Tuesday, May 27, 2003

Well all right. I totally babied myself and took a week off from the gym. I wanted to get over that cold once and for all. I have no idea if it's a result of quitting smoking or my HIVvy HIVvy-ness but I've gone from never being sick to three colds in one year alone. They're annoying, mostly. A phlegm fest, if you will. Count your blessings you get sick, then you get better. Back to the gym today so no fancy posts. Memorial Day weekend is never a big holiday for us anyway but this year it was truly a non-issue. What with the rain and the sun and all manner of warmth apparently cancelled this year, please call back again.

This evening we have our first art exhibition Nectar1.jpg at the bar. We put the pieces up last night and I love them! Are they DaVinci? No, but they are indeed art and something different and something I've always wanted to use my job to do. Give Gay artists a space to display their work. What do I get out of it? Free art and hopefully some new customers and a deep satisfaction so hurrah!

Secret as promised: Two of the paintings in the exhibit are me and one is me all nekkid. The source material really captured me looking *ahem* blessed. She ain't hung like that 24/7.....

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

I simply had to share this:

From LA based escort Sean Storm

To my clients and fans:
In Feb 2003 I had a temporary setback when I developed an anal fissure. This "pain in the ass' literally brought my career to a sudden hault. In the course of a few weeks, I had to cancel two video projects, bailed out of a Palm Springs Pool Party, and, unfortunately, shut myself off from the world for the months of Feb and March. I wish to publically apologize to any clients who had intended seeing me....I know of one in particular who I failed to contact...mostly out of shame, but also out of depression. I took a huge financial hit because my ass makes most, if not all, my entire income. I was going to keep this news completely private, but entertainment gossip columnist Mickey Skee outed my personal medical business to the mass public in a column that appeared in LA ODYSSEY magazine. I have asked myself, and I ask you to ponder this as well: But who would ever want someone to tell others that someone else has an anal fissure? The fissure initially had me upset for two months...creating an anxiety and a fear that I wouldnt be able to work again, or that possibly surgery would have to be carried out leaving some kind of a scar behind? I am sure Mickey Skee could now care less about my career, let alone a REAL PERSON's FEELINGS are being tugged at. But hey, the fissure happened, it healed up on its own without surgery, I have two videos lined up within the month, and ....I am back on deck as an escort. But potential clients do need to be aware that I will not accept offers involving 'rough' sex. I dont ever want to see another fissure again (haha). The one positive thing to come out of this is I had to learn to TOP. AND IT FEELS GREAT! So, bottoms, please make a note of that! And if you find yourself traveling to Ft Lauderdale, and are looking for private entertainment, please cum pay my butt a visit (and now my cock, too).

Editor's note: Anal fissure! bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!! Stop it! My stomach, oh my!
I pushed the envelope and the envelope pushed back

AIDS Walk New York is over. I survived, more or less. Seriously, it was more difficult than I thought. Nothing really went as planned. I was feeling a might peckish on Saturday and decided to bag the gym. I believe that was the time I used to do my last post and figure out how to use the archive. (I did and have archived the first few entries In case anyone joins late and wants to refer....It could happen!) So my plan to be all buff and gorgeous was out the window. As was my plan to refresh my hair color. If you must know, it's Feria #51 Brazilian Brown. I figure if I can't have a brown Brazilian squatting on my face I can at least put some on my head. Honestly, I don't do it to cover much gray. I'm just getting it at the temple and hairline in back. My natural haircolor is sort of this flat, mousey brown. I like to color it every few weeks to give it some oomph. It's more or less my color.....plus. I was however determined to shave. I may as well get this out of the way. I shave. Not my entire body but a lot. It started many years ago when I was dating that asshole, Bill. Surprise, there's a man involved. He talked me into shaving my legs one summer on Fire Island and after that I was hooked. I love the way it feels and I love a guy with a shapely shaved tanned leg. Not overly muscular just.....nice. You know? Maybe not. I can forgive a lot of transgressions for a nice pair of legs and a cute butt. I shave my chest at least twice a week. It used to be an asthetic thing or sometimes for effect but now it's pure vanity. The hair in the middle of my chest is going gray. And I'm not ready. It's not real obvious normally but get me in bright sunlight and Ka-pow! There it is. I can't bear it. I know that eventually I will need to make peace with this issue but today ain't that day. Not as long as I have Magic Shave. Not being shy about shaving, plucking or clipping means adjusting my eyebrows down to shaving the back of my hands. I hate real hairy hands. I can't stand when guys let their knuckle hair get all long and wiry. It's gross! It's just my opinion, but I don't believe you are supposed to let your body hair just run wild. It's grooming. Just like a haircut. But I digress. So midnight rolls around and I'm just getting in the shower when by all rights I should be curling up into bed. My wake up time for a 9am appearance in the park is around 6:30. (drunk or sober it takes me an hour and a half to get my shit together when I wake up. I can do it in an hour cutting corners if I just have to make a meeting or go shopping or something.) But when you go to bed every night between 3am and 6am it's not so simple to just get in bed at midnight. If I'm home I usually putter around between 1 and 2am getting the coffee ready for the morning, laying my money out for the next day, getting my bank card and gym ID out. I check my Palm for the next day before I go to bed because it helps me remember things. I'm quite certain I'm organizing my day while I sleep.This night was no exception. I had to pick out a cute outfit. Truth to tell I had that days ago. I just wasn't sure if the weather was going to cooperate with my clothing plans. Or lack thereof. The aforementioned coffee. I had to pack my digital camera and my disposable plus I packed my video camera as well. I will soon need an assistant to handle my recording needs.when all was said and done I was just settling in to sleep around 2:30 which meant if I fell asleep immediately (HA!) I would get four hrs. I got almost three.

Sleep deprived and scantilly dressed for the chilly weather I arrived at work to meet the kids around 9am.I didn't say anything but I was feeling kind of lightheaded all morning. She's stoic like that. We got our pledge sheets organized and walked over to Central Park. We were already several marchers short but we had all the donations so no big whoop. After much cornfusion about how to register (massive shout out to the registration staff, they couldn't have been nicer or more accommodating) they pointed us in the direction of the awards tent (I got a Tshirt, baseball cap and belt watch. I LOVE doing charitable works when free swag is involved) and the starting point. Along the way we loaded up on free yogurt, bottled water and pitted prunes (I don't know) After a delay to allow one of our drunk, coke addled members to join us from a bar (Note to sister: You stank, girl! But you smelled better later) Off we went. And we walked.And walked. And walked. Damn! And I'm in pretty good shape. This was no AIDS Walk. This was the fuckin fag march to Bataan. And you have to really pay attention to your bathroom visits. You can get caught in between port-o-potties for over an hour. And trust me it's really hard to sneak away from a million marchers and pee. You're way too conspicuous to pull that off. We finally finished around 3pm I guess. I don't think I spoke at all the last half hour I was just beat. There was a concert afterward in the bandshell but me and The Girls wuz done for. They got as little or less sleep then I did. So I offered to (let the bar) pick up the tab if they wanted to do a little KFC/pizza fest back at our place. An enthusiatic yes and we were off. We scarfed down chicken and pizza and mac and cheese and mashed potatos in about 20 minutes of frenzied feeding. And then, they all fell out. Girl, let me tell you it looked like they had been in a fight.....and lost. I on the other hand had a double shift to work. How I was going to accomplish this was anyone's guess. I figured if I kept busy and kept moving I would make it. I was almost right. The first few hours were OK. I managed to get the place open all right if not a tad later than normal. I had some paper work to catch up on and the weekly payroll to do. Around 8:00 I developed a fever. It was all downhill from there to chills and a higher fever and then a cough. In a few hours I could feel the heat of my eyelids every time I closed my eyes. Of course, I tried not to close my eyes because then I would start to fall asleep. I basically took a tack of wandering back and forth between the front door and the back bar and then the front bar. Then I would go into the office and cough till I thought a lung would pop and then pray to the gods to give me the strength to not die and then start over. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. It worked more or less. I ended up closing up shop at 2am instead of 3 but really, with six people in the place I didn't feel that guilty. Besides, we raised over $2800 for GMHC and I was a battle weary warrior.

OK I promised you some pictures so here's a few I worked on today. Comments as needed:

My Girls.jpg

Saturday, May 17, 2003

Miss me?
I had no idea I was this busy! I really, really need to relax and cut myself some slack. I feel like I don't get enough accomplished in my free time and I suppose you could make a case that I could get more done but seriously, I haven't had time for anything but the most rudimental blog entry. I know, I know, who says that everything I blog at you has to be a gem and trust me, I'm already filing things away for days when I feel like posting and don't have much to say. I'm calling it "blog-fill". (you may steal it) But I do want to shoot for quality over quantity when possible. I believe in that whole less is more concept except when it comes to dick size.
Busy doing what, you ask? Well, the stain/polyurethane of the living room floor continues. It's taking longer than I planned because it is being done in sections. floor.jpg You have to let a section dry a whole day before putting on a second coat or moving to a new section so each area is two days minimum. I frequently have two days to invest but never four and usually it's two days and then no time for a while so..... I long ago learned that things take as long as they take. It ruins the fun if you try to shoehorn a project into a finite amount of time. It gives me a great deal of pleasure in letting a room evolve and become more or less what I first imagined. Also, when you take your time on a room it's usually bubbling beneath the surface all the time and you never know when you might get an idea for an accent or color or a storage idea you hadn't thought of. (Storage being an issue of paramount importance for New Yorkers)" Where the fuck do I keep all my stuff?". I periodically try to turn off my emotions and sift through my things to winnow out what truly needs to be saved versus what I've just been hanging on to. Still, "stuff" piles up. And it must be stored. And as I've gotten older those plastic Kmart black milk crates just don't do it for me. I want to be a right proper mature fag and store my crap in something from Crate and Barrel.

Another running theme with me lately has been shrinking down the furniture. I looked around one day and said to myself, "How can I be living in a three bedroom apartment in New York City with just one other person (yes we have a guest room: smell me) and still be feeling like I'm suffocating all the time?" the answer, I decided, was the furniture. We had too much full sized furniture. Our furniture was the kind you buy if you live in a house in south Buffalo. The kind of house where your living room is off the den. Not a living room/den/dining room occasional bedroom like our living room functions. Our furniture needed to either leave or shrink or transform somehow into more multifunction purposes. Surprisingly, my roommate (one word ot two? fuck!) has been very cooperative with this concept. I guess because I was equally merciless with my own stuff as I was with his. So, chair/ottoman from Fingerhut, disassembled. Round wicker chair (I loath wicker) garbage picked from the neighbors, back to the garbage after all. I will be throwing out the mismatched director's chair and computer chair mismatch chairs.jpg that are functioning as dining room chairs as soon as replacements reveal themselves to me. See, that's what I'm talking about. I intend to replace the chairs only I don't know with what yet. I prefer to haunt various shopping venues and eventually, the right chairs at the right price will appear. It's so much more satisfying that way.

What's this all about? I'm not sure. It feels very important. It seemed crucial that I get a new desk half the size of my old one. Of course now all my stored books are scattered out on the floor. Meaning I either need to install more shelves or re-use a bookcase that is being used to store bed linens. And then the bed linens go.........you see, it's all connected. The circle of life as told through a need for storage.

On a related note. I finally got to the Decorators Show House today on the next to last afternoon. So much to see some of it gor-fucking-geous and some of it too intense even for me. A pepto pink dining room was just waaaaay over the top. The bathrooms made me want to shoot a load on them they were sooooo beautiful. Interestingly, one of the rooms I absolutely hated was this chocolate brown mess of a room with huge chocolate brown slat shades that kept every bit of natural light out of the room. Everything about the room was dark including the sad old queens who had obviously designed the room and were sitting in it, all alone. You have no idea how badly I wanted to let them know somehow that the room is a reflection of them and to be afraid, be very very afraid.

Tomorrow is AIDS walk New York in Central Park at 9AM(!!!!!!!) Christ! can't we raise money for the cause at a more civilized 1, 1:30ish? Perhaps a fundraising brunch or something? Anyway, I promise lots of pictures of me and mine as I give the digicam it's first real workout. I'll bring back shots of cute men with cute butts as well. Whoo-hoo!

Friday, May 09, 2003

As the life giving god that is coffee kicks in-

I released my inner lesbian yesterday. My apartment is a work in progress all the time. While I would never be one of those silly fags that spends thousands of dollars on an apartment you rent, I am aware that you can spend small amounts of money (if you're smart enough) to make little additions and adjustments to your living space in order to a)personalize things and make an apartment a home and b) have fun and c)change things around a little and hopefully express yourself creatively. You can spend five dollars on a gallon of paint that somebody had made but didn't want and put a custom color on one wall in an hour. Using that which has been discarded seems to be a running theme in my apartment as well as my life. Unfortunately with my men too.
So I'm on the living room right now. The walls have been re-painted (horizontal stripes, I'm not kidding), the furniture has been moved to a more functional design, the ceiling fan has been revived (big props to my ex) and now it's time to finish the floors and decorate. I bought some shelves and an installation kit and got out my trusty electric screwdriver. A half hour later I have a cute new shelving unit but nothing to put on the top shelf. Fortunately I had haunted my favorite thrift store the day before and they had the cutest candle holder for $18 dollars I was sure hadn't sold yet. It's way cute, no?

If you live in Manhattan and you don't stop in to a branch at least monthly you're an idiot. Retail? What's that? So as long as I had my power tool head on I thought why not start sanding the floor. A dark stain is the plan but there are years of paint dripping and hair dye spots and god only knows what other stains (spooge) that need to be sanded out. In my head I had made this a big project but once I got going with the hand sander it really wasn't bad. Since I'm going with a darker stain I don't need to strip it down completely just take off the top layer. I did 3/4 of the job in just over an hour. My plan was to get up today and finish sanding and put on a first coat of stain/polyurethane (tip: you can buy them together in one can. saves TONS of time), but I had to keep the bar open till 4 last night. (If they are buying drinks I'll stay open. I only close if we're empty or nobody is buying anything or everyone is too drunk.) The fly in the ointment is it takes 8 hrs to dry properly and when are either of us going to be able to stay off the floor for eight hours. So my new plan is to stain in sections so that I may have to move furniture or hop over an area for the day without losing use of the living room. Genius? Or pure EVIL?!?!? I could just wait till Memorial Day weekend when the guy who's dick I no longer suck is out of town but really, I would rather use THAT time to throw my panties out the window and see who comes by and besides, I may want to have a little party for the season finale for Buffy and you know I will go nuts if I'm having people over. It's a maximum stress event.

Get this: I bought that USB cable for my camera and a few days later a package comes. I'm like....that was fast. Turns out, it was from the person I bought the camera from she had forgotten to include the cable. D'oh! An e-mail letting me know would have been nice. Still, I bought the cable the same day the camera arrived. I'm obsessive like that

Saturday, May 03, 2003

I'm having trouble keeping track of the days. It's happened before. When I wake up I'm not really sure what day it is or what I will be doing. Sometimes, like today, it will happen several times. I thought it was Wednesday not Saturday for a minute. I thought it had been over a week since I posted here and I was thinking to myself "an entire week went by?" I finally got my bearings which was way cool 'cause I was feeling guilty for being a slacker. I wasn't, just totally out of touch with time/space. That I can live with. I actually used to berate myself all the time because I can't really remember dates/times too well. I call my room mate (is that one fucking word or two? Once and for all....) the "Keeper of Memories" he knows all the dates that he's moved and I've moved and people's names we haven't seen in years. He remembers old teachers and boyfriends and when a song was popular. I seem to have jumbled it all into one big soup. I was born, now I'm here and everything else is just.... filler. I used to think I was just shallow and self-involved but then that didn't make any sense. I'm not shallow if anything my insides are a gaping maw I've been desperately trying to fill with information and theory and secrets and truths as if someday I'll make sense of more than a fraction of our existense (yes, I'm doing it for you too). And while I am self-involved you would think that I would at least care to remember important things as they relate to me but no, the sad part is that when it comes to my life and the Killer Klowns that periodically jump from cars to swirl around me and the bars that I worked in and when and what year we broke up I have simply not been paying attention. I feel like I have always just been sort of bobbing along on the surface of my life, or many times beneath the surface of my life and then , periodically, I'll break through the surface and take note of where I am and who's around. That's sort of what's going on these days. I've surfaced. Only I'm not sure anyone is around.

Big news o' the day: My new digital camera arrived today! *see her dance with joy* It's not the best or the latest but it works and it's mine! mine! mine! The only flaw was it came USB enabled but without a USB cable and I could tell by the connecter that a standard USB camera cable wasn't going to work. What's a girl to Google? ( I love Google I truly do) A quick search later and I found them and $20 dollars later the USB cable be on the way! Still, it came with a mess of smart media cards and the 64mb card that was in it will hold almost 400 pics at lowest settings. Who knew?
It means a lot more pictures for here and I promise I will try try try to only post interesting relevant ones. Or dirty ones. Maybe I'll go for relevant dirt.

Now if this doesn't make you smile kill yourself you just will never get it. I found it here but he credited another ...