I have a new home...

I have officially moved over to Wordpress... From now on, you can find me at my new home:

http://donutsinheaven.wordpress.com/


See you there, I hope!

Exporting posts?

I'm thinking of following the masses away from Blogger and into Wordpress... And I heard that there's a way to export your posts from Blogger to Wordpress seamlessly.

Is that true? Does anyone know how to do it, other than doing it one at a time? I haven't upgraded to the new Blogger, and I heard it'd would have been an issue had I done that.

Help?

Flushed

So, is it really a place for friends?

I just went through my friends list. I had 273... but I knew each and every one of them in one way or another... I am not a friend collector nor do I accept requests from just anyone. Plus, I use MySpace for my clients as well, not just for friends.

Well, I deleted some deadwood or people who I no longer consider friends. Oddly, there were a few "Profile Deleted" big red exes in the list that I deleted too. Hopefully it wasn't a glitch in MySpace and I deleted friends who shouldn't have been deleted. If I did, "Oopsy."

It felt nice saying "Sayonara" to some people who caused grief or ended up annoying me in some way. I hope they notice they've been de-Friended. LOL, so funny how people take MySpace so seriously.

But then again, wasn't it just a week or so ago that I was whining about being de-Blogrolled?

Hypocrisy at its best.

It started out as a pit...

I awoke this morning to the slight tickle in my throat. It felt as if I had swallowed a tiny porcupine that was lodged just past my uvula. And I knew what that meant... It meant, "FUUUUUUCK, I'm sick!!"

I played it off all day as I worked from home. When it started to bug me, I drank some water. When it started to bug more more, I ate some food. When it started to get scratchy, I ate some candy. Thank God it didn't keep progressing cuz at the rate I was going, I would have been eating whole steaks and turkeys by day's end.

But it didn't really take hold until Heroes started. I laid down on the couch, grabbed my bright red blankey, and snuggled with the pillow on my chest and Fletcher at my feet. (Unlike some of you, I didn't have a boy or girl to snuggle with... *sigh*).

Then it hit. The Fever. My head started swimming and I started getting moist, but not in the "good" way. My eyes watered but didn't tear, and I felt myself getting mushier and hotter... again, not in a good way.

I sat up to get some water... It felt good but my throat, it was burning. That tiny porcupine that had lodged itself in there last night must've doubled in size cuz it felt like it was about to explode out of my neck.

Once Heroes ended (another establishing episode, so it wasn't terribly exciting), I slipped my head deeper into the red blankey and fell asleep.

When I awoke to the phone (it was Daryl, himself quite sick since last Wednesday, like Gitsie), I think the porcupine had pitched a tent and set a campfire in there... I could feel it burning... and I could tell it was comfortable there, and going to stick around for a long time. Ugh, I hate being sick.

So it's now 12:24am and I'm wondering if I should take a trip to the 24 hour CVS in Hoboken (just down the street). I probably should, but I don't wanna go out there...

It's cold, damn it. Like, really cold.

**********

And for those of you who are curious about Noa... Head over to Joey's site... He dug up a vid of one of his singles from South Africa. You can see him pretty much nekkid like I've seen him... Egads.

"OMG... His codpiece - it's METAL!!"

I stood on the edge of the stairs, just mere feet from where Noa would be performing his single (I refrain to put "hit" in front of that). I could see him getting ready behind the beaded curtain, his silhouette accentuated by the ambient lighting behind him.

The DJ blared "Fergilicious" to the adoring swoon of twink gay boys all over the dance floor, freaking out as if they had never heard J.J. Fad's "Supersonic", of which it's a direct rip off.

I couldn't wait to get the performance over with so I could go home. It was snowy and the club was not too busy. And I could just sense it was gonna be lame.

And my senses didn't fail me.

As the opening notes of his song came blaring through the loudspeakers, he emerged from behind the silver-beaded curtains...

With a black tanktop that accentuated the muscles that he had been working so hard on, he looked not too bad... except he had on... a METAL CODPIECE!!

I almost choked on my own beer - a spray of beer droplets shot from my mouth like a lawn sprinkler.

And it went downhill from there.

He started singing his single to an array of boys who stopped dancing to stare mesmerizingly into that shiny metal codpiece. Like something out of a sci-fi film, or more appropriate, a lizard-man movie, his codpiece had scales, like the belly of a lizard. He bumped and gyrated to an unswayed audience... their jaws as slacked as mine.

Three minutes and fourteen seconds later, it was over. And promptly, as if to shock the audience back to reality, the DJ spun JT's "Sexyback" to which a squeal emanated from the crowd. And then the crowd behind me lost all memory of the freakshow that went on just mere minutes before.

**************

"Hey, I thought you did well," I said to him as I walked through the clinkly metal beaded curtain.

"It sucked and you know it did," he said, shoving his metal codpiece into his bag.

"It didn't... suuuuuuuck," I replied. "It was just... I dunno... difficult?" I diplomatically tried to search for another work, but for the time being, "difficult" stuck.

"Thanks, but I know it was awful. It just wasn't... right."

I handed him a vodka tonic as a congratulatory "It's over" drink, but it felt more like a pity concession. I felt sheepish as I handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said as he slug it down.

Just then, his other friends came back, all obviously lying and telling him how great he was.

I patted him on the back and said, "I gotta get going... with the snow, and the roads, and it's late..." I tried to think of every excuse in the book but neglected to tell him that my water broke or that I lost my chinchilla and had to find him.

"I know, you should go," he said as he gave me a hug. When we pulled back, he held me in front of him, and went to kiss me... on the lips.

I demurely turned my cheek quickly and he planted his kiss right below my left eye.

I think he got the hint. "I'll call you this week. Maybe we can hang out... catch up... who knows?"

"Yeah, call me," I replied as I zipped up my hoodie. I said my adieus to everyone and exited the club.

For once, I was excited to walk out into the bitter cold... better to be out in the punishing elements than be massaging the damaged ego of a popstar and his failed performance.

Sunday night... Snow... and a Tale of Two Boys...

It's snowing outside... not like the picture above, but snowing nonetheless. We're supposed to get two or three inches tonight. Not enough to be fun, but enough to make it treacherous.

And unfortunately for me, I have to head into NYC to see one of the guys I was seeing about a year and a half ago, Noa... Yep, that's him to the left of this text. He's a gay pop star and he's trying to make it here in the U.S. (he made a bit of a stir in South Africa before coming here). It kinda brings back memories...

Flashback: two years ago
Location: The East Village, NYC

"You know what," he asked as we walked down Fifth Street between Avenue A and B, heading to a bar called Crazy Cow to meet his friends.

"What," I replied, as he slipped his hand into the pocket of my pea coat, grabbing my hand tightly.

"I love you."

"Wait, you what????" I asked incredulously.

"I love you," he reiterated as he gripped by hand tighter.

I looked up at him, and who I thought was a kinda cute guy became a kinda scary and alien weirdo. "But I only met you about two hours ago."

"But did you ever get that feeling like you know something immediately, like there's no question about it?"

"Yeah, but I usually keep it to myself until I'm sure," I retorted quickly, secretly trying to figure a way out of this... as well as trying to pull my hand away from his grip without him noticing.

"Well, I do and I need to say it. I love you."



Return to the present...



So tonight, I'm going to the club... alone. Daryl's sick... Gitsie has no voice... STEVE!!! is already in his jammies... and I have to go... to show my support. He's been calling me since last week, wanting to see me again... wanting to... who knows.

But where am I in all of this?

I dunno. A lot of interesting things have happened in the last week. While Daryl and Gitsie recovered from random flu attacks (both have been sick since Wednesday), I've gone out largely either by myself or with friends who aren't my usual hanger outers...

Take for instance, yesterday...



Flashback: Saturday afternoon
Location: Hoboken, NJ



I parked my car by the ATM, needing to deposit three checks from clients. Shutting my door and looking at the deposit envelope, I walked into someone who also wasn't looking.

"Oh sorry," I said immediately after my shoulder slammed into the stranger's chest.

"Oh, sorry as well," he replied, looking up.

Immediately, a moment of recognition hit me like a bucket of cold water. "Stephen [note: not his real name]," I said, unassuredly. This stranger looked exactly like an old friend of mine from college.

"Yeah, do I know you," he responded, a baffled look befell his features.

"Stephen, it's me... Rey... from Boston College. Remember?" Stephen was an R.A. of one of the dorms on my campus when I was a freshman. Like most R.A.'s who were assigned freshman dorms, Stephen was a nerd... He didn't really look like a nerd. He was cute-ish in a puck-ish kinda way. About 5'10", built like a brick, light brown hair and grey eyes... resembling Coldplay Chris Martin's dorky brother.

"Hmmm, Rey... Rey... Oh wait. You're Rey????" His jaw dropped and he covered his mouth. "You look like you're not even out of college yet. You look so... young," he said unconvinced.

"Nope, it's Rey... I haven't changed much."

We started walking down the street - the undeposited checks forgotten in my pocket. We caught up with each other and all my old college buds. He still keeps in contact with my ex-roommates, something that I don't do... I'm bad like that.

Three hours later, I had to head home to walk the dog. As the night wore on, it turned yet into another night that Daryl and Gitsie weren't going out. So I called Stephen to see what he was doing.

"Sure, let's hang out," he replied, enthusiastically on the phone.

We went to a local Irish pub around the corner from where he lived. We had a few beers... and then the conversation came up.

"So, whatever happened to the girl you were dating in college," he asked.

"We broke up. We were engaged for a few years, but I didn't work out."

"Why, if you don't mind me asking," he said.

"Well, I told her I was pretty much gay."

Silence.

"Oh," he finally said, after an awkward moment.

"Sorry, I probably should have made something else up," I nervously laughed.

"No, that's cool you said that, cuz..." He paused, stared straight into his beer. "Cuz, well, I'm gay too."

"Is everyone frickin' gay," I laughed, breaking the ice wall that had formed between us.

"Yeah, I guess. I was wondering what your deal was," he said which added a bit of tension into the air.

"My deal?"

"Well yeah, I kinda thought you were really cute," he replied.

"Sir, flattery will get you most anywhere with me, but not in my pants," I laughed, trying to defuse the awkwardness.

A few hours later and a few beers later, we were back at his apartment... naked.

******************

So here I am tonight... getting ready to head out to Myst alone... to see someone who I was "seeing" for a few weeks... He who said "I love you" just two hours after meeting me. And my phone just rang a few moments ago from someone who I knew back in college who I had just met yesterday, asking me to hang out again this week cuz he wants to get to know me again...

And where am I in all of this?

I have no clue. If I didn't have a conscience, I'd be having the time of my life. But since I do, it's weighing heavily on my head. But I should just through caution to the wind and enjoy it... It's not every day in your life that you're being pursued.

Now if I can only figure out how to get free dinners and gifts out of this all...

I'm off to NYC right now... Wish me luck.

I think I had a nightly visitor last night...

i think i was visited by an entity last night.

Some of you might recall that I investigated hauntings and ghosts and paranormal activity while I was in college. And I had become so adept at it that I could walk into a house and tell you if it was haunted. Or, like I do often especially at old abandon buildings, I can point out from a distance where there is restless energy (a.k.a. "entities", "ghosts", whatever you want to call them).

I've lived in many houses with "infestations"... but I've never felt anything in my loft ever... until last night.

Before i went to bed, i sat at my computer and answered some emails.

My ears perked up at a slight creak on my hardwood floors downstairs, and then I heard, very distinctly, the sound of someone walking around quietly.

Since all the lights were on (I don't like a dark home), I walked down the stairs without fear.

At the bottom of the stairs, Fletcher was asleep in his crate with the door open. I reached in, patted his sleepy head, and closed his cage and locked it.

i shut off the lights and went back to the computer.

While i was sitting there, i had that tell-tale feeling that someone was here... For those of you who are "sensitive", you know what I'm talking about... It's the feeling of energy and electricity... that makes the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up... and it's a quick feeling of cold.

Scientific digression:
When the body expires, the energy within can do either of two things: it can dissipate into the atmosphere (or "go to Heaven" for the religious), or it can pool (or settle in the place where the body died). And with the belief that "consciousness is energy," what this body's energy does is the basis for a haunting. If the energy pools in a spot, it collects exactly where the body died. And since it has the remnants of consciousness, it has a semblance of memory or intelligence. But for it to show itself or manifest, it needs MORE energy... live energy. So it collects it from any living thing that is in its direct vicinity. Hence, the idea of "cold spots" (when your energy is stripped from you, you immediately feel cold). And once an entity has living energy, it can appear or do things like move objects or make sounds... and it can move around, but it's tied to the spot where it originated... the place of death.

On the flipside, when energy dissipates but not completely, it can become a "wandering rogue". Which is the same as the instance above but that it isn't tied to a specific location, so it wanders... appears in places that it doesn't belong (hence, ghosts in cemetaries... by the time a person is buried, the body's 'life energy' has already dissipated, so there's no explanation for a haunted cemetary unless someone DIED in the cemetary... or a "wandering rogue").

Well, I felt the tell-tale signs and, since I didn't think it was negative entity, I just ignored it.

I went to the bathroom and started brushing my teeth, and when i turned around, Fletcher was behind me... he had gotten out of his locked cage.

i laughed and brought him back downstairs and he went right in the cage. This time, i double latched it.

Soon, i went to bed. I looked at the clock... It was 3:41am...

Occult Digression:
3:00am (regardless of time zone) is the "Devil's Hour". It is a mockery of the time in which Jesus died on the cross, which was 3:00pm. It is the general time in which most paranormal activity begins to happen in a haunting - mostly by negative entities. Benign entities can also manifest this time as well since it's a very prolific time for energy transfer.

3:33am (regardless of time zone) is known as the "Devil's minute". Sounds hokey, but this around the exact time in which many of my most vivid paranormal observances have happened. I have witnessed most of my "sightings" around this time.

I looked over at the stairs in the dark through the sheer curtains around my bed, and I could swear I could hear movement on the carpeting. But no one was there. I looked one last time, and didn't see anything, so i went to sleep... with my back to the stairs.

i woke up this morning, not remembering what had happened just a few hours before and shut off my alarm. I sat up in bed, and looked down on the floor...

Fletcher was sitting in the middle of the room... waiting for me to get up. He was jumpy and bouncy and I could tell he needed to go outside to go to the bathroom.

And then I remember that I double-locked his cage...

I walked down to look at his cage, and sure enough, the two latches were lifted and pushed all the way to one side.

There's no way he could have done that by himself... I re-checked my front door and it was locked.

And then the chill hit again...

There's something in here.

I'm changing Fletcher's name to Anita...

... Anita Lotmorcock...

I think it's very fitting.

What do ya do...

What do you when you open a can of mixed-sized peas to have with dinner and then you realized that you actually don't even like green peas... and then you remember that you bought them because you were chasing some hottie down grocery aisles, ending up in the canned veggie aisle, and you didn't want to look like you were stalking him, so you pretended to need... green peas?

Well,I made Montreal steak tonight (in honor of our moosefuckin' Canadian friends) and opened one of the cans of mixed-sized peas... and ummm, yucko. It was like biting into a spoonful of rabbit poop.

It's here!! It's here!!

.
My Fish N' Flush finally arrived!!!

Soon, this:

Will look like this:

Ruff ruff... Bow wow... Dogster scares me!

I enrolled Fletcher into Dogster as a lark. It's kinda like a Friendster for dogs. But I didn't know what I was getting into. Thinking it was a silly site where dog owners can put their dog up on it and that'd be that, I entered in Fletcher's traits, likes/dislikes, etc. I had fun with the answers... Didn't spend much time on them at all.

Within minutes, my email box started *chhhhkn* signifying that there was new mail. It was a "Puppy Request" from another corgi.

"Awww, how cute," I said to Fletcher, as I rubbed his back. "You have a friend."

And then the friend invites kept streaming in... and I kept accepting them. Almost 30 in all before I logged off.

Then the emails came in... One was from a corgi in my neighborhood. Apparently, she had seen Fletch and she thinks he's "really rad."

Another was from another Corgi named "Charlie" who lived across town from me, but his "daddy" had been to my building and saw Fletch being walked by "his daddy."

And more emails written in "puppy-speak"... Some said "Ruff!" while others said "Bow wow".

Kinda freaked me out a bit.

Then I was asked to join a "Corgi Group" and I accepted and went to the message boards. I saw one titled "Spaying and Neutering" and the dogs in there were posting about their scars, how it didn't hurt, how they kept licking their stitches but their mommies and daddies went to the store and bought "Lick-Stop" to stop them from getting too close to the surgery wounds. One wrote a harrowing account of wearing the e-collar (otherwise known as the "lampshade") and how it really scared him for two weeks because he didn't know where he was or why he was being punished. And one talked about how he's too scared to get snipped because he thinks it will change him, and he doesn't want to turn into a "zombie puppy".

It was all written by the dogs themselves in their doggie dialect. It wasn't cute... It was frightening.

I almost want to put a Puppy-proof lock on the computer so Fletcher doesn't go posting up naked pics of himself or starts chatting with any of those bitches across town. And I'm thinking of blocking that freaky-ass website.

He's too good for that.

"Where's the White-Out," he wondered as he deleted me from his Blogroll

.It's kinda a sad shock when you go to a friend's blog that once had you in their links of favorite blogs and notice that you're not in there anymore... that you've been consciously deleted from someone's blogroll. It happened to me twice tonight while I was reading my normal round of dozens of blogs... and I had just happened to glance at the blogroll on the side that I knew I was once present but have been deleted like a typo on a piece of onion paper in an old-fashioned typewriter.

Well, to be honest, for one blog I kinda expected it. We had been friends, even hanging out twice in the real world including opening my loft to him, but things went sour and then I realized that perhaps that friendship should have stayed on the internet because in the real world, we were two completely different people in two completely different places in life. And the other? We had been friends, and even hung out in NYC together, but once he returned home, we kinda lost touch... nothing negative from what I could fathom... just. lost. touch.

I rarely put stock into internet friendships. Even though I have met some of the greatest people through the blogworld, most of these friendships are just so volatile and so undependable. One minute, a blog friend is calling, emailing and texting you all day long... the next - you can almost hear them say, "Who the fuck is that?"

It's a place where you can create a mystique about you... reinvent yourself... where anyone can become an internet celebrity, hiding behind a persona that's as honest as a scripted reality show. Parts of it is real, but most of it - *POOF*

I'm actually sometimes amazed at how some folks I have met in the real world transcend their real world personalities and rise to mythical status on the internet, almost like how some kids will re-imagine themselves as hugely buff warriors or all-powerful wizards in role-playing games. It's a wonderful game of make-believe, and hopefully this exercise will help strengthen these people's self-worth so much that they can take it into the real world.

A few years back, I had gone to a club with a group of friends. Always on the lookout for people who are alone or are obviously looking to meet people but don't have the gusto to do it, I spied a guy who leaned up against the wall alone. Wondering if he was waiting for friends, I passed him by a few times. A little bit later in the evening, I saw him again... still alone... slowly moving to the fast-paced dance music... and just looking out into the crowd. I walked up to him and started talking to him. There was no ulterior motive... just a want to make friends.

"Hey, I'm Rey. How's it going?"

"Great! Nice to meet you, Rey. I'm 'Pete'," he replied, a big smile breaking out on his face.

"Why don't you come over here with my friends and hang out with us," I asked him as I led him through the crowd.

Months later, he told me that that night transformed his whole entire life. Unbeknownst to me, his mother had passed away not too long ago (his father had died just a year before her). He had no friends and he had just come out of the closet. His older brother turned his back on him, but his sister stuck with him. And that night I met him was his very first time in a gay club ever. He was unsure of himself and he was nervous, but he knew he had to do it... and he forced himself to go out. And that night, he met someone who pulled him out from his dark and lonely world...

These days, I see 'Pete' out at the clubs all the time now. He hangs out with a group of twinks who are a popular clique.

Last Friday night, Daryl, Gitsie and I were pre-gaming at this bar called Antarctica before we were headed to Don Hill's for their reinvention of the old Opaline parties I used to talk about on my old blog, My Secretive Life.

*Vrrrrr* My cell vibrated, telling me I had a text message.

"Every time I go to Don Hill's, I always think of you and how you changed my life that one night" was the message. It was from 'Pete'.

It was such a sweet message... We don't talk as much as we used to. But I know he's in good hands now... with a group of friends who genuinely like him and take care of him. And I'm happy for him.

So... wait, what does that story have to do with the story of bloggers who have turned their back on you?

Well, it's a bit of a roundabout connection, but a connection nonetheless. When I met my first group of bloggers in Fort Lauderdale last February, the blogworld was just coming into its own. We were part of a tightly-knit group of bloggers who found each other, became quick friends, and all seemed to genuinely like each other. We'd comment on each other's blogs... Skype... IM... and sometimes even phone each other. For all intents and purposes, it was a clique. There were probably 20-30 of us who knew each other, read each other's lives religiously, and really enjoyed each other's conversations. We helped each other, supported each other, and consoled each other when it was needed.

Being the welcome wagon that I have always been, I extended my hand to everyone and sometimes pulled the folks on the outer reaches closer to befriend them. I've always done that without prejudice or conditions. Much like I did with 'Pete'.

As I got to know some of them better, I drew them even closer and broke down the internet walls by inviting many to NYC, and if need be, to come crash at my loft. I hosted many a blogger (and still do), and if they had a hotel in the city, I'd head in the city and hang out with them, show them around NYC, and bring them to the places I enjoy... show them a different side of Manhattan.

Everyone I've met has left an indelible mark on me... their friendship far more important than attempts at buying me dinner or drinks or any such 'repayment' nonsense. And it was not too long ago that one visitor/blogger (a huge "celebrity" in the blogworld) called me on New Years Eve to tell me that I was one of two people who had a huge impact on his life... a call I would never had expected in a thousand years... and it was amazing.

But apparently, I guess, you can't please them all.

Although it may seem that way, it's not with a vindictive heart that I've deleted their links on my blogroll as well. It was actually kinda sad thinking that any mark I could have left on those people's lives were either wiped away or erased vigorously. It takes a very conscious effort to delete a link on your blogroll. While I understand that sometimes, the interest in that blog can wane... and the intrigue dissipate... and deleting broken links or links to blogs that are no longer active becomes some sort of virtual housecleaning, but to be erased when you're still alive and well and realizing that there is probably a reason - some sort of hurt - behind it, makes it that much more confusing.

Well, to those two folks who I had still considered to be friends, I bid a fond farewell... But who am I kidding? They surely don't read my blog anymore... and that's ok with me. It just kinda hurts to know that my distrust of online friendships is still sometimes spot-on.

C'est la vie.

Since the fish'll be watching me make ploppies, they might as well watch me doing other things too, eh?

.

When I mentioned that I was going to get the Fish N' Flush toilet, my friends started giving me other aquatic furniture suggestions... like the aquatic coffee table...

And the aquatic lamp...

Or how about the wall-mounted aquarium?
Or how about the Fish Highway so fish can travel from one tank to another?

Or how about the Aquarium Sink?
Or the aquarium phone?
Or aquarium planters?

Hell, maybe I can just redesign my home making EVERYTHING some sort of aquarium...

I did a search for a waterbed aquarium, but unfortunately, I don't think those exist...
But imagine laying around in bed - nekkid - while guppies or large mouth bass swim beneath you, mouth open in some suggestive pose? How kinky!

Now my fish can watch me make ploppies...

I just bought the Fish N' Flush for my bathroom. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. And as Chad Fox has remarked about my loft quite a few times, it's like a loft designed for a kid. I have toys and gadgets all over the place... the walls are painted in primary colors... and my own pop art paintings of cheese, bees, and random weirdness are all over the walls. So I think a fishtank toilet will fit in juuuuuuuust fine. I'll take a pic of it when it gets installed just so y'all can tell me that it was the greatest/stupidest thing I've ever wasted a few hundred dollars on.

Pariah or Porsche?

.

Rey [11:44 A.M.]: i think i should become a priest
Rey [11:44 A.M.]: or a gym teacher for college students
Nathan Exposed [11:45 A.M.]: you're so confusing
Nathan Exposed [11:46 A.M.]: I'm so glad we're just friends :)
Rey [11:46 A.M.]: i am?
Rey [11:46 A.M.]: is that why i'm a pariah?
Nathan Exposed [11:46 A.M.]: I don't know what a pariah is
Nathan Exposed [11:46 A.M.]: but it sounds like mariah
Nathan Exposed [11:46 A.M.]: I love mariah
Rey [11:46 A.M.]: an outcast
Rey [11:47 A.M.]: like lepers in Jesus' time
Rey [11:47 A.M.]: and me
Nathan Exposed [11:48 A.M.]: oh stop
Nathan Exposed [11:48 A.M.]: you're none of those things
Nathan Exposed [11:49 A.M.]: well, it seems that whenever a guy likes you, you say he's moving too fast, or you "just prefer being single" (look it up on your blog, it's there)
Nathan Exposed [11:49 A.M.]: or you lose interest
Nathan Exposed [11:49 A.M.]: that's why you're confusing :)
Nathan Exposed [11:50 A.M.]: loyal, consistent, reliable
Nathan Exposed [11:50 A.M.]: you're like a toyota
Nathan Exposed [11:50 A.M.]: I should call you toyota
Rey [11:50 A.M.]: eeek... bite your tongue. i'm a Porsche
Nathan Exposed [11:50 A.M.]: you said you like being single
Nathan Exposed [11:50 A.M.]: you said it over and over
Nathan Exposed [11:50 A.M.]: be careful what you wish for ;)
Rey [11:51 A.M.]: i said that because i was trying to make myself feel better
Nathan Exposed [11:54 A.M.]: have you heard of the fleshlight?
Rey [11:55 A.M.]: yeah... there are vids of it all over blog world
Rey [11:56 A.M.]: you're not intimating that i should use one, i hope

Oh my f*ckin' God...

So Daryl is here right now, watching this God damn farkin' painful movie, Audition. It's a Japanese movie that starts out as a romantic comedy of sorts and turns into the most painful movie in the whole fuckin' world. Razor wire, decapitation, de-foot-itation, blood, gore... Fuck. I can't even watch it. In fact, I'm typing this while the movie is on.

It taps into masculine fears of being alone, getting wrapped up with the wrong woman, and being able to tell if someone is insane or not.

As I type this, the guy has needles in his eyes... "It's a hassle living alone," the fuckin' psycho says towards the end of the movie.

If it's such a hassle, why cut off his damn feet???

*************

In an equally disturbing fashion, I had a dream last night... an uber-realistic dream... that brought be back to September 11, 2001.

I sat at my fictitious desk on the 92nd floor of one of the World Trade Centers. But I knew I was reliving 9/11. I knew what was going to happen. And I knew that I had to evacuate. It was 8:32am, before the first plane hit the other tower.

I looked to my co-workers and said, "We gotta get out of here... Take the elevator down NOW!"
About 15 of us went down the elevator and exited the building and into the park on the other side of Church Street. As I looked up at the building, I saw the first plane crash. Glass came shattering down below and I watched people get sliced up by the falling shards.

As I looked up to the top floors with surrealistically telescopic eyes, I saw a little girl of maybe five years old, standing at the window a few floors above the crash point of the building. She had her hands up on the window and stared down and the people jumping out of the building to their deaths.

Just at that moment, I watched the second plane go in. And again, the rain of broken glass on people below.

And emerging from the bushes, a naked black man came skipping out, chanting "Can you handle my scandal? Can you handle my scandal?"

As I stood and watched, I waited for the buildings to fall. I knew it was coming soon since I knew how the day played out.

Drunken

.Sometimes, I hate drinking. Just "sometimes". But last night,it had caused me to do what I hoped it wouldn't: Drunken Instant Messages.

I had returned home after a fun night with Gitsie and Daryl, but then again, whenever the three of us go out, we always have a fun night. After countless frozen cosmos at The View and a handful of Bud Lights at Lotus, I sat at my computer and through blurry eyes, I noticed that "Joe" was online.

Rey [3:15 A.M.]: go to bed... if you arent already
"Joe" [3:15 A.M.]: lol
"Joe" [3:15 A.M.]: i was jusdt about to im you
Rey [3:16 A.M.]: i am so srubk
Rey [3:16 A.M.]: drunk

Innocent enough, the IMs started with a catch-up of what the night transpired for the both of us. He was tipsy... I was drunk.

As the conversation kept going and we started talking more intimately

Rey [3:31 A.M.]: alcohol sucks
"Joe" [3:32 A.M.]: lol why
Rey [3:32 A.M.]: makes you say shit you regret tomorrow
Rey [3:32 A.M.]: haha
"Joe" [3:32 A.M.]: dont worry

I started getting bolder and bolder, asking him if we'd ever really potentially "date" instread of flirt incessantly... and his answers were what I was hoping. He didn't want to jump into anything and wanted to get to know me better...

*phew* Those were my exact thoughts too.

I still like "Joe". The trail had grown cold over the holidays. And what used to be fevered phone or online conversations had become "hey, how are you" small talk.

But there was something that pulled me back... and didn't let me just leave it be.

I logged onto AOL this morning and looked at my Buddy List. "Joe" wasn't online and I breathed a sigh of relief. I immediately put on my AWAY message and started reading emails.

A few minutes later, "Joe" popped online. I stared at his screen name and wondered if I should IM him. I opted to stay "AWAY", still a bit embarrassed of how much I said and what I said.

So... I guess this is still to be continued?

Sometimes, you just never know...

.
Two years ago, there was a blip in my life... His name was "David".

I had all but forgotten about David until last week... when he emailed me on Friendster.

**********************

Flashback: Summer 2004, 1984 @ Pyramid Club, NYC

A wee bit tipsy but closer to drunk, I stood at the downstairs bar. Hardly able to see through the lounge due to a combination of darkness and alcohol, I saw a small group of guys sitting down on the grossly tattered couches and flea-bitten sofas. Spying an empty spot on a loveseat, I wandered over and sat down.

"Oh sorry," I said as I accidentally bumped the guy sitting behind me.

"No problem," he said in a smoky, New Yawker accent that made me turn around. And I saw him. He was scruffy and cute, more of a Queens-looking kinda Italian type that you'd normally see working in a pizzeria (not a stereotype... just a type). "What's yer name?"

"Rey... It's just... Rey," I replied, as I saw into the darkness and into his eyes. They weren't exactly sexy, but they were kind.

"I'm David," he said, as he put his hand on my shoulder.

We talked into the night, my friends occasionally coming downstairs to check up on me. Sometimes they'd find us engaged in conversation about beer and dance clubs. Other times, they'd find us engaged in a kiss.

I ended up leaving that night with a phone number and an email address, and he did as well.

*********************

Throughout the next month, David and I would IM each other or talk on the phone. Our schedules never connected since he worked the graveyard shift at a financial institution and I was just starting my own PR firm and working around the clock.

One day, he asked me what I was doing that night... and luckily I was free. FINALLY, we'd meet up again.

I couldn't exactly remember what he looked like, but I remembered he was scruffy... not a polished twink, but not a bear either. I remembered him as a normal guy from New Yawk. Leather jacket and jeans...

That night, as I sat in The Break (later to turn into another bar that I hang out at called The View), I felt a tap at my shoulder... and I turned around.

"Hey you," he said and I swung around to give him a hug.

"Hey Dave," I said as I looked at him in better lighting than there was at 1984. And he was still cute and rugged, kinda how I sorta remembered him.

We caught up with each other between the lines, since we had spoken every day since we had met. But there was something missing in our real-time conversations. Maybe it was the spark... maybe we were trying too hard... maybe the chemistry just wasn't right.

We talked through the night, but there was no predictable makeout session. And when I would put my hand on his knee, it felt more awkward than it did comfortable. It just wasn't there. And we both knew it.

At the end of the night, we hugged each other goodbye and said we'd talk to each other soon... but we knew it would trail off... and we'd probably never run into each other again.

And that's how it played out...

.... Until last week.

My AOL ch'ked, signifying that there was a new email in my box. I opened it. It said, "You have received a Friendster message from David. The message was sent on 12/10/06 07:11 PM."

"Who is David," I thought, as I signed onto Friendster. When I checked out the photo, I recognized him immediately and thought, "Oh yeah.... David! I wonder how he is."

It was a nice short message. He had found me on Friendster two years later. And in some photos he looked good... like really good. "Hey, long time no talk... Let me know how you're doing," it read.

I responded about how things were and closed down the window and continued working.

A week later, my AOL ch'ked again. This time the subject read: "You have received a Friendster message from David. The message was sent on 12/18/06 04:19 PM."

He said he was happy to hear from me... and sorry he hadn't written in a week. He had been doing charity work with HIV+ social organization. And in the middle of the paragraph, one sentence popped out at me:

I know we never had that conversation, but I myself am HIV+.

Now, unlike some people who don't have any experience with HIV and AIDS, I know that finding out someone has tested positive is not a death sentence or mark them as a pariah, unlike the old days. I have some good friends who are HIV+.

But still, finding out that someone is positive sometimes hits you like a ton of bricks.

I sat there, transfixed at his words... "I myself am HIV+." I was paralyzed. And I couldn't help it, but my heart started to bleed for him. And again, I felt helpless, like I did when I found out about Brandon.

I didn't know how to respond. Do I say, "Oh, I'm sorry you're HIV+"? Do I write, "How are you feeling? Are your T cells up?" Do I say anything at all? I know how I felt, but I didn't want to let any of those emotions seep out of me... He's alive and surviving, and looking damn good too.

I clicked on REPLY and a new window opened up... a blank canvas for me to write back to him. The starkness was almost overwhelming... it's blankness - oppressive.

And just then, my AOL ch'ked again. This time, the message read: "You've got a new message from Brandon on MySpace!"

And just then, I realized that real odds that lay before us, not only as gay men, but people everywhere. Men, women, children... people reading my blog, and people who don't even know it exists.

HIV is all around us... and many people without any knowledge of their status... living life, hoping they're negative... "What you don't know can't hurt you" as their mantra.

I got tested just two weeks ago and my results came back negative. And even though, again, HIV isn't the death sentence it used to be, it's still an awful disease that everyone, gay or straight, has to deal with whether they know it or not.

If I can come in contact, albeit through email, to two friends who are HIV+ in one mere hour, how many of us come in contact in the real world in risky situations with people who are HIV+ as well?

*******************

For all my friends who are positive out there: All my strength to keep on keeping on...

For all my friends who are negative out there: All my strength to be smart enough to always use protection...

And for all my friends who don't know: All my strength to take the initiative and get tested... and know your status... for yourself and for everyone around you.



Now, excuse me while I respond to both David and Brandon...

Blue Balls ring... Are ya listening?

You know, I think I'm really starting to like "Joe" (I think that if I obscure his name with quotes, y'all will never figure out his real name). There's something about him that's really pretty sweet. I probably shouldn't talk about him because, like every guy I've ever spoken about on here, I seem to jinx it just by posting about it. I mean, hell, look at the year and a half I've been blogging here and at My Secretive Life. I went through a crapload of relationships... and each ended quite visually on here. I think the correlation between blog and breakup is directly associated on whether I write a blog about it or not. Before I had a blog, my relationships lasted 13 years, seven years and three years (the latter ended soon after I started my first blog about four years ago). Coincidence?

So, I'm throwing caution to the wind and write anyway.

So, yeah... "Joe" and I have known each other for over four years, but never really quite put two and two together until about two weeks ago. He still doesn't quite recall knowing me back then (he was such a pretentious club promoter then), but I sorta do... sorta. It was a mere acqaintance. Nothing more, nothing sorta less... although I do remember thinking he was kinda cute.

Last night, we took a step forward in conversation... We started talking more about who we are and our morals.

He told me how he's annoyed at his roommate because his roommate is too impulsive. When he meets his "life mate", he has to sleep with him immediately and then, after the deed is done, he tosses him aside and moves on. Conquest complete so the challenge is over.

"Wait, isn't that what we kinda did," I asked him, half laughing.

"No, not at all," he replied. "We were far beyond that before we slept together."

"Oh, riiiiiiight. We were already at the 'Can I borrow your wire cutter' phase," I snickered.

"Come on, I'm serious. We're different than that because even though we may have hooked up, we're... I dunno," he paused.

"Come on, spit it out."

"We're just not like that." Fucker slipped out the side door.

*********

I dunno... There's something different about "Joe". I'll be the first to admit that one of the big problems is the music realm (he's a total club boy who loves dance/house music and clubs like Sound Factory and Roxy.... I'm total indie rock boy who loves concerts and punk /rock clubs). But strip that way and I'm starting to sense a very similar make-up. There's something uber-sweet about him... and yet, there's this seething, underlying primal attraction there. And he's incredibly shy, which makes him even cuter. Physically, he's not exactly Irish (100% Italian, he is), but he's adorable in a boy next door kinda way.

"Remember what I said last night," he asked me.

"Ummm, we talked till 4am. Refresh my memory."

"Well, remember how I said I was horny?"

"Dude, you're always horny."

"Well, I'm horny again. And I didn't do anything about it lasy night."

"Listen, honey. If you don't take care of your blue balls, you're gonna explode."

"Yeah, so next time we hang out, prepare to be ravaged."

"Yikes."

Blue balls... not a fun thing... *************************

Speaking of "balls"... I dropped my puppy Fletcher at the vet this morning. Poor thing... he'll be less of a man momentarily.

Samantha????

Nathan just said I was Samantha based on my slutty ways. Frankly, I don't think I'm slutty... I'm not... Really! I'm not! I think I'm far more like Charlotte - petite, demure and virginal.

I am! I really really am!

************

In other news, did you know that Soy products probably made you gay? Read here to find out how to stop this epidemic of the gays!

A prime quote from this article:

Soy is feminizing, and commonly leads to a decrease in the size of the penis, sexual confusion and homosexuality. That's why most of the medical (not socio-spiritual) blame for today's rise in homosexuality must fall upon the rise in soy formula and other soy products.

************

In sadder news, the Yangtze river dolphin might be extinct. I really am really bummed about that... I studied zoology when I was a kid (specialized in ichthyology, but yes, I know, a dolphin is a mammal) and I loved this dolphin. It was weird looking and almost blind, but there was a certain gracefullness to its awkwardness, stumpiness. And now, it's probably extinct. And if it's not, scientists said that there aren't enough of them out there to replenish the species... so they're basically dead.

Humans suck.



** Since when do I post news stories?