Hey, I'm a Hilton sister...
I spent the day as a girl of leisure. After an awful night's sleep (I got up five times to piss. Why my body was in purge mode I don't know) I finally gave up around 10:30 which is fine cause I'm on the early shift this week so I need to get my ass up if I want to have a life before work. I had a little coffee a little House Invaders a little Ground Force (I love BBCAmerica) I farted around on line for a while trying to figure out how to add Verizon dial-up to my DSL service. Curiously on their site they tell you that you can in a little pop up window but they don't say how. I'm assuming a phone call is in order. Surfed for porn, (natch) and posted a couple of feelers out on Craigslist for my (nekked mens') photography services PS Johnny can't read for real I specifically post that I'm available during the day and they ask for 10pm. I say never on weekends they ask about Saturday or Sunday. I know I can write so....... I post I'm looking to suck off a hot Latin college top I get a 48 yr old married guy from Paramus. Honestly, can't a faggot arrange a hookup without all this nonsense? Anyway after much fucking around and a ton of mental gymnastics as I continually shuffled my schedule in my head as the day wore away. I did manage to get my shit together and leave the house around 3:15. Good morning New York! I headed for my health club as I still hadn't showered yet and I was in the mood for those fucking awsome NYSC showers that practically blast you across the room like that Seinfeld episode. I love walking out of there absolutely sure the firehose has cleaned out everything that needs it . *WINK* Still not feeling totally refreshed I took a steam/sauna (mind you, I still hadn't accomplished a thing today but write two checks. Exhausting though that may be) of course, cruising for dick in a cat perched on a mantle way. If a mouse comes by, great. If not, *stretch* the heat feels gooooood. I left the health club and looked at my watch. Oh my, it's well past lunchtime! Where's a girl on the go gonna grab a bite to eat on 23rd street? That new vegan place that opened this week? Fuck no! It's Quizno's once again! As a matter of fact I liked it so much yesterday I had the exact same sammich and broccoli/cheese soup I had yesterday. I'm cool like that you make me feel good I'll be back for more. *HINT*
Thoroughly satiated but still feeling a might peckish I skipped (gayly) half a block down the street to avail myself of the services of this establishment. No spray on tan for this debutant. You give me cancer and you give it to me now!. While in the tanning coffin (no coincidence that) I resolved to make some decisions regarding my Halloween costume for Friday. I had lots of vague ideas and I needed a concrete plan to decide where I needed to focus my shopping. I was leaning towards a pirate motif of some sort which immediately made me think of Johnny Depp,Johnny Depp.jpg and of course being naked I started to get a chubby which you totally don't want because the little sock I was using would totally not cover my massive schlong fully erect so back to costumes pirate.... pirate.... puffy shirt ah! I need to go here. Goody! Freshly irradiated and startled (every time!) by the coffin clicking off I head out to the rain! Rain! ewwwwww my hair! Fortunately it was just a shower and I resumed my journey up to 51st/5th to check out the latest in poorly made suspicious fabric men's clothing they carry. It has a tendency to disintegrate when the season is over but saves me the trouble of donating it to charity and it translates into more shopping so thumbs up!
------ hang on, I need a cocktail------
That's better. So I scoped out the whole Men's section of H&M but no puffy pirate shirt to be found. I did, however, locate three pair each of new underware (or, as the black queen said when he walked up to the racks, oooh drawers! I ain't lyin'.) and new dress socks. I thought about doing a Winona and just stuffing them in my purse but alas, I had no purse so I just paid. With a bounce in my step (any purchase is a good purchase) I hop back in my limo and head back to 23rd st to hit a new costume shop that just opened on 22nd/3rd. It was crazy crowded so I had to enter a Zen shopping zone where a bubble of calm surrounds me and no matter how long I have to stand behind a fat Latin girl trying to decide if she wants to be the green or the blue M&M I can. In my Zen shopping zone I don't really find what I'm looking for it finds me. So I wander around the shop checking out cheesy costume after cheesy costume. I found a purple velvet pimp get-up that struck me as hilarious for work but it was one of the most expensive costumes they sold. Of course! That's why I liked it. I finally settled on a totally thrown together mix of devil horns and mask and makeup and an idea to use my own clothes and voila! A costume that isn't much but I'll look cute in is born.
Phew! Now I'm truly exhausted and feeling stressed out so what's a girl to do. You guessed it back to the health club (I swear!) only this time I really do work out. A half hour of cardio on the Stairmaster (fat burner setting is the hardest) and a half hour of my custom made (by me) ab workout. So my butt will look good tomorrow and my abs will be tight (well, tighter). Perfect if I decide to hop up on a banquette and dance the night away. I finished my workout and after another round of shower/steam/sauna I head out for home and a bite to eat at a fabulous eatery where I mingled with the local celebrities.
PS Part 1
As if this day wasn't fabulous enough, after I got home I checked my e-mail and found a message from someone at Blogger. I had written them in a last ditch effort to fix my archives and repair all the problems in the posted pictures with passwords and such. I tried to explain the problem and not be nasty and surprise! They finally identified the problem and repaired the settings that were screwing things up. Sooooo, except for one little section that somehow got corrupted in the translation I have managed to replace all the pictures by either embedding them within the blog or providing a link that doesn't require a password. So please, go back and have a look at all the stuff I wanted you to see the first time.
PS Part 2
I went to the Dr's for my latest round of blood work. I was a little nervous because I had felt so crappy all last month. As it turns out everything seems pretty fine. I did have a drop in my TCell count to around 439 (from 573 or so) but still acceptable and my viral load dropped to 10,784 (from 38,00). My Dr. tells me that amounts to no real change and that's also good. Had the second part of my Hep A vaccine so apparently I can eat ass with abandon and got my first ever flu shot. (knock wood) I never had the flu but what the heck why take that kind of chance?
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Monday, October 27, 2003
Blogging @ work (dot com)
That’s right, I am collecting a substandard weekly salary and instead of doing my job I’m in my cramped office composing this missive. Scandalous! Rather than try and go back into the lost entry from the other day I thought it would be easier to relate my afternoon with Neo and try to work in some details of my group experience as well since I discussed most of it with Neo anyway. He wanted company on a trip to the Metropolitan. He had a writing assignment for a sculpture class he’s taking and needed to I guess, critique or describe three pieces of sculpture there and since I had last been to the Met oh….. never I thought why not? So I scarfed down a sammich, (not Blimpie’s, a leftover Quizno’s I’m sooo happy they’ve started opening in NYC, although I still loves me my Blimpie’s) and perched on my porch and waited for Neo to pick me up in the latest Shitmobile he’s driving. I guess before I go any further I kinda oughta explain all the references to the man I dramatically (some might say melodramatically) said goodbye to a while back. Think of it as more of a symbolic goodbye. Look, I’m going through a lot of shit right now, and the one thing I’m not going to do is break off a relationship with the one man in my life I can say anything to. Besides, while I truly deeply love Neo I’m not so sure anymore that I’m in love with him or ever was at all. I’m sort of thinking I was just in love with being in love. Part of what I spoke about in the group on Tuesday was how being HIV+ has started me re-evaluating all my relationships. Which is why things have gotten so bad (or is it sad) between me and The Ex. It’s why I’ve reduced him in my mind at least to just a guy I live with and certainly not someone I can count on or trust to be there for me. It’s not that he’s a bad person. It’s just that we have grown so far apart spiritually and emotionally and mentally (well, that’s always been the case he was always stupid) that we really are sharing nothing at this point but the place we live in. And that’s not a complaint. It’s just that I was previously expending a lot of energy trying to breathe life into something that died a long time ago. I’m not doing it anymore. So you can see that I’m surely not cutting someone like Neo out of my life who does satisfy my need to think and grow and learn and most of all laugh.
I started telling him about the other main topic of conversation at the group which was…..wait for it…. SEX. Or more to the point sex with condoms or more to the pointy point sex without them. I know, or I guess, some of you who aren’t gay or aren’t HIV+ can’t believe we spend any time as HIV+ people discussing sex without condoms but surprise surprise a real live dirty gay secret. Some HIV+ men are having sex without em. Sometimes with other HIV+ men but sometimes not and rarely with any kind of open disclosure. And that, my friends is the real bugaboo here. Basically, as we discussed it, it wasn’t a real issue for HIV+ men with negative boyfriends. Condoms it is. But what of us single gals? A couple of the boys finally grew a set of balls and admitted they’re still going to sex parties and people aren’t using condoms and by implication neither were they. One man said he was having sex, but always with condoms and then there’s yours truly firmly straddling the fence. Since my diagnosis I can truly say I haven’t had overtly unsafe sex with anyone. (By that I mean nobody I know rubbers up for cocksucking as long as there’s no cum involved). But I had some jerk off scenes and a hot three way where I sort of hosted and got sucked but there was no intercourse by/on me and I ended up cumming on a coffee table. (ewww is my coffee table HIV+???) And no sex parties for me. I will admit however that I peruse Barebacksex.com on an almost daily basis and I did in fact have condomless sex with another guy who a) knew I was HIV+ and b) was also and I still didn’t cum in his ass but I did fuck him. In my opinion two people who are HIV+ that decide to have bare sex are at least taking a shared, small risk together (of re-infection). So the question on the table in my group was how we all felt about sex and condoms and using them or not and what about those sex parties where nothing is discussed. The group collectively sort of seemed to be reaching a consensus of it wasn’t our responsibility to let someone we were having sex with know that we were HIV+ it was the responsibility of the other person to ask us to use a condom. Otherwise, the assumption is that the other guy is POZ too or doesn’t care. How convenient! Now we get to have sex and cum up some guys hot ass and bear absolutely no responsibility for protecting the health of the guy we’re fucking. Oh what a happy day this is! Yes, I’m going to have the most intimate relationship a man can have with another man. I’m going to put myself inside you. But care about you? Protect you? Shut the fuck up and get me off, hole. “It takes the lotion from the bucket and puts it on the body.” At what point did sex become all about fucking and not all the other good naked or semi naked private or semi public things two guys could do to get each other off? *hops off high horse*
So Neo got what he needed and I spent a couple of quality hours with the ancient Greeks. I was thoroughly entertained. The Metropolitan, does everyone know about this? After that we scarfed a couple of street dogs and dished about all of our drunk and co-dependent co-workers. I returned to my castle high atop Second Ave. feeling thoroughly smug and superior.
That’s right, I am collecting a substandard weekly salary and instead of doing my job I’m in my cramped office composing this missive. Scandalous! Rather than try and go back into the lost entry from the other day I thought it would be easier to relate my afternoon with Neo and try to work in some details of my group experience as well since I discussed most of it with Neo anyway. He wanted company on a trip to the Metropolitan. He had a writing assignment for a sculpture class he’s taking and needed to I guess, critique or describe three pieces of sculpture there and since I had last been to the Met oh….. never I thought why not? So I scarfed down a sammich, (not Blimpie’s, a leftover Quizno’s I’m sooo happy they’ve started opening in NYC, although I still loves me my Blimpie’s) and perched on my porch and waited for Neo to pick me up in the latest Shitmobile he’s driving. I guess before I go any further I kinda oughta explain all the references to the man I dramatically (some might say melodramatically) said goodbye to a while back. Think of it as more of a symbolic goodbye. Look, I’m going through a lot of shit right now, and the one thing I’m not going to do is break off a relationship with the one man in my life I can say anything to. Besides, while I truly deeply love Neo I’m not so sure anymore that I’m in love with him or ever was at all. I’m sort of thinking I was just in love with being in love. Part of what I spoke about in the group on Tuesday was how being HIV+ has started me re-evaluating all my relationships. Which is why things have gotten so bad (or is it sad) between me and The Ex. It’s why I’ve reduced him in my mind at least to just a guy I live with and certainly not someone I can count on or trust to be there for me. It’s not that he’s a bad person. It’s just that we have grown so far apart spiritually and emotionally and mentally (well, that’s always been the case he was always stupid) that we really are sharing nothing at this point but the place we live in. And that’s not a complaint. It’s just that I was previously expending a lot of energy trying to breathe life into something that died a long time ago. I’m not doing it anymore. So you can see that I’m surely not cutting someone like Neo out of my life who does satisfy my need to think and grow and learn and most of all laugh.
I started telling him about the other main topic of conversation at the group which was…..wait for it…. SEX. Or more to the point sex with condoms or more to the pointy point sex without them. I know, or I guess, some of you who aren’t gay or aren’t HIV+ can’t believe we spend any time as HIV+ people discussing sex without condoms but surprise surprise a real live dirty gay secret. Some HIV+ men are having sex without em. Sometimes with other HIV+ men but sometimes not and rarely with any kind of open disclosure. And that, my friends is the real bugaboo here. Basically, as we discussed it, it wasn’t a real issue for HIV+ men with negative boyfriends. Condoms it is. But what of us single gals? A couple of the boys finally grew a set of balls and admitted they’re still going to sex parties and people aren’t using condoms and by implication neither were they. One man said he was having sex, but always with condoms and then there’s yours truly firmly straddling the fence. Since my diagnosis I can truly say I haven’t had overtly unsafe sex with anyone. (By that I mean nobody I know rubbers up for cocksucking as long as there’s no cum involved). But I had some jerk off scenes and a hot three way where I sort of hosted and got sucked but there was no intercourse by/on me and I ended up cumming on a coffee table. (ewww is my coffee table HIV+???) And no sex parties for me. I will admit however that I peruse Barebacksex.com on an almost daily basis and I did in fact have condomless sex with another guy who a) knew I was HIV+ and b) was also and I still didn’t cum in his ass but I did fuck him. In my opinion two people who are HIV+ that decide to have bare sex are at least taking a shared, small risk together (of re-infection). So the question on the table in my group was how we all felt about sex and condoms and using them or not and what about those sex parties where nothing is discussed. The group collectively sort of seemed to be reaching a consensus of it wasn’t our responsibility to let someone we were having sex with know that we were HIV+ it was the responsibility of the other person to ask us to use a condom. Otherwise, the assumption is that the other guy is POZ too or doesn’t care. How convenient! Now we get to have sex and cum up some guys hot ass and bear absolutely no responsibility for protecting the health of the guy we’re fucking. Oh what a happy day this is! Yes, I’m going to have the most intimate relationship a man can have with another man. I’m going to put myself inside you. But care about you? Protect you? Shut the fuck up and get me off, hole. “It takes the lotion from the bucket and puts it on the body.” At what point did sex become all about fucking and not all the other good naked or semi naked private or semi public things two guys could do to get each other off? *hops off high horse*
So Neo got what he needed and I spent a couple of quality hours with the ancient Greeks. I was thoroughly entertained. The Metropolitan, does everyone know about this? After that we scarfed a couple of street dogs and dished about all of our drunk and co-dependent co-workers. I returned to my castle high atop Second Ave. feeling thoroughly smug and superior.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
Dammit to hell!
I wrote up an extensive and (if I do say so myself) insightful peice recounting my latest HIV+ support group meeting. As an experiment I wrote it all on my new laptop that I hooked up wirelessly to my PC. Everything went fine with the actual writing until it came time to post/publish when the whole peice went *poof* and I must have panicked and somehow scorched the whole thing. Ah well, maybe later today if I'm feeling it I'll try to re-create the highlites. For now I'm Cinderella looking forward to a day of laundry and floor scrubbing. Oops! Maybe not....Neo just called inviting me to the museum.
If you can read this, blogging via laptop experiment #2 was a success...
I wrote up an extensive and (if I do say so myself) insightful peice recounting my latest HIV+ support group meeting. As an experiment I wrote it all on my new laptop that I hooked up wirelessly to my PC. Everything went fine with the actual writing until it came time to post/publish when the whole peice went *poof* and I must have panicked and somehow scorched the whole thing. Ah well, maybe later today if I'm feeling it I'll try to re-create the highlites. For now I'm Cinderella looking forward to a day of laundry and floor scrubbing. Oops! Maybe not....Neo just called inviting me to the museum.
If you can read this, blogging via laptop experiment #2 was a success...
Sunday, October 19, 2003
People suck, they truly do
While I'm watching Justice League on the Cartoon Network.
I woke up at 10 (am!) to meet someone at noon (more on that later). He was running late so I told him I would get some breakfast and meet later. I head downstairs and get to the locked (usually) street level door to the vestibule (it's too small to be a lobby). The door is propped open with a newspaper bundle upon further inspection I see that the doorknob has come off (again) and once whoever was the last to leave managed to get the door open, they placed the doorknob neatly off to the side and propped open the door. I briefly considered running back upstairs for a screwdriver to do the job myself but heck, I figured even the new "Super" could handle this job. So I headed out for breakfast and did a little shopping (not for anything specific, just shopping) and returned an hour later. Flash forward several hours and I leave again, why I don't know, although the weekends here have become decidedly unpleasant and I look for any excuse to leave (more on that later as well). By then, someone, I'm assuming the "Super" has done some sort of elaborate duct tape (I wish I was making this up) temporary repair. As I'm making my way back in to the building a thought pops into my head. My bike is stolen. I head to the area under the stairs where we stash all our bikes. I see the bikes and look for mine. No, no, no.......and no. My bike is gone. That sucks. I can't believe someone stole my bike. I quickly move directly to acceptance. It's just a posession. Just a thing. Now it's gone. Part of the reason I didn't spend hundreds of dollars on it was because I had a feeling it was going to be a temporary relationship so I haven't lost that much still.......
Let those who have done evil suffer evil upon them. I call upon the spirits of Karma and Justice to bring retribution upon thee. May the Luck Lords frown upon you. May you suffer that which you deserve.
That oughta be good for a bike induced broken leg at least.
In other news
I ended up arranging a trade via Craigslist. I was swapping my video camera which I don't use for a laptop which I have been salivating over. I exchanged many many e-mails with a man named Dimitry who seemed geniunely interested in arranging a trade. After weeks of emails (understandably, the people on Craigslist be nuts!) the trade was for today. It got postponed two hours but the swap happened. He rang my buzzer about 2pm on a Saturday afternoon and despite the fact that I already mentioned to my room mates that someone was coming over, the sound of the buzzer caused all kinds of comments and questions like a couple of Prarie Dogs signaling danger! Honestly, these last few weeks it's like a couple of old ladies moved in with me. They bicker about nonsense and make stupid comments about food and whatever TV show is on and how "that's not funny" and "that's no good" and they almost never leave hence, I've barricaded myself in my bedroom where I've hooked up the DSL line and the Digital TV line and my phone and I just stay in here and talk quietly on the phone until It's time for me to leave. Back to Dimitry, I wish I could veer into a sex story now as he was Russian and a dancer living in the East Village (!!!!!!!!!!!) but alas, he claimed to have a girlfriend. My days of tricking a "straight" guy into having sex ("dude, I was sooo drunk") are ovah. Anyhow everything went off great until I used the laptop at my local coffee shop on battery and instead of the hour and a half of battery life it claimed I would get I got about a half hour before the thing conked out. I'm trying to recharge the battery and see if it comes back to life. If not, I gave a 500 dollar camera to someone for a useless piece of shit. Funny, I didn't sense he was up to something. Hopefully, everything will be fine in the morning.
I went to CBGB's today to see the last installment of Homocorps.
I saw the Dead Betties, loud and kinda boring, Yoni (in his underware, I guess I'd fuck him but no talent at all) and Cazwell. Now that boy has got it goin on. By that I mean he's not perfect his music isn't all necessarily polished but he's obvioulsly soooo smart and extremely talented and everything he does has a little edge of humor to it. I first saw him at the Bowery Poetry Club doing just spoken word and now here and I totally love him.
Update: I left the laptop to recharge all night and got a little panicky when it didn't turn on but I fiddled with it a bit and finally disconnected the power source and hit the on/off and shazam! It's got life. Now I have to add an Ethernet connection on my PC and then a wireless adapter so I can use the laptop around the apartment. But really, it's all about being able to work at the bar outside the office and being able to do this blog outside anywhere but here. My castle high above Second Avenue has turned into a dungeon.
While I'm watching Justice League on the Cartoon Network.
I woke up at 10 (am!) to meet someone at noon (more on that later). He was running late so I told him I would get some breakfast and meet later. I head downstairs and get to the locked (usually) street level door to the vestibule (it's too small to be a lobby). The door is propped open with a newspaper bundle upon further inspection I see that the doorknob has come off (again) and once whoever was the last to leave managed to get the door open, they placed the doorknob neatly off to the side and propped open the door. I briefly considered running back upstairs for a screwdriver to do the job myself but heck, I figured even the new "Super" could handle this job. So I headed out for breakfast and did a little shopping (not for anything specific, just shopping) and returned an hour later. Flash forward several hours and I leave again, why I don't know, although the weekends here have become decidedly unpleasant and I look for any excuse to leave (more on that later as well). By then, someone, I'm assuming the "Super" has done some sort of elaborate duct tape (I wish I was making this up) temporary repair. As I'm making my way back in to the building a thought pops into my head. My bike is stolen. I head to the area under the stairs where we stash all our bikes. I see the bikes and look for mine. No, no, no.......and no. My bike is gone. That sucks. I can't believe someone stole my bike. I quickly move directly to acceptance. It's just a posession. Just a thing. Now it's gone. Part of the reason I didn't spend hundreds of dollars on it was because I had a feeling it was going to be a temporary relationship so I haven't lost that much still.......
Let those who have done evil suffer evil upon them. I call upon the spirits of Karma and Justice to bring retribution upon thee. May the Luck Lords frown upon you. May you suffer that which you deserve.
That oughta be good for a bike induced broken leg at least.
In other news
I ended up arranging a trade via Craigslist. I was swapping my video camera which I don't use for a laptop which I have been salivating over. I exchanged many many e-mails with a man named Dimitry who seemed geniunely interested in arranging a trade. After weeks of emails (understandably, the people on Craigslist be nuts!) the trade was for today. It got postponed two hours but the swap happened. He rang my buzzer about 2pm on a Saturday afternoon and despite the fact that I already mentioned to my room mates that someone was coming over, the sound of the buzzer caused all kinds of comments and questions like a couple of Prarie Dogs signaling danger! Honestly, these last few weeks it's like a couple of old ladies moved in with me. They bicker about nonsense and make stupid comments about food and whatever TV show is on and how "that's not funny" and "that's no good" and they almost never leave hence, I've barricaded myself in my bedroom where I've hooked up the DSL line and the Digital TV line and my phone and I just stay in here and talk quietly on the phone until It's time for me to leave. Back to Dimitry, I wish I could veer into a sex story now as he was Russian and a dancer living in the East Village (!!!!!!!!!!!) but alas, he claimed to have a girlfriend. My days of tricking a "straight" guy into having sex ("dude, I was sooo drunk") are ovah. Anyhow everything went off great until I used the laptop at my local coffee shop on battery and instead of the hour and a half of battery life it claimed I would get I got about a half hour before the thing conked out. I'm trying to recharge the battery and see if it comes back to life. If not, I gave a 500 dollar camera to someone for a useless piece of shit. Funny, I didn't sense he was up to something. Hopefully, everything will be fine in the morning.
I went to CBGB's today to see the last installment of Homocorps.
I saw the Dead Betties, loud and kinda boring, Yoni (in his underware, I guess I'd fuck him but no talent at all) and Cazwell. Now that boy has got it goin on. By that I mean he's not perfect his music isn't all necessarily polished but he's obvioulsly soooo smart and extremely talented and everything he does has a little edge of humor to it. I first saw him at the Bowery Poetry Club doing just spoken word and now here and I totally love him.
Update: I left the laptop to recharge all night and got a little panicky when it didn't turn on but I fiddled with it a bit and finally disconnected the power source and hit the on/off and shazam! It's got life. Now I have to add an Ethernet connection on my PC and then a wireless adapter so I can use the laptop around the apartment. But really, it's all about being able to work at the bar outside the office and being able to do this blog outside anywhere but here. My castle high above Second Avenue has turned into a dungeon.
Friday, October 17, 2003
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
E-Mail to Neo from me
I wanted to finish the thought on the phone. I was really surprised to hear from one of the guys that his TCell count and viral load fluctuate wildly all on their own and he's still not taking medication. Had I not heard this and experienced a sudden change I might have been talked into starting medication before it was necessary.
But I wanted to go back and talk about what you said about not pulling back the aggressive side to my personality while also encouraging me to try and quiet the "mothering" side to it. You can't have it both ways. It seems I need to do some work in learning to accept the aggressive parts of my personality. I've always acknowledged it but that doesn't mean I'm still not a little.....I don't know.....embarrassed by it. I'm smart. And I express myself verbally pretty well. Because of that I can frequently get people to do what I want. Or make them think that's what they decided. And I use that ability frequently but it does make me uncomfortable because it smacks of manipulation. I make myself uncomfortable sometimes. But I appreciate what you said about me helping the group see it was a waste of time to schedule a meeting with a nutritionist. When I think of it in those terms it doesn't seem so bad.
However, having said that, you have to understand that you can't ask me to accept my aggression and reject my ability to nurture. I understand what you're saying and why, I think. You're trying to get me to use this time in the group to really focus on me, on my needs. And I'm doing that I really am. But to try and get me to shut down my natural impulse to help is really like asking me to stop breathing. I may be embarrassed by my aggressive streak but I long ago accepted that my desire to help others and ease their pain is a core value that I thank the spirits for. And besides, I did only tell you the story of the guy who is seriously depressed. I didn't do anything for him (so far) but listen as another member of the group. Of course, I thought about how I could help him, but I didn't act on it yet. But this is who I am. I don't think I could ever be entirely focused on me. I'm not sure it's even possible for someone like me. I feel other people's pain as if it were my own sometimes. I always see my side of a situation. My gift, or my curse, is I can also see and feel yours....and his.....and that guy's over there. It's taken me many years to understand and accept this. I can't shut it off now. I don't think I want to.
I wanted to finish the thought on the phone. I was really surprised to hear from one of the guys that his TCell count and viral load fluctuate wildly all on their own and he's still not taking medication. Had I not heard this and experienced a sudden change I might have been talked into starting medication before it was necessary.
But I wanted to go back and talk about what you said about not pulling back the aggressive side to my personality while also encouraging me to try and quiet the "mothering" side to it. You can't have it both ways. It seems I need to do some work in learning to accept the aggressive parts of my personality. I've always acknowledged it but that doesn't mean I'm still not a little.....I don't know.....embarrassed by it. I'm smart. And I express myself verbally pretty well. Because of that I can frequently get people to do what I want. Or make them think that's what they decided. And I use that ability frequently but it does make me uncomfortable because it smacks of manipulation. I make myself uncomfortable sometimes. But I appreciate what you said about me helping the group see it was a waste of time to schedule a meeting with a nutritionist. When I think of it in those terms it doesn't seem so bad.
However, having said that, you have to understand that you can't ask me to accept my aggression and reject my ability to nurture. I understand what you're saying and why, I think. You're trying to get me to use this time in the group to really focus on me, on my needs. And I'm doing that I really am. But to try and get me to shut down my natural impulse to help is really like asking me to stop breathing. I may be embarrassed by my aggressive streak but I long ago accepted that my desire to help others and ease their pain is a core value that I thank the spirits for. And besides, I did only tell you the story of the guy who is seriously depressed. I didn't do anything for him (so far) but listen as another member of the group. Of course, I thought about how I could help him, but I didn't act on it yet. But this is who I am. I don't think I could ever be entirely focused on me. I'm not sure it's even possible for someone like me. I feel other people's pain as if it were my own sometimes. I always see my side of a situation. My gift, or my curse, is I can also see and feel yours....and his.....and that guy's over there. It's taken me many years to understand and accept this. I can't shut it off now. I don't think I want to.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
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Friday, October 10, 2003
This is cool.
I didn't mention it before because it came together really fast. I started attending a discussion group for newly diagnosed HIV positive men. We'll be meeting every Tuesday for 10 weeks. It's a relatively open discussion with two facilitators I guess to jump in should things go all wonky or need intervention. I'm planning on recounting everything here as best I can but I promise I won't reveal anything to identify anyone in the group except for myself. There are 10 guys in the group and as always in this type of setting I am stunned by the diversity. I should know by now that 10 people = 10 stories but I'm always surprised not by the similarities we share (there are many) but by the differences. Everyone has their own reality. They range in age from late 20's to almost 50. Some of them are coming in being diagnosed weeks (!) ago and they have that deer in the headlights quality to them. Some just seem so very scared. Some seem to be dealing. One thing I hadn't counted on. A few are like me. Recently diagnosed but healthy enough to not be on medication. So at this point it's just bi-monthly blood tests and trying to take care of things. But a few of these guys are recently diagnosed and seriously immune compromised. One guy had started taking medication the day our group first met. Another had started medication and had suffered through some awful (for him) side effects and come out the other end already. Another tested positive and relatively healthy while his lover (in another group) tested positive and totally compromised.
I would have sex with at least three of them. Maybe four. (If you weren't wondering, I was)
So the first meeting was kind of awkward in a getting to know you here's my insides kind of way. I was way more nervous than I thought I would be but that righted itself pretty quickly. I made a promise to myself similar to the one I made when I started this diary. I am striving to be honest and genuine when I'm with the group. To tell the truth as I see and feel it. I've also made a promise to myself not to care about how I "appear". Not to think about what they think about me. I failed miserably. I was totally aware of how I think I sounded. The only thing I succeeded in was not caring. I felt like this Depak Chopra kind of new age mystic I've read too much self help kind of group hug guy. Because I totally am right now.
Case in point: We touched on a variety of topics that I know we'll get more in depth on later. But the thing that stood out (for me) in this session was how much some of the guys are focused on the future. What will the medication (when I have to go on it) do to me? I'm afraid of that wasted face I might get from being sick. I heard you can get a humpback (I swear!) from certain meds. What if I lose my job? My insurance?. So here I go spouting off about how we've been given a great gift in a way. When I moved to NYC in 1987 (!) the AIDS pandemic was raging. At that time, people were dropping like flies. They would get sick and be dead in six months. It was so frightening. And it was then that I first faced questions about my own mortality. I wasn't even 30 yet and seriously considering how I felt about dying. And that was the gift. Because I don't believe that most people (or most straight men) get to that point until they are well into their 60's or later or ever. It explains a lot of the horrible things people do to each other. But if you take the time to understand that death is real and always a possibility, indeed you get no guarantees when you leave the house every day that you're coming back, and you make your peace with that fact. The fear will go away. You will see that an awareness of your own mortality is a great gift. That your daily life is the reward. And to spend time worrying about things that may happen if you might go on medication and you might get hit by a falling piano if you maybe walk down a certain street is just so much wasted energy. If you're lucky, the future will unfold no matter what you do. Just wait for it, and enjoy the present. Here, have a flower. Tra-la.
Just so we're clear, this was a bad thing right? Not just a fun date?
I didn't mention it before because it came together really fast. I started attending a discussion group for newly diagnosed HIV positive men. We'll be meeting every Tuesday for 10 weeks. It's a relatively open discussion with two facilitators I guess to jump in should things go all wonky or need intervention. I'm planning on recounting everything here as best I can but I promise I won't reveal anything to identify anyone in the group except for myself. There are 10 guys in the group and as always in this type of setting I am stunned by the diversity. I should know by now that 10 people = 10 stories but I'm always surprised not by the similarities we share (there are many) but by the differences. Everyone has their own reality. They range in age from late 20's to almost 50. Some of them are coming in being diagnosed weeks (!) ago and they have that deer in the headlights quality to them. Some just seem so very scared. Some seem to be dealing. One thing I hadn't counted on. A few are like me. Recently diagnosed but healthy enough to not be on medication. So at this point it's just bi-monthly blood tests and trying to take care of things. But a few of these guys are recently diagnosed and seriously immune compromised. One guy had started taking medication the day our group first met. Another had started medication and had suffered through some awful (for him) side effects and come out the other end already. Another tested positive and relatively healthy while his lover (in another group) tested positive and totally compromised.
I would have sex with at least three of them. Maybe four. (If you weren't wondering, I was)
So the first meeting was kind of awkward in a getting to know you here's my insides kind of way. I was way more nervous than I thought I would be but that righted itself pretty quickly. I made a promise to myself similar to the one I made when I started this diary. I am striving to be honest and genuine when I'm with the group. To tell the truth as I see and feel it. I've also made a promise to myself not to care about how I "appear". Not to think about what they think about me. I failed miserably. I was totally aware of how I think I sounded. The only thing I succeeded in was not caring. I felt like this Depak Chopra kind of new age mystic I've read too much self help kind of group hug guy. Because I totally am right now.
Case in point: We touched on a variety of topics that I know we'll get more in depth on later. But the thing that stood out (for me) in this session was how much some of the guys are focused on the future. What will the medication (when I have to go on it) do to me? I'm afraid of that wasted face I might get from being sick. I heard you can get a humpback (I swear!) from certain meds. What if I lose my job? My insurance?. So here I go spouting off about how we've been given a great gift in a way. When I moved to NYC in 1987 (!) the AIDS pandemic was raging. At that time, people were dropping like flies. They would get sick and be dead in six months. It was so frightening. And it was then that I first faced questions about my own mortality. I wasn't even 30 yet and seriously considering how I felt about dying. And that was the gift. Because I don't believe that most people (or most straight men) get to that point until they are well into their 60's or later or ever. It explains a lot of the horrible things people do to each other. But if you take the time to understand that death is real and always a possibility, indeed you get no guarantees when you leave the house every day that you're coming back, and you make your peace with that fact. The fear will go away. You will see that an awareness of your own mortality is a great gift. That your daily life is the reward. And to spend time worrying about things that may happen if you might go on medication and you might get hit by a falling piano if you maybe walk down a certain street is just so much wasted energy. If you're lucky, the future will unfold no matter what you do. Just wait for it, and enjoy the present. Here, have a flower. Tra-la.
Just so we're clear, this was a bad thing right? Not just a fun date?
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
At Long Last, "The Doorman Saga" (plus other tasty tidbits)
Once upon a time we had a doorman in our employ. He was a former drag queen of some renown who had decided to live a life in man drag again. He had issues. A drinking problem. He liked his pain pills which he took sporadically (when he could score them from the patrons) for a chronic hip condition that came and went. Painful hip conditions can do that, I guess. He cried often and you never ever wanted to begin a serious discussion with him after he had been drinking. You paid the price in lots of tears and hugging and half finished sentences with no real point or theme. In short, he fit right in. Bring us your damaged psyche, we'll give you a job. After a series of failed relationships (some beginning and ending in a weekend) he finally met someone that was either unaware of his problems or willing to overlook them and they are now happily cohabitating in Boston. I'm curious what their daily routine/dialogue is like but not enough to wish for fly on the wall status. Although he was never intentionally malicious, he was enough of a handful to deal with that his departure elicited a huge collective sigh of relief from both management and staff.
And so it came to pass that we began our search for not one doorman as a replacement but two. We decided that one of the mistakes we made was allowing someone to do over 50 hrs a week at the door. Especially for someone of dubious sanity. We decided to look for people wanting a second job, or supplemental income, or someone capable of fulfilling more than one position at the bar. This was my best case scenario as I have been frustrated lately. I've been forced to accept some really bad behavior in terms of people missing shifts or not doing the job I expected because we really didn't have an alternative. We are staffed so tightly that I frequently have no options when someone calls in sick or uses the all pupose "I have diahrrhea" card. they know that's not something I'm likely to ask them to prove.
So I placed an ad on Craigslist and sifted through the responses (I tend to reject people with martial arts background, you rarely have to wrestle an AARP member to the ground) and set up a day of interviews. I end up hiring a couple of younger, attractive guys that i hope will also be able to double as cocktail servers and set them up on training shifts. With the outgoing crazy person mentioned above. In retrospect a mistake. It was a very busy weekend and all manner of things went wrong. I think the highlight though was when the drunk doorman and a 75 yr old drunk regular went tumbling down the front stairs together, after which, the drunk doorman tried to hail a cab for the 75 yr old drunk regular and when the cab driver (rightly so) refused the fair, my drunk doorman sprawled out on the hood of the cab... in the rain... at 3am, and screamed that we were going to sue him. I can't imagine why neither one of them showed up for their first shift.
Back to square one and now we're really screwed because we have no doorman to schedule. Crazy has already moved to Boston. So we press various people in to service at inflated hourly rates and this time, I stay out of the hiring as I'm a little gun shy. I take my regular days off and when I come back Jabba The Drunk has hired someone to train the following night. He's hanging around the bar after he's hired which always makes me a little nervous. In addition, he apparently volunteered during his interview that he didn't drink but over the course of the evening he is clearly intoxicated. He stays until closing time. From his interview at 6pm. Not good. Not good at all. But I ignore the obvious red flags and besides, he dutifully shows up on time for his training shift and quite frankly, he's a body. He's got an "I'm insane" pasted on grimace/smile and no ass at all but he's a body. About 45 minutes into my shift the phone rings and my new serial killer informs me that I have a phone call. It's the manager of the restaurant with the same name as ours. The conversation goes something like this:
"Hey T-- this is J-----."
"Hey J----- what's up?"
"You have a new doorman working there?"
"Well yeah, brand new he's been training for an hour or so, why?"
"Well, we have a problem because last night I had to throw him out of my restaurant he was sucking dick in the bathroom."
"SHUT UP!"
*peals of laughter from me*
"And the customers that we share are running down here saying they can't believe the guy I threw out is an employee of the bar. "
*guffaw* "Well, yes. That is a problem." *snicker*
Apparently, at some point in my new serial killer's evening as he was shuttling back and forth between my bar and the restaurant, he decided that it would be perfectly acceptable to recuse himself to the bathroom of a restaurant full of people and proceed to service another patron. To make matters worse he didn't even have the sense to use a stall with a lock but opted instead to just suck him off behind a door. A door that when opened allowed people about to shove a forkful of fettucine alfredo in their face to get what amounted to dinner and a show. I would have just slapped a surcharge on their checks. And to make it a really odd situation apparently being discovered by two patrons wanting to use the bathroom for what it's meant for did nothing to disuade him from his mission. Even after J----- intervened and told him to drop the cock he expressed a desire to get a face full of man milk first. A textbook example of Inappropriate Public Behavior. And a clear violation of the Never Shit where you Eat rule. As hilarious as I found the entire episode I knew I had to fire this whack job but now the question is how big a whack job is he? I didn't want to pull him off the door and cause a scene and what if he totally didn't remember it happening? After all, he greeted J----- as if nothing happened when he came over (to check and make sure it really was the same guy). So I opted to be a management pussy and let him train till about 2 am (instead of till closing. I was really not comfortable being in the bar after we closed with this guy) and then let him off. I fired him over the phone the next day. He didn't sound surprised. I guess he figured he'd just act as if nothing happened and hope for the best. I said something about making a bad judgement call immediately after being hired and what could we expect from him after he got comfortable. But what I really wanted to say was "Man, explain to me what process went on in your head. How in the world did you manage to justify that by any stretch of the imagination it was a good idea to go down to a business affiliated with the one that just hired you not two hours ago and cause a scandalous scene that everyone would talk about by slobbing the knob of a total stranger in a crowded restaurant? What the fuck is disconnected in your head that didn't go "Hang on, could this adversely affect my employment prospects"? Do people really get so led around by their dicks that this kind of behavior is common?
At any rate I ended up re-posting the ad on line and interviewed another round of applicants. Just to be a little safer this time, Jabba is going to interview my favorites and hopefully, we can come to a consensus and hire (relatively) stable people. They have to be a little fucked up just to fit in. Want to know a secret? I usually hire people I want to sleep with. I never have, as I seem to be among the minority of men who hears what my dick is saying but ignore it anyway. I just feel that if I have to be around people 50 hrs a week, being sexually attracted to them makes it more bearable. And besides, I find I can forgive them faster when they fuck up if I'm wondering what his face looks like when he cums.
In other news:
I am so not enjoying having another room mate. More specifically this room mate but really, I guess it could be anyone. You never know how important something is until you lose it. In this case, it's my daytime television. He watches SportsCenter in the morning. I opt for House Invaders. He tends to fall asleep (!) every afternoon around 3pm with an ABC soap on. I prefer Call for Help. He likes to talk either to me or the TV during the day let alone that I have tried to demonstrate that I can't speak at all until I've had one cup of coffee minimum. I prefer two before attempting anything but monosyllabic efforts. I suppose I would be more inclined to talk if we had more to talk about but quite honestly, it's not that I dislike him but he is just not someone I would choose by any stretch of the imagination to be a friend. So aside from some ordinary non commital pleasantries I see no reason to really speak. He saves grease from cooking in a coffee cup. Park that trailer over here, Bubba Joe. He has supposedly landed two jobs the details of which I find very suspect. Did I mention that the first time rent was due since he moved in he couldn't pay it? Who moves to NYC with absolutely no money? People who declare bankruptcy in Rhode Island and walk away from 30 Thousand $$$ in debt, that's who. So yesterday, I leave to run some errands and notice (not significantly) that something's cooking on the stove. I hit the Kinko's, the hardware store, the new Ricky's (I love that overpriced store) and pick up a sandwich. (Blimpies, natch). I was gone just shy of an hour I would say. When I opened the door to the apartment I swear, for a second I thought it was on fire. The place was filled with smoke. I mean two feet of thick, hanging smoke. I realized that whatever was cooking on the stove was now burning and here comes Al Coholic from the other direction just in time to throw it in the sink. Now here's the weird part. As I'm racing around the apartment opening windows and turning on fans he's insisting that he doesn't know how this happened as he just put the pan on. I know this isn't true so my question is is this a "panic lie"? Or did he fall asleep? Or is he so out of touch with reality that he really wasn't aware that an hour had passed? And even if that was the case, how did he not realize the entire apartment was filling with a thick, choking smoke. How bad would it have gotten if I hadn't returned when I did? It's going to be a long winter.
Once upon a time we had a doorman in our employ. He was a former drag queen of some renown who had decided to live a life in man drag again. He had issues. A drinking problem. He liked his pain pills which he took sporadically (when he could score them from the patrons) for a chronic hip condition that came and went. Painful hip conditions can do that, I guess. He cried often and you never ever wanted to begin a serious discussion with him after he had been drinking. You paid the price in lots of tears and hugging and half finished sentences with no real point or theme. In short, he fit right in. Bring us your damaged psyche, we'll give you a job. After a series of failed relationships (some beginning and ending in a weekend) he finally met someone that was either unaware of his problems or willing to overlook them and they are now happily cohabitating in Boston. I'm curious what their daily routine/dialogue is like but not enough to wish for fly on the wall status. Although he was never intentionally malicious, he was enough of a handful to deal with that his departure elicited a huge collective sigh of relief from both management and staff.
And so it came to pass that we began our search for not one doorman as a replacement but two. We decided that one of the mistakes we made was allowing someone to do over 50 hrs a week at the door. Especially for someone of dubious sanity. We decided to look for people wanting a second job, or supplemental income, or someone capable of fulfilling more than one position at the bar. This was my best case scenario as I have been frustrated lately. I've been forced to accept some really bad behavior in terms of people missing shifts or not doing the job I expected because we really didn't have an alternative. We are staffed so tightly that I frequently have no options when someone calls in sick or uses the all pupose "I have diahrrhea" card. they know that's not something I'm likely to ask them to prove.
So I placed an ad on Craigslist and sifted through the responses (I tend to reject people with martial arts background, you rarely have to wrestle an AARP member to the ground) and set up a day of interviews. I end up hiring a couple of younger, attractive guys that i hope will also be able to double as cocktail servers and set them up on training shifts. With the outgoing crazy person mentioned above. In retrospect a mistake. It was a very busy weekend and all manner of things went wrong. I think the highlight though was when the drunk doorman and a 75 yr old drunk regular went tumbling down the front stairs together, after which, the drunk doorman tried to hail a cab for the 75 yr old drunk regular and when the cab driver (rightly so) refused the fair, my drunk doorman sprawled out on the hood of the cab... in the rain... at 3am, and screamed that we were going to sue him. I can't imagine why neither one of them showed up for their first shift.
Back to square one and now we're really screwed because we have no doorman to schedule. Crazy has already moved to Boston. So we press various people in to service at inflated hourly rates and this time, I stay out of the hiring as I'm a little gun shy. I take my regular days off and when I come back Jabba The Drunk has hired someone to train the following night. He's hanging around the bar after he's hired which always makes me a little nervous. In addition, he apparently volunteered during his interview that he didn't drink but over the course of the evening he is clearly intoxicated. He stays until closing time. From his interview at 6pm. Not good. Not good at all. But I ignore the obvious red flags and besides, he dutifully shows up on time for his training shift and quite frankly, he's a body. He's got an "I'm insane" pasted on grimace/smile and no ass at all but he's a body. About 45 minutes into my shift the phone rings and my new serial killer informs me that I have a phone call. It's the manager of the restaurant with the same name as ours. The conversation goes something like this:
"Hey T-- this is J-----."
"Hey J----- what's up?"
"You have a new doorman working there?"
"Well yeah, brand new he's been training for an hour or so, why?"
"Well, we have a problem because last night I had to throw him out of my restaurant he was sucking dick in the bathroom."
"SHUT UP!"
*peals of laughter from me*
"And the customers that we share are running down here saying they can't believe the guy I threw out is an employee of the bar. "
*guffaw* "Well, yes. That is a problem." *snicker*
Apparently, at some point in my new serial killer's evening as he was shuttling back and forth between my bar and the restaurant, he decided that it would be perfectly acceptable to recuse himself to the bathroom of a restaurant full of people and proceed to service another patron. To make matters worse he didn't even have the sense to use a stall with a lock but opted instead to just suck him off behind a door. A door that when opened allowed people about to shove a forkful of fettucine alfredo in their face to get what amounted to dinner and a show. I would have just slapped a surcharge on their checks. And to make it a really odd situation apparently being discovered by two patrons wanting to use the bathroom for what it's meant for did nothing to disuade him from his mission. Even after J----- intervened and told him to drop the cock he expressed a desire to get a face full of man milk first. A textbook example of Inappropriate Public Behavior. And a clear violation of the Never Shit where you Eat rule. As hilarious as I found the entire episode I knew I had to fire this whack job but now the question is how big a whack job is he? I didn't want to pull him off the door and cause a scene and what if he totally didn't remember it happening? After all, he greeted J----- as if nothing happened when he came over (to check and make sure it really was the same guy). So I opted to be a management pussy and let him train till about 2 am (instead of till closing. I was really not comfortable being in the bar after we closed with this guy) and then let him off. I fired him over the phone the next day. He didn't sound surprised. I guess he figured he'd just act as if nothing happened and hope for the best. I said something about making a bad judgement call immediately after being hired and what could we expect from him after he got comfortable. But what I really wanted to say was "Man, explain to me what process went on in your head. How in the world did you manage to justify that by any stretch of the imagination it was a good idea to go down to a business affiliated with the one that just hired you not two hours ago and cause a scandalous scene that everyone would talk about by slobbing the knob of a total stranger in a crowded restaurant? What the fuck is disconnected in your head that didn't go "Hang on, could this adversely affect my employment prospects"? Do people really get so led around by their dicks that this kind of behavior is common?
At any rate I ended up re-posting the ad on line and interviewed another round of applicants. Just to be a little safer this time, Jabba is going to interview my favorites and hopefully, we can come to a consensus and hire (relatively) stable people. They have to be a little fucked up just to fit in. Want to know a secret? I usually hire people I want to sleep with. I never have, as I seem to be among the minority of men who hears what my dick is saying but ignore it anyway. I just feel that if I have to be around people 50 hrs a week, being sexually attracted to them makes it more bearable. And besides, I find I can forgive them faster when they fuck up if I'm wondering what his face looks like when he cums.
In other news:
I am so not enjoying having another room mate. More specifically this room mate but really, I guess it could be anyone. You never know how important something is until you lose it. In this case, it's my daytime television. He watches SportsCenter in the morning. I opt for House Invaders. He tends to fall asleep (!) every afternoon around 3pm with an ABC soap on. I prefer Call for Help. He likes to talk either to me or the TV during the day let alone that I have tried to demonstrate that I can't speak at all until I've had one cup of coffee minimum. I prefer two before attempting anything but monosyllabic efforts. I suppose I would be more inclined to talk if we had more to talk about but quite honestly, it's not that I dislike him but he is just not someone I would choose by any stretch of the imagination to be a friend. So aside from some ordinary non commital pleasantries I see no reason to really speak. He saves grease from cooking in a coffee cup. Park that trailer over here, Bubba Joe. He has supposedly landed two jobs the details of which I find very suspect. Did I mention that the first time rent was due since he moved in he couldn't pay it? Who moves to NYC with absolutely no money? People who declare bankruptcy in Rhode Island and walk away from 30 Thousand $$$ in debt, that's who. So yesterday, I leave to run some errands and notice (not significantly) that something's cooking on the stove. I hit the Kinko's, the hardware store, the new Ricky's (I love that overpriced store) and pick up a sandwich. (Blimpies, natch). I was gone just shy of an hour I would say. When I opened the door to the apartment I swear, for a second I thought it was on fire. The place was filled with smoke. I mean two feet of thick, hanging smoke. I realized that whatever was cooking on the stove was now burning and here comes Al Coholic from the other direction just in time to throw it in the sink. Now here's the weird part. As I'm racing around the apartment opening windows and turning on fans he's insisting that he doesn't know how this happened as he just put the pan on. I know this isn't true so my question is is this a "panic lie"? Or did he fall asleep? Or is he so out of touch with reality that he really wasn't aware that an hour had passed? And even if that was the case, how did he not realize the entire apartment was filling with a thick, choking smoke. How bad would it have gotten if I hadn't returned when I did? It's going to be a long winter.
Monday, October 06, 2003
Yeah, ... and?
So a lot of people are wondering how a person could keep a 425 lb tiger in his apartment building without anyone knowing about it. But that's the point. And that's why I heart NY. I'm sure everyone knew. You don't go running to animal control or the cops just because your neighbor has a tiger (and an alligator) in his apartment. You just pass him in the hall and think "hmmm there's the Tiger Guy. I wish I had a five bedroom apartment. I wonder what he pays for rent? .......Should I hit the tanning booth?"
So a lot of people are wondering how a person could keep a 425 lb tiger in his apartment building without anyone knowing about it. But that's the point. And that's why I heart NY. I'm sure everyone knew. You don't go running to animal control or the cops just because your neighbor has a tiger (and an alligator) in his apartment. You just pass him in the hall and think "hmmm there's the Tiger Guy. I wish I had a five bedroom apartment. I wonder what he pays for rent? .......Should I hit the tanning booth?"
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
I'm Johnny One-note Lately
I'm sorry. It appears that I'm stuck in a thread for one more day. I was planning on relating "the doorman saga". but I just can't let this pass. Normally, I wouldn't comment on a private e-mail (that's a lie, I would) but since it was posted on a public web site I have to assume all parties know that it's fair game. Also, normally I might just link to the blog in question but I want to make sure my venom hits it's mark. And no, this is not going to be me advocating bareback sex I would never do that. This is about me standing up for myself and a lot of other people trying to carve out some workable rules in today's confusing time.Here is the passage that has had me ready to rip all day:
A reader writes:
"During my stay in London we had orgies just about every day -- one went on for about 8 days, non-stop. Not since the disastrous 70's had I witnessed so much barebacking., I'm talking 99.9%. The only people who did not bareback were a couple of escort buddies who flew in from the USA and myself. I, like you, chose to observe and spent 8 days jacking off - something I prefer anyway. Not messy and I know when to do what. The British boys told me later that they all knew they were poz so it didn't matter. Then one, a 19 year old beauty who was taking it up the ass learned that he was the recipient of the white death juice. Well, we Americans were mighty upset that he wasn't told by the guy who topped him and his response was, 'why are you guys upset? I'm the one that should be pissed and I'm not.'
Hi. you're an asshole.
First, this stooge manages to work into an already infuriating paragraph the fact that he has some "escort buddies." Big fuckin deal, pal. You know a couple of hookers. Who the fuck doesn't? And who cares?
Second, you went to an orgy that lasted 8 days? 8 days? Really? Please, girl. No fag I know could concentrate on anything for 8 days. Including sex. And then he manages to let us know that if we do believe he was at an 8 day orgy that he spent the entire 8 days jerking off. Oooooooooooh marry me! Hey, what's your T-Shirt say?
"I went to London and all I came back with was a nasty blister on my cock."
You spent 8 days at an orgy jacking off? I got two words for ya. Art museum. L is for freakin loser!
And then just to make sure I totally hate him he uses a lame ass phrase like "white death juice". I might let it pass if I thought he was using exageration for effect but I just think he's a fuckin lame ass muthafucka. It's cum dickwad. And whenever possible I like to make guys cum. I like to see them stiffen and moan and then that big breath and release just as they shoot the first of what hopefully, is a hot load. I usually avoid getting any in me, usually. But it's not fuckin acid. A wet wipe usually does the job. And some cum, unfortunately, can transmit a virus. A bug. A virus that left untreated can kill you. If left untreated. But with treatment, and a measure of self-care, it probably won't. at least for a good long while. Something to be avoided? Sure, if you can you should try. But I'm not dying shit head. Not now. And not anytime soon. At this point, it's more likely I'll drop dead in about 30 years from the crappy heart that runs in my family. In the meantime I'll just go on living thank you very much. as will Neo. And The Hellcat. And a lot of my other friends who are holding down jobs and paying rent and breaking up with boyfriends and graduating from schools and saving money for retirement. I'll keep my opinions of a bareback orgy to myself. But about the 19 yr old beauty that was supposedly "killed" by the big nasty poz men. You go to an orgy and see 99.9% of the men there fucking raw. Were I to bend over and let some man I didn't know work his lubricated bare cock up my hole, I would just go ahead and assume he was poz and take my chances from there.
In other news:
It's going to take me quite a bit longer to put together a new site. I've decided to build one from the ground up and then publish it from there. Bit by bit, putting it together.....
I'm sorry. It appears that I'm stuck in a thread for one more day. I was planning on relating "the doorman saga". but I just can't let this pass. Normally, I wouldn't comment on a private e-mail (that's a lie, I would) but since it was posted on a public web site I have to assume all parties know that it's fair game. Also, normally I might just link to the blog in question but I want to make sure my venom hits it's mark. And no, this is not going to be me advocating bareback sex I would never do that. This is about me standing up for myself and a lot of other people trying to carve out some workable rules in today's confusing time.Here is the passage that has had me ready to rip all day:
A reader writes:
"During my stay in London we had orgies just about every day -- one went on for about 8 days, non-stop. Not since the disastrous 70's had I witnessed so much barebacking., I'm talking 99.9%. The only people who did not bareback were a couple of escort buddies who flew in from the USA and myself. I, like you, chose to observe and spent 8 days jacking off - something I prefer anyway. Not messy and I know when to do what. The British boys told me later that they all knew they were poz so it didn't matter. Then one, a 19 year old beauty who was taking it up the ass learned that he was the recipient of the white death juice. Well, we Americans were mighty upset that he wasn't told by the guy who topped him and his response was, 'why are you guys upset? I'm the one that should be pissed and I'm not.'
Hi. you're an asshole.
First, this stooge manages to work into an already infuriating paragraph the fact that he has some "escort buddies." Big fuckin deal, pal. You know a couple of hookers. Who the fuck doesn't? And who cares?
Second, you went to an orgy that lasted 8 days? 8 days? Really? Please, girl. No fag I know could concentrate on anything for 8 days. Including sex. And then he manages to let us know that if we do believe he was at an 8 day orgy that he spent the entire 8 days jerking off. Oooooooooooh marry me! Hey, what's your T-Shirt say?
"I went to London and all I came back with was a nasty blister on my cock."
You spent 8 days at an orgy jacking off? I got two words for ya. Art museum. L is for freakin loser!
And then just to make sure I totally hate him he uses a lame ass phrase like "white death juice". I might let it pass if I thought he was using exageration for effect but I just think he's a fuckin lame ass muthafucka. It's cum dickwad. And whenever possible I like to make guys cum. I like to see them stiffen and moan and then that big breath and release just as they shoot the first of what hopefully, is a hot load. I usually avoid getting any in me, usually. But it's not fuckin acid. A wet wipe usually does the job. And some cum, unfortunately, can transmit a virus. A bug. A virus that left untreated can kill you. If left untreated. But with treatment, and a measure of self-care, it probably won't. at least for a good long while. Something to be avoided? Sure, if you can you should try. But I'm not dying shit head. Not now. And not anytime soon. At this point, it's more likely I'll drop dead in about 30 years from the crappy heart that runs in my family. In the meantime I'll just go on living thank you very much. as will Neo. And The Hellcat. And a lot of my other friends who are holding down jobs and paying rent and breaking up with boyfriends and graduating from schools and saving money for retirement. I'll keep my opinions of a bareback orgy to myself. But about the 19 yr old beauty that was supposedly "killed" by the big nasty poz men. You go to an orgy and see 99.9% of the men there fucking raw. Were I to bend over and let some man I didn't know work his lubricated bare cock up my hole, I would just go ahead and assume he was poz and take my chances from there.
In other news:
It's going to take me quite a bit longer to put together a new site. I've decided to build one from the ground up and then publish it from there. Bit by bit, putting it together.....
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