The family, meaning mom and dad, woke me up around 9 in the morning... those poor souls. I was so cranky this morning, and retardedly moody. Its so funny, 'cause by and large my moodiness is unnoticable. To those that have seen the force-of-nature that it can be though, they'd laugh at the very insinuation that I'm anything less than volitle.

They also, I hope, would agree that they are the closest people to me, and the fact that they see Hurricane Mike at all is a testament. But whatever. I'm a pineapple.

My friend lauren came up with the notion that we should make Fruit ID Cards for all of the queers at Cosi South, just in case anyone questioned that we were fruits. I would be a pineapple; sweet to the taste, bright, vibrantly yellow... kinda cute, but definatly spiny to the touch sometimes. Also terribly acidic, but you never quite notice how acidc cause of the sweet.

Sweet Sweet Sweet.

But, yeah, it was definatly a spiney day... My poor folks, they had to deal with my unidentifiable ire when speaking with me. I apologized profusely, telling them that I know that I'm not the most pleasent person in the world right now, and they understood. Its just really hard to explain why I was crying at christmas.

Frankly, for someone who has been dubbed beligerently chipper, I've done a fabulous job of being a little raincloud on christmas. I didn't ruin christmas for anyone though, I self-medicated myself via sleep all the way up from my folks' to Jersey. Can't be a crab all day =P

I knew I had to let something inside myself play with these emotions, cause I wasn't winning. I just kept thinking that I never got around to giving either Trev or Emily their presents from last christmas, and now neither of them would ever get a gift from me again. Gawd, how fucking melodramatic.

*crab pinch pinch*

Trev's not dead of course, but to a boy who's clearly being a nutball, thats hard to explain. Blasted ex-boyfriends... I was thinking about him that I fell sound asleep in the back of the car for the 4 1/2 hour drive, and when mom woke me up ('cause we were getting close) I was positively chipper. Grinning from ear to ear as a matter of fact =)

Yay! Declawed!

I'm sure as hell glad I was grinning when I got here, too, cause I love my family. I hadn't been in rare form with them in a while... I missed the family reunion, then I dropped off the face of the earth for those couple of months... and I still wasn't 100% at thanksgiving. I feel a lot closer to it, moreso than I have since Em kicked, and that makes me feel great. My cousins and I have these fucking barrel laugh sessions that I have with few others. Those consistant, big, huge moments of connection that make it hard to breath from laughing.

That bein' said, I'm all the more excited cause the whole Bailey Crew is a'comin' to DC for new years. My girl Kelly has these friends who are renting out the top of a club in Adams Morgan, Bossa, and we're going. Krista, Charese, Tabby, Aric, Aric's Girlie Girl Tara, and maybe if I can find a way, Mara.

But, thats a pipedream. I haven't even talked to her about it... but gahdamn gahdamn, wouldn't that be some fun shit?

I'll be leaving Jersey for Virginia tonight. My cousin Krista and I are headed down to either my folks' or to my townhouse for the night, and then tomorrow we'll be doing another drive around the state to get me situated back at my folks' before the new year hits.

Moving is such an enormous hassle at times, but its going to be so much fun with Krista in tow. We're gonna probably play like its New Years Eve from now until we pick up Ms. Mara at the Airport.

Mara, my supertwin, is in fact coming to VA for the New Years. How muthafawkin cool is that? She read the live journal before we could talk it out and had already made her plans. I'm gonna give that a big ol' "yay-yay."

So Mara is to arrive, and the whole crew is coming south... now its just a matter of confirming with Kelly that our plans are still on. I've got a little anxiety that something might happeen and Bossa might not be available or that its gonna be too many people or something... but those are just the little anxiousnesses of a host. I'm positively stoked.

In other flame-related news, I small child said to his father "look daddy, he's a fairy!" as he pointed at me yesterday night. I was wearing fairy wings that Ristika (krista) bought for me at Hershey Park in PA, and she was wearing a blinking red nose... no, we're not attention whores or anything.

We made the trip to PA to stay the night with Aunt Terri and Charese, since it was Charese's birthday yesterday. Her boyfriend Tim took her out to dinner and then to Hershey Park's Candy Lane, and we all met them there.

It was the closest I've been to Harrisburg since Trev and I broke up, and I did really well. I didn't kirk out or anything.

So, there is still packing to do to get Ristika ready for a week or so in DC, and I get to help. This should consist of three outfits for each day she's there just to accomidate her indecisiveness. Like I'm any better 😛

So Krista and I left The Dirty House II, also known as my former townhouse in fairfax. I arrived home to absolutely no clean dishes... yikes. My roomates are so creepy and scary at times I want to just leave all of my things there and never have to go back to the house. My one roomate, Chris, was tryin' to sleep with all the potential applicants from roomates.com... this lead to us not being able to fill the initial vacancy in the house.

I caught him in a lie after I had spent like 2 months out of the house, and all of his other lies unraveled. Including how 'hard' he was looking for the new roomate. I personally threw him out.

We proceeded to fill the next vacancy with someone who has so few social skills, and who is so creepy, that it makes *me* uncomfortable to talk to him for more than .2 seconds. I don't even like "Hi"'s.

My neighbor once told me that I could talk the legs off an iron stove, so don't doubt my ability to gab. Yah. He's that fucking weird.

So, two months have passed since Initial Creepy Scary (Chris) was thrown out. He proceeded to sneak into the house while everyone was asleep and then leave before everone was awake so that he could sleep on our couch.

Cause, yeah, his girlfriend was our landlords daughter. I'm sure she was thrilled to learn what her then boyfriend was doing... I can't feel bad about any of it. If you're a Creepy Scary, I'm callin' ya out.

Which is what I had to do the other day to Secondary Creepy Scary (Mark). I told him that I did not like speaking with him, and that in the future we should make a point to do it as little as possible. It was as he was trying to ask me to find him pot. Idiot.

So, yeah ICS's girlfriend's parents wouldn't pay to fix a damn thing after all of this went down, and JC and I got stuck trying to fix all this shit.

SCS proceeded to not clean a damn dish he dirtied after our conversation. I should know better diplomacy, I realize, but if your a CS, you're a CS. Its the only defense I have, but those fuckers need to live elsewhere. And since they won't, I will.

Oh, and about the guy I threw out? He didn't give his key back, and for a week before Xmas

Only 4 more days 'till I'm done for good with the Dirty House II.

Then, it should only be a month before I'm into my new condo or townhouse... one potential I've actually dubbed 'the Sushi Spot'... better title than Dirty House, right?

This is a link to exterior...

And here is the interior or the building it shares.

We'll see.

Today I moved out of the Dirty House for good. Mara and Krista left at around 3:45am to get Mara to the airport, and I decided against tagging along. It would have been silly for Ristika to come all the way back to my house from balitmore to drop me off and then diddy bop back up past balitmore again on her way home to Jersey... it would have been silly just so I could say goodbye at the same time.

I'm a mushy boy insofar as that I cried when my ladies left. Not bawling or anything, but definatly streams down the cheeks. How big of a geek am I? I couldn't help it, I had such an amazing time this week.

Krista and I came down to the Dirty House, then proceeded down to my folks for a financial pick-me-up as well as to retrieve my car. Of course my car didn't bother to start when we got there (dead battery), so we just hopped in the Krista Mobile and returned back up the Fairfax. I reckon its a good thing we took her car anyway, 'cause its so much easier to parallel park than my Big. Red. Boat.

On our first night out in the city, Krista and I went to Cosi (you'll see that as a developing pattern) for dinner and to celebrate the arrival of my bag of Holiday Greens. We ran into my friend Nuvia, and she was on the prowl for Santa's Good Stuff, too, so we drove around until she saw a dealer on the corner that she knew. Krista and she bonded over the pains of ugly puerto ricans, and we all rolled a festive blunt and walked through Dupont smoking. I couldn't have felt more Gang-Star.

On Christmas Eve Eve I called my friend Markie and we went to his place to hang out. He lives up by the convention center, on 10th and M, and so we ended up taking our Chariot (the G2 Bus) into Dupont after we pregamed with an entire bottle of our friend Jim Bean. Lawdy. Needless to say, the bus ride was particularly drunktastic, as was running into Mark's ex Brandon, who I had met previously. I had actually met Brandon on my own and realized his relationship to Markie via the powers of the Triumvarate. Poor ol' Brandon didn't realize that we have some sort of freak ability to triangulate people on the greater eastern seaboard... he couldn't have known that his exboyfriend's best friend is a SuperTwin.

Anyway, we decide that we're going to go to Cobalt after we find out that Apex is closed for the night (who closes on Tuesday? Ew), and we proceed to get in the middle of the herd. A drunk Maneuver was going to have to be performed to get Ristika, myself, and Markie into the venue... but at the last minute the maneuver had to be aborted as one of us got caught. Defeated, we headed for Cosi....

As luck would have it, Mark noticed a door slightly ajar. Printed on a small sheet of paper taped to the door is "Employee Entrance Only", and we realize its to Cobalt. Without much hesitation or delibaration, we're sneaking in the door and shimmying up the fire escape. As we arrive at the final door into our RetroNight, Mark tells us the game plan: sprint to the center of the club as fast as you can. Stay in the crowd. We may as well have synchronized our watches.

Oh yes, we danced to Step By Step and "The Last Song." No need to even question whether we got in or not! Speaking of synchronizing, I got to synchronize my hips with a cute boy's on the dancefloor... I'll never know his name, but doesn't that just make it better? I was on my way to the bar with Krista and Markie, and the boy pulls me over to him, allowing my cabal to venture further forward. About 20 feet ahead now, Markie looks back and stops Krista... "We've lost one."

It didn't last long. The sheer combined force of the three of us that night was probably too much for most mortal men to stand, 'cause Markie and I shortly discarded him back into the pile of boys.

On our way out, however, Krista broke the heel on her leather boots, and proceeded to throw 'em into the Trash and walk 10 blocks back to Mark's in her bare feet. Atta-Girl! I was soooo proud of my gurl! Anyone FRC enuff to throw their Leather Boots out and highstep their ass golden style through dupont gets props. We earned our Denny's Breakfast at 5am.

The next day Krista and I are preparing to get my Supertwin, Mara, from the airport when we notice that the car is overheating. We had to make the executive decesion to have her come in via the train to Union Station, as we returned home to take my cousin Tabby (tabitha called Tuhbabitha much to her chagrin) vehicle into the city.

Tuhbabitha and Charese came down for new years, and I could talk about it at length, but there is no need to. Tabby was ragging and bleeding through and bein' ultra-snotty. Charese is just so young. Bleh. I can't fuss too much, cause Tabby let us take her car into the city to wait for Mara, who, the poor thing, had a delayed flight as well as less than perfect flight companions.

I want so badly to go into stories or yarns and talk about Mara, but I don't really know how-- she's my supertwin, so knowing my reaction means you prolly know her reaction. Something you Replace that begins with an "H"? What would you put down? In the last game of scattergories we played, we both had "Helium Tank." Thats the best way I can put it. I love her with all my heart.

So, that said, we shopped around at Union Station for a while for her, but then grew tired of the wait and bopped over to Le Cosi to grab a sandwhich. I grabbed one for Miss Mara, too... I had to. I'm a fatty... I know the only thing that fixes these sorts of delays is food, so I had to get her one, I just had to. But I was left with a condumdrum: what the hell type of sandwhich does mara prefer? The only thing worse thing worse than me not bringing a sandwhich would be me bringing a yucky sandwhich. I had to get it right.

Turkey. Its gotta be turkey. You can't go wrong with turkey and cheddar. Who doesn't like turkey and cheddar? To not like it would simply be UnAmerican.

I think she liked it =)

Anyway, New Years was spent in Silver Spring at one of my friend Jackie's friends house... I didn't really know 'em at all, but by the end of the night, we were the definition of "the life of the party." They practically took notes and fought over who got to tell the story of our family. Huge house, Jewish Dentist Dad. Nuff Said.

So, Crababitha bitched at the party. She bitched in teh city. If bitches were hammers, she'd have had a folk hit. She and Charese disappeared from whence they came the day after they came down.. really, it was less than a 24 hour visit.

Clearly I'm upset. Clearly.

So broken up that we actually made it out *again*, and we went to two different college night events, one at Platinum, the other at Apex (Gaypex). At Platinum I saw a cute boy talking to Mara, and apparently the conversation started as such:

Dude: Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
Mara: No, I don't really dance like this! I'm just having fun!
Dude: Thats not what I wanted to ask you.

It turns out he was asking about me =) The only fags in the place found the other one. They wouldn't come up and dance, though, they said it was better to admire from afar. "admire"
Whatever.

I love dancing with my cousins. It makes me so happy. They're goofball chowderheads and I love it. Love Love Love it. I am so blessed that I get to share blood with my best friends... you can't choose family, but I wouldn't choose anyone else.

Anyway, the next few days were spent bonding... we made it to the hirshorn (the hub of all things is awesome), to the cosi, and around scott circle and dupot circle countless times. We ate at the GhettoStarChineseWok... In fact, we ate just about everywhere. Cause we ate a lot. A lot a lot. Mara made alfredo. Brownies. Krista made Jello. We made 10 mile long trips for ice cream. In fact, though we failed at our attempts to get ice cream a couple of times, we really did make like 3 efforts for 3 different varieties. Gosh we ate.


But, eventually it had to be done....and my girls left today.

I don't even wanna talk about it, 'cause then I'll start missin' them again. I also don't want to talk anymore about the food we ate, 'cause then I'll be haungry again.

Mm...haungry...

Oh! About the move: I left sooo much shit behind at the Dirty House... my poor fuckin slumlords. If they didn't suck so badly, I sure would be upset about leaving them with all that junk 😉

Prince Ali, yes it is he...

The city called to me on Wednesday, and I coudln't not heed the call. I had to go. And so it was.

I just got back from a really good time in the city; terribly wholesome, horribly healthy. I'm so glad for it. Major recharge time. I went up on Wednesday night, and stayed with Jackie. We drank with her friend Bagels, who I also worked with at Peace Actionjob. Jackie knew him from Grenell College, which is in Iowa, but his family was from the District, too.

I crashed at Jackie's, she kicked my ass at pool a good couple of times, and we slept. We woke up the next day, she took me with her into Cosi to hang out, and so we did. After work that day we went over to our friend Sasha's friend Shana, and we drank at the Statemen. Wooo Statesmen... sooo gorgeous. Its gotta be one of the nicest buildings I know anyone in...

The next morning, in the yucky snow, I drove out to Chantilly from GW, where Sasha goes to school. I didn't sleep much the night before (okay at all), but when the dawn came, I was in the car driving out to the middle of nowhere. I left right around 6am, and I didn't arrive until 7:40. It should have taken less than a half an hour.

No grumbles, as the day was spent with Jackie in the city after watching "Finding Nemo" with Shana. YAY Finding Nemo. YAY for getting real shit done in the city. After Friday was all but over, I went over to visit Michelle. Wonderful time. Michelle lives in "The Hen House," seein' as how JC and Suzanne have moved in with her now. Michelle is Mama Hen, and since Jace and Suze are both old roomies, the whole thing feels like my family.

Anyway, Saturday-- I proceeded to go out with Michelle and her friends. I was so incredibly high the whole time.... Sheesh. Clearly, Saturday became Sunday, and I had a relaxing day filled with Family Breakfasts and group deserts. My car tire had flat, and the lugnuts were so tight that when I stood on the piece that you turn to loosen the lugnut, the car tipped off the jack.

All sorts of bam-crash-bullshit. So, dad came to my rescue this morning, thank goodness. Everything was put where it should be.

Go watch the Surreal Life, btw.


I still have a bunch to do tomorrow that involved just phone calls, but errands are about done. Sometime this week my mom and I are gonna go take care of the the apartment in DC, and I'm gonna call the UN and decline. I can't commit to the time they want from me, and I can't work for free, as it looks now.

I'n gonna talk to the guy in charge about it first, to say everything I have, and see what happens. We'll see.

Also, Potential Boyfriend Critera #4305, in steps:
Step One- Listen to "In Public" by Kelis.
Step Two- Find Me.

Just a little inspiration suggestion to any boy smart enough to get it.

Grumble, Grumble.

I spent the morning lying in bed until about 2. I also stayed up reading until about 5, so I feel absolutely fan-fucking-tastic about my decision. Normally when I'm in low spirits, I like to stay in bed alllllllll day long, occasionally getting up for sorbet or dulce de leche.

Today, I was in high spirits everytime I woke up, yet I still curled my toes around the slightly indian-themed comforter and tucked myself back in for a nap. Every single time. And it happened like 4 times.

But, anyway, I got up at 2 and spent the afternoon helping my dad out at his shop, runnning cars back and forth from fredericksburg for 'em. No big deal at all, really.

Nothing, in fact, to grumble at. Ohhh, but there's more. I got an academic warning my freshman year that carried over to the first semester of my sophmore year. When you are a freshman and get a warning, it is also a probation, simply 'cause of how its set up. Well, now it looks like I've royalled screwed myself, because I got a warning this semester. That combo warning-probation has managed to land me my first Academic Suspension. Argh!

There seems to be an override I can request. But, that means I really, really have to get on the ball! I guess things could be worse, cause they're not really so bad.

I did find the override info, and I called ATT today and found out where the hell the phone they were supposed to be sending me was. Its in transit. In (you may laugh now) Chantilly. I'm gonna just let them deliver it to the Dirty House, and I'll go back and get it later. I think thats the best thing for me, cause I truly don't feel like dealing with the drive to Chantilly again, or anything involved in that area. It seems I'm going to be making a cameo at Mason to hand in my override... now I just have to figure out what the fuck I do to turn it in. If there is anything to turn in at all.... Yes Virginia, I can be a fuck up.

I think its gonna have to be hard 'cause I need to *want* it after I've gotten it, ya know? But, in an effort to clear my head, I've been taking online quizzes.

Quick! Learn!

Evil Quiz: You're totally evil. When you wake up in the morning and look in the mirror you say, 'I'm gonna be evil today!' You know you're evil and you love it.


What Type of Lunatic are You?



Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?


Your soul is bound to the Burning Rose: The Rapture.

"I go where my heart beckons me, and I go
with my head high. But sometimes, I get a need until I bleed so my heart swims above my head.

The Burning Rose is associated with passion, intensity, and desire. It is governed by the god Eros and its sign is The Flame, or Physical Love.

As a Burning Rose, you can get lost in the moment if you let yourself. You are a very physical person, be it in relationships, work, or play. You may be driven by your hormones sometimes, but you know it's because you have to follow your instinct.

What Rose Is Your Soul Bound To?



Lots of quizzes! I needed a little self involved time, and I feel much better! Oh, for the record, I also would have rolled a "Gay Bear" and a "Tramp Bear" on the one quiz, should I have changed just one answer in the last question. Same with the first question. There were two answers I *really* liked in both, and changing them at all gave me 4 distinctly different bears.

Though, really, I suppose Tramp Bear and Gay Bear go hand in hand. As do Stoner Bear and Raver Bear. Whatever.

Chapter Heading
by Hemingway

For we have thought the longer thoughts
And gone the shorter way.
And we have danced to devil's tunes
Shivering home to pray;
To serve one master in the night,
Another in the day.


Amazing, it still fits...

Before, it was about the pressing feelings one conjurs when they are embarking on a decision. Intellectual intercourse and the idea of entertaining a new voice; Was I to accept the request for rekindling of relationship fires, fires I never extinguised internally, from the only boy I, at the time, had ever loved with all my heart? The one that I had loved infinitly, but also the one that had done a complete emotional whitewalling and had repeated a vicious cycle of leaving and regretting? I had trusted this boy on countless occasions with my trust, and this new voice was whispering "drive to him." Something inside me knew that "him" wasn't the boy who wanted to rekindle.

The poem, for me, had a lot to do with correct decisions and the fear associated with the haze of indecision. It was a battle of inner bravery yet exterior cowardice....Which voice do I obey? The idea of even going to see this new boy was a betrayl... but it was also *right*, and you cannot betray those who let it happen to themselves.

Drive, Drive, Drive Away.

this boy who was my best friend... I wanted to go listen to him talk for hours. I had cell phone bills that clearly showed I was practicing. I wanted to drive the hours it took to visit him, just so I could lay next to him, knowing that at some point in the night he would scoop me up and twist me into a pretzel, hugging me as tightly as he could. I wanted to feel it in every chakra of my body that I was wanted and loved.

I've never known more than when I was seventeen, and there I was eighteen. I could have made the decision so much more properly had I been forced to six months sooner.

I heard this poem in my head the first time I made the drive home.

I felt like I was doing such wrong. I couldn't help but drive to see him every second I got. To stay for as many weekends as possible. To envelope him the way he enveloped me. I can still smell his presence when I close my eyes, a phantom of pheremones that I wish more often than not to forget. But the voice was right. I needed to make that drive.

That poem is so different now. Its bigger, meaner. It's begun to embody a gorgeous, worldly woman with all natural hair-care products and a biodegratable poly-cotton blend power suit. She is the the corporate gaia, red tape incarnate. And, this poem comes to mind every time I'm forced to reflect on one of her assaults.

I was so much stronger and smarter. I wanted to be so much "more." But, now that more seems like so much less.

Frankly, things felt different the first time I thought about this poem. One emotion and one person had the potential to fill the world so much darkness... this vast, loud darkness-- and I thought I had somehow bested it.

Its different now, I said, some how flipped inside-out. The logo seems to be on the inside.

Before, it was one emotion affecting the world, now its the world affecting one person.

I wonder I'll ever flip it right-side-out? I think my eyes have readjusted to the very loud dark. I know that black bleeds with just a little water and I realize now that that's the only color corporate gaia paints in.

I don't get a sense of accomplishment from helping very rich people get very richer anymore. I can strike out on my own right now and start at some shmuck corporation... I know I can. But muthafucker, I know I won't be happy being a corporate tool, and I don't mean to be a sqwaking cliche.

I think that my ambition has changed. I'm so much more driven to being happy, as opposed to my happiness driving me to my ambition. I think my goal sets are very different, and I kinda fear that. I wanna be happy with making 24,000 a year and doing really engaging things. I don't know right now whats going to fulfil me at 45 because I don't know whats fulfilling me right now.

I don't know if anything is.

God, to be 17. I've gained perspective in the past couple of years. Frankly, though, I think I liked it better from over there. I can still remember the smell created by lovers body against me, but I can't taste ambition. Yet I can feel my powers rageing beneath the surface, ready to be used for something... Not love, not work, but what?

"It must be stretched before it is to shrink" -- Lao Tsu.

My cousin Mara has this anteater, and its really very adorable. The anteater has some great story attached to it, and an equally great name. I don't really remember the story or the name, because it was probably a really cute boyfriend-y story, and judgeing from my last couple of entries, I have reason to block out cutesy boyfriendy stuff 😉

Nono, it's Mr. Something-er-other, but really, he's cute.

I, too, keep an anteater next to my computer at all times. He's a teenie-beanie baby from McDonald's.... it's the mini-me of hers. Who keeps an anteater at the computer? Honestly.

Well, in my car there is a purple otter named Pip that lives in the sunglass holder. He has a brother, Pop, who resides in sunny California with one of my dearest friends, Becky. He's a great otter, and very few people know he even exists, since he spends so much time in the shades holder.

Becky was my first roomie ever, and I love her dearly. One late, late night we watched simultaneously the sun come up and "The Bear in the Big Blue House."

So, anywho, I found out today my father has a road buddy. We were taking some cars up to the auto auction, and I happened to notice that he had some weird figurine wedged in between the windshield and the dash board. Otter!

They talk. Kinda crazy, both that they talk, and that he too has an otter... I talk less to my otter than my father prolly does to his seein' as how a friend had to reprimand me once for talking to Sketch while driving. I was chatting with him on the phone, and of course he had to hear my talking Sketch Doll (from the great movie Kilo and Sketch) start ta1lking in the background. Those things are so accurate (hahaha), and they respond to so many things you say (or what they think you said). I was busted, but thassokay (it prolly would have responded to that).

Oh! My cousins Krista and Aric had a conversation recently that seems fairly fitting, and fucking kills me:

Aric: What does my m2 get at a 1/4 mile?
*begins to flip through book*
Krista (from across the room, barely looking up): 15.6
Aric: Damn! 15.6! You're Right!
Krista: No way! I pulled that out of my ass!

One Last Sketch Tangent: My Sketch Doll wears a burgendy bandana now, to differentiate himself from Jeremy's. That was a neccesity once Kate started SketchSitting my Sketch and Jeremy's Sketch. Headwear makes it happen!

Le sigh.

Well, I'm putting in a retroactive withdrawl for this past semester's fuckups. I certainly have enough proof to show I had outstanding circumstances all semester, so I will prolly get it. The dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, my new subcollege, decided to return to me my schedule that the system ate, and told me to just go to the classes and explained what happens.

The retroactive withdrawl should be a good thing. I went on a blind date last night with a boy named Chris. Chris goes to Hamden Sydney, an all boy's school, and came with fairly high recomendations from one of my high school team mates.

So, I meet him at Friday's, and of course I'm 20 minutes late. And, of course, he's drunk. Not so much there, buddy. The muthafucker deserved a merit badge for his fucking crackscout troop. So, I gave him the cold shoulder and made friends with the table next to us. When he got up to use the restroom, the guy at said table leans over and goes:

"Whadya think?"
"I think he's a douche."
"No kidding. If he hadn't gotten up, I would have said something."

Now the time come for us to do something else, and he wants to take my car. My response is fairly simple: I don't have room. He got the hint. He leaves, and I end up chatting with the guy at the table, Sean. Sean goes by the name Newman, and dates the manager Sabrina. Pam, who has been at friday's even before I came and went, comes over and gabs, keeping us company. Well, then walks in a guy named Dominick. Dom is hot. Hot, Hot. Nice... and funny.

Fuck.

He has a boyfriend.

I couldn't maintain eyecontact with this boy. I didn't want to talk for to long, I almost felt nervous! I really try to be good around people who are taken, but I have a hard time with my Ps and Qs when I'm sober, and a helluva lot harder time when I'm drunk. So what else, knowing I have to be good, would they do except invite me to Merriman's? You know Merriman's-- Fredericksburg's very own gay bar.

Not that I'm sayin' I would have bagged him or anything, lemmie just say, but it was neat to get those butterflies. Either way, Merriman's was incredibly dead, so I bounce on home.

It gets to be about 3am-ish and I'm on the computer, and my friend Dave is a bit upset. His new boyfriend and He broke up earlier in the day, and I felt bad for him. I knew he needed an ear, so I turned around and drove the 45 minutes back into fredericksburg to meet him at Denny's around 4.

Dave and I have a fairly neat history. I met him at in a hot tub, both of us fucked up, naked. We chatted, realized we went to the same school, and clearly, since we were both naked at the same party, had mutual friends. Dave's body really kinda "does" it for me... he's a beautiful person, and I mean that through and through.

Initially, he knew Jimmy, who took Dave in when Dave was younger. We call Jimmy Ma Harper, and he kinda keeps watch over all of us, for what I generally feel is a benevolent reason. Dave has differing views on Jimmy a bit, but he still calls Jimmy "Dad" and Jimmy still calls Dave "Son"-- Lets just say sociopaths exist everywhere. And the drugs can bring out sociopaths, which is scary. Dave is mistrustful of Jimmy, and tina users.

That said, I recently kicked my own tina habit. The fact that I know Jimmy and the fact that I used made Dave really nervous about me, and those nerves turned into an accusation right before New Year's. We had managed to spend a lot of really good time getting to know each other on an intimate basis at thi point, but on the last day we were together, he got a lil weird. I kinda just decided to chalk it up to the "whatever" category, since I know full well that I have a boy who's personality and looks I really like, and he also happens to really like me. His name is Jarret, and he couldn't be more wonderful. Not a lick better!

Oh, but the flaw.

Its a wonder to me how much I dig a guy who legitmatly understands me. I reckon there are very few sensitive guys out there, and Jarret is definatly one of them. He likes me to explain my emotions and my darkness, and he listens intently. But, I also realize that he doesn't grasp a lot of it the minute I throw it out; not because he's slow, just because we've had different life experiences. I'm just weird.

Jarret and I have a lot of roads left to walk down, and who knows, he may be a boy I see in a monogamous, serious capacity. I think about him in that role a lot, and I know he does for me as well... heck, we've been on-off since august.

But, we were discussing Dave. Weird as I may be, I was happy for Dave when he said he was in a relationship with a new boy, even though it hadn't been that long since we last went out. I can understand it though, since Jarret and I could up an item, and I'd have been the one that seemed to suddenly be "committed."

I had assumed the boy would have to be better than me, or more ready to commit, or something, so I figured he clearly was a good guy. I was excited and happy for Dave. Pissy, true, but also very happy.

They lasted 16 days, and the dude was an Alcholic. The capital "A" is for asshole. I discovered all of this at Denny's chatting, and I think it went until around 6am. I come back from the bathroom, and Dave's sorta making a face, so I ask what he's thinkin'. He was tryin' to figure out weither to ask me home or not, and how to do so without there being some sort of subtext. He was trying to be nice, and you know what? Krista and I are gonna have to stop calling him by the nickname "Crazy."

Krista:"Talk to Crazy lately?"
Me:"Nah, Crazy's been writing too much poetry about the drugs I did to talk on the phone."

We're not nice. But, I guess the good behavior from earlier that day kicked in again, cause we cuddled and stuff, and didn't hook up or anything. We just snuggled, and it was very nice. He's a good snuggler.

So, ya, we managed to watch moviesall today and it was the perfect way to spend the day-- I feigned that i ran errands to those that would have cared, but really, it was a movie day. Dave and I stayed on the couch, under the covers, and practically in our pajamas for "Roger & Me", "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", and "The Lost Boys." I barely watch one movie every three months, so I'm setting a high benchmark early on in 2003.

Lots of other personal though, but I'm tired. I'll remember to talk about the fact that I've decided not to move back to DC for a good long while. But, sleep now.

I Said Gah-Dayum, Gah-Dayum.

Fuckin adventures out the wazoo in the past two days. For Christmas, my brother Trey gave me Capitals tickets. I couldn't have been more thrilled, the only time I make it to a Caps game is when he throws tickets my way.

And, of course he has seasons tickets, and the seats were amazing. That said, I got to the stadium, and suddenly I'm a star. I'm sitting in Trey's section getting looks, and he hasn't quite arrived yet. I'm there maybe 10 minutes and he shows, headed to his buddy's section.

He calls me over, and we shoot the shit for a bit. I have to fess up to circling the wrong date on the calander, so I was like a half an hour late, and dateless, but I think it was better that way. Why you ask? Cause Trey and I got to do some major drinking and some major bonding.

Everywhere I went, I got treated like VIP, and whenever Trey would say "that's my little brother" people would come up to shake my hand, or tell me how wonderful my big bro is.

Weeeeeird. So, Caps won, and Trey kept grabbing me Tanqs and Tonics-- I love that my brother knows exactly what I like to drink.

But, either way, we had a really nice time just bullshitting at Nick and Stefs, and then made our way down to Rosa Mexicano. Of course they had to be booked, so we diddybopped right on down to Zola's.

Its Resturant Week in the city, so it was all sorts of packed, but we got this swank-ass booth in the back. I had this awesome pepperoni fondue, a veal dish, and a chocolate fondue dessert... oh my god was it fuckin' lucious. It was all very hoity-toity, and I of course ate the atmosphere up with a spoon.

Hell, I woulda sopped it up with a biscuit.

I parted ways with my brother and then made my way to Cosi. I hung out for a bit, smoked some with the Nuvia, and met the members of Stomp!

They were eating in Lauren's section, and then we went out together. We headed down to Ben N' Mo's where we partook in an apple hookah and watched the MC Battles. There was this one little white girl who was off the chain... and she was punkin' the big dudes left and right.

You know I gotta cheer for my underdogs.

Out with me was Lauren, Jess, Jarrett, and the guys from Stomp... and after we parted ways with the Stomp-Heads, we went back to the house on Holmeade and smoked. Lauren and I proceeded to make our infamous Grands Biscuit (which we make EVERY time we're stoned in that damn house) and egg sandwhich. Yessah, it was good.

Jarret drove me back to his place and I had a nice sleep. I also have come to the realization that Jarret and I just aren't sexually compatible. He's a great, amazing guy, but he just doesn't do it for me.

I can sleep next to him without getting hard. Its done.

I'm concerned that we may lose our friendship, and I'd hate to see that happen. I love spending time with him, and hanging out with him. As a matter of fact, Jarret's done a great job of always being there when I needed him, and he makes me feel good. All that said, he still doesn't do it for me sexually. I won't call him a bad kisser, thats not nice, but he sincerly doesn't work me out. I wish he did. It would make it easier.

Either way, its the next day, and I'm giving Nuvia a hand in upper Northwest. Picture it: Martin Luther King Day. Empty, but car lined street. Me driving. Car *reversing* out of a parallel parking spot. Crunch.

I manage to tag the back of his car and seriously fuck up the front of mine. The muthafucker was drunk and stoned, and didn't speak english-- but get this, Nuvia knew him. He fucking sells heroin apparently, and she knew a boy that owed him 15Gs. She told me not to give him my real info, and since she was translating, I was sure not to.

Attafuckingirl.

We walk a few blocks up and catch a bus down to the Fort Totem metro stop, from which we caught the red line down to Dupont South. Nuvia made it home safe and sound, and Jarrett came and kept me company all day.

Thats partly one of the things I'm worried about with the Jarret, for the record. He's a good buddy, and I don't wanna hurt him. I know that he once had trouble dating another boy because that boy just wasn't me, and as ego-inflating as that is... I wouldn't wish that shit on anyone. I know what it feels like. Men suck.

Um, yeah, bitter faggot shit aside, I called dad, and he comes up to tow my lovely car away. He gets it all set up good and tight, and I tap the gas just a tiny bit to align it all properly, and we're all good to go... when my car goes over the edge of the dolly, falling and wedging itself now *on* the dolly. Yah, thats a fucked up chasis. Somehow, Dad and I managed to fix it with the help of two extra jacks and some 2x4s.

Let me just also repeat that I have somehow fucked a heroin dealer and we are in the sketchiest neighborhood around. I'm scared shitless by my city for the first time ever, and I'm just glad that we're ready to go.

Oh, thats when the tire on the dolly pops. My father's a bright guy, he knows when I'm around to expect the unexpected, and he just so happened to have a spare dolly tire.

Which pops, too. So, my dad's now towing my car through Georgia Avenue on a rim, just praying that a gas station appears. The dolly's shaking like crazy, and I'm nearly in tears for my poor car. We've travelled maybe 2 blocks with a tire, and now maybe 7 more on the rim.

When things are starting to get a little bleak, and the dolly's begun ratttling crazy-style, we look and see a "Now Entering Maryland" sign. And, then, like the fuckin' burning bush, a BP appears, and lawd-love-ya, it had a service station. AND it had a 13 inch tire to fit the dolly.

Yeah, we made it home alive... but now that I've decided (oh, you may not know this) to stay home and not move to DC until prolly August, I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna get to and from class... argh. Its a 2 hour commute each way, and I can't exactly take the bus.

Ahh, well, we'll see. I refuse to let this strip away my clarity and good mood. I forged the beginings of a real friendship with my older brother, decided exactly how I do and don't wish to live out the next 7 or so months, and have found a way to actually discuss things with my father when we have differing view points without either one of us feeling attacked-- I don't know what silly braid the universe is trying to weave with these incidences and calamities, but I refuse to let it be anything other than a bright knit.

Huzzah.

Grumble, grumble.

I need to get lean. I need to get myself going to the gym regularly. I'm frustrated with myself doublely today, and its my own fault.

Thats the term used to describe what I was when I was bein' a hot-mess in the city, at least according to a couple of people. I was lean then, and now I'm "still cute", but not as cute as I was "when [I] was lean." I have this stupid complex already, and I realize its outta hand.

Krista has made her case thorougly-- she's been pushing for me to get off my weight-loss issues and move on to the gym. Get lean, get toned. She's right-- I'm not 300lbs anymore, and I can't keep yo-yoing these last 15lbs. I've fought with them for more than a few oscillations.

I have the campus gym for when I'm there, and Mom has suggested I start going to the Pumphouse right here in town, as it has a tanning bed to boot.

I'm going to be working at TGIFriday's starting on Tuesday, and I get to be excited about that. I'm also more than a 'lil excited at the notion of reclaiming my cell phone from UPS. I can't wait to have her back. I miss my phone.

I'm being a fussbudget right now, and I know why. I was hooking up with a guy named Chris for a while this Summer, I guess it was earlier on while I was still at Peace Action, so about May-ish. Chris was a nice guy, but he was about as on the ball as a brick. He also was a crazy substance abuser and got kicked out of his frat/school for being such. He wasn't out, he was a nice guy, but fairly low calibur.

I see him online today, and I said hello, and he told me that he had seen my name on his boyfriend's buddy list. I was of course intrigued, so I asked who is boyfriend was.

He said Dan.

Do I even know a Dan? I think I do, but I can't for the life of me pull the memory of where from. I'm bothered by this for a lot of reasons... argh.

Part of me also believes that this is the boy who is dating Dave, and that he typed the wrong name. I'm going to be more than a little irritated if he is dating Dave and said Dan, but whatever.

I told Dave that I wanted to ask him out to a real date the last time we were together, but I would have felt like a creep doing it after coming up to help him deal with a break-up. Thats just a little skuzzy in my book... but I did tell him that I had the thoughts of asking him out, and that I knew these were things that were wrong to tell a boy who was dating someone else.

Dave said that if he left his boyfriend, he wouldn't hold any feelings towards him. I don't know how to react to that.

Tomorrow I'm gonna go by the Pumphouse and see whats what. Aside from wanting to start lifting, and I would desperately like to go for a run... nothing cleanses my soul like a good run. I just can't go in the cold, its too hard on my lungs.

Its also almost time for my checkup, and I've got anxieties this time around. I reckon I'm gonna go pay the money on campus and see what happens. I can't let fear get to me, I just need to go get a clean bill of health and be done with it. I'm just scared of big red marks this time.

I so don't like that fear. It gets in the way of things. All the more reason to go and have it dispelled.

What a great lazy day!

I woke up at like 8am and took a morning bath that lasted about an hour; a hot bath first thing in the morning has very similar qualities to a wake-and-bake, I think its safe to say. Should either occur, the rest of the day will be spent relaxing, eating, and ultimatly enjoyed.

Now, don't get me wrong... adventures can occur, the adventure rating just gets graded on a curve-- I went to the gas station, and that takes about a 1/2 hour to do around here, and that definatly constituted an adventure! I hit up rite-aid today to see if they had any 5-HTP, but alas, they don't. So, I spent another half hour just playing in their vitamins section, seeing all the different goodnesses I could promote. Such a stoner moment.

Thats okay, today was certaintly a pleasent one.

Oh, and randomness strikes again. Puja and Carriel decided to go to a little party with (get ready) Carriel's suitemate's friend. Who is Dave.

They also met his boyfriend, Chris. I forgot how great the Triumvarate was. Anyone can be triangulated, and I found Chris's boyfriend without even knowing to envoke the power. Word. They came back with the right responses-- chris is a nice guy. Thats important. They also came back with things that made me smile for purely selfish reasons. Word, twice.

Yah, good day. Now all I'm wondering about is if I should run up to the school today, or stick around here and wait out the snow. I can get things accomplished tomorrow if I go up, school or no. I may go up tonight and call it a draw.

A gem, from Puja: "Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cathouse."

Word, Hat Trick.

We enter in the midst of house warming party held for John and Liz (dating); more correctly, we enter in the midst of a conversation being held by John and Phil (college best friends, now 26) conversing on the matter of why Phil has left his amazing job. Phil responds, only half flippantly, "I left, because I plan to Save the World."

4.18

"And how do you propose to do it?"
"Well, Lungless labs; thats for a start.
We'll picket it, disrupt it, sue it--"
"Phil, Lungless LAbs won't give a fart.
They'll slam you straight into the slammer
Where you can practice Russian grammar
Until... (By ones and twos a knot
Grows round the disputatious spot)...
Sense penetrates your soft ingenious
Cerebrum." "John, you've missed the point,"
Says Phil: "The world is out of joint;
And such acts, though they may seem tenuous
To you, give heart to us; whats more,
Bring new peace fodder to our door."

4.19

Speech strained and clarified by passion
--His S's remain S's still--
In unantagonistic fashion,
Eschewing escalation, Phil
Resumes: "John, take a look around us.
Imagine that the first bombs found us
Just as we are-- as here we stand
A glass of liquor in our hand.
There by the door is Van Gough's painting
Of Sunflowers. Here are all our friends.
And suddenly, our small world ends,
And our vile dust is swept up, tainting
The hills, the vineyards, and the seas
With irredemdiable disease.

4.20

"So tell me, how much will it please us
That mankind with its crazy ways
--Bach, Rembrandt, Socrates, and Jesus--
Will burn to ash and swivelizing haze?
Will it console us to be knowing
In the swift instant of our going
That Red Square, like our children's creche,
Will soon be charred or ulcerous flesh?
And then, when the soft radiation
Descends on what's not been destroyed
--Trees, whales, birds, wolves-- the birthless void--
Think how the crown of earth's creation
Will murder what which gave him birth,
Ripping out the slow womb of earth.


4.21

Is it just 'we' who feel this terror?
Do you think 'they' can't understand
What will come down through aim or error
Upon their great and fragile land?
We must stop--...(Caught by sudden sadness
He fumbles)...-if we can- this madness,
We common people of goodwill..."
A young man stands and stares as Phil
Says, "...Fallout can't tell Omsk from Reno..."
He stands there wordless, half in love,
Drinking Phil's speech, the image of
El Greco's Felix Paravicino:
The same pale, slender, passionate face,
Stregth and intensity and grace.

4.22

It's Ed. Now Liz has introduced him
(At his request). Ed, rarely short
Of words, finds Philip's have reduced him
To numbness. On the tennis court
Or with his advertising rabble
Ed spouts forth a distracting babble
Of witty entertaining trash
Till his companions long to smash
Their rackets on his simmering cranium
Or seal his lips with editing tape;
But two sure passwords for escape
Have been discovered: One's Uranium,
The other, God. All talk of these
Causes Ed's babbling brooke to freeze.

4.23

Now host and hostess, drawn by duty,
Have vanished, but-- to stay with Ed--
At twenty-three, though quite astute, he
Seems easily dispirited;
Although his energy's appealing,
It serves the function of concealing
Rifts of anxiety so deep
Some nights he finds it hard to sleep.
(Liz thinks this trait comes from their mother.)
Both Sue and Liz adore Ed: he's
Warmhearted, fun, and quick to pleace;
But neither understand their brother
When his designs and words are skewed
By what they term his godly mood.

4.24

Phil looks at Ed: intese, athletic,
Silent-- the sort of man whom he's
Uneasy with. But Ed's ascetic
Tension betrays his own unease;
And by now Phiil's free-floating status
(Bouyed by spiritiuous afflatus)
Projects goodwill on all mankind--
And so, in half an hour, we find the pair engaged in conversation,
Which now that he's gained his cool
And half slipped back to playing the fool,
Revolved round Ed's prolonged narration
Of how he happened to procure
A green iguana from the store.

[Phil and Ed continue a fun, light conversation before being interrupted by Jan. Jan, a college friend of Phil's ex-wife is not pleased with an off-handed comment about woman meant only in jest. Phil options to leave, and Ed offers him a place to crash in town so he doesn't have to drive home drunk. They arrive at Ed's.]

4.31

Phil looks around at Ed's housekeeping.
Ed yawns, and strips off shirt and shoes.
Silence outside. The iguana's sleeping.
This quiet grid of avenues
With red-flowered gum for decoration
Lies deep in slumber and sedation.
"It suits me, Phil. The flat's quite small,
But there's a garden, after all--
And a small pool for the iguana..."
Phil's bleary eyes rest on a bowl
Of fruit, a crucifix, a roll
Of film, a photograph of Lana
Turner, who smiles across the floor
At Holbein's sketch of Thomas More.

4.32

"My patron saint." "Which one?" Ed, grinning,
Says, "Go to sleep!" and turns to pray.
He asks forgiveness for his sinning,
Gives thanks for the expended day,
Consignxs his spirit to God's Charity...
Now Philip, with exiguous clairty
And some bewilderment, sees Ed
Cross himself twice, then come to bed.
Lights out. Phil mumbles, "What a party!
I really blew it then with Jan.
Ed, thanks a lot. I mean it, man--
I haven't yet met a Dorati
I didn't like... (Across the bed
He reaches out and touches Ed)...

4.33

... Good Night." Ed fears to answer. Trembling,
He moves his hand across the space
--What terrifying miles--assembling
His courage, touches Philip's face
And feels him tense up and go rigid.
"I'm sorry," Ed says, in a frigid,
Half-choking voice, "I thought you might--
I didn't mean-- I mean-- good night."
Taut with cateleptic tension
They lie, unspeaking. Phil thinks, "Why
Be so uptight? He's a great guy.
I've never bothers with convention.
God! It's a year that I've been chaste...,"
And puts his arm around Ed's waist"

4.34

Now, just as things were getting tenser,
And Ed and Phil were making love,
The imperial official censor
--Officious and imperious-- drove
His undscriminating panzer
Straight through the middle of my stanza.
Now, GentleReader, is it right
This swine should put my Muse to flight,
Rooting about among my pearly
Wisdom till he finds orts that he
Can gobble down with grunting glee?
Forgive me, Reader, if I'm surly
At having to replace the bliss
I'd hoped I could portray, with this.

Roundtrip air-fare to London. $199

I should be worried, perhaps, as my wanderlust is kicking in. My wanderlust is very rarely condusive with school; like Caroline's told me on many an occasion, you actually have to be in the state in which you are enrolled if you hope to ever attend a class. She's right, but Boston is a fun visit. North Caroline could be fun. Or Seattle. I've never spent any real amount of time in the latter two, but I do think it could be a welcome stay.

This could all be from the blood test, or it could be from chatting with Mark about my next visit with the sexual assault counselor. He broke up with his boyfriend last night, and other yarns of wrongness. Also in the vein, it could be that I had an enjoyable time with a boy, and now I'm thinking of reasons to make him undateable. I'm a friggin loon, but a loon with a second date today.

Blah, its prolly just a case of Boy.

I get the urge to be elsewhere sometimes, and I guess this morning it kicked in. I used to stare at National Airport when I would take the metro in from Phoenix's, and just think about all the different places I could go, with just the little money in my pocket.

Speaking of "little money," I guess part of it stems from the fact that I'm making next to no money at Friday's... its a lot of fun, don't get me wrong, but my sales were $65 on friday, before I got cut for the day. Its really hard to make any cash, even when you're pullin' down 30% tips. That still only leaves you with havin' to tip out bussers... a lovely 18 bones is fun and all, but not when it costs 8 in gas just to get to work.

Alas, I'm sure I'll find myself in better spirits after a ciggertte and some time alone in the car; after all, I do have enough dough to buy party supplies for Ristika and I, so I can't fuss too much. I'm just glad my money from school came, otherwise I'd be a complete pauper.

...

Puja just informed me that it's Rag Time at the Apollo for everyone. A quick guesstimate will confirm that it's all of my girl's rag cycle time... no wonder I'm pissy. That explains last weeks eating.

(ramble)
Silly Stoner.

Got my blood test results back-- woo hoo! I'm so fresh and so clean-clean! I rewarded myself to a day of slackin on Monday 'cause of the good news. That seems like the most important thing to have happened, finding out that I'm disease free.

I feel a little like the stray cat that gets taken in to a nice home. I've gotten fat, healthy, and contented. What a lovely feeling.

Kylie and Dannii Minogue's new stuff, BT's Emotional Technology, Kevin Aviance's Give it Up, Fischerspooner's #1, Timo Maas's Music for the Maases 2. I figure now's as good a time as any tobe replinishing my CD collection. They all got jacked, and so I've not had music for a good while now-- and there was no need to get new music since the CD player in my truck was broken. Now I have one, so CDs I will buy. Its better that I don't have a tape deck or audio-in port on my car, since it means I have to go out and buy CDs again instead of just downloading 'em and throwin' 'em into a Rio Karma.

Eventually I'll nab one of those nifty Karmas, but until then, it means a slow purchace of CDs. I'd like to continue buyin' CDs every week, maybe like one or two a week. That way I'd be maintaining an active interest in listening instead of just being washed over by Pop like I was for a while.

It also means at outlet of spending money on things that are good for me. I need to treat myself to things more often, because I don't do a very good job of that. Pot here, a cappacino there, but rarely clothes or music. Sometimes I manage to save for an electronic, sometimes. I'd like to see myself blowing money away on something other than drugs, snacks, and other wastes of time. It's still blowin' through cash instead of saving it, but 3 small mochas is a cd, you know? I'd rather, as a person, be going for the music that the instant gratifications...

Alas, stoner updates.

One last thing: The McMason Underground Gossip Mill is faster than I had realized. I went to visit my old roomies and michelle yesterday, and you know what? They knew I had a "boyfriend." The message didn't get too distorted in this game of telephone, they're just a 'lil off. Kinda like bein' in the Enquirer, ya know? Gotta love it.

(/ramble)

I totally enjoyed my weekend.

Friday night, Dan, Nicki, Creech, Sara, and I went to the Jew Frat's party-- I ran into a friend of mine from freshman year, Ricky, who is actually now the roomate of Nicki's bastard ex boyfriend. The ex is named Tim. He's a douche. That's all I have to say about him.

I beat the party record for keg-standing, at 19 seconds. Not a personal best, but enough to leave with a smile. I also drank jungle juice for the very first time; I thought well of it. Yum!

Afterwards we went to Ike's Diner for foooood. Ike's is the new on campus late-night-till-4-am dive that takes meal plans. The line was insane, so we dipped after waiting nearly half an hour. On the walk, I casually threw-up, and kept walking. The group was a little surprised at how non-chalantly someone can just vomit and walk... Ahh well, the joys of stomach muscles.

Saturday I went into the city to play with Lauren and Jess at Apex (it was lesbian night!). Dan and Creech metro-d in, and we met up with Jackie, too. Sooo much fun. I smuggled a bottle of Jim Beam into the club... in my crotch. For the record, it was a handle of Jim, too. We hid the bottle in the bathroom at one point, and then just decided to leave it in jackie's purse. We took swigs of it every now and then in between dancing with trannies.

Okay, so maybe it was just Jackie and I dancing with the trannie, but she was like 50, and resembled a female snoopy. And she kept making eyes at me, so I decided to be awful. Booty-grinding She-Male Snoopy with your curly-haired partner in crime, while chugging a bottle of Crotch Beam, is a moment that can only happen at Apex.

Creech, Dan, and I went back to Jackies and partied more. Jackie and I were troops, finished off the handle, and taunted each other over a couple a' rounds of pool. A good time.

Jackie's trip to NY was post-poned until today, so as it turns out, I'm still gonna diddy-bop up. Jess, Lauren and I are catching the mornin' bus up to NY and meeting up with Jackie then. We're gonna come back Wednesday night, and I'm gonna head on home.

I haven't been home in forever, I'm lookin' forward to it. I'm hoping I can work on Friday before going down to Blacksburg on Saturday. What on earth is in Blacksburg, a mountain town nearly 5 hours from here? Suzanne Dove, who I'm going to tickle, hug, and inebriate for her 21st.

I'll need to leave for Blacksburg at like 7am to be there by noon, and then I'm gonna have to leave Sunday morning at like 10 to be back in the city in time for work on Sunday night. I'm lookin' at only getting a couple of hours of sleep this weekend 😛

Thats okay, busy's good.

As it turns out, Nikki, Dan's good friend, turns 21 on May 20. We're talking about having a combined party... Lord knows where we'll have it. I should talk to maybe Michelle, Suzanne, and JC. See if they'd throw me a 21st birthday party. Hmmm...

Who knows, who knows. Anywho, I gotta go write a paper before I get ready for New York. Yay!

I'm getting some random kid from online to come help me put the air conditioner I just got off craigslist in my window. It was free, so even if it won't fit, I can't complain, all it cost me was a little gas.

It weighs like a bajillion pounds, so as I was moving it from my car to here, I had one of the guys who hang out around my apartment help me lift and carry it up. Its so funny, to know the majority of the street people by name (or title). When I went back down to teh car to turn off the hazzards, I ran into my upstairs next-door neighbor. Her name is Caitlin, she's 21, and just moved outta foggy bottom. Good for her! The more people out of GWULand, the better. Unless its Mara for law school. But, then, I expect she can get into Georgetown.

So, that said, now some random boy is coming over to help me lift this damn air conditioner into a window, so that the house is nice and cool before Puuuuuja gets here. She may bring Donovoan, too, which is exciting. I love that boy! (Donovan is Cherese's boyfriend, Cherese is Puja's old roommate who became ashley's roomate)

I used to have to use Kate to keep track of all of my acquantances, because I totally couldn't do it. I simply knew too many people. I don't think of how many people I know in my casual day-to-day life until I'm reminded. Jenny Lee was asking me how I ended up at some party or something, and I told her facetiously "I know a lot of people."

Her response? "Yah, thats what I keep hearing."

Apparently thats one of the ways people describe me. Nifty. A shame I'm not more popular 😉

I totally scratched my eye. 3 tears. Apparently its gonna scab over and be fine in about a week-- crazy, right?

So, I've been wearing my glasses, and been shoppin' around for a new pair. I wanted to get some today, but i was just too friggin' busy. I took Lauren and Gidja to puppy-class today, and we learned how to walk properly on the leash together.

Hrm. That sounded a little more kinky than I intended... but I did try on collars at Petsmart, so I can't say that it wasn't a little deserved.

Anyway, a puppy-class graduate stayed over last night... Ms. Anabelle Lee and her momma, Ms. Caroline. Loooooved having them over. She drove up and we just went out a drankin' and had a fabulous time. Shot some pool, had some drinks, met her friend Nathan and his friend Claudine. Fantastic folks.

Can't say enough good things.

Nathan's a cutie, but he's no Alex. Ahh, Alex. I don't think my crush is ever gonna call me back. Not much I can do about it. Such a shame... I really still like him.

Sun-drained and deeply tanned is how I'm spending this third of july. Krista and Crystal came down the day before yesterday to visit, and we went over to Playbill for drinks and for karokee. When we arrived, there was this amazing singer doing her rendition of "The Greatest Love" by Whitney. She rocked the fucking house. The next few singers were no less stunning.

Who knew that they were from two musicals over at the Kennedy Center? "Beehive" and "Sheer Madness" have been playing for a little while each over there, and I guess the principals made their way to my little dive bar for fun and laughs.

Poor Crystal, the one member of the family who can really sing didn't even get a chance to show her chops, since the Karokee machine broke half way into the evening. The other half of the evening was filled with acapella-ness.

We left, somewhat appropriatly, on "Empty Chairs" from Les Mis.

We had finished off my big ass bottle of Vodka before going across the street, so when we got back and danced in my apartment for an hour, it allowed us some sobering-up time. It also allowed for some hardcore emotional bonding... over the words and music of Dar Williams. We hugged, cried, and remembered why we were so glad to have each other.

LOVE them.

After the hour or two back at the apartment, we hopped our way over to Apex and did some dancing. A cute boy in a hat danced with Crystal, and Krista and I just rocked our shit. It was one of those nights where I wasn't feeling dance shy at all, so I grabbed the girls by the hand and led them to the up-stage area, and the crowd cleared for us. Its a satisfying feeling to watch people watch you, and know that they are making desirous looks. It feels good, its fucking empowering, and it makes me want to shake my dance shyness altogether. If Krista and Crystal are the antidotes for it, maybe they should just be around more often... just a thought. 😉

Anyway, we came down to the country the next morning, ending up at my folks bright and early; we left at 8:45, and made it here by like 11ish, including the stop at McDonald's.

We drank lovely frozen drinks and swam in the pool all day long. I'm a red-tastic light-burned thats going to fade into a gorgeous tanned, which is more than I can say for Ms. Crystal, who missed spots all over herself with the suntan lotion, and thusly looks like a bizarre picasso. No big thing. Its just funny shit.

We had been up for so long, drunken no less, that as soon as 10:30 rolled around, we were crawling into the tent to pass out.

Oh, ya, with so many heads in the house, we just pitched a tent in the back yard and pretending to be pioneers. It somewhat matches another portion of the day's activities... we decided to put go trapsing through the swamps around here like we did when we were little.

Muddy and yucky. Totally my childhood.

Right, so yeah, at 10:30 we were crawling into the tent, and being the person I am, I went ahead and checked my phone for messages. I had a text message from Bville Boy. Bville is an old coworker of mine, and someone I once considered a really good friend. When I cleaned up my addictions, I ended up losing my friendship with him.

He and his then-boyfriend were Lauren's roommates in the Holmead House, and they really sorta scewed over the member's of that home. Lauren, of course, is living with me now, but the reason she moved into the apartment with Jess in the first place had a lot to do with having to move out of the Holmead House-- when half of your roomates, Bville and BVEx, aren't paying, you sorta have to get the hell out.

So, Bville Boy revealed to me that he was at court for his eviction proceedings, and during the trial or whatever, he had a heart attack. A real, honest to god heart attack. He's fine, from what I can tell, but having his heart stops eems to be what he needed to kick start his quitting. BVEx has decided not to kick the habit, nor has his BVille's best friend... and to my shock, the ex and the best friend (who is a lesbian) are living with someone new... Justin...

I've mentioned Justin here previously. I hold massive distrust for anything/anyone associated with that boy, and damn it, I'm honestly thrown through a loop. How do you trust someone who is tied to the person you most intimatly tie in your head to your abuse?

Bville Boy was crying on the phone with me, and he told me he missed me. I'm the only person he knows who's actually cleaned themselves up, and he wasn't sure if he should contact me or not. Kate told him to. She said I'd be a good person to talk to about this... Kate. More old ties.

He informed me he's living with his parents, and I told him to stay there. I told him that's the best place to be (his parents are apparently helping him a ton, being supportive, etc). I promised we could get coffee, and that we could talk about anything he wanted to. He was grateful. He asked me how I did it, how I quit-- he said it was so hard. How did I quit? Because I had to! Because my life was called into question, and I chose togo on living... and to him I swore, swore on my life, that it was worth it.

I want to call Kate and fact check. We'd spoken fairly recently, had a real chat, and I think she's on the path to "un-broken." Even when we were both broken toys, we still had an underlying bond. I feel like I can talk to her about whats going on without there being any pretense of sketch.

Justin also makes me so paranoid, so fucking sketchy, that when Bville told me that his ex and his old favorite lesbianwere living with Justin, I immediatly thought that this was a trick, or that Justin was trying to somehow "get" me.

A well placed call to Tara calmed my fears and squelched the paranoia, thank goodness. She provided me a superb Crazy Check, bringing me back to reality. She pointed out what I needed to have repeated, and reiterated the arms-length embrace philosophy that I was already thinking about.

I want to know so much more about whats going on in this situation. I'm curious how Bville, BVEx and Justin could have crossed paths to the point that they'd be living together. I want to know how much Kate is involved with Justin. Argh. Nothing I can do from here. I know I need to not think about it... just calm the fuck down and just tan more. A good tan solves so much. And besides, if I'm gonna see Bville I wanna have a tan, just 'cause I'm vain.

Speaking of vain, I did have steak and crabs today for dinner... I'm going to get soooo fat visiting my parents. Just thinking about these associations from my past make me feel obese. Isn't that awful? I wish Krista and Crystal didn't have to work on the Fourth and could just be here tomorrow, too. They left tonight to go back up to their respective states, and somehow I don't mind bein' a True Fatty when they're here...

It's 12:30, and I'm getting ready to run over to Halo. I'm gonna guzzle some booze before I get there, out of neccesity this time around. I can't afford to be drinking all of my money, as per the norm, because I just bought tickets to Hawaii. Lauren and I are gonna be there from March 3rd until the 10th.

Fucking stoked. Pam's gonna have no idea what hit her.

That said, I totally missed work this morning. I slept through/never set my alarm last night. I'm not sure which it is 'cause I did my very best to entertain yesterday evening on what became a two event night. Kelly [straight] came over with her gayboyfriend Matt and I cooked us all dinner while we watched the two hour premier of Alias. We might start doing that regularly, Kelly and I. God Bless Tivo.

Speakin' of the Lord, god bless good sex. Neighborsex rules.

Where the fuck is Paris Hilton when I need her?

I could really use her black amex right about now. If I'm going to Hawaii, I need a few things: rock hard abs, a well furnished apartment to return home to (no one likes coming from paradise to la chateu de ghetto), and some new clothes.

Margaret Cho once upon a time ago revealed the true secret for perfect abs: sucking cock. The only way to get the perfect washboard is through repetitive waist-bending motions, something that I hadn't, until recently, been partaking in. Since my sex drive died out somewhere around the time of my crystal meth addiction, I assumed that it was the drugs and not the dick that caused me to disappear into a lithe, toned, concentration camp Ken look. The gym has taught me otherwise, showing me that I can have good arms and pecs without nose candy. I'm actually not allowed back at my gym, so theres no way to know if it would have eventually supplied me with the washboard I want. That said, I'm left with one option: the only way to discover which variable, dick or drugs, was at work for me two summers ago is to reestablish an active, healthy sex life for myself.

Logic's fucking fabulous.

That brings us to point two: My apartment. While mostly well furnished, the old girl could use some help in the bedroom. Long neglected from lack of use by more than a stumbly drunkard (read: me), I think its time to make it a saddle worth getting back into. Bookshelves, artwork, maybe even a bigger rug. An ottoman to be bent over.

If only I were 18 again... oh, the wistful days of having more than a passing resemblances to a high priced twink escort and the number of sexual suitors to match. Oh, the days of having boyfriends to just steal cothes from.

Alas, now I've some how become indie meets Bloomies, and I'm actually the person I would have stolen clothes from.

I don't know who the fuck this quiz thinks she is, startin' out all fantastic, and then cuttin' to the quick of my crazy like its her job. Fidelity, abuse, and pathological lying? Fuck that bitch, I will mace her ass. She don't even know me!

From here on in, no more quizes!


To wit:

You are a XSYG--Expressive Sentimental Physical Giver. This makes you a Sex Bomb.

You are sexy sex sex sex! The sexness! You are the sexiest, hottest and most charismatic of all types. You are a captivating speaker and a great dinner date -- relaxed, self-effacing, charming and generous. Your type probably has origins in something sad -- trying to keep the peace in a tough family situation, or an early heartbreak -- and you'll probably want to address and resolve that at some point, but in your relationships that heartache is pure gold!


You lie effortlessly -- not necessarily a bad thing. You can have problems with fidelity. You need frequent praise and validation, and in seeking it you can make decisions that aren't consistent with your general good judgment. In other words, don't cheat on your significant other just because someone is paying attention to you.

You strongly dislike conflict, and will avoid it. Like an XPYG, you give so much of yourself to your partner that you feel dismissed and unappreciated if you don't get the same in return. But you internalize your feelings more and have a hard time getting over them. You don't *want* to cheat -- you just keep finding yourself in vulnerable situations. But you'll stay with your partner in the long run from guilt and a desire to please.

Your sex life will always be hot. You are one of the rare people who can keep the fires of passion going forever -- if you find a good match. Find another XSYG and you will never need (or want) anyone else again.

Of the 175447 people who have taken this quiz, 8.2 % are this type.

I had a really busy day today, I bounced from work to home, to 12th and Penn (to pick up a package), to 13th and U (to get ready for hawaii), back to home, to the gym, to home, to Jenny Lee's (15th and U) to Chi-Cha (Carter's going away party), and couldn't quite make it to Staccato's for indie rock and roll karaokee for the children (tsunami relief) to catch up with the improvers.

Phew.

Anyway, on my way home, after spending time with Alex, his new boyfriend, and Jenny Lee I decided to come home, rub one out, and leave a message on Craigslist under men seeking men. Its a laundry list of the thing I want in a man. We'll see if anything comes of it, won't we?

Bring it on, 2005... the motto? "I've got feet, sweep me off them."

The Year of Love, indeed.

I'm sore, banged, and bruised. But I'm happy.

No, I'm not sleeping with anyone on a regular basis: tanning has made me feel like its summer! Its amazing! I'm amazing! It really is time to herald the return of SummerDrunk!

Thursday didn't see me making it to all-you-can-drink-a-rama at JR's; instead I opted for the safety of straight men, and went to the improv to hang out with the boys. I can’t seem to escape the trap of ending up in bumfuck whenever I go out and play with them– the time it was Chris's in Alexandria. I woke up pretty much still baked. Shocking. I made it back to the District in time to party at Lee and Nill's with Ashley.

I was apparently more trashed at the party than I can recall myself (not blackout drunk, just feeling spectacular enough that I had no idea that I was tipping over my beer repeatedly for the sake of stories). I love shots, I really do, and at a point they stopped giving me real shots, switching them with water. It took me a few (3) to realize this fact, at which point I asked for another. Even I know that water is a good idea!

I was horizontal on my couch with my feet still on the floor when I awoke the next morning. There was no Ashley in sight, meaning she made it home safely. Attagir! last thing I remember from Friday night was the vane efforts at watching Alias. Sadly, we were both entirely too trashed to comprehend a whole episode. We must of start and restarted three times.

Umm, ya, it took a lot to get me to work on Saturday, seein’ as how I was still drunk when I woke up. It definatly required Lauren and I getting coffee... I love it when the coffee guy sees me at 4:30, blurry eyed and less than bushy tailed. He gives me my coffee for free! Hee! Anywho, when I got off work, I made it over to Shacha's for a lovely little party. It was already two, but that didn't stop Chris and I from goin' over there and having an absolutely fun time. Or so I think we had. Cause, uh, yeah... I got plastared at Sacha's.

I was drunk enough that I had to call around to find my keys on Sunday morning. I couldn't for the life of me figure out where I had left them. Apparently I put them in the sink, and Chris moved them for me. He knew exactly where they were...

My Drunky McSherlock powers of deduction tells me that Chris knowing where my keys are also means Chris had to put me to bed. Uh oh. This complicates things just a smidge-- on Sunday a friend of ours informed me that I may have "weirded" Chris out. Hee!

It damn well could have been anything. I am just as likely to have fallen asleep with my head in his lap as I am to have tried to make out with him. Either one of those could weird someone out, and either one is as likely as the other to have occured. He hasn't brought it up, and I'm gonna just let my own curiousity on the matter subside, and maybe just forget about it. Maybe. I am awful bruised up and my eye looks like I may very well have been punched– but that could have come from a domestic disturbance with my stairs.

I can’t wait to find out what really happened. There is nothing better than true gossip about yourself that you don't know.

So, anyway, like everyone else in America, I was doin the Super Bowl thing on Sunday. Drinks aplenty, but moderation, too. I clearly had been excessive for days and pace finally started to matter again.

I began my Super Day over at Caitlin, Ashley, and Jeremy's place, but I eventually had to make my way out to Glover Park for Bill's big shindig. Tons of people tons of fud, ya know? Bill’s all the way out in Glover Park, so it makes it a little tricky to get home, 'specially when I don't like waitin' around for the bus. I managed, with the aid of the lovely and wonderful Lil Miss Smokey.

Anywho, after my lovely ride home, I go to play more with Lauren, and she had Kelly in tow. Yay for snuggle buddies! Just snuggle buddies for a little while, though, cause this boy had to go to bed and get up eaaaarly on Monday.

This boy had the catch the Open Bar bus to Pennsylvania at 8 AM. Bailey's took the Improv skiing at White Tail providing us with the yummy open bar bus, ski rentals, lift rentals, a meal, and even booze in the lodge. Fred (Standsinsauce Movetocleveland), Bill, Chris, and I spent all day playing together. We provided the bowl hits on the side of a mountain, the good music, and the great comradery... It really was amazing, we had a wonderful time. See, ya’ll? Booze gives back!

I made it home early enough to go to Showtunes at JRs with Eric and his friends Kaari and Matt. Such a lovelier bunch of people than that one group I went with a couple of Thursdays ago. I practiced pace all day, and managed to not hurt myself or anyone else all day. Kaari and I even got a high score at one of those pushbutton-y games you place at Bars.

So, now after this remarkably long tally of events, lets discuss the damage done:

Ankle: Twisted.
Knee: Cut
Right Eye: Bruised
Right Cheek: Cut
Back: Scratched
Right Wrist: Scratched
Thighs: Sore

Damage from Skiing: 1
Damage from Drinking: 6

I'll let you guess which is from what.

Remember all the bangs and bruises I had a few weeks ago? They told me that perhaps I should find a new passion, a new love.

Gin and I broke up last week.

Gin has hurt me too badly over the course of this year, the realtionship requiring more from each of us with each passing month. I can't do it anymore. The neighbors were going to begin to wonder who was beating me up so badly, and since I can't remember most of the time, I wind up having to fill in the blanks with partial information. You can't say that Gin did this to you. Domestic disturbances are soooo 1997 Lifetime movie.

Lifetime movie or no, after a long bit of thinking I've decided its best if Gin and I saw other people. She needs to get out there and live her life and make new friends. I need to do the same, so Bourbon and I are buddying up.

Bourbons a tough act. He's rougher around the edges than my girl Gin, but we seem to get along well. I can tell that we're having a good time together before I ruin it by spending tooo much time with him and making it all awful.

And, I can still wake up at 9:30 on my own after a good night out with him. How cool is that?

Caitlin: (15:19:15): that's a yes, prepare the bong bitches

Me, a week earlier: AGH! Lesbians on my TV!
Lauren, today: Finally! Fags on your TV!

Showtune for the evening:
From Mame, (go download it!!):

Bosom Buddies

We'll always be bosom buddies. Friends, sisters and pals
We'll always be bosom buddies
If life should reject you there's me to protect you
If I say that your tongue is vicious
If I call you uncouth it's simply that
who else but a bosom buddy will sit down and tell you the truth
Though now and again I'm aware that my candid opinion may sting
Though often my frank observation might scald,
I've been meaning to tell you for years you should keep your hair natural like mine.
if I kept my hair natural like yours Id be bald.
But darling
If I say that your sense of style's as far off as your youth, it's simply that
who else but a bosom buddy will tell you the whole stinking truth
Each time that a critic has written your voice is the voice of a frog, straight
to your side to defend you I rush.
You know that I'm there every time that the world makes an unkind remark, when
they say Vera Charles is the worlds greatest lush it hurts me
and if I say your fangs are showing Mame pull in your claws it's simply that
who else but a bosom buddy will notice the obvious flaws
I feel it's my duty to tell you it's time to adjust to your age, you try to be
pega my heart when your lady Macbeth.
Exactly how old are you Vera the truth
how old do you think
Oh, I'd say somewhere in between 40 and death
But sweetie
I'll always be Alice Tokeless if you'll be Gertrude Stein and though I'll admit
I've dished you, I've gossiped and gloated but I'm so devoted
And if I say that sex and guts made you into a star, remember that who else but
a bosom buddy will tell you how rotten you are
Just turn to your bosom buddy for age and affection for help and direction for
loyalty love and for soothe remember that who else but a bosom buddy will sit
down and level and give you the devil will, sit down and tell you the truth.

I'm a darkly tanned, happy fatty.

I'm so happy. So internally fulfilled, free, and amazing. I have so much to share... the islands were amazing... disjointed memories, making love, and toes in the sand. Sea turtles, waves, whales, Geo Trackers, and memories. So many memories. And a man who took my heart very quickly. His name first Name's John, middle name Henry. He's a steel driving man, and if only I were making that up.

I'm in love with so many things. I can't wait to project my joy on the rest of the world. So much more later. I have to find my keys. I'm home again-- finding my keys is a real adventure after all this time.

And for now, a good old fashioned stalking:

"From:
Subject: hiya
Date: Sat Mar 12, 2005 01:34 PM

i see you in Whole Foods all the time, you're very cute.

and you have cool clothes 🙂

how are you?"

Not such a bad note to find in your box when you arrive home. I do have cool clothes.

Smarter boys would learn to watch what they type when posting to the interweb, but unfortunatly I'm sometimes a bit of a dim discoball. I referenced the Foggy Bottom Alcoholics Anonymous on here and had to explain to someone in real life that I wasn't in AA (not that I shouldn't be). Its a term I use for my friends who happen to go George Washington University, a lovely school in sunny, gorgeous Foggy Bottom).


Fucked up and funny, I can't claim to have coined the term. Last Halloween Julia, Cole, and a few others made T-Shirts that said FBAA and wore them out boozing. Fake names on the back, they took it the whole nine. A lot of people apparently missed the joke while they were out and proceeded to be ghastly offended.

I'm telling you, I could hear the story twelve times and still have beer come out my nose. Fantastic shit, ya'll.

Equally fanastic is the 14th Street Christian Youth Association moniker that we've got going for the neighbors and me. Sometime around the time of Bush's inauguration, the neighbors and I stumbled upon Nascar Poetry through Nill's. One of them even had a link so that we could request a free poem. We couldn't help ourselves:




Date: 1/23/2005
From:
Reply To:
To: qdesigns@islc.net
Subject: requesting free poem

Miss "Trish"-

My prayer group and I were inspired by your eloquent writing and wondering what poetic sentiment you could offer us directly after the auspicious re-inauguration of our wonderful president. Any inspired words you could offer us would be much appreciated!


Yours in Christ-
Michael Hall and the 14th Street Christian Youth Association
<><




So, thats that.

Celebrated Margarita Monday with Markie on the fire escape. We tended to the garden, which is just a' sproutin', and invited people over to partake in our tasty frozen libations. Mark's boyfriend Sean came over and played for a bit before we all went out seperate ways. Thats as sure a way to a friendship as any. He also turned me on to an online comic I'd never seen before: Alien Loves Predator. Word.

[setup]I saw this great little movie that a few people have been talking about...[/setup]



So, ya, Mark and I made it to the midnight screening of Star Wars on Wednesday night. I wasn't super duper impressed, but then again I'm not a Star Wars Junkie. Shiny pretty glimmering funshows always hold my interest, and if I were stoned, I'd definatly watch it again; high praise for someone who thought the first two of these steaming digital dogpiples were nigh on unwatchable (even during the shiny pretties). I'm hunching that if you really dig the heck outta the original 70's SW, you're gonna bust a geek nut all over this one.

Midnight screenings always bring out a hodgepodge of folks, and lets be blunt: Star Wars fans are wook-tarded. I could link my little heart out just showing you a small percentage of that point fifteen times this way of tuseday, but I had my own little bit of asshattery right here in the District. Some drunk bitch totally caused a scene.



Not only that, get this, the bitch totally had to be escorted out with the aid of two managers, a handful of security guards, and even an undercover cop. After she was thrown out, her toolshed boyfriend didn't bother to leave or even see if she was okay. He stayed for the show. Can you blame him?

In the web of all things leaving, I've now left Bertucci's. No more chain pizza for me. We'll see what happens between me and the day job scene. The money lost, while certianly not entirely negligable, isn't make or break for me. This should prove to be a good oppertunity for new things-- outside of the resturant service industry. I guess I'm going to have less friday nights free for a while, but far more long nights out. This could prove fun.

I've been swirling around the month of May in a cloud of happiness and self reflection. I'm now 22 (22 on the 22nd), the same age as all the oldest "older man" from my dating days. I'm Trevis's age, ya know? Thats a little weird. Also a little cool. As a boy told me this week: Welcome to The Race for 30.

Yesterday was indeed the birf-day, if you happened to check the date, and it went off swimmingly. I spoke to all sorts of peeps on the phone, and I did some spring cleaning with Geoff-- good lord if le Cheatu de Ghetto didn't need it. We got it to a state of presentability that worked for a small soiree. In the evening, Miss Lauren, Pam [from Hawaii], Geoff, Nills, Lee, Alex, and Derrick[Alex's Twin] stopped by.

Oh, girl. Lots and lots of good chat-- we left the telecrack off all evening. It was totally a "That 70's Show" pana-rama-cam type o' night. Beers, Rum, Joints, Jokes, Bongs, Stories, and Bowls. Chatting and chilling for hours

The world is good, ya'll. So good, your find your imagination in high gear, and the urge to
tie a towel around your neck and run around a friends apartment overpowering. Being young and full of wonder is still okay, too.

Mark and I shook out the shag rugs today. On my corner. You have to go outside for an event like that, regardless of where you live, but in the country its much easier. Your back yard distinctly belongs to you and only you, but here in the district my back yard is the neighborhood’s posh grocery store. People get uglypissed when they’re attacked by dirt launched from what looks like a dead llama being beaten by a fag in the middle of the sidewalk.

Fuck ‘em. Fifteen shaken, beaten, dirty lookin’ minutes later, and I had clean carpets.

My apartment’s now a cohesive whole, if you couldn’t tell from the shag-shakin’ anecdote. I highly recommend looking in my windows should you find yourself on the yonder side of P or 14th. You can see a giant glowing “M” coming from my bedroom. I hung, oh I dunno, about eighteen feet of super bright rope light behind a 6 foot asian rice curtain that’s stuck to the wall about 14 feet up… so, now everyone’s left with my monogram starin’ up Northwest. It feels good, and is also incredibly, absolutely self important. Word.

I’m no longer inhabiting the Apartment Rowanda—its blossomed. Its all fourteenth amendment up in here, reconstructions going down right here on fourteenth street.Yah, Le Chateau de Ghetto is now a little more chateau, and a whole lot less ghetto. I’ve got curtains, the floors are mopped and the art is not only on the walls, but in frames. Carpets are clean, surfaces are dirtless, furniture is matching, and I’m even cooking in (though, that has more to do with the weight of my wallet than with the allure of local eateries).

I wish my apartment were more of a physical avatar for my inner feelings, ‘cause then my head’d be feelin a little less messy. Unlike my carpets, I still feel weighed down by something. Even going to the gym and going tanning feels like a chore. Maybe its me that needs to be taken into the backyard for a good pounding, ‘cause my sex drive is nill. I’m left to wonder, of course, whether its me that’s down about my sex drive or my drive that’s responding to me. Chicken or the egg, kiddies?

Ugh, listen to me. ”Who is it that I want? And why don’t they want me?” Lord. Sorry to go all Joey Potter on you, but it’s a problem. And that’s prescientology crooked smile Holmes, not the arm candy to crazy couch surfing superstar creature that the Star keeps telling me about. (No, I haven’t seen Batman Begins yet)

I could wax celebrepoetic all day on the vast neurosis of my inner angsterreha, but I’ll let it end here—for the time being. Only boys with boyfriends, both connected to the Improv, seem to want to flirt openly. I can’t (with a clear head) go a nookie-nooking behind some dudes back knowingly. Its just yuck-o. I should totally just go get cats and take up knitting. Uuuugh, I actually already know how to knit. I’m halfway there. Sidebar—Trev, who I learned how to knit with, got a hold of me this week. We chatted. I don’t trust myself not to cry at the end of our instant messages, and I secretly loathe myself for that. I haven’t yet cried, and odds are good I never will, but oooooh if my shrink were here….

Enough, enough, I said I’d stop.

Shits good. The world’s calm. This is no hurricane’s eye, there is no monsoon approaching. Its just stability. Stability is new and really, really scary. Terrifying. Setbacks give you a reason to sprint, and forward momentum is exhilarating, but stability feels way too much like attrition. You wanna know something else about stability? Its boring as fuck. Yah, uh huh, you heard me-- it’s totally not at all interesting. I’m really surprised you’re still here.

Lemmie see if I can figure out something good to tell you. What is interesting right now? Lauren’s gone to San Fran for the week (its pride!), Geoff’s in Boston (for training), and I’m workin’ every show this week at the club. Erin had her Birthday last night at the Ugly Mugg, and I now dig the fuck outta Eastern Market. I had a phenomenal time. JD wasn’t there, but that’s okay, cause I think he and Nelina deserved some good nookieing in their new place (which is in Erin’s building, overlooking Meridian Hill Park). Kelly is back from South Korea, and I’m stoked to see her. The neighbors got a new kitten that’s taken to shitting in their laundry basket. I almost got the kitty, but I decided against it since they liked him, too. If he’s shitting in laundry baskets, maybe I made the right call (but I do want one!).

What else? I worked on my resume and sent it out to a variety of Craig’s list ads in the marketing, PR, and promotions section, and what do you know? Someone’s interested in me. The gigs for coordinating and creating events for a GLBT crowd at straight bars. Bring it the fuck on. I’ve spent so much freakin time getting bombed at the Hunt, the Fox, and the Front Page instead of JRs and the Fireplace, and now I get to refer to all that time as research and interning. Bitchin.

Back to my internship.

What part of growing up means you feel less? I've lost track somewhere of how emotion places in the great race of life. When I was a freshman in college (hell, when I was a senior in high school) and Phoenix and I broke up, I thought I was going to die. I loved him so much. So very, very much. When Trevis and I ended things, I thought I had risked my life for him and deserved a better ending. I was so very naive, and so very, very young.

Age. Wisdom. Adult Emotion. They're not the same thing. It seems obvious, but it sometimes has to be said. Youth and naivity are intrinsicly different things, though they do frequently go hand in hand.

You haven't heard from me in the blogosphere in months because I've been dating. I've been actively seeing someone. I've been falling in love. And, my dear reader, as of now, it may be dunzo. I prefer to think it isn't. Without a sugar coat, things are very much undone and in the air. Over time, things may (and I hope they do) find a positive resolution that includes two people bedside.

I hope so. His name is Joshua. Josh Giamichae[l] to be exact, and one of the most amusing thing about him, to you my dear reader, is that he is (up till now) ungoogleable. Here it is. Find him on your whims-- this is his first post of placement. As of this hour, and on this day, I love a man. As cliches go, he's a good one to believe in. So, I'll ad hoc him into the 20 years from now stigma-- I expect to still love him for who he was to me. I (and here's how you know you love) hope that I still love him for who he is in 20 years. But for the here and for the present, I know a good man. I hope things work out for the best. I'm not sure what that is, but I've got faith it'll rear its head.

I've been gone because I've been chasing the ideals of love. I'm back now.

I plan on staying, love or no.

I think I may be on Wendy's cycle. She's got her PMS-y stuff and as of now, she's the only girl with whom I spend a large chunk of time. I'm constantly hungry, craving sweets, and bloated... don't forget moody and oft-sullen. Thats attractive. The lovelorn black hole I'm rockin' right now is enough to make me want to cut myself. Luckily, I'm not 14, and I've got a Robbie Williams and Diddy album double feature. If it were Fall Out Boy or somesuch I might be in trubbs.

Some people have real problems.

Molly was in and out of the hospital this week. She had a hyrniated disk in her neck that had to be operated on, and unfortchies the surgery was on her birthday. Talk about a blower. I feel for the poor gal and want a speedy recovery for my lovely Mamabear. I I yearn for more time to spend with her, but I've worked for about two weeks straight. Not that I ever work super hard, but for someone doped up on vicodin, well they can't exactly play with the boy getting off work at 1am.

The marathon is next Sunday. I'm bib #22155-- Those marine boys have no idea the ferocity I plan on bringing to the table. I'm so excited. I bought body glide, two new pairs of shoes (SALE!), and clif blocks today in anticipation. I'm so effin' stoked. Its coming.

I'm in swoon with Sacha Baron Cohen. Borat's one of the funniest mothereffing thing I've seen in quite a long time. Stoned and in good form with Wendy, we laughed our heads off. Go see it.

PS: I really can't stick to anything. The only major thing I've actually followed through on in years is the marathon. Relationships, breakups, blogs... Sebastian doesn't count 'cause he needs me. But, marathons and dogs- thats it. Huh. Not upset about it or bummed-- just weird.

No posts in way too long.

Its winter, and not much is going on. The cold long months have been punctuated by trips to Florida for game show auditions, drunken adventures in the snow (Snow Day!), and driving through life with the cruise control activated. Its not the most exciting exsistance, but I'm enjoying it.

Anywho, I stole this stupid gay-get-to-know-you from someone else's blog. I've got time to kill before I head into the comedy coal mine, so....


1. have you ever had sex with the opposite sex? Yes
2. who is the first person you came out to? Robyn or Caroline. It was the same day.
3. are you out to your parents? Yep.
4. do you want kids? Not yet, if ever.
5. do you have more gay friends or straight friends? Straight, by far.
6. were you out in school? Out-ish.
7. is your best friend the same sex as you? I've got a couple, but, yeah, the one I see most often is.
8. if your best friend is the same sex, have you ever kissed them? Tried once, I was drunk and he's straight. It was one of those so-drunk-I-couldn't-stand type deals. It made a great, if mortifying, story the next day.
9. have you ever done crystal meth? yep
10. have you ever been in a sling? Unfortch, nope.
11. have you ever done a 3-way? Yes. I like they say "done" a three way. Something about that phrasing seems awkward and unexperienced.
12. have you ever dressed in drag? I've had a dress on but no make up. The side burns would ruin the mystique.
13. would you ever date a drag queen? Hahaha, only if we could do clown porn. I seriously can't see that happening. I like dudes.
14. are you a top/bottom or truly versatile? I don't know anymore. Lets say depends on the chemistry, but typically a bototm. Its a true as we're gonna get.
15. have you seen an uncircumcised thingy? Of course.
16. have you had sex with someone of a different race? Yes
17. have you ever barebacked? Yes
18. how many cher cds do you own? Who owns CDs? (I've got the greatest hits hiding in itunes somewhere)
19. name your first true love? Aww, Phoenix Robles.
20. do you still talk to them? When he's in town.
21. does size matter? I think bein' a big boy makes it easier to be better. But if you're a pro, and at least big enough to hit my prostate, my money's on no, that shit don't matter.
22. biggest turn on? Smart, sly eyes
23. biggest turn off? Fat.
24. ever been harassed because you are gay? Nothing so terrible that its ruined me as a person 🙂
25. worst gay stereotype that applies to you? Stupid question. I live up to a bunch of stereotypes. I <3 Madonna.
26. ever been to a pride rally? Yep.
27. would you marry if you could? Ugh. He'd have to be a real pick.
28. would you rather be rich and smart or young and beautiful? I'm already smart, young, and beautiful. I'm starting to think that this quiz was written by some queen troglodyte who got sick of eatting billy goats from under his bridge. Whateves, I'd still take cash if we're just givin' it out.
29. do you sculpt your eyebrows? Puja likes it when I do.
30. do you trim your body hair? Sometimes I shave in a landing strip from between my pecs down to my cock. Sometimes I'm a twink, sometimes I'm an otter! You never know what you're gonna get when I strip.
31. ever had sex with more than one person in a day? Yep.
32. ever been to an orgy? We didn't calll it that. Something about "orgy" screams "TACKY" and "STD." But, uh, yeah.
33. have you dated your best friends ex? Nope, but I have dated a best friend!
34. would you vote for hilary clinton if she ran for president? Vauge.
35. do you want monogamy in your relationship? It depends on the relationship. Some ships just aren't built like that. I want whats healthiest for me at the time.
36. do you believe in true love? Awww, sometimes. Sometimes, very much so.
37. do you have any tattoos? Yep
38. do you have any piercings? Yep.
39. would you date a smoker? Its not a deal breaker.
40. do you know anyone who has died from h.i.v.? Yep, though its not as though they've been in my inner circle or anything.
41. do you know what stonewall was? I feel like this troll penned quiz is veering into the lovely land of condecension.
42. wonder woman, xena, or the halliwell sisters? Am I a traitor to my dear, dear DC? Gimmie the Halliwels.
43. strangest place you have had sex? Ball pit at McDonalds?
44. strangest place you’ve woken up? Oh my god, really? A basement in Glover Park? My own fire escape? The roof of that art gallery?
45. are your best years behind or in front of you? It doesn't work like that.
46. favorite porn movie? An American in Prauge
47. are you in love now? Aww, if I am, its certainly not still healthy 🙂
48. ever been in love with a straight guy/girl? Nope, not a one.
49. did you ever have sex with them? I've got issues with turning the straights. It works to create a gay-tinged "black male rapist myth."
50. have you ever been to a nude beach? Can't wait.
51. have you ever been to a bath house? I can't quite bring myself to do it.
52. ever had sex in public? Superfun.

is listening to music his ex-boyfriends once played for him. Marathon on Sunday.

is looking for a Zahmbie Boyfriend. A guy who loves his brains and still treats him like a piece of meat.

is madly in love with Jake Shears

is madly in love with Neil Patrick Harris. Madly.

is your Potential New Boyfriend.

So, how the heck is this calculated? I have no doubt that Puja's my love match, nor that if Krista and I weren't kin, we'd be on some fucked up version of date my gay... but seriously. How's this shit comp-tab-ulated.

's kick ass first real life human day of the New Year: 5.5 miles ran, kitchen, dining, and bathroom cleaned. In that order. Then dancin' & laughing with the boys (no drankin')! I'm in love with this day.

A very cool guy who makes everyone laugh. Once you meet him, you will want to be his friend right away. He is super cute and very good-looking. He has amazing taste in music, clothes, food, everything. Every girl secretly wishes that he could be her boyfriend and everyone knows he likes commitment (and just broke up with his gf). However strange and weird he may be, he's perfect. In his own little way, he is perfect.

I’ve been asked by my students if yoga is a religion, and I’m hard pressed to answer. If religion is concerned with the cause and nature of the universe, then yes, I guess yoga is a religion. But, then, so too is string theory. It seems everyone wants a piece of the yoga pie, and folks are indignant if they’re left with crumbs. So, to whom does yoga belong?

The Washington Post Online has a read-worthy article from Aseem Shukla on the “Theft of Yoga”:

“Yoga is identified today only with Hatha Yoga, the aspect of yoga focused on postures and breathing techniques. But this is only one part of the practice of Raja Yoga that is actually an eightfold path designed to lead the practitioner to moksha, or salvation. Indeed, yogis believe that to focus on the physicality of yoga without the spirituality is utterly rudimentary and deficient. Sure, practicing postures alone with a focus on breathing techniques will quiet the mind, tone the body, increase flexibility–even help children with Attention Deficit Disorder–but will miss the mark on holistic healing and wellness.”

Mr. Shukla sits on the Hindu American Foundation’s board, and they released a position paper decrying the “theft” of yoga from Hindu culture. If you ask me, it sounds like a lot of sour grapes. Don’t we want everyone to have access to the divine? After all: Namaste means “the divine in me recognizes the divine in you.”

If you were to ask the American Yoga Association about all of this business, they’d tell you that yoga predates Hinduism, with tales of stone carvings with people in asana:

No one knows exactly when Yoga began, but it certainly predates written history. Stone carvings depicting figures in Yoga positions have been found in archeological sites in the Indus Valley dating back 5,000 years or more. There is a common misconception that Yoga is rooted in Hinduism; on the contrary, Hinduism’s religious structures evolved much later and incorporated some of the practices of Yoga.

Why are we being so grabby for a piece of the yoga-as-religion pie? Why does a study of the self with the aim of simply being the very best version of ourselves we can be need to be owned by any one world religion? I mean, even some Torah, Quran, and Catholic inspired yoga is popping up:

The idea of combining yoga and the rosary came to him in late 2002 while he was working on an Advent calendar. One window said “Do Contemplation.” Another said, “Pray the Rosary.”

“It happened in prayer,” he says. “Sometimes in contemplative prayer I would just try to rest in the presence of God.”

Conventional Catholic breathing and praying traditions, such as saying “in God” while inhaling and then “out me” while exhaling, inspired Galentino. The idea of incorporating Hail Mary occurred to him almost by accident.

“I found myself combining the two,” he recalls, “contemplative prayer with the rosary.”

The eights limbs of yoga are all about finding truth, the self, and our relationship with universal oneness.

I’m not a catholic, a hindu, a secularist, nor a heathen. Neither am I christian, pagan, nor orthodox anything. I’m just a yogi.

I’m a firm believer in the transformative powers of yoga, and the powerful effects of adhering to the system of raja yoga. Not lying, being disciplined, and not holding on to more than you need: these are the principals to which I adhere, and these are the principals of yoga.

Heads up Hindus, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists and Bad Mamajamas of all colors and ilks: I love you. We can share yoga.

Om!

Love must be as much a light, as it is a flame. ~Henry David Thoreau

I’ve been burning a dark, cold flame.

This week, I spoke to my classes about one of the different kinds of yoga that exist outside of the physical, specifically touching on the yoga of the heart: Bhakti yoga. While I worked on cracking open my student’s heart center (figuratively and litereally), a friend allowed obesity to end his life, a car came purposteriously close to endangering mine, and I couldn’t deadlift as much as I would have liked.

My inner monologue had begun to feel like crabs in a pot, only able to take so much of the flame before it came to a shrill scream. I nearly lost it on a couple who cut in front of me in line at Whole Foods with 18 items in the express lane.

Erica tells me I have white people problems.

She’s right, and it makes me laugh when I remove myself from my own malarkey. As I find myself noting the steam coming from the cracks in my exterior enamel, I’m reminded to return to my breath.

I didn’t flip out on the couple. Barely.

The next time you find yourself nearly going over the edge, as I nearly did, I would encourage you to disconnect from the anger by observing your breath. Allow your focus to shift from an outside perspective to an inner one. The outer circumstances can’t always provide you with the context required to make an adequate, informed judgement call on whats happening; however, a look at your inner fire can access why you are responding in whatever a manner it is you’re responding.

I find that compassion, sometimes called karuna, is harder when you’re not as happy with your innerworld as you might like to be. Was I really mad at the couple, or upset at Big Rob’s death?

You don’t have to like the person pissing you off, thats not what I’m implying, but it might be a good call to ask what good your inner anger is doing you. Or, equally valid, what its doing for those that have to deal with you, Oh, and for those that do love you.

The more love we’re able to give the more we’re capable of receiving. Compassion goes a long way to helping love those that we might not actually like, as it reminds us that we are all made of the same stuff. We’re all bound by one self– one huge love.

Bring awareness to all of your actions, and love openly.

Watch what happens.

I love you.

is madly in love with Jake Shears.

Welcome home my love.

sweat out some serious somethings today! Thanks so much, Peg Mulqueen for giving Kelly Ferraro and I such a good date night.

wants someone to make him a shirt that says "Potential New Boyfriend" on it. And a dude who gets the song reference (and maybe a floor to toss said shirt upon).

thinks scales are like ex-boyfriends.

Looking to put a cap on the week?

Want to start the weekend off right?

Need to be good before you can go be bad?

Happy Hour Yoga!

Turn Friday’s afternoon toil into weekend bliss in the company of your friends, peers, colleagues, and fellow practitioners!

How does a 3,000sqft roofdeck sound? Consider yourself invited to the place that’s been home to my practice for years: Balance Gym.

Get ready for 90 minutes of prana-pulsing blissed out vinyasa with strong influences from the Ashtanga and Iyengar traditions.

Mid City Yoga was started with the idea that yoga can be done anywhere– boardroom, bedroom, shala, or studio (be it yoga or crossfit). For many folks, the gym setting can be the most unconventional space of all.

Balance is the gym at which I discovered my love for yoga. It’s the place that provided haven and encouragement for me to come to my mat more than once a week. This is the place that gave me my first teaching gig. I love it here, and you will, too!

Okay, enough shmaltz. If my love for the place doesn’t sell you on it, the roofdeck at dusk sure will. The minute it heats up, thats where we’ll be. And in the mean time (or in cases of inclement weather), we have an awesome (indoor) studio at our disposal.

The fine print:

What: Happy Hour Yoga–a vinyasa steeped heavily in Ashtanga with cues and carry-overs from Iyengar

When: Fridays, 5:30-7p– all Spring & Summer Long

Where:

View Larger Map

Balance Gym Thomas Circle
1111 14th Street NW
Washington, DC 20005

Phone: (202) 216-9000

Closest Metro: McPherson Square

Price: $20 drop in, $59 monthly (includes gym access and all weekly yoga and non yoga classes)

You were a friend to me when few were. Thank you. It's something I will never forget. Until the next time. All my love to your family.

Sharing in Love with my Yoga Community.

To my W&L Family-- you are in my heart and head today. I wish I could be with you today to celebrate Adam Bowen's life. All is full of love.

I've always wanted a zombie boyfriend-- the kinda guy that wants me for my brains, but treats me like a piece of meat.

I'm in love with my best friend, partner in crime, and roommate. He makes me one of the lucky ones. I love you, Michael Roike. I'm so glad you're mine 🙂

Muscle gripping bone-- visceral memories of my teachers and my lovers. Few pleasures run deeper. Jai Kristenji, jai Michael Roike;)

In Bangalore, waiting to pay for my overweight bag. We're both gonna need to hit the gym this week. Seriously: all my love for all to whom I've said "See ya soon." The adventure isn't over, here nor there.

I'm that guy that needs to say outloud to someone how in love he is. Thank you, Internet, for allowing me to do that from bed -- a nest of saris.

My cute boyfriend at dinner with Mom & Dad!!

"Beauty & The Beat-- “@BarManMichael: This is hilarious! Welcome to our neighborhood!" #eckington #love

Happy Anniversary to my partner in crime, best friend, and favorite. xo.

I was attacked and hospitalized this year for being gay. My partner was refused from the hospital. He spent the night alone scared *I* might die alone. I did, too. This election year, there is a gentleman asking for your vote who believes we do not deserve equal rights-- including being together in the hospital. In the ever-after. Nor fiscally. I ask you to please not think of your wallets at the ballot, but of your hearts. Could you let your husband die alone? Mitt Romney would say that I deserve to die that way-- and I can't elect him. I hope that you cannot either. If you love me (or love your spouse) I ask that you pause and reflect on morals and compassion. I have never been so scared in my entire life as I was in that night-- alone. Please know that your vote goes beyond laissez-faire notions of capitalism and concerns of modified socialism and hits me directly at home. A vote for Mitt Romney will bolster an opportunity to strip me of civil rights, and I pray that your heart won't allow that. If you can in good conscience and faith elect an official who will allow me to die alone with a catheter but no solace, may peace be with you. I cannot. There is no tax break worth my humanity or my husband's tears. I pray that the reality of that notion means that you cannot either. If it doesn't, however, I wish you a moment of reckoning. Again, may peace be with you.

on a bit of a facebook hiatus. busy with Rolf, Marci, Beaches, and Boyfriend. Leave a message at the b̶e̶a̶c̶h̶ beep!

A fun Friday+ game, from my wonderful colleague, Bernie:

Age I was given: 17
Where I lived: Fredericksburg, Va
What I drove: GMC Jimmy
What I did: Lied about my age, walked with a cane, and gave 0 fucks. A lot.
Who had my heart: Phoenix 🙂

--------------------------

Age now: 30
Where I live: Washington, DC
What I drive: an all city fixie and a ford focus
What I do: count to five, professionally.
Who has my heart: Michael 🙂 <3 🙂

Like my status and I'll give you an age

"Traveling down their own road, watching the signs as they go. Think I'll follow my heart (it's a very good place to start). "

Watched my first episode of Jersey Shore (ever) while waiting at the barber. Hurts my heart.

"There is a small baby animal living in my home that depends on me," rings in my head as my heart swells with love.

Date night with @sarceb -- seeing focus!

Getting my life to Brandon Flowers: Can't Deny My Love!

Thank you for this raw and evocative prose.

It touches my heart.

Ellie Goulding's first album slays my heart to pieces. Gimme dat shirt.

Give Bossji my love when you see him 😉

I can't get over my love for this video.

My girlfriends know the truth. Walk. Talk.

This is the Hour
We have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour.
Now you must go back and tell the people
this is the Hour.
And there are things to be considered:
Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in right relation?
Where is your water?
Where is your garden?
It is time to speak your Truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader.
This could be the time!
There is a river flowing now very fast.
It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold on to the shore.
They will feel they are being torn apart and they will suffer greatly.
Know the river has its destination.
The elders say we must let go of the shore,
And push off and jump into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water.
See who is there with you and celebrate.
At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally.
Least of all, ourselves.
For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.
The time for the lone wolf is over.
Gather yourselves.
Banish the word "struggle" from your attitude and your vocabulary.
All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
"We are the ones we've been waiting for..."
- The Elders, Hopi Nation, Oraibi

My heart is with the DC Theater and Yoga community today.

My partner in crime at the ashram (oh, we were bad) just reminded me that our 10 year anniversary is this year. 10 years of teaching yoga. Oh my word.

Sending all of my heart and soul home to the citizens of my beloved District. Be strong, be kind, and take no shit. ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Lifted and got my heart rate up. Bye-bye bad mood. It's so simple, and yet...

Keeping your trunk engaged and diaphragm working properly for an entire sequence/series/class is fascinatingly challenging. #notesfromyesterdayspractice

Tried to buy Janelle Monae tickets off of Craigslist today. Found some just above face value -- and the guy showed up with the tickets! They were printouts.

They say "purchased by Ryan Selbach (or something)" -- so I ask if that's him. He tells me no; that's his girlfriend. I was like-- no sweat, let me call the anthem and make sure they're legit. All the while, he's giving me a sob story about going to NYC to break up with his gf.

So, I get the Anthem on the line... And he takes off running.

His number is 202.902.9083 🙂

I’ve met a lot of polite bigots in my 35 years. I’ve never asked their party affiliations. I do not believe for one second every republican is purposefully engaging in the propagation of bigotry, but in 2018, every vote for a republican is a vote co-signing the continuation of institutionalized white supremacy and the denigration of those near and dear to my heart across a broad stroke of categories.

My love.

I drew a line in the sand a few years ago to no longer hold close to my heart those who could not hold my community in their own. What community?

"Other." The marginalized. My community lives in a second America.

If you want to make America great, it means dismantling systems of oppression. That starts at home, with you.

Dear White folks, Straight folk,Christians.

Give this a read, tell me what you think.

https://sojo.net/articles/our-white-friends-desiring-be-allies

My partner/family was tear gassed today in front of St John’s Episcopal Church during a peaceful protest. This was on our presidents order. It’s not some kind of fake news.

It was a peaceful protest.

How is it conscionable to gas Americans for peacefully protesting during a pandemic?