gym diary week 22, continued:
i saw the owner of a contracting company who did a project of mine in the spring. i hadnt seen him since april, i think. this time, he recognized me, said hi, and proceeded to chat endlessly. he was like a promotional tape, and even ended with "i hope you enjoy your workout". maybe he was nervous, being a straight guy in a gym crowded with muscle queens.
yesterday was also a chest/back/shoulders day. i love these days, because i'm finding that using dumbells and a bench press bar are really effective at making my chest look good. side effect is shoulders and upper arms, too. but i must say that i've been a little indifferent to the whole thing, so i only really do a lot of chest stuff, some back, and a lot of abs stuff. basically, workout the stuff i'm not satisfied with, which at this point has become very meager. sure, i want to gain 9 more pounds (145 is a future goal), but i'm not in any hurry, and i'm sure when fall/winter arrives, i'll be putting on extra pounds anyway.
which only proves to me that being at the gym, while expanding the horizons of looking, has helped me reach a state of satisfaction with my body. ironically, this satisfaction in turn has led me to pretty much ignore my body most of the time, and has set me onto working on the other parts of my life that i'm not satisfied with. it's like i'm systematically discovering and solving (or at least addressing) areas of myself that i want to make better. yes, i know that mostly there isnt a causal relationship between emotional flaws/bad habits/unpleasantness and their solution, but because i know that, i attempt to find solutions anyway.
this uncanny activity, mapping (and altering) the contours of my problematic qualities, makes me very happy right now.
like borges, writing about possible writings, future readership sometimes happening in the present:
gym diary week 22 having a good workout and starting the weeked out right, despite seeing my new friend out the evening before and about and having him being somewhat cold and shady to me, annoying me enough to give me perspective and having me feel healthy indifference again. and also learning that the bar on a bench press weighs 45 pounds, and that i've been bench pressing a lot more than i thought this whole time. and weighing 136, even after skipping dinner the night before. walking past the pleasure chest where i bought something last week, because i wanted to see the guy who rang me up last week (he'd seen my credit card and told me his best friend in college had the same name as i), because his cuteness had interrupted my new-friend-reverie. seeing the guy standing in the doorway, observing the beautiful weather and the traffic on 7th avenue, smiling at me as i walked by, me smiling back. me talking to him. his name is peter. speaking for a few minutes, about the weather, about nothing, just chatting, feeling each other out. he had to go back to work, i was headed home for a saturday afternoon nap. he winked at me, and asked me to stop by again sometime.
good advice "minx, just take it slow". "boy you're learning. soon you will do the things you wanted since you were wearing glitter badges". "keep doing what you're doing. someday, someone will meet you and know that you mean it, you are for real."
proust no i won't quit writing about him. reading about 60 pages of the book in a single week, because the passages are very long meditations on what people say, mean, how they say things about others that are about themselves, how they believe others will not observe about them what they choose not to acknowledge about themselves. reading it in my favorite coffee shop in the village while two people at the table next to me, two friends, were uncannily discussing what was going on in my life this week, what was also in the book: the mixed impressions people give, the uncertainty in their words causing displeasure. but also hearing from the person talking say something new and positive, that when people need to explore multiple relationships and events in their life, that "that doesnt hurt me" (the confidence in her voice completely convincing as if i had said it) and that the person in question should know that already. and, realizing that this book is an echo of my life, a way of continuing my life when i feel like my life is less than enjoyable, by reading this parallel life, the quiet, indifferent, seemingly aimless and effortless obervations about life a secret way of getting pleasure out of living life, any life.
the optical flatness of mirrors the mirrors in FC29's bathroom are wavy, like those at they gym, so that different panels give you a different impression of yourself. depending on the age of a mirror, and the exact alloy in the silvering on the backside, and the composition of the glass, they can be warm or green or white. they should be mounted on a substrate of plywood for optimum flatness, which also allows for a detail that can make the edges look floating by disengaging them from the wall. the light in front of a mirror is what ultimately determines how things look in it. the mirrors in wonderbar's toilets are flat and you're lit by candle light. the mirror in the head of the boat i was on last week was very warm and flat, and the light in front of it (from a porthole) was soft and good at looking at yourself in.
architecture with mike having your fruitful design tendencies completely encouraged by your partner for an architecture competition, and having your unproductive tendencies curbed by him. doing the same for him. making a new building, something no one has ever seen like this. watching it emerge through a very productive exchange between two people in a small studio in park slope, brooklyn, on sunday afternoon.
farewell episode, final minutes of the week:
after talking to troy last night about an unsuccessful call to my new friend, and the "pause" period, i lay awake for some hours in serious heartache. but it was the worst kind: not really warranted, not caused by anything, not directed toward anything. just unhappiness at not hearing what i needed to hear (which was direction, one way or another), which is a reason, but an absence of focus nonetheless. this was after i'd consumed two st. john's wort.
after consuming two more during breakfast, i started to feel the edge ebb a lot. i mean, if you take enough of it, i guess it does that to you. i began to feel more even-keeled, more "just keep living your life, silly", and walked to the subway. even the fact that my landlord hadnt yet received my replacement rent check, sent 5 days ago, because they never got the first one i sent at the beginning of the month, didnt seem to phaze me.
i was feeling so mellow i had brought my proust with me to read on the train. no small undertaking: the second volume is over 900 pages. it was an off day for the gym, so i had room in my tiny tote.
i never got to the book. i got a seat at 50th street, and at 34th, a guy who looked kinda like this one got on, except he had a much more wicked fade and jawline-stubble, and more clothes on, although they were unfashionably trashy, an intricate silver ring on his right index finger, and two little silver earrings. he took the tight but recently vacated seat next to me, and his leg was touching mine, and his arm was touching mine. as you may know, any guy who does this on a new york train is trying to send you a message. at least i GOT a message, that cut through my emotional fatigue by going straight to my dick. his silk shirt, soft skin, and warm right side was all turning me on. he was a beauty: for the first time, i was being aroused by someone because of perceived youthfulness in opposition to my emotional mileage (surrogate for age).
he kind of kept looking around, and at me, but was trying to be very sly. but there was nothing sly about him touching my triceps with his hidden fingers (his arms were crossed, ensuring constant upper arm contact on the 18 inches wide subway seat) several times before the E train pulled up to the Canal Street station. oddly, though, he only did it a few times, lingered, and stopped. our bags were covering our crotches: after touching me, he leaned forward on his, obviously cooling off his hardon. mine wasnt going anywhere, the carnality of the situation had so interrupted my "i'm-okay" reverie. he got off the train, didnt pass me on the stairs (i was going slow so i could cruise when he passed), and finally got within kissing distance while crossing walker street at 6th avenue. seriously, his face was about 3 inches away while i was checking to see if we were going to be simultaneously killed by a delivery truck leaving the holland tunnel. he was startled, i think, to see me cruising him while surrounded by the usual throng of slow, mostly overweight, and poorly dressed saps who herd toward the travellers building from that subway station. he kept walking downtown: i had to take walker east to my building. he kind of kept looking to the sides, but never looked back. i couldnt figure out if he was straight or just whatever.
well. that started things out right, i thought as i made my way to work. i had the hardon until i got to my elevator.
creative side was happily stimulated today: i learned a lot of flash 4.0, and am going to be creating a new website for work with it. i also had a wonderful conversation with the leaving-intern who taught it to me about the future of architecture as a profession, and how to use our skills as people who design information to make money with our skills as architects. got me excited about my prospects if i should leave my job.
i got one of my leaving co-worker's huge desk area and fast computer, next to the windows, and very beautiful light. i spread all my books around me, have a new chair, and share a phone with another of my office friends, who complimented my arms ("i know you're working out; i saw those big guns when you stripped down to your tank on tuesday") at lunch in front of the office. he's adorably straight, genteel as only a rural virginian can be, and slightly out of it when it comes to pansexual stuff. so i know he was impressed.
also, almost no one called today, despite the fact that the project manager for the restaurant had taken the day off, and when they did, i was my usual amiable self, even when one of the clients tried to get mad at me for mistakes on the drawings i had no responsibility for. i wished him a good weekend.
i'm going out tonight and getting laid.
like my buddy marlon said today, it's like the farewell episode.
a feeling very intense, but only available through accretion, a pearl formed by constant irriation. besides the fact that most of the office interns are leaving friday, two of my friends at work are leaving this week, one of them being marlon, the person i have sat next to and talked to every day for two and a half years. both have been there longer than i, and both define the office's character. i will have acute separation anxiety well into september.
like the farewell episode, this week has seen elation at watching amazing events unfold, melancholy at uncertainties and departures. and the certainty of a loss of future episodes: nothing new, new with the old cast, will happen again. dreams of un-broadcast, secretly filmed episodes (called delusions) will happen well into 2001.
elation like the marvellous sailing trip our office took yesterday afternoon off of lower manhattan, followed by a long evening of office drinking and darts. or seeing yourself in the bathroom mirror on the boat (the bathroom on a boat is called the "head". heh-heh, you said head), and looking at yourself in a tank top and kakis, and feeling like you're looking at a fantasy you've always had of yourself come true, and have it really mean something that you are satisfied that your chest is visibly bigger (the second part of myself i always hated). or having a new friend call you after his weekend on the jersey shore, and having this simple cel-phone-to-cel-phone call make you feel like you just learned what happens on christmas morning, future expectation in quick tow. or finding the right gifts for friends at a semi-exclusive sale thrown by a business connection.
melancholy like not being able to talk any more to the new friend, because he's as creative and in demand as yourself, and besides, you're in the "pause" period where two people have met but because they already have busy lives they have to figure out how to fit another friend in without going too far too soon. and also, not being able to tell the "pause" period apart from the "the other one doesnt like you as much and doesnt have time for you because of that" period, and having that vex you. vex you because you're horribly inept at relationships in the first place, and having that remind you that you're a sad loser when it comes to being in love, and you've been mostly alone in your life anyway, the most painful reason being that none of your beloved friends live in the same city with you for more than a few years. and not being able to get any of your friends on the phone, no matter where they live, especially when you really need to talk to them, because they have lives too, and, well, they're as busy and important as you are.
melancholy from working on a very beautiful but excruciatingly difficult project because there's a constant stream of dumb-shits calling you during the day, even though you're only supposed to be the talented designer on this one, telephone conversation with unpleasant people effectively eliminating all forms of cogent thought, concentration replaced with risk-avoiding platitudes, watching your creative side huddle in a hidden corner (knowing that it takes a long time for it to come out once it gets there), and having it ruin your ability to relax on the weekends. and working too much on it during the week, further reducing the chance that you will have time for a fucking date (i mean to say "date" with "fucking" as a note of exasperated emphasis). and being barely able to lift a finger at the gym, week 21, even though you've never been stronger and more goodlooking and in better shape in your life. and being cruised at the gym but having no sex drive at all and having that make you very sad. and feeling like a tired zombie all day despite the fact that you're getting 9 hours sleep regular. and from it all feeling a distressingly unseasonable--if mild--depression settle in.
you have a potential urge and the ability for accomplishment.
don't be afraid to take a chance when the opportunity of a lifetime appears.
the only certainty is that nothing is certain.
you will be wise not to seek too much from others.
politeness costs nothing and gains everything.
keep true to the dreams of your youth.
every person is the architect of his own fortune.
you should be able to undertake and complete anything.
the greatest danger could be your stupidity.
[all the fortunes on my computer keyboard, which i read every day. the last one is taped over the logo on my monitor]
things i was thinking about on my stroll up eighth avenue this afternoon:
- how nice the avenue is on a mild mid-august saturday afternoon, when lots of people are away.
- straggling august eighth-avenuers copping shade are very tired looking.
- frank black's 'los angeles': "i'll wait in the pouring sun. no way, for not anyone..."
- proust and the constant relationship of things.
- my father and mother.
- my dad's mother, who sang "happy birthday" on my voicemail, which i saved (her first call to my cel phone).
- loos' steiner house. i'm an architect, these things just come to me.
- rockland county, new york.
- making architecture out of fashion magazines, and ways that it's relavent to making architecture today, as opposed to having it be an homage to early-20th-century dada.
- enric miralles and his version of architecture through collage, and his building based on a cuttlefish.
- the jersey shore.
- a new friend.
- wilco's 'shot in the arm': "maybe all i need is a shot in the arm"
- my tattoo.
- st. ann street, new orleans.
- richard's birthday party.
week 20 (almost over)
thursday's workout was very difficult; i was weak from the week, that has been one long telephone call and meeting, with the exception of one exceptional evening (wednesday). but i'm not talking about that here, except to say that it's given me extreme detatchment to the activity of looking at other people at the gym, on the street, etc.
#4 was at the gym every day i went this week. saturday, monday, and thursday. nothing really to report, but that he's getting more courage in the make-sure-he-notices-i'm-looking activity. however, he needs to work a little more: he toweled off in the shower although he could clearly see that i was in the steam room by myself.
monday was a good workout: i hadnt been destroyed by the week's stupidity yet, and had a lot of energy. i also felt like it was Minx Day at the gym, cuz every guy, old and young, seemed to be looking my way. my hair looked good, and i didnt have any boogers on my face (i checked, son), and i think my clothes looked nice too. the only reason i noticed that more people were following me with their glances was the detatchment. i felt incredibly indifferent about other people and their sexiness, as can be witnessed by this leather daddy and his partner, who work out constantly, the younger one about 6' and very colt-studios-does-leather, always a little intimidating to me (it's the thick 'stache), and sexy body hair, who basically threw himself in my path all week: showing me his butt in the locker room, smiling at me laying on the stretch-out mat, and basically throwing his torso over mine while i was laying declined on the abs bench. the last one was the only thing that registered the way it usually does, my mind so distracted, because i could feel the heat of his chest, momentary, and could imagine my exhale move his perfect semi-furry chest hair.
last night (after walt whitman):
new york city, and blessed serendipity
and the guy you saw several weeks ago in the east village dance club
who you thought was wonderful and fine
but possibly respect-is-burning-european, or straight, and not interested
and you find tonight, interested
fortune keeping you from jumping back on the F train after being at the lame FC
(it looks like lamé but it's pronounced LAME)
fortune making you walk to avenue A and into an old favorite bar
fortune finds him dancing near the entrance of that bar
and when he sees you he's just as taken
but you can't tell and go to the bathroom at the wrong time
just as he was going to come over and talk to you
but then you come back and wait for him to turn around after getting his drink
and he does
and for the first time in a long time,
the interesting one you're interested in
speaks before you.
that man is a liar
the day is like a warm night...
week 19, continued.
hotties list is updated: events of yesterday include seeing big guy, now #6. troy really does not like this guy: he apparently persistantly cruized troy in the locker room a few days ago, but he's really, really, really not troy's type. i still find him lovely, but as my previous entry may betray, my interests are being shifted away from guys like that who are a little too into themselves to be, well, fun.
also saw guy with sacred heart tattoo, now #7, who troy thinks has a lovely ass, but is only interested in other big hunky guys. he's got this look in his eyes that's experienced, but a little vacuous, in the "this is the gay thing to do" kind of way. it's really fun to watch us watching him watching others: it's kind of like an archie cartoon at these moments.
after emailing my mother my last 10 entries or so, she sent me a bevy of questions. the difficult ones were "is the gym experience so much about body issues as it is a place to check out the other guys? a lot of both? is this gym experience a kind of gay thing?". i don't think of the gym as a 'gay thing' in the painfully scripted way i think most 'gay things' turn out to be. especially my gym, which has lots of very cute (but very straight, and innocent, ie come from the shower in orange printed boxer shorts) nyu students or this rowdy posse of (at least with their buddies straight) puerto rican boxers. except during the archie-cartoon moments.
also saw a guy who i've seen around a lot lately. our workouts overlap, and i did see him at a bar last saturday (he didnt see me). he's shorter than me, has a wonderful japanese-style tattoo covering his left shoulder, and has salt-and-pepper hair. he's a little elfin-looking, average cuteness, and fairly harmless looking. he always wears skateboarder shoes (hello mid-90s), old navy shorts (i do too sometimes, don't shoot me), and a white sleveless tee. he looks a little eighth avenue for me, or even a little west-coast, cuz he's so clean-cut looking. but seeing him at the bar i did made me think twice. he simply watches me a lot, follows me around a bit, and always gives me an uncertain glance whenever he thinks i'm looking. i kind of ignore him a little, but yesterday i decided to return the glance and smile. i'll post more when they get the steam room working again and he and i can talk a little. oh, he's at #4.
week 19, continued.
i searched for a locker today; the big lockers are all taken at 6pm rush hour. found one, opened it, and from my left comes dashing in: #6! he completely strips in 3 seconds (those snap pants permit intstant removal), threw the clothes on the floor, and put a towel on. then, he looked at me and i looked back. smile. he goes to shower. he's really, really cute without his nerdy glasses. he moved up on the list.
my list will be linked here, so that we can all keep track of what the numbers refer to.
i go upstairs, and former #5, now #6, who i call 'former number one', the guy who works at world gym, who troy thinks is "very freaky looking" (not a compliment when he says it about muscular men), was doing his normal arms thing. he's got very huge arms. and very poor skin complexion. i'm fascinated by him and his freakishness, as i am in general about muscular men. more on this in a minute.
i'm excited to say i have a new guy on the gym list. we're getting close to ten, after which people will be getting bumped off, not just bumped DOWN. [laugh]. i've been eyeing him for a while, but given my new penchant for beautiful yet shy, unassuming guys, i've only recently begun to notice that he is cruising me. he needs to be much less subtle about lookin at me; for a while i thought he was one of those straight nyu teens who comes here. but i'm onto him now, so it's okay. he's debuting at number 2, as such:
2. blondish cutie, almost exactly my size, a mirror as to how i find my own body beautiful. he's lean like me, but with nice muscularture, making him extremely sexy, somewhat boyish, but not too. he looks like this french guy i met on day zero, because of his facial features, but he also has this whistful look that show he enjoys working out, and he knows he looks good, but he's also somewhat shy about that pleasure. and he looks thoughtful and intelligent. he takes every opportunity to glance my way, but it's a soft glance, an i-like-you-and-am-curious-about-you look. today, i was completely taken by this oblique persistance. if he can school me in proust's contre sainte-beuve, too, i'll ask him to marry me.
he left shortly after i arrived, so i didnt get a chance to speak to him. i've been introducing myself to prospective beauties now, so i was all set to say "what's up?".
back to body enhancement. another cutie i saw was about my build, but much more muscular. i'm naturally lean, so i was mildly awed that he was that much heavier than i. he had really bad complexion, and i could see on the bottom of his neck, peeking through his white t-shirt, a creepy amount of acne for a guy in his mid-20s. this reminded me of when my buddy A told me that the guy i'd lost my virginity to had done a cycle of steroids shortly after i'd met him, and that he'd gotten terrible acne on his back, and he'd gained a lot of weight from it. it was something he'd always wanted, that badly. this guy, too, from the cocky-cuz-i'm-insecure vibe he so obviously exuded.
i try to get beyond my immediate feeling of disgust at moments like this. firstly, because i'm open to the idea that people would want to take enormous health risks (can you say VERY early liver failure or atrophied genetalia?) in order to be more muscular. and i almost universally respect other people's life decisions, to the extent that people think i'm indifferent to them, especially those alien to my own thinking. but there's a part of my initial reaction (kerouac: "first thought, best thought") that persisted throughout the workout and into my shower, especially with #6 around. because this guy was my size, and probably shares the same metabolism, i can certainly relate to the desire to be bigger, muscular. and, we most certainly share the adolescent fantasy that metabolizing something will make you grow fast.
but between age 12 and now, i eventually became convinced of a tactic for living life, namely, that the world is already beautiful, and i'm simply part/layer of a larger reality. i'm certain i've said this before, that creatively, i don't want to replace the world--or significant parts of it--with my voice, but to add my voice to the world's complexity. the impulse to cover the world, paint it white, tear down the existing and build new, or stand alone as an object to be viewed in cities of cacaphonous discourse, are peculiarities almost all architects share. i'm not of that world, the world of the always-new, always-original. this has extended to my life, my very body, for a long time, and was the reason i nearly didnt get to the gym in the first place. that is to say, my body reflects the activities born upon it through my life, including my desire to be beautiful. but there's something of the world in there; although i may play around with the occasional suppliment or protien shake, i take great pride in my body's natural propensities, and hold them sacred. i would never attempt "overcome" them. for instance i've accepted that i will never grow up to be lou ferrigno, or henry rollins, or phil, or henning, or even jonno. in fact, i often wonder how good a guy like me will look when he's pushing 50.
another example is my belly. no matter how many abs exercises i do, i just can't seem to be completely flat and cut without inhaling if i've eaten anything within the last 12 hours. i've said it before, i'm not a little budda unless i've eaten too much rice and beans. i couldnt care less, most of the time.
(incidentally, i also had to mentally resolve this impulse before i got the tattoo. i found inspiration for the tattooist, and did some drawings, and edited the sketches he showed me. but in the end, he kept it old-school in a way my bent, mannered, modern hand would never have liked to allow, and his coloration was something i simply would never have anticipated. the tradition of drawing that symbol is intact on my body, the very act of making it something i didn't control although i did contribute to. i also don't control how i'll feel about it through time.)
all of this reminds me why i made certain decisions the way i did. and that my fascination with the gorgeously grotesque features of others is a healthy reflection of another minx that might have happened.
gym diary, week 19.
since week 0, i've been oddly afraid of the free weights. some of the reasons are the same childish reasons that kept me from going to the gym for so long: imagined intimidation, fear of looking foolish, etc.
i've kind of worked my way into them. done some dumbell stuff, did bench presses only when troy was there to spot me, etc. i like the free weights, because they require a level of control the machines just don't give you. you end up working much more efficiently because you're working joints and lots of related muscles.
i've also been doing lots of cable exercises. firstly, because they are lots of fun. i am very fascinated by that device, and pulling cables while adjacent to a mirror is very satisfying. secondly, because the exercises give my muscles striation and definition, and it's auto-sexy. i've been doing these for about a month or so now.
today was the first day i did the big thing. i did bench press and incline press all by myself. there werent many people around, so i got to spend a lot of time figuring out just how to do the damned exercises. i spent almost 30 seconds being vexed by this tension ring that keeps the weights on the bar. it's a simple object, but not as obvious to operate as the wire clips that do the same job.
baby's on fire, better throw her in the water. inside. outside, i'm exhausted from three long nights and days of drinking, dancing, and other forms of revelry. so the workout today really took a lot out of me.
in the almost-empty gym, i noticed a fellow who i've seen before, but never really looked at. he's early-30s, touch of gray, 5'8, 165, but kind of nerdy looking. he's got a wonderful body, but his body language is very sedate. i saw him doing various forms of squats on the smith machine today. his 'didas workout pants, with snap sides, stretched every time he squatted. his legs and ass were clearly defined, and were very hot. he debuts in the list as follows:
6. quiet, sexy fellow in 'didas pants. old school 'didas shoes, black, like i told jonno to wear when he was here. silver rings on both middle fingers. very unassuming.
it was lovely. i was in the cab on my way home, 3.30 this morning, with a new friend, after going to FC29 with a group from my birthday party. the windows were down, the summer night very cool, and my friend and i at separate ends of the back seat, our legs intertwined, just enjoying the breeze and pre-sex chat. then jonno calls, and he's walking down st. ann street (in new orleans, sweetheart), and we start to reflect off one another, cuz i know what's it's like to be walking down that street at that time of the morning (i didnt really blog the night that this experience was etched into my memory, sentimental attachment intact), and he was just last week in a not-so-early-morning cab with me in new york, with me and a new friend of his, i dropping them off. it was like we were on opposite sides of town, two friends who were having fun, but because of the way fun nights go, we just never crossed paths in person, circumstance-causing.
i didnt feel like i missed him, because i'd called kerry from FC29 to get him to come over, and jonno had just spoken to kerry, so jonno knew i had gone to FC29. i felt like we'd spent the evening together, he and i both knowing what was going on.
the same thing happened about an hour ago. i was in central park, leaving the body and soul summerstage event, i exhausted from no sleep and lots of drink two nights in a row, but having just seen kerry and roger and noel and troy, thinking that i really wanted to call jonno, but thinking that i don't want to burn daddy's minutes, and i was too tired to really be much fun on the phone. i get up off the park bench where i'd been musing, and my phone rings. it's jonno.
i caught him up on the afternoon. i ran into several who had been at my party, and kerry, and the guy i went home with last night. and my old buddy gio, who'd been away, but doesnt really call much anyway, but always wants to hook up ("do you want to get together tonight" he asked while dancing), and several sexy new people i'd seen at the gym or at PS1 last week but had never met. lots of touching and flirting, but not all of them would appreciate the others with me. not jealousy, just scheduling conflict. as i was leaving, they dubbed something from a song i didnt know: "i don't wanna see...alla my friends at once!"
for the first time in a long time, i smell musky and hot, like a guy who hasnt showered in a while should smell, when he's feeling young and sexy. secret: i sprayed comme de garcons 2 on my armpits this morning, nothing more.
went to the kate spade summer party tonight. i aced the hula hoop contest (with serious competition from the other homo competition), but was katie's favorite. what can i say, i move my hips as needed for the required activity.
later, while dancing, one of the other partners of the company came to me and told me i had a whole audience of people (women, this company is 90% girls and 9.9% homos) watching me. gosh.
i found out the one woman i had a crush on, who was dating a male acquaintance of mine who i think is hot (in a pugnacious, brooklyn, craftsman-dirty-sexy sort of way) was actually not dating him, and has been a sexy lipstick dyke since 16. i still want her. she's coming to my party tomorrow.
i called bobby after the party, walking home from the party space on 31st street. we chatted for a long time, talking about common friends (i.e. the people he's played with who are my friends, i.e. troy smith), and he agreed to come to my party tomorrow.) i'm not holding my breath, but if he walks in the door, i may have to tie him up.
must...not...blog or send email.
birthday...party...friday.which is my birthday,
things i can only say to the back of your neck: i liked the little things different like a new license, or beard, and when you're in town, i feel the good need to drop everything and see you, and feel sorry that any second of opportunity is missed (although i'm big enough to know that there will always be another), oh and i've secretly dreamed of having someone tell me on their own volition that they want to take pictures of me, and having you do that, and knowing that i'd pretty much let you take over for a while, or having you notice some stuff about me, and it's not patronizing that you think i've grown up because it means that something has ended, a 18-year haze that i thought at first was a headache, but then realized was misplaced sentiment, but later became wholesale indifference, before i figured out what was going on and where to have healthy indifference and that people were mostly worth feeling about.
and on the way home feeling that somehow something is different, but after savoring that for a second, realizing that i'm not experiencing a life-changing moment, rather, that i've simply noticed that our lives have changed, probably some time ago.
ps all work in this domain is copyright chad the minx.