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?

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 😉

So, thats my potential new pad. After discovering that I didn't get the preapproval for the mortgage, I spent the day trying to find 2 bedrooms in A) the area I wanted, and B) in the price range I wanted. I think I've found a good one.

I'm gonna go tour the facility tomorrow and then report in to the Potential Roomie, Tiffany. Half of me just wants to look at the housing manager and yell "GIMMIE!" but I realize that won't work too well.

It took me about 10 hours of constant searching to find that damn place, and I can say that my mood lifted infinitly when I findly found it. The feeling of "trapped" sucks big wookie.

Oh! Oh! On the brighter news front, I have my first business dinner with my new client, Evolvian tomorrow. We're meeting at Artie's in Fairfax City. How lame is it that this week I am so broke I'm gonna have to ask my parents for business dinner money?

LAAAAAME.

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.

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.

I spent Christmas Break rediscovering unconditional love; the soundtrack was a very broad selection of Alanis Morrisette, Jason Mraz, Sex and Ego, Eminem, and others. I really got to listen to Jason Mraz while Krista and I were together, and again with the arrival of Mara.

Hehehe, it was actually the background for our hunt to find a parking spot on Indepence... before we put on "Bully." A far better track to be aggressive to. "faggot ja, hahaha"

Anywho, Krista has a version of "Waiting for My Rocket to Come," Jason Mraz's debut album, that contains a very different "You and I Both." I've yet to buy the album myself, I think I'm going to have to do that today, so I don't know for sure that the album even contains her version, but either way, the radio play is different on that track.

So, that long as blurb aside, the song is distinctly sadder and carries a resonating note of meloncholy through out that I just don't feel on the radio edit. Jason's inflections and modulations can make the song a tough listen... it's beautiful, and I'm filled with different emotions everytime. Its not always good to get choked up while driving.

The last time I was with Jarret the song came on the radio. Again, it was the peppier, happier, more-remedy-er version I felt compelled to share with him the fact that I like the album version better, and to explain to him why. It's in his buddy profile now:


"And with this silence brings a moral story
More importantly evolving is the glory of a boy

Cause you and I both loved
What you and I spoke of
And others just read of and if you could see me now
Well that I’m almost finally out of
I’m finally out of
Finally-dee-deedle le dee dee
Well I’m almost finally, finally
Well I am free, Oh, I'm free

And it's okay if you had to go away
Oh, just remember the telephone well their workin it both ways
But if I never ever hear them ring
If nothing else I'll think the bells inside
Have finally found you someone else and that's okay
Cause I'll remember everything you sang"


Is he aware completely of how I feel now? I don't know for sure, which makes me feel like I have to have a heart-2-heart. Perhaps now I know what it feels like to be on the other side. It reminds me of "Jolene," it can be either pathetic and sad, or empowering, depending on who's vantage you take, Jolene's or the Singer's.

Harumph.

Something funny: "...Rivals Neil Finn in his ability to invoke the spirit of Paul McCartney." -- Amazon.com's Review

Don't you have to be dead to have your spirit invoked? If not, wouldn't it hurt to have your spirit go on vacation? Is that what Day 7 feels like?

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.

Do ya'll remember the show on Nickolodean called "Guts!"? It later had a spin-off called "Global Guts!"-- they didn't stray too far from the course, they just made it a 'lil ethnic. Three or so kids competed in a competitions that were crosses between "American Gladiator" and "Secrets of the Hidden Temple," and featured one brutal muthafuckin' final round where contestants raced up a mountain while all sorts of perilous traps and thrills awaited. The goal was to activate every light on your side of the mountain, and to reach the top. This perfidious pyre of foam and steel was called the Agro Crag.

If you won, you recieved the much coveted "glowing piece of the Agro Crag."

I always wanted a piece of that damn mountain, but never made it on the show-- I was too busy in Colonial Beach with twinkies and pipedreams.

So, I realize they might be treasured by the contestant or something, but I wanna get one now. Do you think they're on ebay?

The weekend wrapped itself up nicely, and that did nothing but lead to Monday classes. Things are goin' how they should be, so no worries gentle journal... though, one prof is worthy of mention today. Her name is Dr. Sparks, and blonde, tall, power-suited sexy-fierce chica that comes complete with a winnning smile and a vicious glare. Only the former has been fixed in my general direction, but for more reasons than just the latter her class may go down as the "Comm that Made Men Cry." Its a research methods course where the fail rate is almost the same as the actual passing rate.

Fear.

Little rumblings of better judgement be damned, I'm ready for it. Sometimes you get surprised: in a class of 250, one of my friends from Freshman year spotted me; Kumbi, ganked the seat next to me. She makes the wole class less intimidating... shes totally my african goddess. Imagine a study buddy who can dance like the wind, has mini dreads, leather earrings, and will kick your ass if you don't know the answer to question 47-C. That's my Kumbi.

I had plans with Ashley after we both got out of our classes, and seein' as how I was a little early, 6:50 instead of 7:10, I just stuck my head into her dorm and waited... then procced to wait and wait some more. I trusted in her to remember me, she's the type of girl that doesn't forget about appointments with folk, but it was starting to get a little later. 7:45 rolls around, and the dorm door flies up, with her bounding in shocked as hell to find a Mike in her house.

"I called your phone-- its off; I thought you forgot our plans!"
"Nope, been waiting here."
"Get your shoes on and get outside then, bitch!"

Who was out there? Lindsey and Omar! Ashley came back to her room because she had a strange gnaw in her gut-- I guess that was me gnawing! Lindsey came up to surprise folk, and Ashley dipped out on her class. Omar arrived in tow, with the announcement that Omar and Lindsey had decided to rekindle their relationship!

They may not get invitations to "Down With Love"-- but I'm really excited for them. I like the two of them together.

Such a fantastic evening commenced, filled with laughter, smokin', old jokes and new... su-fuckin'-perb. We go to get dinner and who should we run into at The JC but Puja, her old roomie Noukla, our friend May, Carriell, Carriell's roomie (and Dave's friend) Liz, and a host of their assorted friends. Huge reunion again.

Kismet. Unconditional Love.

w00t.

That night I slept at Carriel's, cuddled up, and Carriel taught me how to wrap my hair before bed. I can make the cutest little wrap now! Hehe! Just ya'll wait, you're gonna see me runnin' around with my lil scarf all tied up and talkin' bout my wrap... I can't wait.

Anywho, got up and drove to work, and did about 10 hours on the floor. Made just under 90, but had to give about 30 of it away for the Host/Hostess and for the 20 bucks I borrowed for shoes. Either way, its nice to have a few bones in my wallet again.

Work flew by, except for my last party of 6, which were old renn fair folk, so they tipped well, but ran the shit outta me. I told them I used to work their which may explain both the runnin' and the good tip. Le Shrug.

Speaking of work, I'm getting less shy around Dominick. Our friend Pam is heading to Colorodo for two weeks, and when Dom heard he looks at me and goes "You're stickin' around, right?" "Of course!" "Good-- someone I like'll still be here."

Look-at-me-now-mutha-fuckah! We've progressed into chatting about cars, conditions, cunts, and cuties. In a word, w00t. I still have a silly-stupid crush on the boy, but wordy-mc-word, I'm happy that he digs me and that I'm not just some quivering jello mold around him... just picture the floating fruit, and you'll know how incapacitated I felt around 'em. I don't know why it feels like a big accomplishment to get a boy to laugh, but it does/did. I'm not even interested in him in a sexual capacity, I know he's taken, but still, 'complishment stands. Now that I've loosened up, bein' shy was kinda momentarily neat.

Who knew I could get clamy?! ::grin::

I got to chat with Ashley about boys and their effects, including my silly crush on Dominick, and I got reassurance that for all the steps and stages I'm going through, she has as well, and that they're normal, cute, and healthy. I love Ash.

I was so tired when I got home (was it the 10 hours, or the boy?) that I kinda just tucked myself into bed around 11, and called it a day. Who am I, goin' to bed at 11? Ew.

Ahhh well, wash-rinse-repeat, I guess, 'cause here I go, gettin' back on the road to head to school again.

I made a friend today in my Comm 301 class. She's quite spiffy, her name's Emily, and she said I reminded her of one of her friends.

Comm 301 is interpersonal communications, and today we were talking about the different roles we fill, as well what roles we look for our potential mates to fill. She and I had a wonderful time ex-bashing.

Well, I asked her to introduce me to the aforementioned friend, and we ended up walking right into him when we got outta class. His name's Dan, and he's cute. I think I've seen him around before, but I'm not super sure. He looked pleased enough to make my acquantance, but who knows.

Do I even like boys again? Again, who knows.

I know that I think this boy in my Comm 380 class is worth a second look. He's a smarty who dresses well and I like that his responses in class always make me think a little. Via note-sending (how 8th grade am I?) with my friend Lauren, we've decided that its a 50/50 shot if he's gay or not. We've made and held eye contact a few times, but nothing more. I thought he winked, but lord knows, it could have been something in his eye.

Thats my luck.

"Attraction is the aggressive, sensual moment, independent of drama, that attacks or shocks the spectator into an awareness or emotion." -- Sergei Eisenstein

Word.

A good couple of days.

Didn't work a lick at Friday's this week, and I'm not fussin'. I got to spend more time on campus, and actually went to all my classes. It's now past the add-drop date, and I've attended every last one of the jokers. I'm so proud of myself!

Lessie, Ristika gets here in like 10 minutes or so, and I'm stoked. Happy Valentine's Day, finally! Familial live is love, too, and I'm celebrating it. Yay Fam!

I went on another set of dates with Dan; I dig him. We want to see more of each other. He's funny, handsome, he keeps me laughing. He's ridiculously cute.

Spent so much time with the McMason Underground this week... so much fun.

More on the McMason Underground later.

Things are pretty good over here in the land of Mike.

My parents got back from Daytona really late last night, actually this morning, around 1 am-- they drove straight up from Florida, and it took 'em around 14 hours. They had just gotten off the cruise ship that morning, and drove straight through.

They're so adorable, I love my parents. They're so invigorated, and chipper, and have stories upon stories from their adventure into the islands. They brought me back 4 kinda of rum, which I think is pretty darn exciting, too!

Dark Coconut Rum, Clear Coconut Rum, Mango Rum, and Banana Rum. YUM!

Things are pretty much on the up-and-up.

Republicans, and the Texas they road in on, are Evil.

Osama Surrounded! technically, Krista and I have him surrounded, too. Just depends on what sort of 'distance' you mean by surrounded.

Dubya:"Let's Punk the Media!"

Osama: Coming to you live, the first week in November...

Anywho, I'm gonna be on my way to Mason. It's Homecoming weekend (who knew?!) at school, so there should be lots of shinganigatings for me to enjoy. Puja was drinkin' at 2 when I spoke with her, so we'll see what condition my girls are in when I arrive. I'm gonna be suprising Dan by coming up early, he wasn't expecting me until Sunday, when we were gonna go to a show together.

Hehe, insta-date. I reckon I should bring a change of clothes for Monday, too, since I'm not gonna wanna come all the way home on Sunday. Monday's gonna be a big day, too, speaking of which, cause its blood-test-result-day. I'm gonna be a-okay, but it's so undercover stressful, the waiting and all. I didn't realize I was stressed 'till I noticed the key factor riding as the undercurrent of nonproductivity and detachment. I curbed just about all of those feelings early, but it'll be wonderful to feel "free and clear."

(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)

Mark has plans for an event for the two of us called Tequila Grande. Its a night of tequila-soaked escapades involving 7-layer dip, tequila-lime chicken, and margaritas. It seems to me there will be more time for that, since more time will be spent in DC as of today.

"Why, oh why," you may ask, "is Mike returning to the city?"

Because thats where I have become gainfully employeed (it seems).

On Monday night, after studying hard for and then ace-ing two midterms, it seemed I had a night of revel-ry ahead when I was informed of a certain friend's 21st birthday event. She turned twenty-one at midnight, and we were going to make our way to the Friday's in Fair Oaks for birthday love.

When we arrived, I informed the server that I worked at friday's, so that he would perhaps discount some of the appetizers. Total standard procedure. Well, when birthday shots were being ordered, he carded me. I didn't think much of it, figured I wasn't getting the drink, and that was that. He called me out for bein' a minor, and no spectacle was made.

When the shots arrived, there was an extra. I proceeded to take the shot with the group, and all was happy in friend-ville.

I got up in the mornin', rolled to work, and when I arrived, I was taken to the side and sat down. Last night at 1:30, whomever it was that called me out on bein' under 21 called around to all the Friday's in the Northern Virginia area describing me. I'm pretty easy to describe, it can be done in like three adjectives and maybe a noun.

They claimed me, and then were informed that I had drank as a minor and that they had informed corporate. Insta-termination, non-rehirable for 6 months.

I didn't let it dampen my spritis too thoroughly, knowing I had yet another midterm to ace on wednesday. I spent most of Tuesday with Michelle just bein' a fatty and relaxing.

Wednesday I aced the next exam (for Comm 380) and goofed off further.

I went with Ashley today to DC to speak with the GM of Cosi to ask for an application and an interview. All things went well, now I just have to get a schedule and I should be golden. There don't seem to be too many terrible hitches in the plan, so I'm optimistic.

I don't know yet exactly how the commute is going to work, but Mom supported me goin' somewhere else to make more money. Cosi has negative connotations in her mind, slightly, due to the atmosphere that used to be employeed there, but good heavens, that is no longer the case.

That crowd has came and gone, and the new crowd is wonderful. Dedicated, sober, fun folk who are students and working actively towards success. A far different crowd than the aforementioned "atmosphere."

I look forward to working with Lauren again. I look forward to making good money at a place that has the capactiy to treat me well. It changes my routine a bit, but I also put down day-shift hours to work as a barista, which I think would be neat, as well as allow me to continue rising early for a reason.

I think I'd miss the AM now.

I'm really enjoying my life the way it is now, busy yet also laid back. I'm doing the best I've done in school in a loooong time, and I see people who love me unconditionally every day.

As quick as Fridays came into my life, it goes out. I can't help but look towards kismet as perhaps the reason I got called in to work at Cosi on Friday. It set up a decent doorway for re-entry.

I didn't mention it on Monday, since I was preoccupied with preoccupations (*grin*), but other stress-me-out-ers arrived on Saturday when a dorm I was playin' Uno in was busted for marijuana. I was with Dan visiting Chrissy on Saturday night after I finished studying and napping, and the dorm room got clambaked. There we a few of us in there, but Dan and I didn't have anything on us. He got a violation for being involved with a room that contained paraphnalia, but he wasn't in the actual room it was found in. We were hanging out in the suite's living room.

Oh those crazy-ruckousy Uno players.

Anyway, he had his meeting with the housing folk, since he does live on campus, too. He should be fine, so we'll see. Still, I'm worried for him. Not too worried, though. He's never had an offense before.

Work being interrupted looks like it will only inconvience two days worth of actual work time, and even still, I make about three times a night at cosi to what I was makin' on average at Friday's. There's good reasonin' out there for me to not be fretting.

Speaking of fretting, I think its almost time for Dan to meet one or two of the cousins. I like the boy muchly, and he's endeared himself fantastically with my local support network, and I suppose now its time to expose him to another huge aspect of me: my family.

I'm sorry I missed getting down to Florida with Krista to visit Mara and Dana. I've not heard from Krista since she got back, so I'm curious to hear the stories of yonder. It now seems that I'm doin' a good job at missin' out on my trips because of work. This weekend will be spent at Cosi or at home saving money, as was last weekend. This weekend's lock-down will keep me from seeing Jackie in New York, but I've gotta do what I gotta do.

Recent concertation internally comes from my thoughts on Dan's naiivity. He prioritizes partying more than I do now a days, and that worries me. He's no where near how party-oriented I was a couple of years ago (heck a couple of months ago), but I think about. I decided to actually talk to him about it, and he was really receptive, and knew exactly what I was talking about. We talked about a lot of things relating to it, and I'm not really concerned about it anymore. He recognizes that he's doing it, and just that very recognition means that it won't go too far, or last for too much longer.

I feel like I know, cause I've been there.

His friend Emily, the girl that set us up, and I spoke about a couple of those concerns, and i was glad to know I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Calling someone out less than two months into dating them isn't kosher, but I was glad to have someone to discuss it openly with. She could say exactly what I was thinking. It made talking about it with Dan a lot easier. I'm tickled. It seemed like a good time to discuss such things, what with the bust and what not.

That, and him seeing my own need to find a job based off of consequated actions. He saw how hard I worked and how dedicated (an non-flakey) I was, and saw how one stupid action could effect something that was goin' really well. Its weird for people to view me in a really responsible light again. I'm still king sketch of team sketch, but I'm also up every morning going to work, and studying like anyone else at exam time.

I feel like I did when I was seventeen... and thats really got me smiling. I've said for along time that I've never been happier or known myself better than I did when I was seventeen.

A classmate who's intelligence and input to the class I've really, really appreciated and enjoyed all semester asked me how old I was today. I told him 20, and his response was one of a a slight shock-- "Wow. You're reeeeeeally smart."

It made my day.

Things feel tangible again. Word.

I love my absent-mindedness. Really I do. Suzi's birthday is not this weekend, its next.

The Sigma Ball is this weekend. I'm taking Mai as my date, which is tres exciting. Its only $25 bucks a couple, so Mai and I are thinkin' about renting vintage late 60's outfits and doing it with real style. I want a really, really sharp suit, and mai wants a short dress. Think James Bond and Pussy Galore.

In Person.

Thats what we're going for. I'll slick my hair back, courtesy of Murphy's Hair Wax, and we'll drink funny colored drinks out of martini glasses we brought with us. Instead of bringing a flask, we'll bring 3... and just make Kamikazi's all evening in my shaker.

I think that sounds like an award-winning evening. So, I will actually get a little sleep this weekend, its next weekend I have to focus on.

Okay, be-ou be-ou.

Not a bad trip to New York, I gotta say.

Dan and I finished up our classes last Monday and hopped onto the bus and made our way up north to DC to meet up with Lauren and Jess. The original plan was to just crash there for the night and get up way early to catch the $30 round-trip chinatown bus, but as it turned out, there was a bus that left at like 3:30 in the morning. What'd we do? We caught that one.

Why not, you know? As the bus approached the other chinatown, the sounds of mandolins and gongs could be heard playing through the busses sound system. We were the only white folk on the bus, so lest I make some sort of offhandedly offensive comment, let me just say my asian brethen on the bus didn't seem like the blithely happy beats, nor did it seem to make them any happier than they made me.

We got off the bus and meandered through china town, making our way down to Chelsea. Do you have any fuckin' clue how hard it is to find a coffeehouse in china town? Once we all had caffeine coursing through our veins, we treked through the lands of lore: The Village.

At 9:30 in the morning we were in a 24/hour pleasure store purchasing a Fuckuko that the old lady on oxygen recommended. Well, clearly Dan and I didn't purchase it, Lauren and Jess did. They also had Pussy Whip in the flavors of Blackberry Brandy and Strawberry Wine. Both were in fact flammable. Seein' as how I don't have a pussy, I didn't bother purchasing any. I don't think I want to put anything that has the potential to catch on fire near my junx, thanks.

After we rode the subway for a bit, we ran into Jess's only family member in the city: her cousin. She's like 45 or so, and really cool. How random is it that we just ran into her on the metro? I was pretty impressed. Also on that ride there was this black couple, who were singing really, really well. Lauren swapped them a dollar for a photo, and they invited us to a free show at the Cafe Vivaldi.

So, after the stint on the sub, we arrived in Times Square, where Jackie's folks were staying. They were staying in the Iroquois, in a 3 room suite that was habitated by James Dean from 1950-1953. How deliriously swank. And cool. James Dean was probably fucking his tricks in the room I slept in... that’s so fuckin' bitchin'. Mmmm...

We actually ended up going to the show at the Cafe and hearing Chocolate Thai and Jubilee sing. They cafe had plenty of seating, as it was an 'unannounced' show, but there were still a number of heads present. Throughout the show, CT and Jubilee kept referring to us as their "DC Friends." It was really sweet. After the show, we walked around the borough we were in smoking a joint and gabbing. As it turns out, they are going to be on Sesame Street! I need to make sure I'm paying attention so that I can tape it. I would love to see someone I smoked with chillin' with Grover.

I kinda absent mindedly just left out Dan's friend at NYU, Adrian. I'm annoyed with her, and was annoyed with him about her. Long stories short: She was supposed to be out of her class and call at 2:00. We put ourselves in Union Square to meet her. She never called. Dan called, and she didn't answer. Dan apparently didn't make super solid plans, but never made that clear. Then Jackie wanted us to pick her up a handle of Jim Bean. No big deal-- we asked Adrian when the store stopped sellin' liquor, and she told us midnight. The show finished at 10:30, and we asked where we should go to get some, and then she said that they were already closed. I don't know if she's just super-self-absorbed or what, but I'd rather not believe she purposefully lied to my friends and I. She also didn't really say a helluva lot to my friends which pissed me off. I realized Dan hadn't seen her in ages, but I'd never treat his friends the way she treated mine, or at least not without apologizing to Dan for it later. No such apology came. It wasn't even the apology from him that I wanted, it was an awareness that maybe he is some how accountable for his friends actions.

Accountability is a big issue for Dan. Whenever something happens, its the worlds fault, or someone elses. He also is aimless and has no direct ambition. He's totally inactive in any decision making process regarding his own life. It grates on me so badly because I know what it feels like to be there, in that space. I was in that space not so very long ago, and being around it now feels almost like a step backwards. I've talked about it with him, and I'm optimistic, but darn it, shape up.

I talked to Mara about it, and she gave good advice-- stick it out. Be a responsible, mature person, and watch it wear off. I guess she's right. My annoyance with it and my readiness to drop him immediately for it is nothing more than my own self defense mechanism showing up... but it is a valid issue, and one worth paying attention to.

Anyway, back to New York, since I've gotten that tangent out of my system. Adrian neglected to tell us that getting into NYUs buildings required a Driver's License and a Driver's License only; Lauren only had her passport, and thusly couldn't be admitted into the dorms. Jess and Lauren were rightly pissed at this point. Afterall, Jackie, one of the sweetest (don't tell her I said that) girls in the world had let us stay at her folks suite in NYC, and all she requested was some liquor. She requested it of Jess, and because of Dan's friend's flightiness, we couldn't get it.

Jackie was on her way down from midtown on the subway when we discovered our inability to enter the dorms, so we waited outside for her. I told Dan to stay behind and play with his friend. When Jackie found us in Union Square, we bought beer and hopped back on the metro.

At the hotel, Lauren and Jess quickly fell asleep. Jackie and I drank a beer or two and then diddybopped into Time Square. We walked around in the neoday that only Vegas and Time Square can seem to replicate. We wandered, talked, bonded, and fell into the almost sensuous serenity of being nearly native. The city envelopes, controls, and somehow still stays in the background... We felt like we belonged. We shared months worth of emotion and unlocked the emotional toolchest and got to work on one another, listening, wandering, talking, and bonding some more. I love Jackie. We finished off a few more back at the hotel, never getting drunk, and just talked until the sun was nearly ready to come up. The next morning we got a hold in Jackie's Chin, bought a bowl, had cream of asparagus soup, tried on sunglasses, and caught a china town bus home.

When we got back in the car, I was expecting Dan to mention his friend's behavior. It never came. I grew annoyed with my own thoughts, and wanted to sort them out, so I had planned on going home. Dan could see that something was pissing me off, so he asked what it was. I expressed to him my concern with his lack of awareness and lack of accountability. The discussion was short-lived, however, because bad news came. The bust for Pot that had occurred had managed to get Dan kicked off campus, though he had no official wrong-doing. His lack of grounding annoyed me even more after I worked really hard to get his police report released. I pretended to be Joel Kelly, of Billingsly and Snead, while talking on the phone with one Margaret Jones, from the Police records office. I convinced her that I was a paralegal, and was helping Mr. Snead work on a case where time was of the essence. It took convincing, but she agreed to release the records so that Dan could have them for his appeal... which had to be turned in literally two days after he got the notice of eviction.

Anyway, all I had to do was fax Ms. Jones the info she requested, which Dan had. Dan should have been just about ready to go to his next class when I called him to get him to fax the information over... but guess what? Instead of following through with any of the shit he needed to get done, he went to the mall, while his friend Meg and I helped prepare his stuff. We were both annoyed. My annoyance lasted a solid couple of days, and I told him to just go back to Delaware if he's not bettering himself here. He's just so friggin young in so many ways. Kelly calls 'em Boy years. She says he's not even a child in boy years, that hes still a baby, and in many ways I think she's right. Ahh, dual influence... Mara has validity and so does Kelly. I think they're both right in the words they've spoken. I need to watch out that I'm not dippin' out on this kid because of my defenses, and also not taking more than I should, as per Kelly.

Speaking of Kelly, she invited me to a fund-raiser/house party on Saturday night that was bein' held by a bunch of greenpeace-ers. It was up in NW, so I drove up from Colonial Beach and picked up Dan along the way. We grabbed Jess from her Cosi and checked into what will (hopefully soon) be my Cosi so that I could say Hola to e'rybahdy. We got to the house party without too much effort, and wouldn't you know it, the party was fuckin' hoppin'. Two kegs were going, the dancefloor was bein' held up beat-to-beat by one of the dudes from Thievery Corporation, and the ghanga was waftin' all through the top floor. We had a smoke session and Jess, who no longer smokes, caught herself a lovely-lovely contact high. So lovely, in fact, that as we were walkin' out the window to the rooftop area, Jess almost took a second face-plant of the month... this time over the roof. Luckily balance was caught, but whoooo booy, was it funny/scary/ridiculous.

For the Greenpeace party, I decided to make a pair of jeans. Well, not make, so much as modify, but anyway, I had these jeans from Gap that I slit up the side nearly to my midthigh on each side and on the inner side, up to my knee. For Madonnarama last year they were safety-pinned together and made into a neuvo-prince kinda look. Loved 'em. For this event, I attacked an old garter set, and made different sized strips tapering from shorter strips to longer, and stitched them into the slits. Then I took my mom's curtain decorating rope and fashioned a belt that does this in the front: //\ And comes around into the back and cups my ass really tightly. The jeans turned out to be a smashing hit, they got talked about in a positive light on a couple of occasions. This, of course, stroked my vanity like no other, and made me grin from ear to ear.

I mentioned earlier that I pretended to be Joel Kelly, of Billingsly and Snead. Well, I got to tell Caroline that I was pretending to be her father’s paralegal (Snead, get it) the other day. She and I took Anabell for a walk that was only supposed to be around the block, but ended up taking about two hours. I guess we had a lot to talk about. Caroline’s lookin’ well, and feelin’ better, too, from what I understand. They just readjusted her thyroid medication, so we’ll see what that brings. I told her that I was trying the Atkins Diet (which I am, btw) for a while, and she was totally supportive. Until she showed me this three layer dessert she made. It was so rich that even the enviable appetite of the Snead Family couldn’t finish the dish in one sitting. She told me to chew it up and spit it out, it was that good. I did. It was.

Also from the vaults of Caroline… she had found this stray a few months ago that she named Jake. He was a good puppy, but Papa Snead wouldn’t let ‘er keep it. Anabell was enough fur in his house as-was, so she hunted around to find a new owner. One of her bookclub buddies stepped up to the plate, and the puppy shipped off to Caroline County. Well, the dog got loose from the new owner. Its fine, no worries, but one of the neighbors called the police on the cute little beagle for dog vagrancy. She had to go to court for it and everything.

So, there this girl is, in court, when they announce the Honorable Charles Snead presiding. Andrea, the new dog’s owner, thinks to herself for a minute: Caroline’s last name is Snead. Caroline’s Dad is a judge. She sees the judge, and he’s a large man. Caroline’s Father is a large man.

Can you believe it? The man who turned away the vagrant dog to begin with is now presiding over the case. Poor Andrea is so honest that she didn’t mention it at the time to him, but Papa Snead got rid of the charges anyway. So, when Caroline told her daddy what happened, he about lost it with laughter. “Why didn’t she say somethin’?” he bellowed with laughter. “I liiive for letting people go for no good reason. All she had to do was say ‘Your honor, Caroline Snead gave me this dog, and I’ve just recently been learnin’ how to take the proper care this vagrant dog needs.’ And I would have said, ‘Of course! This dog has a history of vagrancy, one that I am very familiar with! There are extenuating circumstances! Dismissed!” I don’t know if Papa Snead would use that many exclamations, but I imagine that he would, so we’re gonna let ‘em stay.

Tomorrow's going to be a busy day... I'll discover whether or not I get my job at Cosi back fo' rizzle, I get a massage by Kelly, and then I get to take her out to lunch. Following that, fingers crossed, I get to go to work.

By the way, Alanis cut her hair. Love it.

I've been blessed today by one of the "little things."

You know, when for no good reason fortune smiles upon you.

Today, my professor was sick. I had a paper to turn into her today, and it wasn't exactly where I wanted it to be. I could have taken the time to get it there today, but you see, I also had a quiz today in my other class. Now I get to focus 100% on this quiz, and I can redetail my paper tomorrow before work.

Speaking of work, I start fo-rizzle at Cosi tomorrow. I'm vurry 'cited. Markie and I are gonna go runnin' tomorrow before I have to be in, like at around 1:00ish or so. We're gonna run down to the tidal basin and then back. We've got like 2 hours to do it in, so we'll be fine. I think this is gonna be a regular thing for he and I... like every tues-thurs-friday type dealies.... It'll get us in shape for our next Rohobeth adventure.

Interesting week. Had my meeting with the dean. That didn't go as well as I would have liked-- apparently Sara Strom had something different to say than the rest of us. And there was an error on the police report saying that Dan and I admitted to drinking and smoking marijuana.

We admitted to neither. I'm nervous, but there is no way to prove that I did anything wrong. So, if something bad happens, I appeal.

I don't know what to do. Sugar in Sara's gas tank seems like a valid response. Keying and vinegar? I don't know. Either way, something should happen, but I care more for my Karma than for retribution. The police report feels like the toughest one to find a response to. Do I get a lawyer involved? Do I have to ask Papa Snead for assistance? At what point do I discuss this with the folks? Lawdy.

My cousins are here, and we're looking for something fun to do. Colonial Beach never seems to lend itself to fun, so I think we might just go get ice cream and a movie. In the mean time how about a survey?

Grab the book nearest you, turn to page 23, find line 5. Write down what it says, along with this sentence, and post it in your journal.

"They charge more, and you lose more," I say aloud without thinking, and there's a laugh around the room. God, how embarassing. And now Like brandon's lifting his head, too. Quckly I look down and pretend to be writing notes.

1: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 98, find line 6. Write down what it says.
"Yeah, great!" she says, and takes a huge bite of nan.

2: Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?
A curtain.

3: What is the last thing you watched on TV?
Mad TV

4: WITHOUT LOOKING, guess what the time is:
8ish

5: Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
7:58pm

6: With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
The TV, and my cousins Krista and Aric laughing.

7: When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
Mom, Krista, Aric, Aunt Karin and I were playing scrabble on the deck a couple of hours ago.

8: Before you came to this website, what did you look at?
The TV.

9: What are you wearing?
Jeans, shoes, a hoodie.

10: Did you dream last night?
Not as far as I know.

11: Is your boss a power-hungry nut case or...?
One's a sketchy morrocan. One's a white-break dick. The others are great.

12: Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Robyn Renee Hall

13: Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Joel Kelly Hall

14: Would you ever consider living abroad?
I dunno. I'd miss my fam.

Today has been a day of reflection unlike any I've had in recent memory. We celebrated Easter with the typical trappings of baskets and fake green grass that has been the tradition for every year I've been alive.

A lot of time has passed since 1996. Krista, Aric, Aunt Karin, Uncle Mark, Mom, Dad and I were reminded of it as we watched old movies of bygone holidays. We've grown up so much, we're so different, we're a million other cliches, but we're also very human; and thus, we're susceptible to a million more.

I taped over a part of Easter '97, which took place in Ohio, at some point. I'm an asshole. How was one episode of a stupid soap opera more important than my family's history? I guess I wanted to replace those years so badly that I not only removed the entries from my mind, I was cavalier about erasing them on tape, too. I didn't even think about who's feelings and memories it could hurt.

Such an asshole.

No grudges were held for my indiscretion with a tape. So little fear of retribution from my kin, in fact, that Krista was trusted with putting a hole in my body. A second cartilage piercing to match hers. Krista did it with a needle and an orange... my first new piercing since Trev, Matt, and I went and got my nipple pierced in July or August of 2001.

The hole in my nipple is still open, but no ring resides in it. I lost the metallic memory marker in a boy named Sebastian's apartment this summer. I met him in a dimly lit hotel party where a drag queen named Simone held court, and the party goers reveled, tweaked, and made complete asses of themselves, myself included. I swirled, passed out, and was taken care of by Sebastian at that gathering, one of the few times I needed Mike-sitting at a party. He kept the drag queen away from me, I reckon claiming me as his own in some sort of sick drug addict ritualistic way. I hadn't slept in 5 days.

We had hit it off earlier, I was taken by the glint his eyes displayed, though they were nearly covered by an angora kangol hat. He was the type of boy you weren't sure whether to hire to paint your fence or invite inside to paint the town, the kind who might use his knife for your defense or for worse. It didn't hardly much matter which you desired more, there was no short end to his stick. There's little question to those that know me why I was drawn in; He was a cup game, quick figure eights and tempestuous transition, daring your eyes to blink.

No, I should have known. I liked that he wrapped my mind up in wit, tied it up, and held it dear. I liked how the shadows ended before his lips began, leaving me with the anticipation of each well formed word. I wanted to listen, I wanted to taste.

He wanted me, too. My time in Sebastian's company in any capacity was around two months, and he led me to the social pools in which I nearly drowned. He himself proved to a horrible floatation device, one who preferred to sit at the bottom rather than rise to the top. He was a drug addict, with a far more ferocious addiction than my own.

He was also missing pieces of his soul that I could never repair; parents, best friends, a traitorous nature, and tina.

He left my life easily enough, an amputation necessary and grotesque for all the ways a mind can quiver and become weak for a drug that was flesh and blood.

I saw him online today. His bio said "4 Rnt."

There were rumors that got back to me almost as soon as I started speaking about him to others. All signs pointed to the fact that Sebastian had escorted previously. I checked my facts. They all pointed to prostitution, but I wanted to believe him when he told me they were untrue.

I can't make light of my own allowed delusions... I did, actually, believe him. I let myself be lied to. I let him meet my mother. I let him sleep in my bed, and told him he had a place to go if he needed to clean up. I wanted to believe I could help wash away the filth of addiction as easily as one wipes oil from the bridge of their nose. I wanted to believe that I wasn't feeling deep emotions for a liar and a whore.

I couldn't care less if he sold his body for money. I wish he hadn't sold his integrity. I wish he hadn't sold me out. I wish he hadn't lied to me.

I wish that holes in my body weren't reminders of holes in my soul. Holes in my own integrity. Holes in my own honesty.

I might have a thousand wishes, but I'll be damned if I'll rub a thousand lamps. Let him do that.

I can't tape over last year any more than I can erase myself. Let the sty in my third eye see skewed versions of myself, they can't be any worse than lies I believed or the lies I told myself and then repeated to others. Fuck Sebastian. I hope everytime he blows someone, he remembers blowing out the candles in my room before climbing to bed, remembers what my face looked like as I went down on Justin, and I hope he feels in his sleep, when he does sleep, what my lips felt like on his.

I hope he waits in anticipation for the taste of me. Let my only vengeance be my very lack of it.

Hit play.

And a God Descended
Dar Williams

Step through this trampled wall
The unhinged door betrays it all
That far within our faith we were all waiting
The broken glass reflects the haze
It shines like endless holy days
Struggling to remember what they're celebrating

Well, a God descended
And the reason ended
His life was lifted just above the law
And now we have to live with what we did
With what we saw

Well, you mend your clothes and patch your roof
And slivers of God's shattered truth
Grow tender as the grass in clean-swept yards
But a savior came and told us how
The truth was all around us now
Abandon house and field and gather up the shards

Well, a God descended
And the reason ended
His life was lifted just above the law
And now we have to live with what we did
With what we saw

Well, you build your faith with strength and duty
Build your love but there's a beauty
Well you know the scriptures tell
There are a few shards left in hell
And if we want a god we had to follow, follow him down

Pictures torn out of their frames
And orgies where we lost our names
All were gone with time's real desire
Well, you ask how God can curse you thus
That's not a question asked by us
We burned our beds and books
We fear we've lost the fire

The God descended
And the reason ended
His life was lifted just above the law
And now we have to live with what we did
With what we saw...

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!


If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!


How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla



So, now that that's out of the way, lets talk for a moment about exams... they're over. 'Nuff said.

What, did you say something about apartments! I need one. I think I found one. 14th and P. Above the Mid City Market. 15 foot ceilings. The windows are taller than I am.

Oh, and I got mentioned in the GOP USA newsletter and the Huntington News. Go read and then look here. The pink shirt was actually one for Planned Parenthood, and the sign I attached to the boy's staff said "77% of those legislating your reproductive rights are men. 100% of them can't get pregnant. Then I put a sign in the mom and the dad's hand. I only held the boy scout's hand for like a minute. Lovely yellow journalism.

Booyakasha.

Sacha's in Cleveland right now, playin' with her folks, but when she gets back, we're gonna have to discuss when we're leaving for Tampa. There was an ad in the newspaper to "drive my car" to tampa, and so Sacha and I of course answered it. Now this has led to me taking the days neccesary off from work, and us packin' up and headin' down to the sunny state.

Sacha and I both need the tan time, so it'll be time well spent.
Go Florida!

So, this boy that I had met at work a few weeks ago called me today. Long story short, he mistook me for a jew, but got my number anyway. Anywho, he called me last night, outta the blue. I figure I'll call him this afternoon, maybe set up a date for Monday. 🙂 Yay!

I've also managed to get a crush on my co-worker's roomate. He works at Result's (the gym), and he sings, dances, acts, and is in general funny. He makes me swoon, but thats almost intimidating. Though I think he finds me cute, I don't know how to ask him out on a date. I didn't get his number the last time the three of us went out. I'm gonna make a point of gettin' it before tampa, I guess.

Its not bad to set goals.

I woke up this morning unhappily. I don't know for sure why I was such a grounchy head this morning, but I was.

I stumbled to my phone and saw that I had no missed calls, and also saw that my battery was nearly dead. I tried to call sacha to find out what our plans for the trip today are, but alas, she did not answer, so I'm still not sure whether I'm goin' to Tampa or Rehomo or what.

I then stumbled in to the living room to discover that Lauren's dog gidga has eaten my cell phone charger. He ate my ethernet cable. He ate my seein' glasses.

He's a terror. Gidga bin Laden.

I was too groggy to do laundry, so I still pretty much have to do that befoer I go on my trip, so I think thats what step two now is. Laundry.

Adios.

Oh, and I still like Alex. I've been singing "Like A Prayer" for two days, thinking about the way he looked dancing to it at Cobalt the first night we went out.

/Life is a mystery everyone must stand alone./

Big wheels keep on turnin'...

Sacha and I have decided to head to New York, since Mr. Drive My Car has decided to drive his own car. I reckon he's now Mr. Drives His Car.

Anyway, we're gonna hop the chinatown bus at around 3am so that we can be in New York at about 7. That means cocktails until then. I'm still gross and yucky from the gym, so I really need to go clean up so that I can pack.

I got stuck in the rain today riding back from H&M, so my shorts are a little wet still. I need to pack them, but I need them to stop bein' drippy first. I was able to fit nicely into a pair of 32s that they had, so before we leave, I'm gonna try on my favorite jeans from last summer to see if I can squeeze into them. I sure hope so.

I spoke with Jenny Lee today before heading out to run my errands. She asked if I had spoken with Alex yet, and I told her no, I didn't have his number. My own fault. She called him up and left a message with my number and told him to give me a call. I'm such a 14 year old girl when I think about him calling. Thank god for cell phones, because at least I can take my obsession with me.

Lauren suggested Jenny Lee give him my number instead of Jenny just giving me his, but now she's claiming no responsibility if he doesn't call. I told her I will blame her entirely if he doesn't. I'm not kidding (okay, maybe a little). I'd like to believe he'll call, but you never know. I could have just been a half-trick.

If I had to be a trick, I'd rather be a hat-trick, though 😉

I woke up this morning with red eyes. They're so irritated and pained that I think I scratcehd them last night. Well, not think, know. I know for sure I musta scratched 'em.

Last night I met up with Pam over at Cosi, and we hung out, chatted, had a drink and some food, then headed back to my place. We drank a bit here, danced for a while together, and then went across the street to the Playbill Cafe.

More drinks there, got food over at Yums, went back to Playbill, then went back to my place and smoked.

Then we decided to head down to some club in dupont. I, for the life of me, don't really know where we went. We danced out asses off, and I split my great pants right up the ass. Stupid bubble butt.

So, my eyes were killin' me last night, but i was tooooo drunk to really care, so Pam and I danced with Anthony and just enjoyed ourselves for a few more hours. At this point, I caught a cab home. I was too afraid of gettin' naughty things done to me with a pair of tight pants split convienently up the ass. So, cabbed it home and woke up this morning with ferocious eye pain. Totally an ocular infection due to a scratch I must have given myself with my contacts.

Now I gotta wait 'till tomorrow to go to the free doc at mason. Damn it damn it. Oh, and this is ostly bein' typed with my eyes closed, cause it hurts too bad to keep 'em open.

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...

For a boy who doesn't have a job, I sure have been a busy guy. Jackie came into town yesterday, so Sacha, Jackie, Pam, Sam, and I went out to Air. Air's at 13th and Penn, near a bunch of federal buildings, and its a big ol' outside party. They even have these cool trippy lights they use to illuminate the federal buildings, so its a really neat time. Pam's brother's girl(friend?) Bambi works as a bartender there, so we got employee guest listed. A nice time, I gotta say, and even better that we didn't have to pay the 20 dollar cover or have to wait in the huuuuge line. Lots of dancing, lots of funs. Lots of drinking, and even some yay. I don't quite remember getting home, but Lauren ended up in my bed at some point, Jackie on the couch, and me on the day bed. How does that work?

Friday night saw more name dropping, as Pam, Kelly and I went to the bar Ozio, where we know the door guy. Ozio's totally posh, a fru-fru martini bar type vibe, but sometimes a little pretension can be fun. After Ozio we went by the Big Hunt, the antithesis of pretension, with Lauren, Lindsey (some new lesbian who's way cute), and Jenny Lee. Another adventure with a door guy we know (Lauren is underage!), and more cheap drinks. Yum! We got back to myself and smoked. A lot. Like a lot-a-lot. Burnt. Burnt. Burnt was I.

Early on Thursday I went and got myself a job over at Perry's, the resturant in Adam's Mogan. Kelly's friend Felica's roomate is the assistant GM there, so I had no problem gettin' the job. Thank goodness for Kelly. I don't have a definative schedule yet, but I should start this week.Thursday night I ended up going dancing alone at Apex. I drank before I left, so I wasn't toooo worried about meeting someone. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to Apex or Cobalt, because i knew Dan was prolly goin' to be at Gaypex. Of course he was, as was Jess, but I just said fuck it and had a good time. I even ran into Kate, who was with her friend Sean, and we decided to hang out after the club. Bad news reached us that friends of ours were in jail-- not good. I was able to be around drugs and not do them which I'm awfully proud of, and I even stayed out 'till like 6.

Right now I'm thinkin' about goin' and gettin' myself some good food and givin' Ms. Jackie a call. I feel like I should see her again 🙂

I went to bed at like midnight last night and didn't get up until 10:50. Thats so much more sleep than I needed... I prefer it when my body is just happy with 8 hours. More sleep is better than no sleep today, 'cause I'm goin in to set up my schedule at Perry's today with Devon, the night time manager. I had hoped that when I finally rose from bed this mornin' there would be a message from 'em tellin' me what time to come in, but alas, there was not. So now I'm just gonna call-- saves me some effort, and gets me to the gym a little sooner (no waitin' around).

I didn't go to the gym yesterday, I instead went walkin'. Pam and I went from Dupont to Chinatown and went out to eat at this really yummy spot. I'd share the name, but I haven't a clue what it is. Thank goodness for chinese friends. They order for you.

Pam: Do you eat weird stuff? Like, would you eat an ear?
Mike: I'm from the country, would you eat scapple?
Pam: Word.

So, we fooded it up and then went to Wok n' Roll (hehehe!) to get Bubble Tea, which is a yummy-yummy bevarage served on ice that has large tapioca balls at the bottom (like the size of marbles).

Pam: It's good, and besides, you love it when balls shoot in your mouth.

She didn't fib, it was good. I had a lil problem with the ear, and only the ear, 'cause when you bit it, it made the sound as when I got my cartlidge pierced. As funny as it is, if I coulda gotten past the *crunch*crunch* I woulda been fine, 'cause it tasted good. I think I just need another go at it.

We walked from china town back down to my house, which really sets up a positive theme for Pam and I: walkin'. We were both elated to discover that the other was a walker-- I love just high steppin' through town, and so does she. Last night she and I walked from Dupont to Adam's Morgan and then came back down to L'orial Plaza for margaritas and pantains. The plaintains were horrrrrrrid (what we get for stoppin' by late at night), but the margaritas were tasty treats.

Hopefully with the start of this new employment stage, I'm gonna actually have the oppertunity to do a 'lil shoppin' when I'm in Chinatown, or order an actual entree instead of an appetizer at the Plaza. I should call them now.

Okay, so Halo isn't at 14th and Mass, its at 14th and P.

Basically, the hip new spot that just opened Friday is seeable from my window. In fact, its only three doors down from me. Weird, right? I was really expecting it to be a straight bar, but apparently its far from it: totally 'mo. Its also really, really pretty with a wall-to-ceiling curve that makes it tunnelesque. The red and blue lights they use to illuminate the wall sets really nice fuckin' tone, and the frosted glass illuminated yellow for the bar area is gorgeous. It helps that the red and yellow used are my favorite colors.

Anywho, Sacha before coming over filled me up a sippy cup of Everclear and mixed it with a melted daquri that had been sitting in her fridge for about three days. I wasn't gonna be shy, so I drank the bitch.

Yummy Yummy. Drunk Drunk.

So, ya, after not being able to find the place when we went down to 14th and Mass we met up with Sacha's friend Sam at Playbill, got a cocktail, and the bar tender told us where to go. Had a nice time, caught up with Shaina, Sacha's friend. She was with her Michael... Sacha adn Shaina each have a Michael, though they both agree I'm the better one (giggle!). Okay, so Sacha thinks I'm the better, maybe Shania doesn't for sure, but Sacha DOES frequently yell at Other Michael the following: "Oh Yeah?! I've gotta Michael, too!"

She does this unprompted and loudly, as only she can get away with.

So, I was gonna go over to Sacha's friend Greggles, but ended up runnin' in to Lauren first. We ended up smokin' cigarettes and gabbin' and then just passin' the hell out.

So, this morning I was woken up oddly.

Lauren hears the door down stairs open, and then slam. She hears these loud *thud thud thuds* coming up the stairs, very assertively. Then she hears *pound pound pound* on the door. Of course she thinks I'm about to be arrested or evicted or some such, so she quickly throws on shorts and a shirt (we're naked a lot), and answers the door.

It's my Mom, who lives two hours from here. Weird.

Well, either way she asks if I'm here, and Lauren tells her yep, and then says that I'm in bed asleep, half naked, she's sure. Mom jokingly responds "Is he alone?" and heads for the door.

Pause.
Turns around.
"He is alone, right?"

So, ya, mom just dropped the hell on by, Dad in tow. They came to carnap my Blazer. After the homeless person took up residence in it, went through all of my things that I hadn't taken out, and stole my band aids, we knew it was time to go. Or it may have been after the gas was syphoned. Whichever. Either way, they came and took my car.
I was most certainly still a little drunk when my mom got me up, but either way, it was fantastic to see 'em just drop by. She even gave me money for clothes hangers.

Brunch today saw Lauren, Jenny Lee, Pam, Carter and I at Saint-Ex. Carter is the boy who works at Urban and has somehow just worked his way into my friendship circle by simply being wherever I am. Weird, I realize, but yeah, fun guy. The bartender even randomly poured us a couple of redheaded slus on the way out. That was after the car drove by and threw an egg out the window at us (we sat on Saint-Ex's patio). Who the fuck gets EGGED?! Us, apparently.

We did a little window shopping together and really had a fab fucking time. I really, really liked the group dynamic of us five. A LOT. I want more of that.

Anywho, had to clean up quickly for work while everyone else just gabbed in my living room, and then bounced off to my first day of actual server training at Perry's. I rode my bike this time, which made the commute a heckuvalot easier. 9 hours later, I'm about to bop into Dupont to go grab a beer with Pam and Lauren.

So, gotta go, but wanted to hammer this out before I ran outta time.

I've got a pair of panties in my pocket for a friend. Irregular cycles are a bitch, apparently. They're cute, though, godbless great neighbors.

I'm all Sparked up. God bless premium malt beverages with taurine, ginseng, and caffine.

I've gotta go down to the Big Hunt to deliver these panties... hopefully by the time I stumble home, my new replay TV will be activated. I'm looking forward to it.

The combination of caffine and dexterity has led to a desire to go into the Warrior II pose from my new yoga class... I feel like an ancient warrior, and that is not a bad way to go into a friday night!

Word.

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.

Republicans! Be on notice!

I'm a pedestrian, I walk places. You... you in your boots and cowboy hats, black ties and long scarves, you evil motherfuckers... this is my town, and you are a guest! Again, I repeat, you are a guest!

You fucks. I realize that where you come from its okay to wear your self-importance on your sleeve, you have more cows than people. But! But! If one more of your goddamned limos, stretch hummers, or fancy-shmancy cabs are in my way when I try to walk across the crosswalk, I will beat the living pulp out of your car. And run. Quickly.

"Crosswalk," bitches.

I know the alleys, you don't. You will not catch me, and your car will be in a state befitting your soul. Dented and mangled. You can show your disrespect and deign for the common man, thats fine, but I need not civility in my disobedience.

Be on notice!

And, think of it as payback for the 17 mil we're shilling out for you to hit our pedestrians while wearing your cowboy hats and tropywives.

92% of your neighbors want you gone.

How 'bout that.

Ugh.

I've got me a a little heady-ache. I think it was the Gin.

Why is it when I drunk blog I sound overly snooty?

I think I'm gonna go watch Alias with the neighbors. They prolly have acheys and ouchies, too.

Snooty or not, though, I hauled and dumped trashcans of TOILET WATER. Fuckin' shitcreek over flowed for reals, and I volunteered to help clean it.

I'm sure the water ran clear after a while, but it came up for a reason. Too much poopie is my hunch, and thats gross. I eat asshole, it shouldn't bother me, but it kinda started to after I got a mystery blister on my hand. I think the water did it!

I woke up just now very upset... I had a very vivid dream that I forced myself out of.

The dream starts in an apartment, and someone in that apartment is telling me how truly talented people are always crazy. He then began discussing a woman who could speak french, and then about this same woman's painting, and how it wasn't even what she was most amazing at. I can't remember (now) what she was supposedly best at. In the dream, I recognized the art work as my neighbor's, Caitlin's. We're a little older in the dream. Some things had changed.

I identify the art to the man as Caitlins, and return to working on my own painting. Caitlin is there now. It begins to rain, and the paintings begin to become wet, both caitlin's and I's. Shes there, and faces appear in the paintings that are getting rained on. Its beautiful, unintentional, and lovely.

The dream itself feels like complete reality. There is something going on across the way, in the dream, that requires caitlin and I's attention. I immediatly fear the worst, that something's happened to ashley. I think, in the dream, that she's dead. We run to where the ambulances are. Dream Caitlin is very worried, too.

We get there, things are fine, and the homes that have the emergency are rows of trailers, not unlike the trailer parks I recall from my youth. Caitlin chats up the firefighter, I chat up the other, nothings wrong. I realize I can't remember anything from Real Now to Dream Present Day (the dream, again, is in the future).

The dream goes on, I don't remember now for how long, and I'm now with Caitlin's mom. We're having an intimate time together, the three of us, I think over dinner. I confess that I may need a shrink. I also admit that I don't remember the past four months or so. Not a thing.

I ask them to tell me what happened, what had transpired in the time that I'd lost.

Her mom worries that it will upset me greatly. She, in the dream, is very close to me apparently.

I ask what happened, what I was missing.

They agree it might be time to tell me.

Caitlin hesitantly tells me that a very close friend betrays me. I am told I have nothing to worry about anymore. She tells me it happens on Feburary 22nd. I, in the dream, think thats Mark's birthday. She doesn't confirm or deny anything. She relates that I fell off crystal wagon, hard, and that I'm lucky to be alive. She also tells me that I don't have anything to worry about anymore. I ask if its what I fear, and she says yes. I think that means (in the dream) that I'm HIV +. I, in the dream, get upset, and she tells me that I am just plain lucky to be alive. It is implied that the betrayal and the HIV are related, I believe.

I realize, in the dream, that this can't be real. That I can't have lost THAT much time. I force myself to wake up, and I do.

I go to the kitchen, now in real life, and its flooding. At some point I left the kitchen sink on, or I slept walk and did it.

Weird, right?

Do I start fearing Feb 22?

Some 28 year old college chica just got 18 months probation for selling faux Duff beer. She was forced to reimburse the purchasers, to the tune of nearly 2k. I wonder what beer she used to fake it? I guess it doesn't matter, aside from the 18 months, they're makin' the bitch see a shrink. I still think its a good idea-- whatever.

In real beer news, apparently Coors Light and Molson are thinking about merging. Don't fret, you didn't miss the memo, both are still lame. I mean, think of the list of beers that you get with this new SuperBrew company? Molson Canadian, Coors Light, Carling, Keystone, Aspen Edge, Zima, Rickard's and Kaiser... would you honestly wanna order any of those? Ugh, bring me a Chimay!

Coors, Miller Lite, Zimas... they all kinda fall into the same category in my mind, watery and cheap. Little Miss Smokey said it best: "I drink Miller Lite when I'm actually thirsty and at the bar. Its not like I'd order it if I ever wanted a beer." Word. It is drunk water as far as I'm concerned, but if I'm ever near an avalanchable area, I'm gonna be sure to bring plenty of one of the new SuperBrews. It could save my life-- over somewhere in Europe (where is the Slovakian Cock from, anyway? Czech Slovakia? Ugh, I'm dumb) a man drank 60 beers and pissed his way out of an avalanche that covered his car. Apparently he drank and pissed so much his liver and kidneys hurt.

Buddy, I know your pain. Hmmm, how can I work this into casual discourse? I gotta go melt the snow?

"An administrator at George Mason University demanded $10,000 from a 17-year-old youth last summer in exchange for keeping the pair's videotaped sexual encounters secret from the teenager's parents, the boy testified in Fairfax County juvenile court yesterday... But when police started examining the tapes, they discovered six other people -- at least three of them juveniles -- having sex with Sinacore, prosecutors said." -- via Lauren, full article @ Washington Post.com.

Jesus.

I've only ever made one video, knowingly, and I have the only copy. This news totally makes me wonder what the hell else is out there. I was fucked up when I made my video with PennEx, but the likelihood that I was in intoxicated and in a situation where someone could have had an actual video camera is quite, quite high.

Afterall, there have been pictures taken without my permission or knowledge. There’s prolly a video somewhere. Whatever.

The rumor mill says that the boys’ sex with the dude was consensual, but lets be honest. He was between 50 and 55 when that shit was going down, they were 16-17, so I have sneaky little hunch that he paid them for services rendered… that said, what services could I have been rendering when I was too fucked up to see the blinking red light?

Scary thoughts. I was just being slutty, not whorey, but you still don’t want that shit floating around. How very, very Paris Hilton.

Speaking of scary, my night at JR's last Thursday could have gone better. Neighborsex was there, as were a bunch of his friends. Catty fucking faggots (read: his friends), those with less hair and more money than me, seem to think its acceptable to rag on a twentyone year old.

Jerks. I don't want to get into too many details, but there were negative references to me and Chris Robinson (Black Crows), shit talk about my my facial hair. Oh, yeah, and White Lion discussions specifically designed to exclude me. FUCK WHITE LION.

Put this on record: I don't care about White Lion. I missed Cyndi Lauper's Hey Day. I will not feel bad for never, ever owning vinyl. And its okay that I’m more Killers than Depeche Mode. Thank you.

*phew*

So, backhanded compliments being what they are, after neighborsex left (without saying goodbye no less), the boys stopped being catty and starting blatantly flirting with me.

Long Story Short: I got plastered and made them promise to be nicer the next time. They promised.

They made me feel like a person with social anxiety disorder, and I know that I’m not. What a yucky, unwelcoming air to hoist upon a newcomer.

Jerks. The lovely PennKim thinks that I should drag her kit and caboodle out with me the next time I have to face them, but I think I might have to do this one on my own, or with the help of another fag. We shall see!

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.

I had tasty steak today for dinner.

I can't remember the last time I had red meat. I think it was this summer at Hamburger Mary's-- a freakin' hamburger. I grilled and seasoned my steak all by myself this time! Word!

Mark had to help me dethaw chicken the other day, and today he brought me fresh baked rye bread made from scratch. Jeeze, he's talented.

Anyway, red meat for red blooded boys. I'm off to the bar to flirt unabashedly.

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.

So, last night I went to Julia's for a little shindig. Never been to her place, its over in Washington Circle-- totally way fun. She lives with Cole, my ex's ex. Weird, but lovely good time.

They all went drunk diner-ing afterwards, and seeing as how I ate a peanut butter hamburger while in Hawaii, I needed not a bit of Diner. That said, I rode with them up to Adams Morgan from Washington Circle to hang out on the way (and the cab fare is less expensive from U street). We took a friend of there's ride. I made the executive decision after getting out to go home instead of eating, and the group told me to hop back in the car and catch a ride home with their friend. So, I went to the SUV hopped in and the dude asked me where I lived.

Soooooo wasn't their friend. STILL took the ride.

Yep Yep.

I'm trashy, ya'll. And I think he was straight. Nothing happened-- but god damned.

Its good to be home.

Sorry, princess, this is my house.

When I came home from vacation there were beer bottles on my coffee table, my pasta had been eaten, cocktails had been made and not cleaned up... my house was worst than how I left it (which is sayin' something, bitches).

Lee broke in through the fire escape and stayed the night one night. He cleaned up after himself and refilled ice trays. Exactly as I would have expected him to. The neighbor girls came over and watched TV another night. They drank a little, but came back to clean the next day. Exactly as I would expect them to.

When they arrived, windex and paper towels in hand, the door quickly locked-- deadbolt and doorframe. When they knocked, no one answered. Yet, obviously, someone had just run to the door to lock it! The neighbors yelled in "Lauren, it's just us! We're here to clean up our mess!"

After some presistance on my neighbors part, some asian bitch with short hair answered my door in a towel and wouldn't let them in. Wouldn't even open the door at first. She told them to go away, that she'd clean up. That she was a friend of Kelley's.

Kelley does not even have a key to my apartment.

Lauren left her keys with Kelley. Who then gave them to Amanda for god knows what reason. Amanda, the asian bitch with short hair, let herself into my apartment. Who knows for what reason or for how long. Fucking whore. I'm livid. Not only did she not clean when she left, she lied to Kelley (or I hope she lied, and that its not kelley doing the lying) about the way shit went down, and I feel kinda violated.

Clearly the amount of people in and out of my apartment, sans bitch, lends you to the notion that I'm really not super troubled by guests. I'm not. If you are welcome in my home and I gave you a key, and I happen to be in Hawaii, please let yourself in. If you don't have a key, you call and ask if you can come over while I'm gone, I'll put you in contact with someone who can let you in for whatever reason. Or I can say no. This stupid fucking slut of a human doesn't even know my last name and certainly doesn't even have my cell phone number to give me the courtesy of telling her hell the fuck no.

Hell, the person she said she was a friend of doesn't even have a key to my apartment! If you're breaking into my home and lying to my friends, please AT LEAST know who's key your using to break in! Being 4 degrees of separation away from me does not allow you into my personal spaces. Thanks.

She also didn't leave a note. You always leave a note!

Kelly, of the she who gave my keys to an asian fame, hasn't called me since I've been home. Not since she knew I found out, not since I confronted Lauren, not since my plane landed have I heard shit from her. I don't know what I think about that. She hasn't given me an apology or offered me an explination, though through the grapevine I've heard she's offered these things to Lauren. Are you fucking kidding me?

For Fattentinesmas, I gave Kelly a gift certificiate for a full modern facial at Blue Mercury. Pore sucking, dead cell exfoliating, muscle massaging... the whole god damned nine.

Here's where I get horribly rude and inappropriate. I want to go down to Blue Mercury Salon, debit card in hand, and have them cancel her facial and transfer it over to me. This, of course, is hindered by my naturally attractive good side. I gave it to her because I wanted her to have it, I know this, my good side knows this. The evil part of me really wants to have smaller pores. Smaller than her.

The important part is smaller than her's.

I'm not going to take the card, but I did think about it in fantasy mindset mode for almost 10 minutes.

4/20 has come and gone, ya'll. I hope everyone celebrated well. The 420 High Council convened, but no new decrees were set or smote.

Biotech Companies are thinking about pharming underground in caves. I find it one part facinating and one part shit-tasticly creepy.

Before Trev[PaEx] moved to Shippensburg from Harrisburg, we spent probably four hours on the phone together a day. Minimum 2. This went on for just about a year. Who knew that it was art?

Pam from Hawaii and DC is coming to visit on May 20th. That means she'll be here for the entirety of my birthday celebration. Booyakasha, ya'll!

Krista's coming down on the 14th (of May) for HFStival. The Line Up?
Billy Idol, Sum 41, Social Distortion, Garbage, Foo Fighters, Good Charlotte, Coldplay, The Bravery, Citizen Cope, Jimmies Chicken Shack, New York Dolls, Unwritten Law, They Might Be Giants, Louis XIV, Echo and the Bunnymen, Interpol, The Stereophonics, Pepper, and DJ Rap. You can pick your pussies up off the floor now, I realize this is gonna be sweet. I'm gonna try to convince Dave[Crazy] to carpool with Krista and me. I think it'd be fun.

Remember that movie with Jude Law and the kid from the Sixth Sense? In it there was this bitchin' teddy bear that I wanted so badly, and now I think they're making something like it for real. It may even trump Clocky in the department of cute things I want now.

Check out this groovy article about robocats, and go to paragraph 7. Teddy Bear robots! Granted, the cats were described as "some come-alive stuffed animal from a high-end horror movie," but that really is fine with me. I doubt my teddy will come a knifin'.

I did go a knifin' last night at Skewers, though. I went with Geoff, my girl friend Meg's brother-- he's a logan circle hood rat, too, and we're buddying up. We smoked at his house before going down for grub, and I was handidly baked. No questions asked, no fuckin' around. The foods was good, and I was shocked that it had taken me so long to go there. Its right above Luna Cafe, so its not like i don't eat over there all the time anyway.

[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.

Not too much decadence this weekend, kiddies. Flip Orley, the comic hypnotist, has been at the Improv all week. He's a hoot, he really is, even if he stays on stage longer than Cats ran. Its been okay, though, I worked most of the heavy drinking out of my system on Tuesday. When I said that we hit DG for Happy Hour, I meant that we simply started our drinking at 6-- we eventuially bopped off to the Hunt, where I continued to drink like a Kennedy. And we smoked, of course. Alex even made it over, and it was with her that I stumbled back to my place. We watched quality television and were just kinda drunk at each other. We had a ball.

Can you figure out why this chair is hardcore chained to a street sign outside of my apartment? Lauren, Geoff, and I couldn't-- granted we were (you guessed it!) drunk.







Speaking of street signs, on Wednesday one fell on me. No Standing or Parking. Whats sad is that I wasn't doing either, I was walking. 9 Foot Tall Fucker. That pretty much truncated any exercise from Thursday on (though it's back to the gym tomorrow). It also kept me outta the bars and clubs, and let me spend Thursday in, which I fully dug. Alex kept me company in my ouchies state.

I got to see Wendy at work tonight. Stevey Snakebite fucked up his knee playing softball today (we'll worry after the rest of the tests), so Wendy covered the shift for him. I was too drunk to be a good listener when I saw her on Tuesday, so I got to hear the stories from her and Zarah's trip to New Orlean's a second time tonight. Fab. She brought me back a choco-cocko-pop with nuts in the nuts. Frickin' sweet.

Zahra dubbed me Gay-Lo for my Paparazzi Protectors and eurotrashy shirting.





I don't know if removing the shirt made me more of less Gay-Lo, but who cares. More than a new shirt, I need a new hat, and I think I want one of either Fernando Alonso or Jenson Button. Alonso is way hotter and a better racer so far, but Geoff's into Giancarlo Fisichella, and I fear that its too gay (literally) or something for us to have almost matching hats. I may just wait for Scott Speed to make his debut for Red Bull Racing next season. His car is dope, he's adorable and American-- plus his name has to be fake, right? Formula 1 kinda rules... Fast Cars, Hot Guys, and Apparel. You know you want in.

I love the smell of spray paint. It harkens back to a younger era of me in the country, bein' bad. I can always tell when someone's done a really fresh tag or when they've marked up the sidewalks somewhere for maintanence-- it throws me back to Colonial Beach before they paved the roads. A smell that I know equally well is that of ganj, a scent that harkens back to, oh, I dunno, about twelve hours ago.

I got all Taint-y with Alex on Sunday, and she had to twist my arm to get me there. I was zonked the fuck out from working all week, and had it not been for her insistance, I wouldn'ta made it. We were gonna go for a little drinky-drink, a little dancey-dance, and then just be-out. Two Sparks later, I had found my energy.

If you ask Alex, she'll tell you it wasn't the two Sparks, but the two boys, who got me moving.

Oh yeah, Alex and I got taken home from Taint. The boys, Joe and Dave, were both service industry folks. Joe's a little older, maybe early thirties, balding but cute, with a personality that was too blunt to be called catty and to catty to be called blunt. Facial hair and gauged earrings, light skin and darker features, he just wasn't quite my type. He checkeed a few boxes on the list, but really, his lack of boyish charm, and my Kathy Oversaturation, somehow warded off whatever spell he wanted to cast on me.

Dave, on the other hand, was much closer to my age. He was also much closer to Alex's height-- and Alex isn't a spectacularly tall girl, by any stretch. Not quite a stepladder makeout, but closer to 5'8 than to 5'10. Great arms, dark hair, and a fun smile. Funny as it is, Dave barbacks at Saint Ex, and remembered my drink that I had ordered all of once. Dave was being the wingman for Joe, and asked the normal litney of questions. I didn't give the answer Joe probably wanted. Thats okay, 'cause I'm fairly sure I gave the answer Dave wanted.

Puppy kicking and cruisey gym humor later, we had both made each other laugh. We moved from family guy to adult swim, and then he fessed up to liking Teen Titans. I told him that I dug on the Trigon storyline, and he misheard Trigun. We had both succesfully outed ourselves as nerds.

He invited us over, and on our way out (to his car), he told me that someone had to take shot gun.

"Shotty," says me. Like duh.

Alex, Yama (a third in their circle), Joe, Dave, and I smoked a ton of pot and watched a coach bag full of TV. We laughed our asses off, and enjoyed more Kathy Griffin on Bravo. "...Not Nicole Kidman" is a scream, and comes recommended. I didn't end up with either boy's number, but I liked my sit-next-to-session with Dave on the couch. I feel like following up or something, but we'll see. Its the start of the work week.

oh, speaking of work, I went out on Monday and saw The Aristocrats with a bunch of heads from work. Since we work at the Improv, we got invited to the sneak preview session. Enjoyed it fully, but the best part was with the old batty bitches midrow couldn't take the vulgarity anymore and dipped. That alone was as funny as the movie.

I was cranky all day Monday, but made it through. Feruza Balk and Return to Oz helped. Six Feet Under didn't. The second anniversery of Emily's death came and went, and I didn't totally break down. I was just salty at strangers. I also went a-googling Emily's name, and found out that the truck driver who hit her totally got four years in jail. Mary Washington also established a scholarship in her name.... the funny thing? She wouldn't have qualified.

She'd drink to the irony of all that.

Up to R Street and over to Wisconsin, I jogged to Georgetown today. Two and a half miles from the lovely confines of my Logan Life, an Einstein Brothers resides. This was my third attempted trek to an Einstein's, the first resulting in a popped tire for Krista, the second landing Pam and I at some Punjabi Einstein Express inside GWU (on freshman move in day!), and this one finally proving fruitful. I felt truely Arthurian, seeking my salad-in-a-stone or holy grail, this time embodied in the leafy greens of a much coveted Jerk Chicken Salad (with mango vinegrette!). My hunt for salad felt epic. Gosh, I'm a dork.

I won't wax epicurian for terribly long, but the whole chunk chicken with the kickin' mango dressing, tossed with fresh pineapple, mango, and mandarin oranges made for a sweet summery treat. I'm glad I coupled it with the half sandwhich, in hindsight, because while tasty in its own right, I can see myself being disappointed with the actual heft of the salad. The Cali Club panini made it a well rounded occasion, and with all the extra dressing they politely put on the side, I was blessed with a sweet dipping sauce for the sometimes too dry panini.

So. Fucking. Good. Get yourself to an Einstein's while they last!

I've been catching up on Firefly over the past few days. Its been more and more enjoyable as its gone on, less cliched, and the characters seeming a touch more human. It gets the motor runnin' a little, knowing that there is a big budget flick to follow, and I think its a shame it was put to pasture early. Then again, maybe the flick will provide a fitting end. I'm in no real position to make such guesses, though, since I'm only like 5 episodes in. Thats less than half. I'm pacing out my episodes now so that I can watch the last two I have right before the newest repeat on Sci Fi.

In regards to television, I have Rome tivo'd but haven't watched it yet. I'm hoping its good-- I've been bombarded by some sort of urban viral marketing campaign for it all through my neighborhood. They've hung up flyers saying "Ever City Has Its Secrets" with a tear-off number for you to dial, much like a room for rent posting would have. When you call, it gives you some low-grade moviephone bullshit playing the opening sequence. It sounds just like that stupid friend of yours' voicemail when they play 50's "Candy Shop" or some such nonsense. Good campaign, lousy pay off. I hope the end product makes up for the thirty eight seconds of hell before I hung up.

We shall see.

I took Pam to her first Hookabar yesterday after Geoff, Tara, Pam, and I went to Asylum for 25 cent Tacos and Beer night. Mondays are good for the Tacos, and good for the 2 dollar Shiner Boch. Yum-o. Pam and I mellowed out over Double Apple Shisha and just kinda rapped to each other about all the bullshit swirling around in our heads. Satisfying, if not productive. But, the shisha high was fabulous, and I'm glad to know that there is a place to smoke some good tasties right in Adams Morgan. I really need to track down Omar.

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 going a little bit batty. It's been five days since the marathon and I want to go running terribly. I'm craving a nice hour of pavement pounding, but unfortunately I could do real damage to myself if I were to actually go out and about. So, I'm just fantasizing about it.

Jon Jon sent me a pic of his Halloween costume, all black trenchcoat goodness, a sleek set of matching .9mm's, and black hockey mask goodness; an inspired Black Jason. Also in the email? A picture of Josh and me. Aside from the fact that I need to stop seein old pictures of the two of us, I also don't need to be reminded of how fat I had gotten then. I looked a bit muppety with the weight. Oh, sure, not Kirsty Alley fat, but I was definatly chunk-o. Another reason I want to get the turf under my stride sooner rather than later.

But, ya, Tuesday was a good Halloweenin'. I rummaged through my clothes bins and pulled out my ancient football practice jersey and threw on Chris's green track pants. A nice black line done with old halloween lipstick under each eye and I was set to go. Football player it was. Nothing for ol' Guinness's books, but when an intoxicated tommy-gun totting moll asked an inebriated me (on a drunk bus, no less) what team I was on, I screamed "YOU KNOW WHAT TEAM I PLAY FOR!"

Fun. Fun. Fun.

I'm not here to judge the happenstance drunkenss of others, but I think that Team Sketch did very well. Puja played shortly after noon until right around dusk, her in a football jersey with the same lines as I had under my eyes. We were adorable. After that, we ended up at Toledo Lounge with (roll call!) Jordan, Nelina (bartending), Geoffery, Chris, Jason Lemon (Geoff's friend), and Rose (also G's buddy). From there, Chris and I hit up Tonic (after some minor barhopping), catchin up with Steve and Lisa.

Copious consumption continued until I was face down on steve's bed-- the same place I awoke November 1st.

There will be pictures shortly, with any luck.

Oh, Trevis. If only I could apolgoize more. When your best friend died, all we could do was hold a moment in time for her. I was so selfish, I didn't get the gravity of losing a best friend, even one that had been so distant for so long. You lit some candles, and I couldn't comprehend your grief. We had been waiting for her to OD and die, or (barring that) some sort of other combination o' awfu. We all guesssed that it would eventually come, and none of us were shocked. And I thought my nontear stained face was okay.

And then my best friend died. And I've sobbed for her, but not in recent years.

But tonight I sobbed for Emily. Woe is the holidays, and I miss her. I'm gonna visit her grave for Christmas, I think, and I'll bring that bitch cookies. I never bake, but I will for her. I'll have Mark or Geoff supervise. I can't take it. I've never missed her more. I want to believe she'd be proud of the man I am.

Emily'd be so proud. She'd be angry that I ran a marathon, but share my bed nonetheless. Odds are good she'd wear the pajamapants she always wore (I haven't worn them out or thrown them away). I miss her so much. She'd call me out for days. She'd send me an awful IM.

I love the holidays, but, oh yes, I hate them too.

Good lord. I spent New Years working at the club like a champagne infused chimp.

I wonder if I could have been a 3 Olives flavor...

It went down quite spectacularly, New Years (not me), I mean. That's not an understatement- there may as well have been fireworks. The Brit came by the club and celebrated the actual stroke of midnight, much to my pleasure. Drunken shinanigans occured.

To be blunt about my evening/morning, this dumbass fatty drank until 9am. This means I went to bed at daybreakish and got back up after the sun had already set. I, to be fair, did go on a nice 16 mile run today to make up for my absolute sloth on Tuesday.

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 still drunk I think

has his birthday and his vacation all figured out. Huzzah!

Indeed. I think I may actually start sayin' "My mother's gonna find me like a moose finds moose juice!!"

says "as the thumbs are a reflection of the work of the bicep, so to is the work of the breath, as a reflection of the mind... Or perhaps vice versa... Either way, breathe."

Announcements, announcements, announcements!

We sold our cow,
We sold our cow,
We have no room
for your bull now!

Looking for some comradeship as you put pavement under your feet? Starting at 6pm this Tuesday, April 20th, come check out Balance Gym’s run club. Get together with other runners and tackle a six mile run (or feel free to scale back)!

Not only is the distance scalable to each individual, but so are the post-race recovery options:

Member of CrossFit Balance? Hop into the 7:15p CrossFit Everyday Group Workout!

Need to counterbalance all the runnin’ and liftin’? Stick around for Yoga for Athletes– with me!

Not a member of Balance Gym? No biggie, as the run club is open (with a liability waiver– duh) to the public and the group classes afterwards are available for an affordable drop-in rate.

Where are we going this week?





Start: 1111 14th Street NW, headed South

2 Miles: To the Monument’s Base and Back
3 Miles: Reflecting Pool and Back
4 Mile Turn Around: Go around the Lincoln Memorial, Past the Monument, and Back
5 Mile Turn Around: Sneak up 12th Street from the Mall

Have you ever sucked in your gut to create that creepy too-big-rib-cage effect? Then odds are good you’ve used a muscle called the Transverse Abdominus. The TA is an important link in the deep kinetic chain of the body that allows for power from the low body to relate and transfer into power for the upper body (and vice versa) via increased stabilization in the pelvic girdle (and how it relates to the shoulder girdle).

As many of you know, I spend a ton of time throwing heavy stuff over my head– like, um, my body. If I want to improve, how do I go about it? Accessing the TA. It’ll seem obvious when I say this, but bear with; the more consolidated the core, the more control we have in all sorts of actions (olympic lifting, handbalancing, keg-standing).

Think about your core:

What do we have hiding underneath the skin?

First, the obvious:

• The big-sexy-six pack: aka the up-and-down rectus abdominus.
• The Side-abs: the external obliques.

These guys are all associate with torso flexion. They allow the body to “crunch.” Thats all well and good, but it doesn’t neccesarily speak to stablizing during the “crunch” or, heck, any other activity that might require you to not wobble (I think I can think of a few).

Much like my friendship networks of yore, the stable buddies can sometimes go less noticed in leiu of the louder (erm, less “stable”) friends.

Who handles the stabilization, then? The less obvious nonsuperficial muscle:

• The internal obliques: You can think of them as Patrick Swayze’s hands on Baby’s torso during the lift scenes. They function like that, cradling and lifting. The fibers of this muscle run perpendicular to their external brethren.
• The multifidus: Weaves along each disk of the back, and works to stabilize the joints at each segmental level. The stiffness and stability makes each vertebra work more effectively, and reduces the degeneration of the joint structures.
• The transverse abdominus: beneath those, we find a corset like muscle going around the bottommost portion of the spine (lumbar) and connecting all the way up to the low ribs.

When you draw the navel in towards the belly, you’re engaging your real core, your inner corset. The transverse abdominus contracts inwardly, bringing everything internal closer together. This is required for consolidated movement and efficient energy usage.

The multifidus is very small, but it has a unique design that lends stability to the spine , as well as working to keep you upright. When the multifidus is put on a stretch, as when you bend forward, it actually gets stronger. This is unlike most muscles which, when lengthened, lose their strength. The multifidus also brings space to the disks of the back, and brings the pelvis into a more powerful alignment for bigger (safer) actions.

The internal obliques are our same-side rotators. . It acts with the external oblique muscle of the opposite side to achieve this torsional movement of the trunk. For example, the right internal oblique and the left external oblique contract as the torso flexes and rotates to bring the left shoulder towards the right hip.

So how do we strengthen these good muscles and program ourselves to engage them regularly?

This method is super easy, but also not the most exciting thing in the world. Truth be told, at any given point, you can contract your transverse abdominus, internal obliques, and work your multifidus.

Egg Timer Method:

Draw in your innermost layer of abdominals without collapsing the chest. Draw up and in with the navel until the ribs splay, and then draw back in. Avoid slumping the shoulders. Imagine a zipper from the low back that goes to the navel, and zip it up, too. This will work the multifidus. Hold this contraction for 30 seconds. Repeat after a brief rest. Do this 5 times. Include one legged standing tilts (such as Warrior III in yoga). Repeat a few times a day. Next week make it 45 seconds. Third week? A minute.

String Method:

While drawing in the TA, tie a string around your midsection along the natural waist. For the rest of the day, every time you notice the belly flesh digging into the string, draw the belly back in. Do this consistently. Full disclosure: I haven’t done this yet.

The Benefits:

• a (dramatically) smaller waist line
• confidence in strength
• good balance
• safety in “big lifts” and “big jumps”
• decrease in low back pain

During the super sweaty and grunty high intensity portion of today’s CrossFit workout, we worked in two heats. I found myself in the second heat, and subsuqently was able to observe other people doing what I was about to go do– and the free few moments to wonder why I was about to put such a great set of physical demands on my body.

But then soon it was my turn, and soon I was done. And before even that? The thought had passed. As I read this evening, I came across some words that answered the question I had forgotten:

“We are still animals — our physical existence is, in the final analysis, the only one that actually matters. A weak man is not as happy as that same man would be if he were strong. This reality is offensive to some people who would like the intellectual or spiritual to take precedence. It is instructive to see what happens to these very people as their squat strength goes up.”

-Mark Rippetoe

I think he’s right. I am happy.

From the NYT Article, “A Yoga Manifesto“:

Yoga is definitely big business these days. A 2008 poll, commissioned by Yoga Journal, concluded that the number of people doing yoga had declined from 16.5 million in 2004 to 15.8 million almost four years later. But the poll also estimated that the actual spending on yoga classes and products had almost doubled in that same period, from $2.95 billion to $5.7 billion.

“The irony is that yoga, and spiritual ideals for which it stands, have become the ultimate commodity,” Mark Singleton, the author of “Yoga Body: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice,” wrote in an e-mail message this week. “Spirituality is a style, and the ‘rock star’ yoga teachers are the style gurus.”

Well, maybe it is the recession, but some yogis are now saying “Peace out” to all that. There’s a brewing resistance to the expense, the cult of personality, the membership fees. At the forefront of the movement is Yoga to the People, which opened its first studio in 2006 in the East Village on St. Marks Place, with a contribution-only, pay-what-you-can fee structure.

Lets make a few things really, really clear:

• Yoga on a mat without intention is simply exercise (albiet good exercise).
• Being an adept teacher (regardless of craft) does not automatically make someone a style icon but it will make that teacher a shaper of impressionable minds.
• Being free doesn’t mean being better, nor is the inverse true.
• Identifying with a teacher is not a bad thing, never has been, and it should come as no surprise that good teachers become well known.

So, what does it matter if you enjoy doing yoga in $108 yoga pants? It doesn’t.

What does it matter if you prefer sandy beaches over Manduka PVC? It doesn’t.

What does matter? Your attachment to these things. Me and my water bottle alone have no bearing on you as a yogi, but how YOU relate to me and my water bottle does. Luckily, if you practice yoga on the mat with good intention, you’ll be prepared to practice off the mat, too.

Pardon the platitude, but: practice, and all will come.

Yoga is a mind game, a breathing exercise, a way to prepare ourselves to be better for what lies ahead. That said, if you’re confronted by a sexy ass in a pair of something lulu, or caught up in envy of the mat (or pose, or person or…) to your left, you’ve been given some excellent obstacles to overcome in order to enrich your real yoga practice. Your own indignation is a reflection of the work that lies ahead for you.

This whole article struck me as indignant.

The goal, the main aim of (what I believe to be) true yoga is to stop the fluctuations, the churning, of the mind.

With the right intention you can charge how ever much you want for whatever you want and pay as little or as much as you want for whatever you want and it is yoga.

Everything else is yoga-based exercise.

It is the mission of Mid City Yoga (my company, for which this blog is a joyful supplement) to bring what I believe to be a transformative, ancient practice to new places and spaces. I’ve been calling it guerrilla yoga for the past few years, but in reality, its just another name for the same thing: yoga.

So, what does this have to do with finances?

At the end of the day, wear what you want. Do yoga on what you want. And do yourself (as well as the universal self of which we are all a part) a favor and don’t judge others for preferring to do their practice how and where they care to– whether its on a statue in the middle of a circle, in a pay what you can class at the end of the block, or in a mirrored room at the Sports Club LA with a private teacher and a $900 water bottle. Seriously, dude, just get out and practice.

Two more quick facts:

• Jealousy ain’t cute
• The paths are many, the truth is one.

Now, in regards to the “rock star” yogi business… well, I’m a teacher, and I have people who like my pedegogy. Call me biased, but I’m glad for that. I love sharing my practice, and couldn’t do that without my students. The very same students who, not so incidentally, challenge me daily. I take pleasure in seeing my students progress in asana as well as seeing their world views shift based on their realizations fostered by simple mat-bound exercise set.

I would not be upset if more people wanted to share with me.

I have worked with many excellent teachers (including the aforementioned Bryan Kest), but I have very few people for whom I allow the term teacher to take reverence. Kristen Krash and Kristina Maze have both been very instrumental in my development as a man, a yogi, and a teacher for very different reasons. We have a relationship that is commonly called a parampara. Don’t worry if the term is new to you, it simply denotes a teacher who teaches a student directly from a specific lineage.

My paths?

BKS Iyengar to John Schumacher to Kristen Krash to Me.
Swami Sivananda to Swami Vishnu-devananda to Kristina Maze to Me.

Would I call either lady my guru? Probably not, because much like the term parampara, that word has some boogidty-boo baggage with which I’d care not to associate directly. Perhaps its the American in me, but whatever. I’ll confess I’ve got hang ups around the notions of a guru.

A better question: would you call Iyengar or Sivananda rock stars? I’d call them world renowned teacher. I’m hard pressed to relate them to the Beatles, Lars Ulrich, Madonna (as much as I love her), or Robert Plant.

Is it really this articles assertion that their is a movement suggesting you knowing who my teachers have been (or heck, just knowing I’m going to be yours) make me less effective?

I don’t think so. I would argue the opposite but again, the paths are many.

One last thing: I practice, in my personal life, the yoga of syntheis.

From wiki:

Swami Sivananda’s approach to Yoga was to combine the four main paths – Karma Yoga, Bhakti Yoga,Jnana Yoga and Raja Yoga …. This is reflected in the motto of the society that he formed, The Divine Life Society…. “Serve (Karma Yoga), Love (Bhakti Yoga), Meditate (Jnana Yoga), Realise (Raja Yoga).” In his own words, “One-sided development is not commendable. Religion and Yoga must educate and develop the whole man – his heart, intellect and hand.”

Back to the money: Serve comes first.

I know we shouldn’t expect free things everywhere, but if you have a teacher not giving of themselves selflessly somewhere (in some way), then I’m hard pressed to believe they’re practicing fully off the mat. No judgement, just seems like common sense. Selfless service, Karma Yoga, is an essential part of a practice.

As I enjoy teaching (and might be better at it, than, say, collecting trash), I find that my volunteer hours are often well spent doing just that. So, it comes as no surprise to me that their are free classes all OVER the place. And you would be well served to take one. Just remember to give back, too. Teach your nephew wheel or something.

Practice yoga in line, in Stroga, and in the sack. Yoga everywhere. Yoga anywhere.

Everyone will be better for it, and it doesn’t have to cost a dime.

is grateful to be reminded of the abundance of beauty, love, and goodness in the world.

is so proud of Sebastian for overcoming his fear of water! He's a river dog afterall!

See I never sugar coat any life lessons for you, 'cause I wanna make you equipped for the best.
And I can't always be here to rescue you when life gets crazy.

But I love you more than you'll ever know.
With you love never dies.
'Cause I love you more than you'll ever know.

can feel love, gratitude, and the bliss that they bring. Now let's get sloppy.

is on his way to the AYC to practice. Today's intention is to think of the things for which I am grateful when my mind wanders.

From my twitter (michaeljoelhall): Kept my tears inside during sivasana. A day of gratitude and abundance. An inner bliss. So much love I might rent at the seams. #Mysore

doesn't feel super good. Stupid tummy. I think it heard I was talkin' smack.

Yah. I think 2011 and I are gonna get on juuuuuust fine.

I bound marichyasana D on both sides today-- all by myself. I'm so tickled. In (possibly) related news: I feel like someone took every muscle in my body and ran a cheese grater over it. Its not *pain*... its... I don't even know.

Michael Roike, Kristen Jones, Candice Jones, Becca Grove and Peg Mulqueen sure do make for excellent play dates. So proud of Deux for taking on his first real Rocket class!!!

"Sudden miraculous recoveries are a sign of the rapture... :)" --M.Roi. ... I feel better. Velocirapture?

has capital bikeshare all figured out. No excuses for no mysore as of the end of this week.

Doesn't have enough space to thank all of his friends for making this weekend so amazing. I'm really, really, really blessed and grateful.

has so much for which to be grateful.

My Keurig wouldn't make coffee this morning. I feel challenged.

I'm super grateful for the help of my friends. Thank you so much Marky for being there for me in a pinch. I get to share pictures on my blog now because of Your Savvy. *hugs*

Survived led primary with Delhi Belly. Talk about humbling-- I felt like a human level.

A quick little gratitutde check list: 1) Anto is here! (!!!) 2) Roikes 3) My start time is earlier 4) [in case the others are too obnoxious] I've figured out how to add fiber into my diet 😉

I realize that art isn't always created by well adjusted, goodhearted individuals... but is it okay to purchase that art if you know the money goes to line the coffers of a bigot? A hate instilling advocate of injustice?

I think the overhaul at midcityyoga.com is finally done. So pleased with the results!! Looks like I can still make a webpage 🙂

YES!!! My girl Puja owns a home!!!!!!! Agh! SO proud!

My favorite lab is my own body. Grateful to be emotionally and physically sound/supported/settled enough to start experimenting. #Paleogi.

RT @washingtonpost: The dramatic struggle to save the lives of a litter of cheetah cubs and their mother: http://t.co/G2nncdAx

Going to the Ashtanga Yoga Center, Washington DC for what will likely be the last time. I realize my own projections of sorrow and pride, but I learned Primary in this space. Bittersweet.

RT @TBD: The $34 million makeover to the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is almost complete. http://t.co/ZkHOFKzm

Mysore Thanksgiving was a total treat. To my friends back home, embrace the attitude of gratitude... I know you'll forgive the platitude.

No material expectations, just gratitude. Burn it to the ground, and with each ash know God. Bedtime, Christmas Eve. Mysore.

Found the perfect plug-in light up Ganesh alter at the Fancy Gift Shop (FANCY!). Took him home, elated. He caught fire. I think it was arson (*sideeyes roike*)

What I Learned at St. Philomena's: The King James Bible has a bunch of Dragons and Phoenixes.

Remembering today the queer negroes who fought for equality. Bayard Rustin, I'm grateful. My black brothers today, celebrate equality by letting your black brothers know you've got our back. Dr King, god bless.

A wise woman said that there are three pillars for a supported practice: the method, the teacher, and the community. I am so grateful for my community's support. Emotions are there, words are not. xo.

I think Gaga's ARTPOP is fantastic. Cohesive, urban leanings, housey sleaze, and a versatile voice. Sorta glad others don't like it.

Told my barber I wanted to take the sides super short. I think he heard "I wanna take it super short." Whoops.

DC is blessed with such a rich ashtanga yoga community, its easy to take it for granted. To Tova Steiner, Jen René, Faith Scimecca, and Keith Moore-- you all are amazing. I'm so grateful to share space with all of your love and dedication!

I keep seeing gigantic German Shepherds and I wonder just his big Charlie is going to get.

“@wcp: In the latest Pigskins Shame Spiral, the team struggles to sell its merchandise: http://t.co/B2kjWHAarf http://t.co/50UnQvbF8z”

Kapo research. The struggle is real.

You'll note he has his super-gross green ball he brought home from camping. I think he f... http://t.co/eHxT1GMkss http://t.co/e7KpuNLEqB

Retweeted Tatiana M Newton (@NewtonTatiana):

Today... #positivethinking #gratitude #yoga #fitnessmotivation #wellbeing http://t.co/ICCLbkuHgK

Retweeted DCHomos (@DCHomos):

My parents are so disgustingly happy. It's a lot to live up to. I think it kinda messed me up lol.

Oh my gosh, the fighting next door! It's like Real Housewives of Gokulum over there. (I think? I've not seen the program)

Retweeted Emma O'Neill (@EmmaONeillYoga):

Hanuman Temple w @michaeljoelhall followed by an epic day in #India! #mysore #temple #epic #grateful… https://t.co/iamJD0fRE4

Befuddled by Supta Kurmasana?

We all eventually struggle with unlocking complex asanas-- … http://t.co/CpC1Js1xHk http://t.co/dvUugEWLvJ

"Make a career of humanity, commit yourself to the noble struggle of equal rights. you wil… http://t.co/FRs2BygyG4 http://t.co/4V0siUgsZZ

Life lessons from 60's game shows.

Mostly I think I'm just meant to host a game show.

I didn't get in to Mysore for January, but when my teacher asks "who is your teacher" to one of those who have shared space in my Shala, I feel like I'm there, and niyamas take over. Is this "parampara"? Wow. I miss and love my teacher, but just wow. #dotherightthing

I apologize for my purposefully divisive comments on prayer, fundamentalism, and letter of the law religion. I recognize in them a lack of compassion.

As an individual who prays to a supreme (not Diana Ross) power, I see value in prayer. Due to the value I also see in the dissolution of labels and constructed beliefs, I let my interest in the dissonance that can bring destruction override equanimity in tone and presentation.

I cannot destroy your constructed beliefs nor force an experience of any kind-- I forgot that, as my passion got in the way.

Please understand: I am challenged in tonality by strong opinions on faiths that recommend slaughter or subjugation. Many do.

A better framing: does your faith pray to a God that would cast anyone to a hell for getting the name of God "wrong"? That would enslave a people? That kills? How does this make you feel in light of recent tragedies?

How I feel about independent yoga and fitness facilities.

Today, a picture of Rolf (a dear teacher of mine) popped up -- him with many of his dogs on the beach.

Yesterday, there were no pictures of me from David's (my dear teacher here) intensive, but many with Charlie. Rolf doesn't care for having his picture posted.

Today, a student came to me to borrow goggles to practice in. Not so long ago, I learned how to do just that.

Feeling parampara-y (tradition).

How I feel on my day off-- yoga? run? Lift? Kayak?

No. Trash panda.

"How stupid is our country?" Bro, you're the nominee. I think we know.

Start of practice, I'm all like: "I think I'm ready to catch my knees." By triangle, I'm ready to die & questioning all of my life decisions.

C'mon new moon.

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

I think I have a book in me.

At least once a week I think of you as I ride my scooter up the hill. xx.

I wonder if mysore from 12-2 would be a hit 🤔

Being able to begin a sentence with "My teacher says..." is one of the greatest privledges I have in this life. So much of what follows is from Pattabhi Jois-- I'm so grateful for his lifelong dedication to teaching, teaching my teachers. 1915- May 18, 2009.

Listening to Chaka Kahn's album "I Feel For You" and getting my life.

“…I must confess that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” …there is a type of constructive nonviolent tension that is necessary for growth. Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half-truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, we must see the need of having nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men to rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood. So, the purpose of direct action is to create a situation so crisis-packed that it will inevitably open the door to negotiation"

AS MLK WROTE IN HIS Birmingham letters, Rattling the establishment is very useful. Its true, you might find yourself a pariah, but to an unrepresented community of people, you are representation, giving voice to those that have been largely voiceless. It requires valor and bravery, as MLK later came to discover, as standing your ground may in fact become the hill that you die upon.

Much like my affinity for drag, I recognize that yoga will never truly be mainstream because it "mocks ego," as RuPaul says. Yoga is very good for marginalized people. It's goodness for the voices unspoken is directly proportionate to its threat to the establishment.

The establishment, the Man, is invested in maintaining its power, and because that power comes from a deified ego, the establishment further marginalizes those that dare question ego.

Anything that mocks ego becomes an inherent threat.

Those vested in the power that comes from the establishment, and for this I say as clearly as I can: especially ONLY from the establishment-- those people will always attempt to (at best) diminish and (at worst) silence (by any means necessary) that which shows that the emporer has no clothes. They will do it with a clear conscience as only those who have made a god out of a toothless tiger can murder guiltlessly.

The very best way to rattle the ego starts by creating tension. Without discounting your inherent value, question your worth. You can't use your privileges for good if you don't admit you have them. We all have god given rights and innate gifts. What are your gifts? Where have you struggled? You can't recognize your growth potential without a sober assesment of where you are. This will help build empathy.

Then, go out and get loud.
Rattle the establishment.
Do yoga.
Fight AIDS.

Make MLK, RuPaul, and this little yogi proud and go out there and color with all the colors in the crayon box.

The Gods of Indic history are known by a variety of their names based on their cycles of rebirth - I can’t help but feel affinity- I'm Mike, Skippy, Mikey, and Michael here. I feel indescribably blessed to have an overlapping and overflowing community of friends who know *me* and call me by my name. Here we are, NYC.

How do we tether a soul to another? What twine or taffy makes them stay? Is it love or god or byproduct of inevitability?

Perhaps there is no real delineation-- all three the same, differently labeled, but effectively borderless. So then too, this is a reflection on both marriage and friendship, both of which can bind so equally and tightly. It seems to me there is no distinction -- both a pact with another to participate in the process of complete cooperation with the inevitable. Sounds an awful lot like enlightenment.

The great sages of the yogic path say that the surest way to the end states of yoga are through love and devotion. They call that path to enlightenment bhakti.

There is no surer way to know God and the self than love.

Till death do we part, indeed.

I think this sounds excellent.

Two years ago I had an inkling of Jois’s abuses of power. I also had plausibility in my internal denial. I think Nigel has so eloquently stated so much of how i feel. I was reminded this morning by my statement of gratitude for Jois’s work from those two years ago— I am no less grateful for his vast accomplishment but also no longer interested in a purposeful naivety. Have nuance here— and leave space for others to do so also. And in the interim, please stop diefying, explicitly or implicitly, a flawed, complicated human. If you have real interest in helping others heal their traumas, take down your icons and your alters to an abuser.

https://www.yogajournal.com/practice/a-sequence-for-political-resilience

About ten years ago, i set a goal for myself to be on the cover of yoga journal. Today, i made it to the homepage.

10 years in, I think that's about right. Time and dreams change. Markers of success evolve.

Back then, I imagined that my perfect form and smiling face would make a valuable representation -- and mark an internal validation.

As practice is wont to, I eventually had a realization: I could do better. I wanted to share something more substantive than just form. The marker for validation had shifted dramticay.

I wanted to share some part of what practice had shared with me-- something that has helped me grow and thrive and that I have seen do the same for others time and time again.

Well, here we are. I talk about resilience. I share a modified primary series. I tried to use explicit language so as to maximize value and minimize confusion. .

I'm honored and thrilled. Simply in existing, it represents those who might feel marginalized.

I'm out, I'm queer, and I'm big. I'm a yoga practitioner who shares a powerful and potent practice steeped in tradition and that has a veracious efficacy.

I hope you find it useful, for yourself or for others

https://www.yogajournal.com/practice/a-sequence-for-political-resilience

About ten years ago, i set a goal for myself to be on the cover of yoga journal. Today, i made it to the homepage.

10 years in, I think that's about right. Time and dreams change. Markers of success evolve.

Back then, I imagined that my perfect form and smiling face would make a valuable representation -- and mark an internal validation.

As practice is wont to, I eventually had a realization: I could do better. I wanted to share something more substantive than just form. The marker for validation had shifted dramticay.

I wanted to share some part of what practice had shared with me-- something that has helped me grow and thrive and that I have seen do the same for others time and time again.

Well, here we are. I talk about resilience. I share a modified primary series. I tried to use explicit language so as to maximize value and minimize confusion. .

I'm honored and thrilled. Simply in existing, it represents those who might feel marginalized.

I'm out, I'm queer, and I'm big. I'm a yoga practitioner. What I've shared is what I know to be a powerful and potent practice steeped in tradition and that has a veracious efficacy.

I hope you find it useful, for yourself or for others

To all my friends and colleagues out there— stay strong. We will weather the storm. To those feeling a fiscal pinch and perservering, I see you. To those doing heavy lifting with emotional labor—thank you. The struggle is real, but we are resilient.

I worked at the improv during that impressionable 21-28 time frame. I am so grateful for that time. Night after night i got to watch masters hone their craft. Words, wit, and dynamic performance art... all at the same time. The relationships forged there— my friends, my own art, and with incredible artists... Wow. Please help if you can!

"I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Birmingham city jail

I think I'm the Andrew for my obtusely raciat side of the family.