From The Ashes ...

I Shaved

Well, my balls and butthole, sure. But I meant my face. I'm clean shaven again. No mas salt and pepper goatee. I think I grew it at least a year ago so it's been "my look" for quite some time. It was surprising all day to look in the mirror and see a different face looking back. My upper lip is thinner than I remember. And my buzzcut head totally doesn't work for me anymore. I'm growing my hair back. I'll let it grow for a while to see how much grey I've got in there. I'll decide if it needs some color in a couple of months. This is actually more significant than it sounds. It's partly an outgrowth of the new job. (New beginnings. etc.) But it feels like I'm either developing another new personality (this would be my eleventh, give or take), or perhaps an old persona is taking control. Further proof, all the skin on my palms has been peeling off. No cause for alarm, it's happened dozens of times throughout my adult life. I molt. Either way, a new/old me is braking out. I must need something my soul is providing me, even though I'm not sure what it is yet. In the meantime, I've got a clean smooth butthole to keep me occupied.

"Hello, my name is Tom, and I'm a shopaholic."

"Hi, Tom!"

Seriously, I left the house this afternoon to drop off a prescription and pick up some lunch. My feet, in some sort of a trance, walked me to 23rd St, where I found myself entering Housing Works. I've mentioned before what a kick ass thrift shop it is, and the fact that the proceeds go to people with AIDS keeps me as a regular customer. Besides, since they take donations from other fags that feel as I do, where else are you going to find an Armani sport jacket for 50 dollars? Anyway, of all the luck they were having a fall clearance and all men's clothing was half off. Darn! Well OK, I'll have a little look. I left with a (not Armani) sport jacket (dark grey with blue pinstripes) and two fall sweaters that I could not have seen myself buying previously. The new personality must need clothes. Total cost to me: 21 dollars.

After lunch and a trip to the gym, I headed down to the local Martha Shack on Astor Place. I was looking to replace the decorative pillows on my bed. They've ripped and are unstuffing at an alarming pace. And we know how painful unstuffing too fast can be. Surprisingly, Miss Martha's current selection of decorative pillows is woefully inadequate. A prison project if I ever saw one. Use that cheap lesbian labor, Martha girl! So I settled for replacing the sneaker socks The Hellcat stole from me. Along the way home I decided to stop in at the new Filene's Basement on Union Square. It's far and away bigger than the Filene's I've been shopping at. On the way up, exhibiting enormous self-control, I purposely didn't even glance at the DFW. I don't need shoes. Unfortunately, the Filene's selection of sheets and towels is pretty good, but their decorative pillow selection is even worse than Miss Martha's. No luck there. So would it hurt to check out the menswear? No it would not. Again, some sort of a narcoleptic trance ensued. After starting out in men's shirts, I blacked out. Only to awaken again in men's clearance shoes. Shoes! How could this be? And what's this box in my hand? Why, it's shoes! But wait. It's a color (concord, yes concord) I don't have. And they're shiny! The gays like shiny. And they were marked down twice to $39.99. And now they've made it to clearance and are 40% off of that. I must have them. I am powerless against the clearance shoes. I finished with a belt. And not just any belt. A reversible Kenneth Cole belt. Reversible as in black on one side brown on the other. That's fucking brilliant. Seriously, I am so impressed I may buy several to give to friends. A black and brown belt are essential to anyone's wardrobe. To find both in one belt for $16.99? Kudos to the Kenneth Cole design team.

It's been about a week since I started the testosterone replacement therapy. On the surface, I can't say I feel appreciably different. However I did notice two things. One little, one most definitely not. The little thing, I'm finding myself to be seriously more energetic at the gym. I don't get tired. A half hour on the Stairmonster leaves me feeling barely winded. I do fifteen reps of an exercise when I usually can only do ten. And I only stop because I feel like, well, I should. I wrap up my workout not because I'm worked out, but because I have other things to do. The big thing happened this morning. I woke up around 10:30 and could have dozed longer but I didn't want to waste the day off. As I swung my legs out of the bed and stepped into my slippers, I noticed it. Morning wood. Hello old friend. I confess, I didn't really miss you until my doctor asked me about you. Only then did I realize you were gone. But there you were tenting out my pajama bottoms so strong and proud. On a side note, I've been (annoyingly?) aware of my cock all day. Coming home from the grocery I felt like I had a mild case of blue balls, even though I know I cleaned the pipes last night before bed.

Coming up - I think I'm going to book a massage for tomorrow evening. It will definitely be an erotic massage. How erotic it gets I will have to tell you later. Tomorrow's post title: Finger Fucked at the Gym