gym diary, week 18.
numbers 4 and 5 were both in the locker room undressed today. that was nice. quick workout, jonno's in town.
on my way from the gym to hook up with dori and jonno to go to PS1, i was on second street making some calls. as i passed this very hunky, vaguely football player-ish guy, he made very heavy eyes, and i turned around to see some more. we stopped, came back (while i was finishing up my call), and chatted. i thought he was german or something by his little glasses, but he sounded like he was from kentucky or north carolina. very, very cute, somewhat bashful, until he grabbed me and started kissing me. we did this a couple of times, heavy kiss between chat, and after a while, his hands were in my pants. yes, this was at 3:15pm in broad daylight. very sleazy. we exchanged numbers, cuz i had to be somewhere, and his roommate was at his place. stay tuned.
my mother visited my blog wednesday. as she put it: " i wondered what you had said about your trip back to ohio. those entries were written by the sweet, introspective chad i know. ( i also liked the pictures interspersed within the text). the gym entries came from a side of you i am not at all familiar with. reading them made me feel sad, afraid. so, i stopped."
apparently, i hadn't been clear when i mentioned that i was writing explicitly about my life. she was looking for notes about my trip to ohio, and unexpectedly found all the other stuff as well. i'd be hugely lying if i said that i am completely unaffected by her reaction (would you be able to tell if i was?). my mother is one of my dearest loved ones, and i deeply respect her feelings. i feel free to tell both her and dad about almost anything (like the time i got the clap, or when i first got high, etc). i made a decision long ago to be honest, frank, and forthcoming with them, because as i get older and make my own way in the world, and live farther and farther away from them, i want them to know and understand me.
i'm not sure what made me unsteady the most about her reaction: the fact that she had read a lot of it, the fact that she'd felt sad and afraid after reading the gym diary parts, the fact that she wasnt familiar with the chad writing those parts, or the fact that she was apologizing for violating my privacy by reading it at all.
after some discussion (all of this is over email, of course) i phoned my ma and we spoke some more. she seemed more okay about the writing the more we spoke about it. my biggest point was that my blog is not intended to be hidden from anyone, including the family, and that i welcome anyone reading it, if they're willing to. i'm not living a double life, but a semi-transparent one. despite my heavy authorship of quotidien events, one that hopefully challenges the limits of fiction and of biography, one that holds proust as its divinely inspired lifting of life events for cinematic effect, it's only powerful if the audience is as potentially open. if i was only writing this for my insightful friends jonno, sturtle, henning, or phil, i'd be defeating my own artistic goals. artistic and emotional goals, i guess. they seem to be the same thing.
emotional goals. the other point i made was that when i connect what are mostly private and unseen sexual events with events more visible (and considered fit for print), it becomes extremely difficult to be less than honest about them, especially with people i know reading them. the continuity must also work from a literary standpoint. and the only way to do that is to stay true to the character. i've grown as a writer because i constantly struggle to disregard cliches and get to what i really felt at a particular moment; i've grown as a person because as i'm writing i constantly discover that i really felt at those moments, and what my motivations--deep and shallow--really are.
i'm extremely fortunate. my parents have always been supportive and understanding even when they aren't keeping up on the particulars of what i'm doing. they both give me a perspective i don't have living where and how i do. my mother is most insightful as the advocate, my father as the keen observer of people's lives. i've also found great power in their de-gendered way of raising my brother and i. i've been able to make my own way because i've felt free to create my own roles. this in turn has allowed me extreme creative latitude, including creativity with ordinary things (my life), and has made me what i am / what i do.
which brought me to my third point. i told my mother that she knows there is a "profane and exhibitionist side to me that is directly related to my creativity", and that i'm sexually active. it's a side of me she knows about, but just hasnt read alot about. and as my father said to her, as we grow up, they'll never really understand our lives. this struggle, to be understood, resisted by the inevitibility of being alien to them, is the paradox that fuels this space.
gym diary, week 17 (continued)
i have some strange energy thang happenning. i download a smutty pic, beat off to it, and the next day i see the person. it happened to me on the 4th of july. this time, it was this guy, and he goes to my gym. and if it aint him, it's his twin brother. yes, there could be two of them. thank you, god.
after making eyes with him several times on the workout floor, his initiation, (jesus fuck it's hard to do cable pulls while cruizing), i saw him as i was on my way out of the locker room. he followed me with his eyes giving me a very soft, i-want-you look. but i needed to get home: jonno is coming to town this weekend, and i'd gotten to the gym late anyway, and i need to clean the apartment.
note to self: please rearrange life schedule so you workout later and overlap with this guy more.
he's wreaking some havoc on the list of hotties. updated list, as of today:
1. the h/x cover queen, mediterranean, lots of tattoos. on the cover of super eros. he's gorgeous, yes. but he has the special ability to be curious (about me) without being flirty, which i find to be a sign of a mature person and an incredible turn-on.
4. older guy, in his 50's, very hunky, very sexy, very into me. saw him at the gym 20 hours after downloading his pic from the net.
3. big guy, who likes to play in the steam room and showers, and reminds me of a friend, but is bigger. soft spoken, very nice. doesnt steam as much as he used to.
4. guy with sacred heart tattoo on one of his big arms. i like him, but he pretty much ignores me now. still on the list because he's still worth looking at.
5. former number one, who works at world clothing shop. very intense looking, but not interested.
6. (intentionally left blank).
7. jamie, the actor. he's cute, but taken, and never showers or steams at the gym. this is unnatural.
that's, like, a good thing, right jonno? that is, if it's what you talked about in your last email to me, (subject line: damn you, minx). besides, many have followed my example. it's okay to be a follower sometimes.
i mean, kim deal said that she likes rock'n'roll cuz it makes her feel dirty inside. could this be the same thing?
to end my weekend: i was walking through chelsea today with my bestest friend sah, one of my oldest pals, shopping at barney's co-op. all the shirts i bought for my friends in may were on sale, 1/3 the price. except the 'violently lolita' one i bought for jonno, which was sold out. anyway, i had just been telling sah about the guy i'd picked up at the gym on july 10th, the guy with the homo twin brother (sah is very curious in his own unique pansexual way, and is continually astonished by my adventures even as he's asking for more. he is also a notoriously casual dresser, which is why we were at barneys in the first place) when we turn the corner and boom there he is.
the reason i had recounted my experience to sah was that the subject of exotification of midwestern white people came up, and i was supposed to have a date with the guy from the gym (i'll call him A) last thursday. he didnt call that day, and he didnt respond to my voicemail. he left a message the next day saying that he was sorry, but he'd started seeing a guy seriously. he mentioned "never say never: i'll keep your number" etc.
well, A was with his new beau. when he saw me, he put his hand on his baby's waist and held out his other hand for me to shake. weird; i'd had my dick up his ass only two weeks ago. he introduced me to the guy and another that worked there, and we chatted. his bf was taller than me, very good looking, built. he seemed very 8th-avenue-2000, but that's probably just me being jealous. his bf and the other guy went to another aisle, and A and i chatted. i was blushing, but A said that it was good to see me, etc. he was wearing the same shirt he had on the day i met him, and i said "nice shirt". this was kind of a joke between us, because he bought it at barney's, and he said "i haven't worn it since we...!".
when i found sah in the store and told him that the guy he'd just met was who we'd been talking about, sah exclaims "that's the guy?! he's a stud! he was going after you?" he meant it in a good way.
i later admitted to sah that i was jealous, and that's why i'd been blushing. i rarely get that way: i generally don't like to fight over people. if someone is going to go another way, for another person, then you've gotta let them go. but A's buddy was very ambercrombie-model looking, not the genuine-midwestern-boy look i've labored so hard on. when i mentioned this, sah said "yeah, he's a very typical frat-boy look". sah lives in chelsea, not me, so i guess he would know.
anyway, more than my adolescent jealousy, i'm actually very happy for A, because the guy was cute, and was actually very nice, and is probably a lot of fun to be with. i just wish i'd met A before he had...
1. first 20 hours of the day happen.
2. i write about them in blog for one hour.
3. 9pm rolls around, and i need to return a movie at my corner movie store. this will put me about halfway to bobby's, so i devise a scheme where i will return the movie just as he's getting home, call him from the street if i don't see him walking his dog after work, and get my ass opened. i'm in need, reader.
4. i walk into movie store at 915. see cute, studly latin guy who's shorter than me but about 150 lbs, wearing a tank top and track pants. kind of 8th-avenue-in-1998, but he's hunky enough for me to ignore. he looks surprised, i say hi, walk past, return movie. as he's looking for a dvd, i look at new releases (it's a small store. the other side of the dvds is the gay porn rack that i can never seem to find anything interesting on, although troy assure's me there's good stuff in there). i loiter while he makes his pic and pays for it. i head out before him, hold the door, whip out the phone.
5. i call bobby. as i call, i cast my glance in the direction my friend is walking. (another reason i like cel phones: you can look anywhere and appear innocuous cuz, like, you're just on the phone, you're not really looking. troy and i both make calls to each other while we're cruizing.) he kind of side glances back, but never really looks back. good enough. i get bobby's machine, which settles my course of action.
6. i follow him up 9th avenue, around the corner on 55th, where i signal that i'm coming to say hi. when i get close i start talking. he lives at 9th ave and 56th street. i ask him why he's walking this way (because it's away from where he lives), and he says "to meet you". he shows me the movie he rented: lake placid. i think 'ouch' but i keep my mouth shut.
7. he wants to go back to my place because his family owns/occupies his building, and he's not out to them. he's also 25. these facts would normally be the 'abort' call for me, but i'm to horny to go anywhere else at this moment.
8. we get to my place, and he leaps on me, no chit-chat. he's sucking my tongue really hard, and when we get undressed, sucks everything else really hard. my nipples get hickeys, but it feels good.
9. he's not into sucking dick. see previous post about things that piss me off when you're in the heat of things.
10. his dick is slightly smaller than mine. he only wants to fuck me, and suck my face off. i let him. it fits perfectly, and well. he is utterly incapable of finding my prostrate and stroking it with his penis, so i put him on his back and ride him like i'm riding home.
11. after some time, i come, and he does too. it's 1030.
12. after he showers, he tells me he's a night manager for cvs pharmacy. sometimes i shouldnt ask the questions i dont want the answers to. he asks me if i want his number. i tell him no thanks, that i'll see him around. after all, we both need to rent movies.
13. 1045: he leaves.
14. i shower. i blog.
15. end of blog, at 11:12.
i saw sturtle's pic in a book today. bravo, papi!
after immediatly speaking to him on the phone, and jonno too (i heart cel phones), i went to the gym. after an especially gratifying workout and shower, i steamed next to this very smooth, tan fellow of asian descent who was very muscular, and had an ass like buttah. he stretched out while seated, and gave me a bent-over view that had me shift to start doing the nasty (i was hard in about 5 seconds). unfortunately, one of the trainers walked in to steam. as we all know, this is a 'no inappropriate behavior' steam room, and i broke off. we both showered shortly thereafter, and he gave me a look, but didnt go back into the now-empty steam room w/me. hmpf.
after spending some time in my favorite coffee shop, writing and drawing, and mildly cruising this cutie who was reading and occasionally viewing me, i left and went to the piers. i laid out for some time, and eventually a very handsome fellow in his mid 40s, who was very muscular, and who i recognize from hanging out at the piers so much, sat about 15 feet down the lawn from me. he looked at me the whole time he was removing his shirt (which said FITCH in very large letters: this should have clued me in), then laid down. after making eye contact several times, he made a sucking motion with his lips (or he was saying something i couldnt make out. sorry, girl, i ain't helen keller and i don't read lips). for some reason, i was getting a very callous vibe from him; something that wasnt sexy. i gave him a big smile, and decided that the only way i was going to do anything with him is if he came over and spoke to me. after about an hour of sunning myself, rarely glancing his way, napping a bit, etc, while he kept looking over every 30 seconds, i looked him in the eye again. i smiled, waved, and said hi. he looked at me like i had broken some kind of rule, and just stared at me with a 'what the fuck are you doing?' look. i then waved him over, but he kept staring. he wouldnt smile, nor would he come over. he had packed his bag and wanted ME to go to him. normally i would, but the situation was clearly not of my liking. i also feel this way about people who won't neck with you because of intimacy issues: there's something fundamentally wrong with their mindset. he stood up, and stood at the edge of the lawn for another 10 minutes, still looking back, waiting for me to pack everything and follow (i had all my bag's belongings spread out, so it's not like i was portable at the moment). he finally walked away. sheesh.
as i was walking to the subway, i was sorting through the events. after all, dear reader, although it may appear that everything happens for a reason by dint of my writing, it doesnt happen that way in my head. i really was somewhat befuddled by the experience, because it'd never happened that way before.
(you'll remember that bobby, who is possibly the most sexually active man i know, who has more men in a day than even troy, is very sweet, polite, chatty, and warm when he's not fucking you sore. and even when he is...)
at any rate, i felt a mood descending, the mood where i am terrified by the unknown depths of human motivation, which in my mind occupies the same place as when i feel like i did something wrong. as i neared the subway, there was a male married couple with their dog, chatting to a female neighbor on the stoop to their townhouse. they were mid-30s, my build, and very attractive. very typical scene from that district, neighbors chatting on the stoop. from the depths of his conversation, as soon as i looked his way, the one with the sleeveless yellow tee gave a very big smile to me. i did a double take, cuz i thought it was just the conversation they were having, and he did it again, following me with his smile. i smiled back: cloud lifted.
then i visited bobby at his store, and he asked if i'd like him to stamp anything else. i said "yes, but not here", and he asked me to call him tonight or tomorrow.
gym diary week 17.
this week, i've been to the gym twice. as previously mentioned, after my workout, i take off all my clothes, put on the towel, and go directly to the scale. i weigh myself between 8-9pm every time i go, before dinner, before i shower, so i figure it's a decent gauge.
let me say, admit, that i've never really weighed much more than 125: my problem is gaining weight. what i didnt expect from working out was my ability to gain weight regularly. i figured that i would just plateau at 132 or something; apparently, i havent hit that point yet.
i have weighed over 135 pounds both times this week, the first time ever. when i told my mother last weekend that i almost weighed 135 (as i did last week), she looked at my grandmother with a knowing look. grandma said to me "your grandfather never weighed more than 135". i always thought he had weighed lots more: he was a very strong, sturdy farmer. thin, yes, but i guess i was always too little to understand his stature.
my grandfather has been dead for a long time: over 12 years. i still miss him, but always find him in my memories when i visit the farm. i don't really think of him when he was sick, or dressed up at christmas, but in his dirty jeans and canvas jacket, with a dirty dekalb hat on, pulling up the combine. having grandma put our bodies side-by-side in such an innocuous comparison has a powerful effect on me; i'm an adult back home, not just in nyc. the comparison somehow made him alive again for me, and put him in back in time for me, in the present. i always strive to know our family's history, my anscestor's details. having the genetic information appear in my physical makeup brings it all alive.
at our family picnic in ohio last saturday, i got to meet several new arrivals to our family. i also got to meet some more distant relatives that i've just never met before.
one set of cousins were the children of my mother's cousins (second cousins, i figured it out). there was a group of boys aged 4-15, and a girl. most of them were from a different marriage, so they technically weren't related.
the oldest boy, carl, was 14-15, about 5'5, still growing, blondish hair, very deep brown eyes, handsomly large nose, etc, wearing a young teen uniform of leather sandals, cargo shorts, and black tommy tee. he is a freshman in highschool, and was completely innocent, wholesome, polite, and reminded me of myself when i was that age. except i wasnt as athletic as he was: he wasnt scrawny like i was at that age. the whole family was going to do a water balloon toss (one of my father's traits is the ability to organize large groups of people in recreational activity), and it ended up that carl needed a partner. i wasnt planning to play, but dad told me to jump in cuz they needed an extra person; i'd not met carl yet, so i was a little wary, but his very expressive eyes perked up when the possibility of me being his partner came up. i decided to indulge him, and introduced myself. to my surprise, he shook my hand, and we began. i was already loopy that day from playing "put rocks in the berry baskets" and "get rice and give it to elmo, ernie, and barney" with my niece, and several rounds of bocce with my brother and his friends, so i was worked up when we started tossing. i kept making jokes to carl, and he kept laughing. we were having fun, although i think he was doing his best not to drop the balloon i was tossing not all that well. after all, we were trying to beat the team of my dad and his younger brother.
after a particularly long toss, the balloon broke in one of our hands. the next toss, it broke on my dad's team, too. they started handing out new water balloons, and i pounded my father with one from afar. he and his partner chased me around the lawn, missing me several times. after a while, they surprised me by pouring cold water down my back. fair enough.
later, hooked by the bocce craze, i played with several other people. carl came over wanting to play. he asked if we could be on a team (there were no more bocce balls left). this surprised me, cuz we werent playing team-bocce, but he was too adorable to say no to, and i said yes, and i gave him one of the heavy yellow balls i had. we played for a while, on my grandma's green lawn, and carl and i kept winning, and giving each other high-fives, mostly initiated by him. he reminded me of myself a great deal in this: i always wanted to team up with the older boys who seemed to have it all together, and show them that i was grown-up, too. i wanted to impress them, and be gratified by their attention. unknown to carl, the gratification worked the opposite way as well: he was at the top end of the play scale (below his dad), and didnt need me as his partner. i was extremely flattered that he wanted me on his team at all.
after some time, we all got tired of bocce (mostly cuz carl and i were wiping the grass with 'em), and carl's dad was calling him cuz they were leaving. carl shook my hand again, said his goodbye, and drove off with his family. he waved from the car.
after that, we had a big bonfire under the stars, and i caught lightnin' bugs for my niece to wonder at...
i saw the X-MEN last night. i've been anticipating this film for a while. i mean, bryan singer, patrick stewart, and ian mckellan. 'nuff said.
(btw, i took the test at the website, got into xavier's school, and am 'minx', who has a mutation of some special strength, and speed. it randomly generated my powers, honest.)
the guy who played wolverine is hot. as troy whispered to me during one of his many shirtless scenes, "can you imagine the size of his cock?". well, that gave me something to think about. i almost got hard when hugh jackman says to the teenage rogue "i'll take care of you". me too, please.
there's some buzz from "loyal fans" regarding how this film has "some modifications" to the comic: wolverine is tall in the movie (short in the comic), blah, blah, blah. for me, what's really thrilling about this film, after the action is over, is that it seems to be set in present-day world, with real physics and gravity (finally), and every character isnt superman who can just fly around and do everything himself. and it was cool.
although all the pages are very clever, this page made me pee my pants. thanks v-hold.
i was at my family picnic this saturday, at my family farm, and spent the rest of the weekend in lima, ohio, at my parent's house.
my family is extremely gender- and sex- neutral. the only time sexual activity ever came up (despite the fact that there were tons of new kids running around out there), was when my sister-in-law used the word 'blowjob' in a joke (a funny one), and embarassed my brother to no end. i've come a long way, baby.
favorite quote from my brother: "i'm not used to seeing you with muscles". response: "i'm not either". blake was always the more athletic one.
my 19-month-old niece is a brilliant piece of sunshine. a sweet, sweet, treasure. she's very intelligent, speaking small sentences already, and is very curious. she knew my name before long, and gave me the most touching kiss goodbye i've ever received. she's ebullient, and my "brilliant, daylit, and helpless in its time" line still captures her and her aura nicely. she is solely responsible for reigniting the thought of having my own someday.
gym diary week 15. oh, i said that already. oops, i did it again.
had another good workout day. when i'm studying for hours on end, reading endless sophisms about culture, beauty in architecture, and acceptable design practices, and only give myself a little love by going to the gym, not even to jack off, i become extremely focused there and do well. i guess. it was arms day, and i actually used free weights, dumbells. for some reason, they seemed intimidating. i wore a tank top again, and looked great. i have proof.
my #3, big guy, was there. the last two weekends i've seen him there working out with his brother, who looks like a straight, 40-something version of him. bad hair, 30 pounds overweight, normal musculature. but his brother has the same build, and is a spitting image. it made me wish my straight brother lived in town, so we could share such spaces.
did my thang. after an hour and a half, i was done, went down to the locker room. there, i passed a shaved headed fellow with a tiny goatee, dark eyes, and lovely light-brown skin. and a very nice body, and my height, and heavy cruising. i passed his row, went to my row, got undressed, towel, weighed myself (i do this every visit: you're pumped up, and it's a great time to prance around in the towel, pre-shower and pre-steam. lets you survey the field and possibly induce followers. foreshadowing). i saw him on the way to the weigh, looking. he was getting undressed.
i showered, then steamed. as i've mentioned, the steam is very thick and even. i saw another person in the steam room, but i couldnt really see his face, and didnt really feel like peering at him. after some time, he got up, and it was the guy who'd been cruising me. he had a very nice dick (he was doing that adjust-the-towel-to-show-em-the-goods move that i've learned so well), and a gorgeous ass. i was worried that he'd thought i was blowing him off, instead of not seeing him. he showered for about 30 seconds and came back. i said hi, and he looked surprised. he said hi back and sat in the corner. after i looked his way several times, he moved to sit next to me, where he wouldnt be seen by other locker room inhabitants. it was just he and i in there, and he was moving in for some action. i was semi-hard by this time: he had a full, hairless chest that was topped off by two nibbly nipples. when he moved, i saw a tattoo on his back. i asked him where he got it, and we started our chatting. we shook hands after exchanging names, and he lingered holding a little. then someone came in. opportunity vanished.
we did the shower-steam cycle once or twice more, then i got tired of steaming and told him i was leaving. he did the same; i did my go-to-the-mirror-lots routine, and did a little flexing of the arms (nice). i got dressed, and went to where he was. i knew he lived near me, and asked if he was going uptown. he said yes, and we decided to train together. on the way to the station, he burst out, quietly, "can we fool around?". i kind of paused; it was a rhetorical question, right?
also on the way to the station, we detailed our experience about cruising each other. he had just arrived at the gym when i walked in the locker room. he had decided to steam/shower instead of working out when he saw me! he thought i was straight when i didnt look at him the first time, although that was banished when i was talking. he also thought i was much, much younger. he also has a thing for midwestern white guys. these last two perceptions have happened to me a couple of times recently, always by latino men. i'm fairly omniverous in my tastes: it's all about sexyness, and how well you work what you got. in case you havent noticed.
i kept singing prince's "uptown" on the train to columbus circle. "white, black, porto-rican, everybody justa' freakin". we were going to my place.
he's of puerto rican origin, is 38, has an indentical twin who is also a homo, and is a great kisser. see previous entries regarding older men, how they just get better, and experience makes them more fun to fuck with. his skin was soft and very smooth, and after we got sweaty together, i almost came by sliding my dick on his smooth, slick stomach. this in turn led to me licking his hairless hole for some time, between two very juicy buttcheeks. after this, he wanted me to fuck him, although he had originally expected me to be a bottom (another thing that people think about me). he was smooth and warm inside, too. i wasnt inside him for long before he came.
we exchanged numbers, and ended up dining together, and chatting endlessly about things we had in common. a lot revolved around a common trick we had: for him, a regular fuck-buddy, for me, my very first fuck. there was lots to talk about, including the fact that i once was mentioned in conversation. there was a lot of dirt to toss around, because of the person in question. it's a small fucking town. but my new friend was very mature, bore no ill-will toward him, kept things in perspective.
oh, and we discussed how to best write about my experience here...
gym diary, week 15.
very few people at the gym today. it's little wonder: the weather has been unseasonably cool, with the daily highs just a few notches over 80. it's exceptionally beautiful out.
however, my #1 was working out today. he was at the abs area while i was stretching out. i chose to work out in my street clothes today: white tank (very tight), and camo culottes. i looked fierce and tan. he noticed when i came in. he's very focused on his workouts, so i rarely see him looking around at all. he's also the kind of guy who's probably seen a lot of action, so i'm sure he doesnt get impressed much.
anyway, i felt like giving him some attention, but decided to be completely casual about it. as luck would have it, our workouts overlapped perfectly; we were both working chest/back/abs, but in different ways, so we'd pass each other a lot, and occasionally be next to or in mirror viewing distance. before too long into my stretch, i got used to have him around, and could begin to breathe again. the shaking stopped. etc. so i paid him occasional eye, but kind of left him alone.
in my favor, there wasnt much else to look at. literally; there was hardly anyone there on a saturday afternoon. once, after an especially pumping cable pull exercise, i looked over, and found him looking intently at me, in the mirror, in the distance. i was surprised: i kind of smiled and returned with a nice glance, but kept doing my thing. later, we passed, and i didnt look until i was next to him: again, he was looking at me, with a 'who are you...?' curiosity, somewhat indifferently, but directly nonetheless. he has very, very flat and dark brown eyes. again, i kind of smirked, a kind thank you, and kept doing my thing. we both worked out for a long time. i was very on today, not little because i looked very nice in the tank, and i'm loving these new cable-machine exercise. they make you really look good.
later, we passed again, and i looked at him earlier. i returned his again-gaze with a 'hey' and a very clear smirk/smile, and about fell over. he's dreamy.
when i was done, i didnt see him around (he may have gone into the cardio room, the 10th circle of hell). i went to shower, thinking he'd be along any time now, but he never came down. in the shower, i kind of fluffed a little (want the rest of me to look my best), my image of him somewhat addled by him having such a gentle gaze, not able to decide if i should ask him over for dinner and a game of 'clue', or to take his gentle instruction on how best to tie him up before giving him head.
this week, the world of architecture lost two very important people: john hejduk and enric miralles.
i know it's frightful to write about multiple deaths in the same sitting: otherwise inconceivable comparisons are tempting. however, these two figures constitute, in a direct way, some of who i am as a designer, and because of that, i'm obliged to document those influences.
hejduk's death was no surprise: he was very old (70s-80s), and had literally been preparing for death for a long time. he had recently (5-10 years ago) sold all of his drawings to a museum or gallery for a large sum: being the crazy guy he was, he realized that he had no more drawings surrounding him, and was compelled to do more. he was racing death to do more, so the story goes. anyone who's heard him lecture, or seen his works, know that he could be indecipherable, obtuse, vulgar. he had an incredible distaste for building: the few sculptural/architectural commissions he executed in the 80s solidified this distaste, and he seemed to be content to let others build sculpture and spaces based directly on his glyphs. however, recently, several pieces were cropping up bearing his name, signaling a change in attitude. whatever the case, his drawings and paintings constitute the bulk of his work.
hejduk may seem to be a surprising person for me to write about at all, given that he was dean of a school i never attended (cooper union), i was never fixedly interested in his work, and i only heard him lecture once. however, his school, and he himself, produced many of my professors at columbia, and the ones that have had an influence on me worshiped hejduk like a father, and he their children. cooper in the 80s was that kind of place. those people who influenced me, to varying degree: karen bausman, stan allen, evan douglis, leslie gill. all these people have ended up in very different places, but they all learned the same characteristic from hejduk: do nothing else than work obsessively on and with your creative voice. it's a brilliant trait that transcends architecture school debates about history, form, materiality, society, morality, tectonics. because of this release from histo-socio-theoretical conscience, it's easy to mimic. however, the people mentioned, and hopefully myself, have made it into a powerful ally by attempting to realize it in terms of a world, our world, the world outside the voice.
enric miralles' death was a shock, and unexpected loss, a shift. he was 45, and died of a brain tumor at his home in barcelona. it was a secret that he had it, although some people did know about it. because even ambitious practicing architects do not get several large building commissions until they are at least 60, it is fortunate that miralles was able to build several very large buildings in his lifetime. however, this does not offset the terrible feeling of future emptiness where you thought there would be decades of new work. this is especially so given miralles' uniqueness. his work has the gothic logic of gaudi, is a skeletal corbusier, is a traced and retraced (freehand) mies, the execution of a civil engineer. his work is exceptionally beautiful, and it's only fitting that he's buried in igualada, the cemetery that always looks unfinished.
miralles has always been close to my heart. i've seen him lecture several times, i've met him in his home (on his wedding night, with his last wife benedetta giving me instructions on who to speak to at each of the places he built), i own almost all of his books, and i studied under people who have known him and written about him extensively. adrian luchini was a close friend of enric, and was responsible for having him lecture at my college, washington university in st louis, several times. adrian was a professor of mine, and his work has always haunted what i strive to build: like miralles, eviscerated corb, bent imperfect mies, logically irrational, but in america, where all design must account for prefabricated building elements. adrian's imagination allowed me to take enric's catalan accomplishments and envision american possibilities. i hope that my contribution to this line has been to use suburban structures, highways, and landscape as the elements to be extended, literally, socially, into the realm of architecture. but miralles probably already did that.
the other people who turned me on to miralles at an early age were david smiley and lauren kogod. lauren has written an introductory essay on almost every book written about miralles: i count three of the 5 i have, and i can think of at least one other i don't have. both she and david were at wash u when i was there, fresh faces from columbia in the early 90s. david was a studio professor of mine. lauren, his wife/partner, was also a professor, although i oddly never took her studio. they both knew miralles then-unbuilt work by memory (difficult, given the extremely layered state of his drawings), and had opinions about it. their influence in my life is immesurable.
losing miralles is mysteriously horrible: because i never fully understood his works' origins, because i cannot fully understand the implications of his absense, because i'm not sure who could ever do what he did, because i'm not sure the future will be as beautiful as it might have been.
gym diary, week 14:
my good friend ming popped out with this at dinner last saturday: "gosh chad, you're arms are really big. I mean it. It's really noticable". she hasnt seen me in since i've been going to the gym.
i must confess, reader, that people like this are test cases for me. theyre perfect control subjects: they havent seen you, they don't have any sexual interest in you (at least that they'll admit), and they would never otherwise ask you about your body or your 'workout'. so i'm extremely gratified when i hear a compliment like that.
which is all saying that i've been thinking the same thing in my head for a few weeks now. i look noticeably different than i did only a month or two ago, and i've gained several pounds in that time. i have a small perky chest, not-small-anymore arms, very well-muscled back, slightly cut abs (but not perfect, the way i like em), and well-proportioned calves. best of all, in my book, are my shoulders: they were the thing i hated most about myself (close second: upper arms), and they seem to be very nice and round without any added effort.
which is all saying that the last few workouts haven't been peak performances. i'm getting tired easily, i always seem to arrive at the gym at the point of low energy (usually before a meal), and i'm extremely distracted by my life when i'm there. i guess i'm under more stress at work lately (job under construction), i was studying for an exam, i was short on cash for about 14 days straight due to a budgeting snafu (i seem to be eating a LOT more food lately), and i haven't been going out at night because of the cash shortage. did i mention not having sex since, well, whenever you remember me writing about it?
back to the gym. i know there are up days and down days. i can deal. but a part of me is satisfied with this stage of my body, and this has taken some of the edge off of the workouts. i've left the mode where body improvement was first and foremost, and i'm about ready to leave behind bodily sensation as second most important. i'm entering 'three huge projects at work and two huge independent commissions' mode, which necessitates cutting back on gym activity so i don't cut back on dating/relating/fucking activity, which will invariably get cut back anyway so i don't lose too much sleep, which will destroy everything.
back to body. this stage of satisfaction has me addled, and therefore dissastified. i'm addled cuz i there's a lingering doubt that i'm not looking as fierce as i think i am (the variation in optical flatness of mirrors is a blog for another day), although this is admittedly a minor nag. after all, i want to look good for me first, guys second. the dissatisfaction comes from knowing that i'll want to go even farther: gain more weight, play with my appearance in a more extreme way, look a little more fierce. i guess i'm just satisfied to make that a very long-term project.
karma ps: am i feeling piquant tonight. i just got an email saying "i'e been at dave's new house all week with three dogs and no computer." (sic), and i responded with a "heaven or hell?" comparison that ended in using softened hard dog food for lube. xo
thank you for your recent gifts on the fourth of july. the first one was wonderfully titallating. the feeling of "am i looking at him or at his picture", despite the fact that he was crossing the west side highway and was not on 5th avenue in the 30s, was superb. bravo!
the second one, however, took me completely by surprise. this was a wonderful surprise, given that i saw him seconds after the first guy, and had electronically acquired his picture about the same time i put the first one's image by my monitor. the first feeling buoyed the second feeling: "both sides of the glass, brought here on the west side piers". the perfect binary syncopation, in real time, in the past, present, and in my memory, was an exceptional coup de grace. thank you for not making him of a different height/build than i imagined from his picture.
however, the third one, seeing jonno's friend kerry for the second time in three days, gave me slight pause. like the second gift, the this gift played off of the previous two with mathematic precision. however, since i never see kerry when i'm out on the town, although we hang out at many of the same places, it was odd to see him at all, much less on the opposite side of town from where he lives. i began to wonder what was going on with that one.
after waving to kerry, and have him startlingly disappear moments later (your stage direction for transition), i turned to my companions for the day, led by my dearest friend sah. you were obviously aware that sah and i share the progression revolving around four: his birthday is 4/4, while mine is 8/4. this occured to my mind immediately, of course, but i was too shocked to mention it again to sah, who had mentioned it to our other dear friend ming-ru, only a few hours earlier.
look ma, style tags!
i saw this guy today at the piers, wearing the same outfit. minus the dog. i knew it was him, cuz i've been, er, staring at his pic on my keyboard all week.
more stuff to write about.
as i mentioned, i have a mild crush on a carpenter from north jersey who always wears trashy t-shirts with the sleeves cut off (with bad shoes, you know he's for real), and has a mullet. he has big arms, hairy chest, and is about 6 foot tall. he has a thick jersey accent, and is very nice. he's one of those straight guys who usually aren't adorable (this is a contractor who works in NYC) but is, and it makes me just adore him. i answered all of his questions in person friday.
on a related note, i stumbled upon the dukes of hazzard reunion which i freakily missed when it aired in 1997. i've long been tickled by word of hazzard reunions. i used to watch the show religiously when i was a kid. being in semi-rural ohio, these were the kind of heros i could admire. luke duke and luke skywalker were the two people i could relate too. well, maybe han solo more. my brother and i used to have the dukes' electric race car track with a general lee and a police car when we were little, that's how much we loved.
anyway, my pre-teen crush on tom wopat lent some emotional insight to my crush with the carpenter. i'll let my biographer complete this analysis.
favorite scene in the hazzard reunion:
[before going into "the wild boar" saloon]
bo duke: where we learned all our social skills.
luke duke: maybe that's why we're still single!
[luke puts his arm around bo and they walk toward the wild boar, away from the camera. camera shot centered on their very tight jeans and very nice asses]
tom wopat is also the star of 'annie get your gun' on broadway right now. he's single, and in the musical theater, (but is no nathan lane).
so much to write about. i almost forgot that i can write, ***even if i haven't had sex to write about***. also, i had an exam to study for. this kept me inside, but ironically kept me extremely distracted by thinking about all the fun i was missing during our good weather.
got my pictures from lots of events back this week. the good thing about having about 120 photographs to sort through, and having gotten doubles, is that there's no way i have time to scan them all, and i've got to edit, and even if i have 25 favorites, only about 4 will be able sit around my already paper-encrusted keyboard and monitor for me to jack off to.
in previously mentioned order:
pride pictures. pride reminds me of how omnivorous i am when it comes to gay personality. throughout the day as an architect, i do the butch dude (dealing with the sexy NJ stud with a mullet who is a carpenter for one of my jobs), the 'normal' but out homo (to nudge a closeted co-worker), the oversexed pup (with a straight friend), and the catty interior designer (just for practice). but pride reminds me of the other personalities i don't routinely play:
ps all work in this domain is copyright chad the minx.