you trying to look like a cat or what?"
  
• I finally updated links and such, please send your obligatory thank you's in the form of a haiku.
  
• My unending crush on Jake Gyllenhaal seems to keep getting worse and worse - hit me.
  
• Engaging me in a professional work place to discuss my political and ethical viewpoint on the war with Iraq is about as smart as - well shit it's not, it's just fucking rude and stupid.
  
• Every time an episode of "Six Feet Under" ends I think - oh shit - now Mom and Dad are gonna ask me what a P.A. is next time I see them.
  
• I deleting the amazingly dark entry I wrote yesterday - which made me start thinking that we should have a collective site that we all share where we anonymously post the blog entries we think are too much for everyone else to handle.
  
• I'm over my list already.

i was gonnna post this big drunken blog about dinner at a completely straight-factory of healthy but delicious patsta, folllowed by drinks with bitches with power tits at MERC Bar - followed up by an evening of lesbo loving at ANBB - but crap - this boys got to rest up to terrorize TUCSON tommorrow

Can guys take "Midol" ???

Can guys take Midol to save there pounding head from a hang-over ??

If I married you, would you sit around in a sexy wife beater and knock me up (and around) ??

How many men are you allowed to go on a date with in one respective period before your nicknamed "Smurfette" (friggin bitch was getting it coming and going) ??

How come I haven't put out yet ???

Why can't I get the boy with the CS (uh - you'll figure out what it stands for) lips out of my head - and why does he know he's in my head when I try not to show it ??

And where the fuck have you been ??? Standing at urinal again ? (psst I'm acting tough, but I miss ya baby - let's have breakfast/coffee tomorrow)

How much more BBC, NPR, CNN can I take before I just want to act like it's not really going on ??

Another date/hang out/thingie with Bachelor #1 tonight - this will be the 5th, this time he's made reservations - that sounds so serious I want to giggle. Bachelor #2 actually asked me what I was passionate about last night and actually wanted to know the answer - uh, I'm not used to guy actually giving a damn about what "I" think.

Please make my head stop hurting.

Oh and apologies to Mr. Sunshine and Mr Lord of Darkness (kidding) for taking so long to update your moves on my links - I'm still reading you - I'm just frigging lazy - it's all the masturbation and booze. And I have some new lads I want to add - namely you and you and we'll just see how long I take to get around to that.

I want a horoscope like this EVERY day :

LEO

In his book Animals and Psychedelics, ethnobotanist Giorgio Samorini proves that many animals deliberately alter their consciousness. His evidence includes robins that get drunk on holly berries and act "like winged clowns," as well as goats that are dependent on caffeine and reindeer that seek out hallucinogenic mushrooms. Samorini concludes that the desire to get high is a natural drive. He suggests that intoxication has served as an evolutionary force for some species, breaking down outworn habits in such a way as to improve long-term survival. All this is prelude to my advice for you, Leo: You now have a cosmic mandate to shed your shticks and expand your awareness. Since you're not just an animal, but also an ingenious human, you don't have to resort to drugs and alcohol to do it. But you should do it.


courtesy of Free Will Astrology

Oh and BTW - Cutie Number One and Co-hort Cutie Number Two - be warned - like a swarm of locusts I will descend on Tucson this Saturday and Saturday Night for street festival. I will be rebel-rousing, grabbing asses, drinking heavily, cursing frequently, and mentioning as many times as it takes how horny I am - to get the job done. Please lock up your friends and neighbors - or just hand the cute ones over to me and no one gets hurt.

Hooray for the Lambs

This post is in complete celebration of the most "fantasical" and "dangerous" of all the animals in the animal kingdom.

WHAT ???? You don't believe me.

Well let me explain - while some people think that lambs are indigineous to only the grand state of Texas, it has become quite evident to me that they have agressively migrated to all the interlocking states and even beyond (Hawaii - keep a look out baby!). Many people misinterpret the lambs great contribution to society. Let me point out in recent weeks some of the many great contibutions lambs have done for the greater good of the US of Aaaaaaaaaaaa.

Get them Dixie Chicks ! And you thought the match up between a lamb and a chick could only happen at the county fair - oh mon frere (oops - no french, no french ! ) , that traitor-ess Natalie and her big head - what has she done. Lambs see her for what she is "a commie" - all 3 feet, 4 inches of her ! Sure she seemed like maybe she was just bright enough when beyond the brain-washing Pro-American sentiment of our news/marketing/publicity machines to see that the rest of the world thinks that maybe good ole George Bush is just a bit of a international, diplomatic-retard, red-neck bully - but the lambs saw right through that - growl with me - she's a traitor. I mean really - a girl band whose actually willing to look the way the want, sing the music from their roots and work outside the normal conventions of a record label - they wreak of traitor. And - I know, I know - her comment ( and shame ) was directly aimed at Bush - but the lambs saw right threw that to - she disrespected every member of our armed forces and the entire United States - unlike George who totally respects their right to die in a hostile nation in an unsanctioned war against - gasp! - A Dictator.

Get that One Dictator Whew ! The lambs are right - thank god there's only one - yep, only one dictator in the whole wide world who might have weapons of mass destruction pointed at out proverbial head - Mr. Jung will you please sit down we're talking politics here - yes sir - kill this one and we're all done. The lambs know that the stork brings the dictator and plops him down in middle eastern country once every few decades - thank goodness our government never ever knew a thing about this man and his surprising rise to power.

They All Look Alike I've been wasting so much time during this to understand the political, religious and ethnic differences of the multicultural players of this international chess game. The Lambs know how to make it so much easier - they all look alike! Iraqi's, Iranians, Arabs, Israeli's, Syrians - they all look alike. It just makes it so much easier to dismiss centuries upon centuries of existance - and you have alot more time to watch 'American Idol'. Plus it's a sure hit to draw the line between each and every one of them. It's like "Liberty Sheild Connect-the-Dots", since they ALL look alike they ALL must plan their terrorist activities together ! Cuz I still remember learning in Ms Hadley's 7th grade home room that whenever you want to keep a secret ( or plan covert, international terrorist activities ) it's a lot easier by involving and telling as many of your classmates as possible.

Hate the French Never forget - if their not with us, their against us - if their against us - boycott the common household use of the name of anything that reminds you have them. Whew - can those lambs make a stand or not. I learned about this one while sitting next to a lovely couple from Grand Rapids, Michigan at the Cirque du Soleil show. They had matching beret's - it was really quite darling to see a lamb in a beret.

So I just keep trying to remember what the lambs honorary motto is :

Let's see I know it goes - "Lamb's to a ____________ "

Uh, "Bath House", naaaaa
maybe "Circuit Party" ???
I know - I know....
Slaughter.

Now where did I put my "Autour De Lucie" CD's and orange duct tape ?

I can't even begin to think how the four words; Blitzkreig, George Bush and Diplomacy will be strung together in history text books ten years from now.

...I lost the coin toss.

The small, dingy quarter made of copper-nickel, flipped up in the air - careless and unaware of what it's outcome could mean to me:

joy or heartbreak.

It had come to this, two bickering exboyfriends trying to decide the fate and ownership of their mutally much loved dog. I shouldn't have risked it, I should have taken her and let it go to court, I should of hit him - broken every bone in his arrogant, pompous, spoiled brat little body. But I wanted to be fair, he wouldn't give her up. So as the words heated and the hurts laid open in both our eyes. I flipped a coin.

Have you ever really looked at a quarter ?

The "Heads" side, the silhouette of George Washington, with seven capitalized words above his head: " L I B E R T Y". Would we find freedom after this ? Would I have my liberty ? This coin was minted in 1985. What was important to me in 1985? I was about to start my sophomore year of high school - so probably boys, punk music, getting stoned and getting a drivers license. Did I ever think that one day I would be standing in the middle of my living room on an overcast March day flipping a coin to decide the fate of the dog I had raised from a puppy with my ex. The "Tails" side features the bold eagle, the name of our country and the words that I'm sorry I just can't believe in: IN GOD WE TRUST. I'm gonna get slammed for saying that - sorry, we all feel differently about things and I don't trust what I don't believe in.

He chose "Heads", my mind raced a little trying to remember the odd's of "Tails" - was it ever really a 50/50 chance for me ? I looked down at her - all excited to see me, her brown eyes embracing me, tail wagging feverishly. I leaned into her and kissed the tip of her cold, wet black nose. She kissed me back quickly, loving her Daddy. Who would wake me in the morning at 7am? Who would cuddle close, sharing my pillows in the dark? How would I ever go to the dog park with any dog but this ?

The coin hit the ground - and my heart hit the floor. I had lost. I had lost Baby forever. As he shook my hand I mumbled how I would send him all the paperwork for the pet insurance and dog license, I stared numbly into his eyes - and below the surface, behind my eyes - in the backroom of my mind - I was screaming. I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD. I didn't say goodbye to her, he whisked her out the door. At the door we both mumbled how we hadn't wanted it to come to this I assured him he would give her a wonderful home. The voice from the backroom kept screaming, incessantly bellowing: I FUCKING HATE YOU. I softly asked him to "just go away and let me move on with my life" and shut the heavy, black metal security door. I walked back inside and sat in front of the tv and cried.

March 14, 2003

You have to stay active. You'd probably lose your mind if you sat still for too long. Whether or not there's business afoot, you'll probably pursue pleasure instead. In fact, with the Stars encouraging fun, it will be a component of whatever you do. You are, after all, the Lion, sleek and vibrant, always in search of your prey. Maybe that means you're at the top of your game. If you really want this adventure to heat up, bring along your mate. And if this is about finding companionship, you'll end up with someone beyond your wildest dreams.

Hmmmm....see, my horoscope says I "should" be going out every night ( *grins* )

I swear I didn't write it myself.

The longer version of below

Hope. Anxiety. Despair. Anger. Frustration. Hate. Joy. Elation. Desire. Lust. Fear.

I’m Reeling. Oscillating. Wavering. Floundering. Dancing. Flying. Bouncing.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Never the same, seemingly unique to each other – emotions and feelings with twisting DNA, changing form, texture, meaning and substance.

I keep throwing myself into anything. Dates. Parties. Dancing. Drinking.

I want to Fuck. Flirt. Kiss. Rim. Caress. Pound. Hold. Soothe. Excite. Cuddle.

I Breathe. I Cry. I Scream. I Laugh. I Dream.

I Fall Down. I Stand Back Up.

I’m burning.

Can you see the flickering of my flame ?

Hear me ramble about absolutely-fucking-nothing

So I should try and string together a full paragraph and astound you with my literary prowness, but instead I'll just make a grammitically-appaling, bullet point list of my meandering thoughts:

I'm at peace with this break-up, it was the right thing, at the right time.

Running into Lucky (literally) on the dance floor at the Black Party at the Ice House was unnerving to say the least.

Made more unnerving by the fact that N. convinced me to do Shrooms for the first time (there really fun he said) - Bullshit. I was a wreck.

Plus I was a wreck in full 'leather daddy' gear - Trooper hat, harness, cuff restraints, arm bands, military pants - Lucky didnt even know who I was at first.

I have gone out every night since last Monday. Every night has been way beyond normal. There's such a surreal vibe good and bad to what is happening.

We only went as a group this weekend. Shopping for our leather for Saturday night. To go dancing. To sunday beer bust. Everyone coming to my house for beers before we went out - it was nice.

I have this drawer in my kitchen where I've started dumping the phone numbers I'm getting, I find myself paralyzed when I go to call a new guy - what do I tell him? How do I warn him not to get in over his head with me? Is it ok to want him, to fuck him, to hold him - if I don't want a future with him?

I tried a one night stand on Thursday - he was a complete out-of-towner coming all the way from New Zealand - it was sloppy and drunken and completely sucked. We did next to nothing but he spent about 2 hours trying to get his hands, fingers and dick up my ass. Why do people take "tops" home thinking their gonna go "ok - sure". Dumb Ass. I managed to kick him out, but had to drive him back to where he was staying - I got to work on one hour of sleep and still had the whole weekend of partying to go.

They were handing out cards at the party on Saturday warning about a syphillis outbreak in Phoenix. Great - just dandy.

I'm going out to dinner with a really nice guy tonight, handsome, sexy, built, smart, educated - and I'm pounding my head against the wall wondering if this is completely insane. Do I tell him before or after dinner that this can go nowhere. That I'll go to my bedroom with him but can't date him.

I have another guy - hot swarthy muther-fucker I have lusted for for a long, long time who asked me to go home with him last night - I wanted to - god I wanted to but I chickened out.

Then there the friends - those guys who start making thoughts and feeling known. That get me all nervous and wondering will anyone just be there for me - be my friend.

I had the one unfortunate instance with a friend whose a porn star who I adore and recognize as incredibly hot who became visibly angry with me and stormed off on Saturday night after explaining that his boyfriend had given him permission to have one hot night of no hassle hot dirty sex with me - meanwhile the shrooms are making the whole wall behind him do crazy messed up shit - and he takes my "I really can't talk about this right now" and lack of erection when he shoves his hand down my pants - as a turn down.

I'm jacking off constantly, 3-5 times a day - it's the only time I feel in control, peaceful and unthreatened.

The whole bullshit deal with the trial is over.

I worry about my ex reading this site.

I worry about hurting someone in all of this dating shit.

I worry I have no idea what I'm doing.

I worry that I'm gonna pick up an STD if I sleep with any of these guys.

I worry that I haven't cried yet. I worry that Lucky has. I know when we looked at each other on Saturday and dance within feet of each other - that we were trying to read each others minds. You could feel it though - it was over. Complete, resolute, permanently over.

....so I shouldn't have been shocked by my ex's erratic behavior over the past two days - he's doing what he does best - childish and selfish behavior. What I hoped to be a clean break is now going to be stretched out over weeks due to his inextricable inability to let go in a normal and realistic fashion.

So how much does it cost to have your locks changed ?

I guess my wish-making powers may be more powerful than I thought. We're entering our third straight day of rain. I can't remember in my 23 years living in AZ how long it's been since I've seen three straight days of rain.

I've been keeping my head together, reading "The Tao of Pooh" and "The Te of Piglet", dancing around to Massive Attack and Pet Shop Boys, and singing karaoke with Erasures remakes of classic songs. I'm allowing Western Philosophy and Music to lick clean my wounds. Tonight I'm going to see my ten-year old carrot-top nephew perform in his school play - I'm planning a standing ovation each time he enters and exits the stage.

Lucky and I meet on Saturday to tie up lose ends and decide the fate of dog ownership - that's gonna be rough - but somehow I feel very strong right now, not invincible...but humanly engaged.

...it's raining today. Pretty much - with out stop and only momentary hesitation - rain has alternately falling gently, briskly and emphatically, all day long. No curious beams of warm, glowing sun to slip cleverly through, just soft grey clouds with even softer white edges interlock over the visible sky.

I feel almost thankful that nature is edging me back into this gently - "Hey - let the guy have a grey, rainy day - he could use it!"

It feels good.

I feel like the earth is willing to sigh and feel sad with me - just so I don't feel alone in this.

I feel sad, but not unhappy. Does that make sense ?

...and so it goes.

It's over.

The conversation has been had and I have ended my relationship - the one that I - and many of our friends were convinced was the one that would really make it and beat the odds. He presented his side that despite the space of the past ten days that he still thought we could make this work. He reminded me of the good times, promises made, plans for the future. He noticed how my eyes would drift off when he spoke. I let his speak, I listened. When I spoke - I finally asked him to just let me go. I wasn't the man he was meant to spend the rest of his life with, for all I tried and hoped - for all his convictions that we were in love and I was the greatest man he had ever known - I'm just not the man for him. As we had both entered our 30's we had begun to grow differently and become unique to each other. I didn't fall apart and neither did he. Once I had spoken he said there wasn't anything I had said he couldn't agree with - we have been here before, we fought to turn this around - couples counseling, seperate residences, days off - despite our pride, our ego, and our geniune love for each other - our relationship was on life support. This time there was less shock, we had both been preparing this last week and a half for that fact that the next conversation may go just like this.

I didnt cry til he left. I went out to my backyard and stared up at the cloudy night sky and wondered "what's next?", I lit up the grill and grilled chicken. I sat down and had dinner and paid my bills. I watched TV. I resumed my life. Then they came - warm, salty tears moving across my cheek bones, falling then flowing along the lines of my neck, coming to a rest at the collar of my shirt.

I will be ok.

I feel sad - but somehow at peace with this.

I don't regret the past three and half years, I will filter out the best memories and try and let go of the hurt.

I think I'll go grocery shopping now.

Yep, kinda an out of control night - was that my group of friends starting a circle jerk at Padlock - uh, I know nothing about that - and considering how nasty 95% of the patrons were - no one beyond the circle would know anyway. Pulled the ghost and took off - I couldn't deal - I could inititate the trouble - but admittedly couldn't follow through. Sleeping really short hours lately - been up since what 430am - watched some crappy horror movie with William Katt (remember him - sing with me "...believe it or not I'm walking on air...bla, blah, bla...- something - flyyyyyyyyy") about pirahana eating kids at a day camp - I rooted for the fish.

Lucky comes by to get Baby at 8am - we haven't had the discussion yet - suppose it's inevitable - but neither of us want to talk to each other.

I'm gonna take off for either Palm Springs or San Diego tonight - hop in the car - veg' to some music. Hopefully one of my buddies will come - if not - I'll still go. Be some place else, anoynomous - maybe make up a name and pretend to be some one else for the night - how about Delbert, an Orthodonist from Sheboygen ???

Yeah - I didn't think so either.

I've got this naseaus feeling in my stomach that won't go away. As I sat in front of my therapist last night spilling it all out (oh come on now - you HAD to suspect that I was seeing a therapist) it became this red hot burning sensation. I thought several times of excusing myself to the bathroom - but to do what "lines"? (naaa, to 80's), "puke" ? (naaa, to Bulimia), "cry" ? (naaaa, something I should do - but honestly don't know how to). By the time I got home - it was just kinda there with me - this uneasy feeling. I suspected it was what it was like to have a premonition - but with less clarity to it's purpose. It's not even official, I'm waiting til March 1st. That's what he wanted. I could turn back if I wanted to - but it would be the same thing 4 weeks, 6 months, a year from now. I watched Trista (The Bachelorette) picking Ryan the Renaissance Fireman and thought "Oh No" go for the slick guy from LA - he's something you can chew up and spit out in 6 months, a year, when you get offered your first "straight-to-video" B-Movie called "Gee - I Hate the Camera" - but, not Ryan - you just know he would cry, and it would be heartbreaking to see that big lug cry. So I decided that I'm probably more a Ryan - to aware of my emotions, to sincere and open with my mind and heart, to different, from what I don't know - just to different ...

Trista really should have picked the other guy.

I'm the son of an Irish Alcoholic and a Norwegian Agressor (meeting the back of the hand was common place for any back-talk or teenage indescretion) - it's ok, I'm beyond it...well I am when things are good. Yet when things I hold true and dear begin to crumble - like my relationship - I will admit I can feel the vines of dysfunctionality, creeping like cats claw over my conscience and better sense of well being.

A child of alcoholism and agression does either of two things when confronted with emotional pain - they look to what they find "medicinal" or what they find "destructive". Dysfunctional sure - but you know what - I can admit to it instead of hanging behind some cloak of ignorance where I say I'm just "partying it up with my buddies". I snorted through 7 grams of kitty in 7 days, I sucked down two Bloody Mary's at lunch today and then came back to work - no, it's probably not terribly healthy - but I'm aware - very aware of what is going on. When a doctor isn't close by prescribing medicine for our pain - we find ways to cure ourselves, it's instinct, it's the human condition.

No maybe not for all, maybe you go play racquet ball and watching your relationship of the past 3.5 years end is ok for you. Good for you - fucking, eh - your god-damn amazing.

I'm real - I'm hurting. I'm sick of believing in love - that I can be everything to someone who isnt even sure what they want and less of all that I even fill the bill.

Am I falling part ?? - no.

If you - as a reader, having read my most inner thoughts and honest moments - have any clue what I have 'survived' in 33 years on this earth and still have ended up being a mighty nice guy - than you know this will not kill me.

Maybe I might be getting a little James Dean on your ass over the next couple of months - sure, but hey - it's just like TV - switch the channel if you fucking want.

...not that we don't have enough to worry about with well Sadam, Kim Jong and missing-from-the-axis-of-evil-but-certainly-belongs-there Micheal Jackson...there's this excerpt from Dan Savages latest column:

"Very worrisome, and not just for gay men in L.A. A few days after the L.A Times story ran, The San Francisco Chronicle reported that (surprise!) drug-resistant staph infections were appearing in gay men in San Francisco, too. Public-health officials in San Francisco are assuring people that this isn't "the equivalent of a new HIV disease," but this sentence, from the original L.A. Times story, should sound eerily familiar to anyone over 35: "Although the outbreak seems confined primarily to gay men, doctors say at least one woman contracted the infection, probably from a male sex partner."

scary.

LEO: As positive as that new moon may be, as you get closer to the middle of the month, your closest relationships become a bit rocky — just when you want them to be smooth the most!

No, Valentine's Day on February 14 just isn't likely to deliver the carefree feeling of fun you are hoping for. I feel so badly having to tell you this, but it's true. Old Uranus will stir the pot, trying to undo the best-laid plans. I am afraid I have to report that Valentine's Day is almost certain to be disappointing on some level, as your partner is apt to act completely out of character. Or it may be that conditions surrounding you will create obstacles to enjoying the day to the fullest. For example, your sweetheart may have to work late that night or may be away on a business trip. It's also possible that a lover's spat may spoil the day's mood, or that your partner will show a side of his or her character that you have never seen before. All this could be troubling.

Ever have an astrological forecast that was just a little too exact ?

A day before Valentines Day my boyfriend and I have pretty heavy fight - the day of Valentines Day (after not speaking to each other for two days) he calls to wish me a happy Valentines Day and tell me he wants to take some time off from each other - apparently two weeks is that magic number and he'll contact me on March 1st. I've been advised that "all boyfriend rules apply" during his imposed time off. Such an interesting choice of passive-agressive wording.

So not knowing if he's reading this site or not, let's make this clear:

I feel betrayed.
I feel hurt.
I feel angry.
I feel sad.
Is "crushed" an emotion ?? I'll try that one on for size - it seems to fit nice and snug.

But - I don't feel "confused" - oddly, not at all.

I know exactly how this 3 and half year roller-coaster ride is gonna end.

hmmm, I'm spending Valentines Day alone. Sounds kinda strange for a guy in a long-term relationship.

I'm getting a bunch of horror movies, some beer and getting stoned - fuck VD day.

roses are red, violets are blue
after a fucked up night like tonight
wonder if you think I'll hold tight - still to you

Saw these boys in concert last night - fucking awesome. Short - short, concert though. Of course it is always nice to know all the songs - I know, I know, I'm one of those guys who gets drunk and sings along - so sue me. Looked pretty ridiculous when I tried on my concert shirt when I got home and they had sold me a girls petite - Hey were they trying to say something there ?? I looked like Brittany's Trailer Park Back-up Dancer (way, way back!)
Painted my bedroom this weekend - Ralph Lauren "Snowdrift Suede" - awesome. Rearranged all the furniture according to Feng Shui principles - we'll see, we'll see. Really, really happy with the way it turned out though - especially for what a pain in the ass that Suede Technique is. Fairly mellow weekend, otherwise. Finally watched Luc Besson's "The Messenger" - not as good as his other films, but I think theres an interesting statement on the confusion between "pride and ego" and "religious faith" (but then again maybe I was reading in to it). So sad - it went by so quickly.

....alot of feedback - from many, many different directions on my recent post. Some really inspiring shit was shot back my way. I realize that I am incomplete in my effort to be whole. Yet, honestly I feel I'm trying - sometimes I tug the rope too hard, other times it's sandy musk and red, raw burns just hang on my hands - as if stubborn shadows against a reading wall.

Thoughts like what is self-respect? Give way to thoughts of, what is self-respect as a gay man (chew on the word 'compromise' a few times before you try and answer) ?? There's so much to think about on this path to - well fuck if I know - we'll say personally-enriching, life-affirming, hope-extracting, biggie-sized "Nirvana" - existance.

I don't know who the fuck I am - I can admit that.

So I cross-examine who I've been...
I read up on who I want to be...
and I dream of who I could possibly become.

"If the United States launches a surprise attack on our peaceful nuclear facilities, it will spark a full-scale war," said Rodong Sinmun, North Korea's main state-run newspaper, in a commentary carried by Radio Pyongyang.

There isn't one word of that sentence that doesn't give me the chills (though my favorite three are "Peaceful Nuclear Facilities")

(deep breath)

...ok...here we go again.

crap, now I feel like I'm gonna paraphrase everything I just wrote and it will lose it's sincerity and it's within the sincerity and shame I feel when I tell this story that I am empowered to forgive myself for having wronged another. This is the first time I've ever told this story. You see I've always believed no matter how good a person you strive to be or become - you should never forget your wrongs, sear your mental flesh with the pain inflicted on another. I've had this misguided belief that this keeps you from ever committing the wrong again. This behavior is limited and is restraining me from becoming a better person.

I realize now though - you can't slay the dragons (i borrow from mr 8LDJ here) if you see yourself as the dragon.

So, in an effort to let go of this I push my internal dragon down on the hardened ground - fire licking and spewing from it's mouth - kicking and screaming, and I slay it with my written word.

One hopes.

The cursor calls out to me - blinking, flashing, warning - to put this down on this vacant, pulsing, white screen is to jeopardize what others may think or feel about me. I make permanent and public a memory I've never shared with a loved one or friend. I do this though to show I'm honest when I say - this blog is about my personal growth - NOT - winning any popularity contests (nod and thanks to Jer here). You may not like the "me" in this story, but then neither do I.

So this is a story from history. My personal history.

A "me" I hardly know now - but maybe see an occassional glimpse of in a rash moment, or heated exchange. For all intensive purposes though - who I was then, maybe just for a few minutes, or a few collective days - I could, I would, never be again.

In my early 20's I was possessed by a streak of anger and self-hatred that was as wide as the blacktop of the autobahn and as dangerous as crossing it on foot. I was burning bright with a blazing red hot anger - fueled by booze and drugs. I had no sense of direction except a spiralling pattern downwards. I honestly never thought I would be alive in my 30's to be writing this - questioning wrong moves and worse mistakes.

I want to evoke the whole evening from that night - a sultry, summer night or a crisp autumn evening - but I honestly couldn't tell you. I've shut it away for so long, not wanting to remember - that I have successfully forgotten all but what haunts me about that night.

Have you ever wronged someone ? Truly - wronged ?

The wrongs that others have visited upon us live in us - until one day we visit those wrongs on another.

I often savor these words, pulling my tongue, scraping my teeth, across them - unable to swallow them, uneasy with their taste. I am not saying this is a mandate, or others aren't strong enough to not subcumb to this theory. But violence is known to beget violence, hate to be beget hate and so on. The biggest error within these words is that it transfers it's life on to others as we wrong them. It does transfer, but it never leaves you - it just grows stronger trying to take it's hold with each wrong you do.

I ran into "D" at Nutowne on a Sunday night. Sunday's were beer bust and by 9pm there were only two conclusions to make about the bars inhabitants - they were inebriated or out to get laid.

I was on that particular night - both.

"D" and I hadn't spoken in years.

He had been the first boy to break my heart. An early and first example of why they call them crushes. It had been a summer romance after graduating high school, when I was 17. He was my first "lover". Though I had already been dating and sleeping with boys since I was 12, this was the first that someone made me feel lost in them - that I wanted to live and breathe alongside their every breath. He was the first boy I fucked and once that started I couldn't get enough. I fucked him every chance we would get. Less knowledgable - more naive. We swallowed, we barebacked - all this in the bedroom next to my sleeping parents. After a few months he got a fake ID and was getting into bars. I probably seemed less exciting than the opportunity to feel grown up. He gave me Chlamydia and then when confronted broke up with me and told me he was going straight. I crashed emotionally - every car on that autobahn left treads across my ripped-open chest.

So here we were - was it 4 years later, 6 years - I've shut that out.

He was hammered and he wanted me. I had filled out, tight, beautiful muscles, evenly tanned. I wore my hair in a hassle free buzz cut. I had matured physically from the wirey 17 year old I had been. I was strong and I had lost any resemblance to the sweet, naive kid I had been. There was an edge to me now - an animal agressiveness. I supposed this all just made him more attracted - he had always been more attracted to the 'bad boy' cliche. He was a career bus-boy, a perpetually-stoned pretty boy, trapped in a high school hey day that had left him behind. He had failed to move on in any way from who he was 4 years prior. The eyes though were still so blue, the lethal combination of surfer blond and high school jock - but the years were passing and "care-free" had given way to "aimless".

I wanted him too.
I wanted to fuck him.
I wanted to hurt him.

We went back to his place - the whole way he was gushing compliments and praise. How together I looked, how hot I had become, how much he had regreted not staying with me - what shit, what fucking - absolute-I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you then spit in your face-bullshit. The anger was welling up in my chest - screaming like a tribal warrior - "let me out" - LET ME OUT!

We were all over each other the second we entered his small one roomed attic apartment. When he shoved his tongue in my mouth - I bit down - drawing blood. He let out a scream and pushed me off:

"Fuck - what did you go and do that for asshole??", he said.

I calmed him down - apologized - said the moment had gotten away from me. I kissed his forehead, his neck, lifting his shirt over his head. I pushed down his jeans and feverishly began to rim his ass. He was past the tongue-biting, moaning, pushing my face into his ass. I shoved him down - hard. He toppled over.

"Take it easy - your being rough.", he said.

Something inside me had clicked - someone had unlocked a door - the chants of "Let Me Out" had been silenced. I was drunk. I was full of hate. I was going to hurt him.

There are times in your life that you are pushed out of your own body - by fear, by anger, by pain. This was one of them. I watched from above - disengaged from my body - unable to find my way back inside.

I grabbed his arms and pinned him down. He started fussing, telling me to stop - I started spewing hateful things. What a fucking pathetic loser he was - that he would die a no one, die alone, what a pathetic whore he was, he wasn't good enough to deserve me. I became rougher - punching him, wrestling him and then fucking him. Pounding my dick into him - never releasing his arms - pinning the weight of my body against him. He started to cry. I was hurting him - He was hurt. Sometime during it - it blurred from consensual - to nonconsensual - and back again. I hadn't even considered a condom - I hadn't seen him as worth it. I blew my load inside his ass. I pulled out, released him. He screamed a wave of obscenities at me. I told him I had waited years to hurt him. I was all the way home before I felt like I was back inside my body again.

This is the worst thing I have ever done to another person. What had been done to me at 16 - I had now done to another man. Did I rape him - I can't say. He gave me his number afterwards - would you give your number to a guy who just knocked you around and forcibly fucked you ? It took years for me to see beyond that moment and see it not for vengeance - but something so indescribably wrong - that I shut it away.

I never called him. I never apologized for what I did or how far I had gone. He approached me a couple of weeks later and showed me the bruises, called me an asshole and walked off. He died a few years later. AIDS. I can't apologize to him now. Let him know the shame I've felt, the disgust I feel for treating him that way.

So a decade has past and it haunts me that even once I could have been that person, so angry, so cruel to have acted this way to another person - no matter how much I felt they had wronged me.

I am not that person - not now.

I never want to be that person again - not ever.

I try everyday - to not ever be again.

We say we want people to know us - to understand us, but then we only tell them the good things about ourselves.

We hide from people the things we've done wrong, the things we have to live with in the dark of night.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

there is nothing worse then writing a emotionally charged entry and then switching screens and losing the entry.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

...at best, I'm hiding out emotionally lately. too many small hurts. people i trust and people I knew to hate. i want to start putting words down on paper again, but I'm processing things I'm worried about saying aloud. I feel like i've stopped saying anything real or important - distracted by the fucking popularity parades on other sites. i worry about ways i've wronged others. times i've failed to be the good guy i've tried so hard to be. people i've done well by - mistakenly - to see what shit they really are.

i look at the picture of the little boy below and I wonder who he grew up to be - and what mark on the world - if any he'll make.

cryptic ? perhaps.

...over that background. easier on your eyes.

"In by March - out by June" ?????
Is this our governments idea of the military "Rythym Method" ?
Either way - someones getting fucked.

...my biggest achievement of the weekend was receiving my new dining room table. It's a trip how it changes the dynamic of not just the room between my kitchen and my TV room but of the whole house. I'm reading a book on Feng Shui and have yet to adopt the practices - or buy in to the whole thing - but I do find it interesting that the rooms I feel least comfortable in have furniture that faces directions that don't work with my natural "Year of the Rooster - THE COCK" shui ( pronounced - SHWAAAAAAYYYYYYY). Anyway - it makes my house look so "House-Like" - less the single guy with beer and poppers in the fridge and more the - I think we'll have Duck L'Orange for dinner.

Another stop on the way to Adultsville.

Well, now.

Have I ever been deluged (am I making up words again or is that one real?), bombarded, buried with emails regarding my "Woe-is-me" drunkenly scrawled ramblings of Wednesday night. Every email has been a sweet bitch-slapping, charming butt-kicking, loving hit-to-the-back of head message. I owe responses. But I'm trying to come up with the apropos combination of flirtation/musing/bitchiness/cajoling to answer them back.

The funny - yet wonderful - thing about blogging is that it is all relative to moments in time. Much like life. In one, or a collective series of moments, we can feel inextricably one way. Mostly because we are "feeling" that way. Feelings are fluid. They can possess a viscosity that allows them to slowly move across your psyche, or a fire-consuming like content that races them from tip-of-toe-to-top-of-head in a day. My depressions are a crimson and orange lava slowly ebbing through my brain - my self-loathing’s are more sporadic - a summer-time brush fire, all consuming - but quickly extinguished.

I DO like my age. I'm so glad to be beyond the youthful bullshit of floating checks to get by (more often ending with the sound - BOING!), sleeping around to see if in others - I would/could/should find myself, rubbing one penny by itself (because - it was the richer kids who had TWO to rub together - not me) and the endless insecurities of maybe never being someone my parents could be proud of.

Oddly enough Sunday was a great self-esteem day. Gay Rodeo - men who appreciate men weekend. I got so much attention at Charlie’s that it became a little awkward hoping it wouldn't strike jealousy in my boyfriend’s heart. I felt very appreciated - even if it was as a Daddy.

I HAVE the HAVES. Things you aspire to have by 33. Car, House, Dog, Boyfriend, Friends and a wealth of memories of having done crazy things, illegal things, stupid things, happy things and in all of them "memorable" things. I have success because I beat the shit out of myself to get it. I convince myself that these things complete me, make me or enhance me. So isn't it funny that the people who read me - like me and have never seen or experienced these "Haves" - they have chosen to like me for my written word, my passionate ramblings, and my off-base humor. I am all states of evolution depending on which attribute or characteristic you are concentrating on - in some ways I'm a wise old man, in others a silly, naive, little boy.

Whether slow-moving lava or quick-burning fire - I do know this - I am a force of nature, an element of something bigger - and I evolve as slowly and as quickly as I can.

...who are you ? and where have you taken my face ???

it sucks, really - it just sucks. I've built my site on talking about the bigger issues and greater thoughts - i hope - so in context the post I begin to write is self-fulfilled and trite. but honestly at 33 - it sucks to begin to fade. I didn't write the rules - but I knew them - I've always known them. For all the people who disregard you when your young as "pretty" and "smart" - the pretty counts for so much more in the gay scene than you realize. Oh what it is to be a pretty face and hot body! When I was young - I looked - well fuck it - I looked pretty damn good. I thought my set-back was everything else. I hadnt gotten the degree, I wasn't making the $$$, I was driving a pick-up. But tonight - at 33 - hanging with my buddies who were in there 20's it was painfully obvious - that my muscles, my cock, my checking account, my BMW - were nothing. I had bags underneath my eyes that no ORIGINS product seemed to eliminate, I had a hairline that "ran" from me as quickly as it receded from my forehead, I had love handles that grew over muscle and my heart and my spirit hung half as high.

It's vain and it's BS, but it's the life we live in. Where smoother is pretty and tighter is better and younger is well, younger.

I used to own this bar - and now I'm barely taking up breathing room.

 

Not to be an overachiever but, I'm already done with my tax return and should see it tomorrow. HR Block Tax Online rocks!

The question is out there again, not "Why would anyone ever give Anna Nicole Smith her own show?" or "Where is there more corruption - the Catholic Church or Corporate America?" (though both are very, VERY valid questions)

But : "Why do we blog?"

I came across something off of my referral log today of interest, an exchange on "Datalounge":

RE: Blogs?
by: anonymous 01/14/2003 @ 11:56PM
Some say that these are just people with too much time on their hands. I say no. The people who follow them have too much time on their hands.

RE: Blogs?
by: anonymous 01/14/2003 @ 11:58PM
"Some say that these are just people with too much time on their hands. I say no. The people who follow them have too much time on their hands."
Takes less time to follow one than to have one, so I say you're wrong

First - I'm pulling this comment out of context, the writer(s) from what I saw read blogs and had favorites and may or may not have been bloggers themselves ( I am in no way jumping on them and hope they don't mind me stealing a piece of there conversation) - but these two sentences just kept bouncing around in my head. I mean so many bloggers sit around wondering why they do this - and then to see what others may think really made me think.

SO: (Oops - dammit I forgot to have a "Second")...anyway....

Uh....bloggers are people with too much time on their hands ???

That's weird - I hit the gym 4-5 days a week, read voraciously (Business Week, Fortune Small Business, Men's Health - for the articles, Nun's Weekly - for the pictures, and even actual books - does 'scratch-n-sniff' count - not the book, me when I'm reading the book), I run every aspect of a successful small business, I invest time in a successful relationship of over three years, I take my dog to the dog park and play soccer in the backyard with her,
I find time to hope,
dream,
laugh,
share,
fuck,
love,
party,
and think.
I spend almost everyday of my existence thinking "There just isn't enough time in the day".

So - nope, that's not true.

Blog readers "are people with too much time on there hands"....nope, don't believe it.

Are we discounting that this is any less real a way to spend time then reading 'Moby Dick' (yes I mean the book by Herman Melville that bores everyone to unconciousness) ? I for one don't believe you could ever - EVER - be a blogger without being a reader. How does almost every blogger become a blogger ? Cause and Effect -baby - by reading a blog that inspires them to write their own - let's think of it as an intellectual virus. I learn so much by reading other blogs. I learn about life in different cities, other countries and how we/I often myopically view our world/our life as universal. I see how others deal with death - beautifully and with courage. I read insights into literature, sports, the arts, pop culture, politics and history. It takes tons of time to follow other bloggers (just like maintaining "real world" friendships) - to choose between those who become friends and teachers that you follow everyday, to those you check in on - that flesh out the enriching and diverse world wide neighborhood you choose to live in. I connect with people I WILL meet, MAY meet and will NEVER meet, but a slice of how they are glows off this screen at you - intermingled with my ramblings, meandering thoughts and eccentric humor.

We seek validation.
We hope to be known.
We attempt to connect.

There's nothing WRONG with that.

We do it every day in this thing called our daily existance. Whether it be hoping the hot frat boy or daddy beefcake at the gym smiles at us while were doing curls, or our dog runs to us first when were standing on the other side of the park, or our parents recognize that we are independent and successful, or that our boss senses that the company speeds along efficiently and successfully due to our exhaustive efforts.

WE ALL SEEK VALIDATION.

Stand on a street corner with busy traffic speeding by - don't you ever wonder what the drivers see standing on that street corner ?
Dance on a box in a dance bar at 1am on a packed Saturday night - don't you wonder what those swaying and dancing and mingling around you are thinking of you ?
Walk in to a crowded boardroom/classroom - do you wonder what first impression you make ?

I blog.

I don't look for "best of" votes, cash donations, naked pictures, hook-ups, blue ribbons or gifts.

I just blog.

I learn more about myself then I knew before I sat down to write...and willingly I share it, just hoping that it clicks with someone who needs to read those words. A hilarious story, a different point-of-view on a current event, a raw painful moment from my past or present or just a picture from my life.

I release my energy on to this computer and somewhere in another city, in another state, and maybe even in another country - someone walks away from their computer carrying my energy with them. Maybe it puts a "pep in there step", maybe it makes them cry, maybe it helps them see something clearer, maybe it pisses the shit out of them - but it's there, it's with them - despite mountains and miles - my energy.

I like to think that they do at least.

(I'll shut up now).

...have I mentioned that I've lost 16 of my unwanted pounds. Pretty good for 3 weeks of effort, excercise and really strict and boring dieting.

I spend quite a bit of time wondering if my parents know who I am, or even more recognize the man I've become. Though I have to admit to being taken aback (and a bit mystified) when I sat and had a lovely dinner with my Great Aunt Mae (and folks) last night and heard charming stories about what rock stars they use to be (or to use her words - "On the farm we all thought they looked like Hollywood movie stars"):

Due to the blaze at Casa Chris - "Le Swish" wants to shower at my house tonight, random thoughts escalating to a feverish pitch:

- how long will it take me to run home and practice laying around naked ?
- will my dog approve of another naked man in my shower (she likes to lick you when you step out)?
- is it wrong to continue to jerk off to Vintage Falcon porn with company present ?
- Lube, Poppers, Bullets and Cockrings - household decorations or deviant accessories ?
- Does this mean we're going steady?
- Will he buy me a ring ?
- Cock-ring ?
- Should I whip up my world famous tater-totts to make sure he's been fed ?

So much to do, cameras to install in the bathroom, wash out the one towel I use as a cum rag, hide the Olsen Twins porn collection, busy, busy!

.....hey, um - yeah HNY03...I've abbreviated it cause I'm kinda sick of saying it and especially hearing it. Lucky and I hid out yesterday. I put together a filing cabinet for him and we watched 'Marathon Man' which neither of us have ever seen and I cuddled with my dog every chance I got. We stayed out to 3am dancing and dropping on New Years Eve. It was different. In our last 4 New Years Eve's together we had never partied here - kinda quickly remembered why. It was nice - but in that every Saturday Night kinda way. I haven't dropped since August so - we were warm and fuzzy and went and hid on a velvet couch in a private area of the bar and made-out and bullshitted for what must have been an hour about making this last forever. Some cute, but LOUD - and I mean LOUD recent San Diego transplant fag-hag came up to tell us how adorable we were and why our Hamburger Mary's sucks, and why she loves being a fag-hag, and blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. Lucky adores obnoxious girls like this and gave her his business card and asked her to call us - I quickly got us back out on the dance floor which suddenly seemed the "quieter" and "safer" alternative. All in all a "nice" night - nothing more nothing less - we're debating Montreal or Toronto next year - someplace outside of the states.

BTW - thanks to those who read me and actually some how find amusement in my ramblings, lists, stories, thoughts, worries, bad jokes and et al. There seem to be enough of you that I've way surpassed 50,000 visitors as of the begining of the week. Thank you.

ow, ow, ow, OWWWWWW

My bi's and tri's are screaming today. I started back and reinvigorated my work-out by moving to high cardio, less hard-core pumping. For the weight lifting portion I'm switching to the "Power of Ten" - ouch. Every repetition - 10 second counts. I never knew bi's/tri's could take so long. I had to drastically reduce my weight levels - but the overall affect should be increased strength and tone. I kinda don't want to shed all the weight - I must admit I do like the slight intimidation that size lends to a guy - now if I can just perfect a manly sneer.

BTW - I'm gonna hit 50,000 visitors by Sunday morning. Kinda cool I guess. Suppose the way things are right now I'll decline posting a nude pic with 50,000 written on the inside of my right thigh (johnson hangs out to the left)

I let myself go.

Actually "I let myself go" is an understatement.

How 'bout - "Oh my god ! you fucking fat pig - what have you done with Kurt ??? You've eaten him haven't you ?? For Christ Sake - I think I can see him moving around in your belly - you devoured him like a Triscuit with cheese - didn't you ???"

It's the truth - and it's the ugly truth.

I haven't been a holiday person for years. Lucky is in New Jersey and I'm alone with my dysfunctional family unit - and around the holidays I have two favorite past times - Eating and Drinking. Normally there is some counterbalance where I work out every day without fail to keep the haunting pounds off for some huge New Years Eve Circuit Party in another city. This year though we're playing it mellow and staying home and somewhere back 3 and 1/2 weeks ago - I skipped the gym for one afternoon.

The only problem is I skipped it for the next 23 afternoons as well.

This is my longest absence from the gym since I was 20 and hospitalized with a doudenal ulcer.

Tanning, cutting my hair, the gym ...all those things fell by the wayside as I slipped in to a holiday coma. Restless, bitchy and depressed - I stopped posting much (it was so hard to find the time between NOT going to gym and constantly eating and drinking). So I'm at Tarbells for dinner with friends on Christmas Eve when D. reaches over and "pats" my belly. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I can point fingers.

My boss - the "King of the One Slice", never will you meet a man who brings in more pies or cakes with one slice taken out of it - "Please - take this home - enjoy it!".

My Mom - always sending me from her house with fresh-baked cookies.

My boyfriend - who could eat the entire Krispy Kreme franchise and still not gain a pound.

At one point after Thanksgiving - between my boyfriend, mother and boss - I had 5 different types of pies in my refrigerator. I would sit with the whole pie and a fork in my favorite chair watching television - eating an entire pumpkin pie.

My Dog - Baby - often turned away in disgust.

So in the end, others didn't make me eat. I was feeding depression, stress and anxiety - and were they ever hungry!

No supplements, no gym, no need to get sexy for a holiday party, no shirtless - dance all night circuit parties, no real desire to even do it just for myself - the sweaters and jackets were covering it all up, but man O' man were the jeans getting tighter.

Then yesterday - it all came crashing in. I excused myself from my parents table and the Christmas dinner of Prime Rib and went to use the boys room. It was a fleeting thought "Hey a scale - god, I haven't stepped on one in months...wonder what I weigh???".

I placed the right foot, then the left. The dial swung feverishly from the left, to the right, then back again.

My parents said the screams of terror shook the walls.

198.

Since my 33rd birthday in August I have gained 27lbs.

So I called the boyfriend today:

"Babe - help me... for the love of all that is unholy and made of sugar and carbs... carry an elephant tranquilizer and shoot to kill if you see me heading for a bag of Salsa Verde Doritos, knock me unconcious with a pine-tar free baseball bat if you catch me ordering a "Biggie - Sized" anything ('cept Eros Lube that is) and shoot me with a sawed off shock gun if you hear the word "gift basket" fall from my lips one more time"

So it ends. I just woofed down a biggie double-quarter pounder with cheese, biggie fries and a biggie Coke. Say goodbye to the fast food.

No booze for 30 days - even New Years Eve.

I just pulled on my gym clothes and am leaving work early to hit the gym.

And if I see a pie, even a slice - I will stomp on it til it resembles road kill on highway loop 101.

..wish me luck.

...now - it's not just because I have a schoolgirl crush on you but now THIS - you are so great.

...are you tough ?

Could you take me in a fight ?

Are you FIRE or are you ICE ?

From where does "toughness come", or does it grow ?

Am I a Bully because I would pick on you first, or am I your Hero because I would defend you no matter what the risk ?

My mother is Irish, My father is Norwegian - Fire & Ice...I'm a mutt with a violent - hidden temper. I rage, I storm - yet I do it in private. I feel fury and rage - still I express it by silence. My cruelest moment is in the moment where I offer only a stare.

I will slug you - yet not utter a word - my passing breath, my single punch...whispering your name.

I'm a cock-sucking masochist, a little S.O.B. I am my fathers violent temper - hidden by his invisible pain. I am my mother's outrageous display of fire - viewable from near and far.

I can't decide if this means I can defend myself when needed or if I'll tear myself apart before they even have a chance.

The Grind. No - not brought to you by DownTown Julie Brown (Wubba-Wubba) or Eric Neise (Man I wanted to nail that guy!) - but by my life.

In the final stretch (a couple of hours of reconcilling numbers to reality) before sending over the Q2 portfolio to the CPA. Ugh I'm wiped. I was at work til 9pm, then went home and wrapped Lucky's Xmas gifts (I'll take a picture - it's really embarrasing how much I get into "beautiful" wrapping - presentation is everything), then back to paperwork til 1am - up at 6am to reclean the house before the termite inspection. I can't wait til this choo-choo train slows down. I'm taking Xmas Eve and Xmas Day off - figure I'll finish painting the office.

Anyway - gotta jam, gonna be late for the prom - GREAT pate!

Going to hear and see the seductive song stylings of Ms. Tori Amos.


 

 

I love when you reminisce.

Baby - your like a burning in my groin, that hot flashing pain everytime I piss - that undeniable feeling that somewhere, somehow, you finally picked something up - something that so strong - that only time, or penicillin, could tell where it would lead to... you know that feeling baby ?

I still remember the 1st anniversary of the second day we had spent together, just you and me cuddled together naked and shivering in the top bunk of rusty ole bunkbed at the downtown YMCA. What a magical day we had had - Weston-Oil, Crisco-Grease style lovemaking, followed by a trip to the methadone clinic for Sunday Brunch (...remember you said you were full - let out a girlish little belch - and we just laughed and laughed for hours at what seemed like almost nothing), and then we went to the 'Tammy Faye Art Museum for Modern Women of a Lesser God', you cried (real tears!) when you say the oil on paper bag rendering of Ms. Faye as "Mary" and confided how she made you feel all the more closer to your personal lord and savior - Bergdorf Goodmans. We cruised public restrooms - knocked over a Stop-N-Go, baby - how did it all fly by so quickly ?

I admit, I thought we were headed for rougher waters on the 4th anniversary of the 3rd day we had been in love (you know - you called it "Hump Day" - tee-hee) when I had bitch-slapped you at the "Down-N-Out" during 2-4-1 "Colt 45" Happy Hour, not because you were bad or less than me - but because that morning you didn't manage to arrange all my corn flakes in my favorite commemorative "Dukes of Hazzard" cereal bowl by size and shape, how I like them. But you understood, as a man , I had to draw the line - I only do these things because I love you - and because loving you baby makes me want to be a better man. Just this morning I was down at No Mo Money Pawn Shop looking for a lavender cubic zerconium wedding ring to place on that pretty lil finger of yours.

I'm sticking it in baby - nice and deep, just breathe into it - relax, relax - aw yeah - that's Daddy's baby...

oh, btw - Donald - you look frigging HOT today. woof.

hmmm:

Trent Lott makes a racist statement honoring a 100 year old hard-core conservative (Hot Leather Daddy Strum) - that the spin doctors can't spin under the table (OR did they throw it up on the table with garland and all the fixin's to get our mind off something else ? Maybe war with a certain middle eastern country - shhhhh! no one knows were going steady!)

Mikey (Admit it I'm just a fucking FREAK) Jackson dangles his child out a hotel window - yet maintains custody of his kid. Perhaps the kid unleashed the spider on him ?? The press has a field day showering us with the freakish images.

The UN methodically goes knocking door-to-door looking like Amway salesman in Iraq and the American press corps scramble for the "Cliffnotes" version of the 10,000 page "Mommy said we can't come out and play with nuclear weapons today" government document.

Every Catholic Priest, Bishop and even maybe the big guy himself - is molesting young boys - in the present, 20 years ago - I guess even in the future - can you think of a job with less pay and less associated dignity - oh yeah - United Airlines Flight Attendants.

All I'm saying is - and I'm not really saying anything at all (or am I ?) is - what is really going on in the world that these are the only news stories I hear: morning, noon and night ?

ahem...news of my disappearance is greatly exagerrated..

um, kinda.

REPEAT after me:

U R E A B A
U R E A B A
U R E A B A
U R E A B A
U R E A B A
U R E A B A
U R E A B A
U R E A B A
U R E A B A

yo-U a-R-e the E-nd A-ll B-e A-ll

...hey a little positive affirmation is as good as a slap and a tickle, any day of the week in my book...

Why do people fall for this fucking chain mail crap ?


> >Dear Friends,
> >Please do not take this for a junk letter. Bill Gates is sharing
> >his fortune. If you ignore this you will repent later. Microsoft
> >and AOL are now the largest Internet companies and in an
> >effort to make sure that Internet Explorer remains the most
> >widely used program, Microsoft and AOL are running an
> >e-mail beta test.
> >
> >When you forward this e-mail to friends,
> >Microsoft can and will track it (if you are a Microsoft
> >Windows user) for a two week time period. For every
> >person that you forward this e-mail to, Microsoft will
> >pay you $245.00, for every person that you sent it to that
> >forwards it on, Microsoft will pay you $243.00 and for
> >every third person that receives it, you will be paid
> >$241.00. Within two weeks, Microsoft will contact you
> >for your address and then send you a cheque.
> >
> >Regards.
> >
> >Charles S. Bailey
> >General Manager Field Operations
> >1/800-842-2332 Ext. 1085 or
> >904/245-1085 or RNX 292-1085
> >Charles_Bailey@csx.com


Sure - sure they will, their also offering free head - aren't they ?

A couple of hints.

"Bill Gates is sharing his fortune" - Do I have to even speak these words out loud.

"If you ignore this you will repent later" - WOW, shit - a little heavy handed, but he could have said "Do THIS OR DIE !" - at least thats what I wrote on my Christmas party invites.

Internet Explorer is not a program - it's a "browser". And it actually comes in versions...and SOME people think it's COOL that their still using Ver. 4.0 - sicko bastards.

Microsoft is not (ask Netscape - remember them?) an "internet company" - but now their trying for some of the share. They and AOL don't even play well together and considering AOL is going down the tube (MS even offers a "true switch" service to help AOL users LEAVE AOL) and Microsoft is heavily advertising their "new and improved" MSN 8 (i.e. - Lets grab some fucking market share!)

What the hell is the name of the company that Mr. Charles S. Bailey works for anyway ? I have a feeling poor Chuck here really pissed off some girl (or boy) and has cancelled his phone and email service is enrolling in the Boyfriend Relocation Program.

These three words "Email Beta Test". Sure you might be able to track emails being opened by the hits against your server for images and shit (if you've embedded a 1x1pixel gif to uniquely identify the source tag when it hits your server) - but would never be able to attempt to determine unique users and how many people they forwarded to. $245 bucks a person - woo-hoo - what a genius "customer attrition" program - in my day most blue chip companies didn't want to pay more than a buck a name to develop an in-house direct-marketing database - but these guys will pay $245 a lead. Hmmmm - a universe of 100,000 is decent to test market an email advertising campaign, say I get an 18% response rate - click-though, not closure (I know conservative - but I don't know what the offer even is) - so I would be paying out $24,500,000 for 18,000 unqualified leads. That's just $1,361 a lead. Shit for that fact and assuming I don't know jack about the person anyway, I should just pick 18,000 people at random out of the phone book and mail them certified checks for $1,361 and cut my losses before this project even launches. Crap - I didn't pay anything to "receive" this email and I can already prove to Microsoft and AOL that about 1000 morons have seen it - I'll cut ya deal - I'll forward you THEIR email addresses and full names for just $20.00 a name - I make $20K for sitting on my ass and making fun of them and think of all the postage that you'll save.

uh - I'm waiting.

...what is your challenge,
...where are your weaknesses?

are you strong,
when do you feel weak ?

do you breathe in your flaws
can you drink from my faults ?

...I am weak in my humanity
...I am flawed by my sense of what is right
...I am saddened by my knowledge of what is wrong

Can you find idealic perfection in an unfortunate beast - that can't even look upon itself ?
Can you find hopeful daydreams in a cobalt blue sky - where only the greyest of clouds form ?

I am challenged.
Yet I hope,
I aspire,
Still I dream
of being loved

by You

Can you find it your kind, generous heart...

to love something so imperfect as me.

you fucking bitch. i am so fucking taking you out for birthday drinks and then sodomizing you................

By now you've probably seen the subject of fury and debate over at another bloggers site over a made-up ending to a scenario involving he and a rather effeminate teen with an attitude. I'll save everyone the naming of names - but it serves as interesting reading if nothing else for how heated - a "made-up" scenario made his readers. Buttons were pushed, lines were crossed. So in lieu of commenting on who said what and whose right and whose wrong (let's be honest there is validity to both sides of the story the problem is are we talking about the bigger picture subject "Violence Against Gays by Gays" or the more specific instance of writing a misunderstood joke on your own blog).

The bigger subject is compelling and is something we all (I think) wrestle with.

I don't understand why guys choose to be screaming queers, running around "Sister this, Sister that", throwing wrists around, quoting 'Steel Magnolias' - but I don't have to "understand" - I DO have to accept, though - that it is their right to behave and "express" their homosexuality as they see fit. Sure I'll chuckle to myself and hope they grow out of it - but if someone dared to lay a hand on the bleach blond coif (sp?) I would kick there ass.

"What we stand for" is not represented by what we wear and even what we quote or sing along to (in our out of drag) - it has to do with principles, morals and how we treat each other. I stand for tolerance - until it crosses lines. When some bitchy queen or princess sits at a bar and rakes every average joe or chubby boy over the coals - loudly - wanting to exact some subconcious revenge for junior high school locker room beatings and humiliations - she's crossed the line. What genius to exchange hatred for hatred. I will get right in this little faggots face and explain to them in the shortest of terms - they are out of line - work out your demons somewhere else. I have met some vicious, catty, cruel queens who I wished would be jumped in the parking lot on there way outside of the bar, I have shoved some of them down and threatened to crack their skull - this doesn't make me a better person - but a person with no tolerance for mean, heartless people.

Bravery comes in one form - the ability to meet-head-to-head with knowing conflict out of pure faith and conviction.
Shame comes in many insidious forms. Lies, Self-loathing, Betrayal, Hatred and Violence.
If we endorse "shame" - an emotion that we have let shape our everyday actions as gay men and women (read my previous pre-Thanksgiving posts about "Negotiation as Character Assasination"), then we are endorsing that people lie about who they are, betray family, friends, lovers and themselves with these lies, learn to hate themselves and others through this negotiation of character and finally lash out in violence at those around them to justify the way they have been made to feel inside.

I choose bravery.

I didn't wear dresses. But coming out at 12 and being openly gay in high school I did realize the need to look as different as I felt inside. I chose a mohawk, white hair, blue hair, Dead Kennedys and Depeche Mode, Virgin Prunes and Bronski Beat, Bauhaus and Dream Academy. I wore eyeliner and used ALOT of Aqua Net. Small children cowered and adults looked at me and shook there head - what a horrible young man I was. A juvenille delinquient. My father knocked me around, even my mother smacked me repeatedly screaming the first time she saw the mohawk. But I know now all I was attempting to do was force them to accept me for what I was on the outside - DIFFERENT - so they might learn to accept me for who I was on the inside - DIFFERENT. How funny it is to be standing at a bar and have a guy cruise me who I went to junior high and high school with - the ones who called me fag. Remind me someday to tell you the story about my asshole 9th grade gym coach hitting on me one night at a bar in my 20's. Hmmm - I'll show you a faggot. Then there were those strange girly boys with their Pete Burns or Souixsie-Souix looks who were kind to me - somehow, though our approach was different, we were fighting the same fight.

Question:
If you saw two boys standing on the corner - one cute, muscular, buzz cut, big smile wearing a t-shirt that says "FAGGOT" and one wearing a rabbit fur jacket, capri pants and high-lighted hair - are they fighting for two "different" things ?

Answer:
Simply, NO.

Footnote to the previous post:

A read the post in it's entirety to my boyfriend - it was a wonderful moment between us both - clarifying, authetic and bonding. We will be sharing Thanksgiving together. He actually asked if he could have his mother read this post - uh NO. But it set the wheels in motion for both of us that this life belongs to us - this relationship belongs to us - and these holidays belong to US. Just thought I would follow up. And if your completely lost - I know it's the weekend , so catch up by reading the two preceding posts.

...ok, ok, if you read my last post - let's be up front I was carving out a k-hole (it's amazing I had the will to write), but I was soo caught up in this vision I had that I wanted to squeeze out the juices of it and see if it was drinkable. Overall the idea wasn't bad, but was still inadaquately conveyed in relation to the jumble of words and phrases trapped in my head to describe and relate it. (Tyler and Chad - man, my run on sentences must make your heads spins!)

...anyway - now I have a big steaming cup of black joe and have wolfed down a delicious PB&J, so let me begin again.

Somewhere between bumps and rewatching Laz Burman's retelling of Shakespeares 'Romeo & Juliet' and Oprah (the 1am airing) and 'Longtime Companion' I felt caught up in the emotional action of "suppression".

Watching the modern retelling of the Bard's classic tale of lovers woe you can't help but think that as our parent's children we feel so "duty-bound" to follow some set script they have for our words and our actions. When we so suddenly attempt to force open those doors and live our lives - rebelliously so - as ours, but still subconciously carry such a deepseated need for their approval - we fall into tragic or unfortunate circumstances. No we don't drink lye - or whatever - or hey was it 'G' that Romeo sucked down upon the vision of fair Juliet laying in her mock death bed, but we attempt to negotiate ourselves, our loved ones and our behavior, and as I recall - isn't negotiation primarily used as a tactic in hostage scenarios ?? So are we the 'hostage' or the hostage negotiator ? But it's this sense of negotiation that is tragic, we take so long to accept ourselves as we are - gay men (and women - I really need to start realizing and respecting that I have lesbian readers - sorry 'bout that), that we have grown used to daily negotiations and inconvienences to who we really are to meet the standards of others (family, co-workers, neighbors, strangers).

I mean - do you really think that your straight brother or sister ponders what they wear to Thanksgiving ?? I would wear a tie - but is that totally gay of me, I would wear my favorite tight beaten up well worn green t-shirt - but is that totally gay of me - or hell should I wear the Manhole t-shirt from last Friday night - now really that would be really gay of me - wouldn't it ?? Of course I know the suggestions for clothing are far reaching - but the fact is I HAVE to think about it first. I mean more importantly it's what I'm not bringing to Thanksgiving Dinner - my boyfriend. Somehow - with his family coming in town and my family already here - we just accepted that for all basic purposes - that we would celebrate the holiday seperately. On the day when I most have to ask what I am to be thankful for - one of the most important things is him.

So Oprah was about 'stepping out of your box', overcoming fears, and I kept thinking how can I translate this to these thoughts - well that and come on now honey WHITE WOMEN can come out of their box toooo gurl! -(ok - like I said it was 1am and I was high - I was going along for the ride). So now it's after 1am and my mind is still seeking and I thumbed through my DVD's and decided to rewatch 'Longtime Companion' - well actually first I thought about watching 'The War of the Roses' again to snap out of the funk - but I really, really wanted to ride the K out.

So I'm rewatching Campbell Scott (who really makes a lousy gay man) and Dermot Mulroney (who REALLY makes a great gay man) and the Mary Louise Parker (so baby-faced and young and even then a scene stealer and a potential sub-tier goddess) and I placed my friends faces and names on these people - and as the tragedy of the AIDS epidemic unfolded I thought about being twelve and gay and sexual active and first hearing the strains of "the gay cancer" wafting over a bright yellow school bus radio - I remember the tightening of my chest. I suspect with all honesty I was the only 8th grader on the bus that day thinking he was about to truly die for his sins - well maybe. I had just started sucking dick and it was already going to kill me. I had a FAMILY at the time to go to. BUT NOT A GAY FAMILY - not the family that we create for OURSELVES - those cherished friends and lovers who become friends and friends who become lovers and so on and so on. I didn't have a family I could confess my fears to, tell my dreams to, be honest with about who I really was. I had to ride out this terror that every man I touched was a death sentence alone. What I had then was The Montagues and the Capulets - a family that wanted to only know me and see me as they saw me.

So here I am and movie night has become some greater sense of something that I intended to blog about and put into words - but I kept writing and rewriting and couldn't find this statement.

There is only one true family to share the holidays with ...and it is the family that we created for ourselves.

Personal negotiation is character assasination. Justified inconviences that we take at the holidays - taking down the pictures from the White Party, the one of you and your boyfriend shirtless on a beach - or in a wig, putting away questionable books and movies, wearing this tie over that t-shirt. We box up some of our most treasured and beloved experiences for what - to not make our parents or siblings uncomfortable with who we are ??? It's wrong - it's just plain wrong that we feel a need to do that. And not spending a day intended for giving thanks with the person and the people we love is just plain cruel.


I think I got my thought out, I think I see it right here on my computer screen.

Thanks for letting me share.

Fag
Cocksucker
Butt Pirate
Pervert
Sodomite
Pansy
Faggot
Queer
Sissy

At moments in my life - both grandiose and insignificant, self-effacing and self-involved - I become so enthralled with who it is I'm trying/growing/hoping/pretending/focusing myself to be - that being succcessful, being "straight-acting", carrying on as if I was "normal" - actually seem attainable and pertinent attributes. Through it all perhaps somehow I forget one simple fact - to others - I'm still the 'gay guy' no matter what I say or do. As the holidays crush down upon us - the seperation between gay and straight becomes more evident or for some - more hidden.. We negotiate ourselves, our actions, our being. We become part of that larger family unit created through forced cohesion brought on by the holidays...but we arrive alone to the dinners, or more discreetly with a partner - a friend - in tow...and attempt to not push buttons and boundaries. We play our part as Sons and Uncles, Brothers and Cousins. We smile at our siblings children, applauding their efforts, patting their backs as we schedule bar time after Turkey to make it all bearable. We attempt to feel, even just a little - not out of place. So we forget - or we downplay - who we are - we are gay. We suspend kissing in public, and take down 'certain' pictures, we drop the endearments and push something intangible to who we are to the back of our minds til after coffee and cake. We give a back seat to the men that will be holding our hand when we die - to give the upper hand to a hetero sibling who managed to remember to bring pumpkin pie.

I am a Gay Man.

And somehow through the holidays I manage to be so much more....

I have "family" beyond my bloodline
And I have that to truly be thankful for.

....I feel like I'm at a loss for what I want to blog about lately. A great idea will surge in to my head about my "Top Ten Most Embarrassing Moments Ever" and then it will fade away, I'll write some clever one act play about absolutely nothing - and then decide it'll only humor me, I decide to share a poignant remembrance from the past and then think - eh, it's to whiny. So then I ended up not blogging at all - bloggus interruptus. There's stress all around these days: crushing work pressures, the IN-LAWS coming to town for Turkey Day, the coming together of my own terribly dysfunctional family, all that the holidays bring on and then just the everyday pressures of trying to be a better friend, boyfriend, son, employee, boss. So instead I find myself worrying about why I watch a movie called "Thirteen Conversations About One Thing" and it ends and I have no fucking clue what the "one thing" was ! I sit back in horror that 100 people have died in riots over something as trivial as the 'Miss World' pageant. I read Business Week and feel conflicted that Fox is making headway in his fight to recapture Mexico from the lawless ways of the drug cartel - I mean I don't want kids on crack or poverty or violence at the borders - but honestly I like most drugs. I watch "Bowling For Columbine" (with HER nonetheless) and I laugh and I clap and get choked up at all the write places - but then think - even Mike Moore can "spin doctor" a controversial subject - so where is the answer? I jerk off and think - if I watch "barebacking" porn am I endorsing poor safe-sex practices through my consumer dollar ? My head spins - my though pattern bobs, then weaves, then bobs again...and then I'm wondering if Traci Gold had stayed chubby if she would be still acting today ??

When I grow up I want to be:
A Star Fucker
A Fireman
A Sodomite
An English Professor
A Good Husband
A Bad Boy
A Chef
A Revolutionary
A Spin Doctor
A Porn Star
A Hustler
A Runaway
An Indie Movie Star
A Humanitarian

as always - you - crack me up...and DAMN why a pairing ?? all 4 look good.

i love my husband
i love my husband
i love my husband
i love my husband
i love my husband
oooo' fuck there is still temptation out there....yum,yum,yum........
i wanted to be very very very naughty but i love my husband - though the HOT ITALIAN rubbing up against my crotch made my vision blurry

Ok - when I don't smile in pictures I just end up looking mean or confused....going out to the leather bars with my buddy Mike - picture proof.

.....Breathe.
.....giggle.
.....breathe.
.....giggle
.....BREATHE.

Snuck out of work 45 minutes early today and purchased some sexy lil BR sweaters (why I'm wearing one right now!)
Going to have dinner with my boy and then taking him and another couple to go see 'Cirque Du Soleil' under the big tent, maybe a few beers afterwards.

b-r-e-a-t-h-e.

The work stress has moved from bad to vicious. Overtime just makes room for more work and more mountainous projects. I have to appear in court next month in a nasty lawsuit that has nothing to do with my company but involves an ex-employee of the company (whom I have never even met to boot), I just spent 4 days arguing with the phone company when suddenly and for no explanation we lost long distance service to - only - our fax machine (unfortunately my industry still thinks email is "high tech"). I have 3 quarters of results and papertrail to get to the CPA's, but no time to do it and the owner is leaving for 3 weeks in Europe in just 4 business days. I am stressed. I hung up on the owner of the company in a brief fit of rage yesterday. I sat up with my paperwork and a few beers til 11pm last night - my boy looked on concerned - I'm developing permanent hand marks on my face from constantly burying my face in my hands in digust at all the work to be done. I know, I know....

Breathe.
breathe.
BREATHE.

....uh not only is he back. he's recounting some of the wildest stories I've heard happen to a person since the time I was mistaken for an armed bank robber.

A StarFucks Epiphany

Me (devoid of my morning cup O’Joe) : mumbles incomprehensibly “Moooooooorning”

StarFucks Clerk: perky as all shit (what do they mainline this shit?): “Good Morning to YOU!”

Me: “Yeah can I get an enormous cup of classic irony with steaming hot neurosis and a splash of unresolved guilt?”

SFC: “Ok a Venti Slap of Reality with low-fat humiliation and a splash of deep ceded shame!”

Me: “NOOOO…. I asked for an enormous cup of classic irony with steaming hot neurosis and a splash of unresolved guilt.”

SFC: “OK then…..a Grande sense of no direction, half self-doubt, half poor self esteem!”

Me: “UH….can I just have a cup of black coffee”

SFC: “Sure – your soul please”

Me: "Can you make change ?"

....this sucks. 8pm still at work. Buried, buried, buried.

Miles to go before I blog,
Miles to go before I sleep.

Oh ALB....pretending I asked you those questions - really now. When will this mad crush end ?? Next you'll surface with mocked up love notes from me, a copy of a restraining order, a rabbit in a crock pot...

What is the method to your madness ?

E..verything
I...ssssssssssssssssssssss
S...ooooooo
H...ectic, lately.

I'm going pretty crazy - considering moving to at least a 6 day work week for the next couple of months...boss is leaving for Europe for 3 weeks on the 20th and after just coming off our highest revenue generating month in 13 months (90% increase in revenue and 109% increase in GP over one year ago) things are a blur. I'm feeling exhausted 90% of the time...contract negotiations, losing clients, lawsuits, behind on quarterly tax preperations - always something to keep you harried. Somehow still managing to squeak out a love life and the gym 5 days a week - but feeling frazzled. Voted..hope you did to! Can't believe I actually was cold enough to wear a sweater tonight - maybe fall has come to AZ.

The Big Three Year anniversary with Lucky went well. Very simple - though of course my heart was racing as tried to make the letter a masterpiece - and loving. I entitled my letter "My Promise to You" and blah, blah, blah (I'm not going in to the details) and wrote some really sweet shit about us then and now and for the future. I "photoshop-ed" it and added pictures of us and made it all frame worthy...he was very taken a back and very genuinely moved by the words and *glowing* told me it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given him.

So I guess maybe I'm "a keeper" after all.

...finally heaven....beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...

Boyfriends turn to pick the movie last night - he picked "Ghost Ship"....I have completely rethought our relationship.

Actually... I have tappered off on my rushing into a proposal - I'm a dork - maybe as gay men we take the concept to litely. We are discussing rings - something that would give some public semblance that we are "together". He feels economically uncomfortable with the purchase of expensive "promise" rings right now and even more uncomfortable with me forking out the cash for both. This whole process must seem simpler in hetero relationships where the norms of society dictate the man handle the proposal process. We agree we would like to have a commitment ceremony "sometime" next year - just no exact dates.

So in lieu of all that I'm planning to go the other direction and concentrate on my feelings and how to share them - I know this is sounding sappy - but gimme a break it's not the first time my site has taken a turn down that road. I think people would be surprised at my demeanor in the real world and how hard I find it to share my thoughts and feelings. I've written him a letter - explaining all he's been to me in the last three years - all I want to be for him in the coming 70 years and that after 3 years - all flirtations aside - he is the only man I want to wake up to and good to bed with everyday.

No expensive gifts or lavish dinners - just me standing there in front of him laying it on the line.

..so, um yeah....the 'Gil Gerard' thing was uh - made up....

...not quite sure I understand the "How's & Do's" of this one, but in a scant 3 days - I will have known my boyfriend for 3 years...in celebration I would like to - well propose.

(um - it got really quiet in here or is it just me ??)

So - I'm blurry on how to go about this. We haven't talked much about our anniversary - but a month ago he made it clear he wanted to "see a ring on his finger"...so I accept that. I want only him (well I mean in the Real World) - I'm keeping all my cyber boyfriends. But what the fuck do I do? How do I say it ? Where? When?

If I buy the rings without him I'm concerned I'm emasculating him - If I buy the rings with him - I'm worried it just seems like a trip to the mall.

I have two venues set for the ceremony (Royal Palms or Elements at sunset) which we have agreed would be on our 4th anniversary....ugh, it should seem more romantic and spontaneous than this shouldn't it ??

Oh what a night last night was - sigh. Good times, good times.



For the 14th consecutive year I went as Gil Gerard of 'Buck Rogers' fame, not as Buck Rogers though, no that would understate his genius...no just as good old Gil Gerard.
Oh man - o - man how the crowds eyed me. I could hear the cat calls and the hungry whispers. That's just the effect that 'Gil Gerard' had on people - like being inches from a star. I beamed radiantly - confidant in my sansabelt slacks and velour shirt (just enough of the old chest hair showing to drive the girls and hey guys too - crazy). If I could of had a dime for ever passer-by who marveled at the arch of my perfectly feathered hair - I would chuckle - "Here touch it - it's made of glass - no really!"

Oh what a night, what a night....

a little music shopping was added to tonight's agenda:

• Tracy Chapman: "Let It Rain"
  
• Alison Moyet: "Hometime"
  
• Dusty Springfield: "Dusty In Memphis"
  
• Cafe Roma: "An Italian Chill Out Experience"