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August 25, 2004
Sports
I’ve never been a jock. I’ve played sports, but I’ve always been better at things like running or swimming. Running was a natural development from being chased by gangs in junior high, and swimming allowed me to see tons of boys shirtless. Football, baseball, and basketball were always fairly traumatic. I have to admit that I throw like a shrieking teenage girl, catch like I’m missing my fingers, and can aim only at the side of very large barns.
The first time I broke my nose was in the fourth grade during the unsuccessful interception of a softball out in right field. Scott Svatos and I both were running towards the ball, looking up, running, looking up, and then colliding with a thud. We both missed the ball, much to the chagrin of our teammates. Of course, I don’t remember the thud. I just remember running towards the ball. I’m just goal-oriented that way. They dragged my unconscious body into the locker room, turned off the lights, and went to call my mom. When I regained consciousness, I thought I was dead, as I was in the dark, face and neck covered in blood.
Obviously moments like this make a boy not want to play. Getting in the locker room showers with other boys would be the only reason I would continue pursuing sports.
At the ripe old age of 33almost34, I have discovered that the talents I lacked as a child, I possess as an adult. I was throwing an item into a trashcan from a few feet away last week, and it went in perfectly. Olympic judges would have been impressed, as there were no enhancement drugs or tampering of scores. This trashcan is designed to not accept trash, I should point out. It is under a large overhang, has a high lip, and also has a ring of magma only seen by me.
Nor is this an isolated occurrence. Derrick threw some keys towards me, and I deftly caught them in midair. No shriek, no grasping at air, and no injuring of internal organs.
I think this has to do with the LASIK surgery I had a few years ago. I’ve always worn glasses, so my only options were myopic blindness or vision with blinders. I was always drawn inexorably towards blunt objects like doors and walls while walking, as if I were pulled by an unseen unifying field force stronger than gravity. This newfound set of skills has me wanting to try out some sports this fall. Rugby, softball, or volleyball sound fun. They’re not just an excuse to get nekkid and wrestle in the showers. If that happens, how can I be to blame?
Posted by G at 08:00 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Lust 2
My religious upbringing definitely has reared its ugly head. I knew my new laptop is sinfully awesome, so a god punished me by only delivering it AFTER I left NYC. That little box of sexy is sitting in my loft, mocking me.
This is just like Moses being shown the promised land, but not getting to go. Just for losing his temper, dangit!
Posted by G at 11:37 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Conversions
My travel routes are always organically created. While dipping fries into a Wendy’s Frosty shake in some city of the Adirondacks, I realized that we weren’t going to be traveling through Vermont. Something had to be done, so I modified our route across Lake Champlain. This was amazingly fun, as the rental car was taken across the lake on a cable-drawn ferry. I had to travel through Vermont as I am down to the last few states to visit. Once this trip is done, the only state I will have to visit is Rhode Island, as we are returning through Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and Connecticut.
Our route took us through Burlington, island hopping across Lake Champlain, and accidentally across the Canadian border. We weren’t planning on entering so early, but signs didn’t really tell us much. The Canadian officers were very nice and asked us abooot things, eh? Driving was quite intriguing for me, as metric measurements bring about a need for me to drive on the left side of the road, a la England. Fortunately for every other person on the road, I quickly recovered. The greater challenge was quickly reviewing French on signs. Sortie does not equal entrance, commas are periods, and rue is road. Translating is easy, but I had the additional task of not veering off the road or missing exits.
I’m really enjoying Montreal, even though my language ineptitude is going to kill me. We had a REALLY tense dinner tonight, as I got it into my head to eat sushi. Sushi in Montreal is a triple translation, and I am really allergic to shrimp and crab. The little waiter was having difficulty speaking French, much less English, so trying to explain that I was allergic didn’t seem to really work. He was quite amazed that I didn’t want ANY crab or shrimp, and I am pretty certain that my French translated as “I am an allergy.” The sushi was quite good, but the stress of trying new foods that could kill me didn’t make it relaxing. I do love the Quebec rousse beer, and it seems to be quite good at relieving .
Posted by G at 11:08 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
August 19, 2004
Lust
Lust strikes at the weirdest of moments. I'll be in the coffee shop, in the park, or just wandering the city. I shouldn't let my eyes wander, I'm in a relationship, but I just can't control the desire. My relationship is intimate and comfortable, but boring. When you know every inch, you just want something new.
Not dealing with the lust just makes it worse. Avoiding it makes me weaken, stripping me of the meager defenses I can use.
On Sunday, I couldn't control myself any longer. In a climactic moment, I betrayed my venerable iBook. Between the education discount and the rebates, I saved about $500. I'm not going to disclose the cost, but a 15" Powerbook 1.5 ghz 80gig laptop with all the whistles and video ram, a 40 gig new iPod, and a new printer are currently enroute from oriental points.
I'm just giddy.
Posted by G at 03:51 PM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
August 17, 2004
NYC martini glasses
So there are some visitors to NYC, and they are looking for martini glasses with the I heart NYC logo.
Easy! Oops, actually, not easy.
Does anyone know of a store in the city that sells something that is simultaneously tacky and tasteful? Tacky shot glasses with the logo are everywhere, but martini glasses are nowhere to be found. Help these poor wandering souls.
Posted by G at 12:26 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
August 16, 2004
Thanks for calling
Hi, you've reached Glenn's mental answering machine. Currently his mental stability and ability to interact with others are both out to lunch. Nuclear meltdowns in dressing rooms about self image, during job searches about the future, and in relationships regarding self-worth have become a tad bit too common.
Thanks for calling. Leave a message and he'll get back to you as soon as he is feeling sane again. Have a great day!
Posted by G at 04:31 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
August 15, 2004
Gayvernor McGravy
Nothing like setting back gays ten years, and your own life 47.
Posted by G at 11:39 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
August 12, 2004
Party schedule
Tonight anyone who wants to meet can come to the Millennium Hotel Bar at 1 UN Plaza for the Intl. Beer Festival followed possibly by a finish at roommate Charlie's bar, the Townhouse.
I think it would be quite fun, as it adds a bit of culture to my typically low-brow drinking nights.
Posted by G at 04:48 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Ralph Nader is out to get me
I bet he's tampering with seatbelts, too. He is such a spoiler! I've become involved with a group of teachers in my school trying to register/motivate voters in my neighborhood. A new guy, Ron Clinton, is trying to become the next senator to our state assembly, and this district hinges on a very small number of voters. Apathy is huge in this area, and also at that little focal point of hipsterdom, the Bedford stop. In the last local election, only 100 people within a ten block radius of that stop actually voted.
Last time I voted, there was a snafu because they didn't get my change from the Green party to the Democratic party. Ralph helped me to realize that I have to work within the system. I had to vote by affidavit and apply again for a change to the Democratic party. Apparently Ralph wants me so bad, he somehow has STILL prevented me from switching, as I just discovered from the dimwit at the voting board.
Quite a few people here in NYC will need to vote on September 14 to effect real change on the local level. Go to their website that even has phone numbers, find out your info, and vote. If I see anyone protesting the RNC without some form of voter identification, I'm snapping hip little necks.
Posted by G at 12:28 PM | TrackBack
August 11, 2004
Adjustments
So I’ve been trying to dress better. I’m very comfortable in my old boxers, my ancient Gap jeans, and a t-shirt. Friends have begun staging clothing interventions, so I’ve been utilizing their far superior dressing skills to make me look spiffy. I just hate the expense and difficulties of this whole snappy dressing thing. Simon and Derrick took me over to Diesel to try on jeans. They both agreed on these two types of jeans. Since one pair was THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS and the other pair was only ONE HUNDRED FORTY, the cheaper pair seemed quite the deal. Now I have a pair of jeans that had better get me wolf calls and free flights to Miami.
The new jeans are size 30x32, and I’ve always worn 32x34. Apparently, just like my penchant for wearing XL t-shirts, this was a bad thing. I’m fine with tighter clothes, but I can’t wear boxers with the new jeans. I think I look like an idiot in tightie-whities, but I’ve taken the dive into wearing them. We’re not talking Hanes, by the way. I wear Calvin Klein, 2xist, that kind of thing. I’m used to having all my kit floating free in baggy jeans, but now everything is trapped in a Martha Stewart scenario, carefully arranged and restricted. Little G just has to sit very carefully or things get a little out of control.
The worst scenario happened after a movie a few days ago. I’m taking a whiz in the bathroom. With boxers and baggy pants, it was quite easy. Open, do your business, close, wash hands, go. Not with the new setup. Unbutton, unzip, move aside, elastic band lift and shift, raise, do your business, then reverse the process. Unfortunately, the reversal didn’t go as well as hoped.
On the way back into the highly organized scenario, the tightly extended elastic snapped back, apparently breaking the sound barrier on its trip back towards my unsuspecting nuts. I’m not sure which was louder, the SNAP of the band, or the exploding stars in my head. I think I was quite manly for not dropping to the floor immediately, cupping my traumatized guys like some hurt baby birds. I slowly corrected the hateful underwear and went to go find some advil.
Posted by G at 10:18 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
August 09, 2004
Strange showers
Nothing is more dreadful than the hotel shower. I’ve been traveling for years, and I prefer staying with friends. Friends' showers are always different, but they’ll warn you about the strangeness of their shower.
“Watch out for the handles, they’re reversed.”
“Let the hot water run for a few minutes.”
“The water looks like blood, but that’s because of the human sacrifices from last night.”
You don’t get any warnings in hotel rooms. The pipes are always in arcane settings, labels in Gaelic. Some hotel showers have one lonely handle, others have ten. The ‘freezing water on the head’ lottery has a high probability of success, only to be upstaged by the boiling water scalding your toes. This road trip was a rapid succession of hotels, and each one was a dreaded experiment. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always half asleep, stumbling into the fluorescent-lit, slick tiled danger room with no caffeine. I also don’t get heat lamps. Do those really help at all? I feel like I’m a packaged meal at a fast food joint.
One place we stayed had a Jacuzzi tub with dual showers, one on each side. None of us used the Jacuzzi, and I was the only one to try dual showerheads. It took me about ten minutes just to figure out all the different specifications, including drainage. I also didn’t realize how difficult it would be to lather up with two showerheads. Normally, I step outside of the jets of water to soap up, but there was no place to move.
Also, three traveling gay men bring own set of issues for hotel showers. Not a single hotel shower really had any shelves or anything, and each of us had soaps, shampoos, and those little scrubby things. Obviously I don’t have shampoo, but I have a good soap. Shaved heads need love and care also.
Almost every morning I would be trying to reach for more soap, or maybe try to set down the scrubby thing. I’d knock over everything on the one crowded corner, which then begins the ridiculous nekkid foamy chase around a strange tub. Theoretically, it could be the start of a porn film, except nobody wants to see me squinting through lather, hunched over frantically trying to set all the dispensers upright again. This stressful event concludes with the confusion of trying to correctly turn off the shower, only succeeding in either turning off one temperature or the other. You’re hoping to end the process, only to get struck by a finale of freezing or boiling water.
Traveling is so great.
Posted by G at 05:23 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
August 08, 2004
Oatmeal and relatives
Visiting with grandparents is a lot like eating oatmeal. Both are really good for you, but they both involve a lot of mushiness and boredom. You can spice up the recipe by adding things, but since I'm in the closet to her (by request of my dad), no fruit is added to this recipe.
It has been a good trip, and it also reinforces how glad I am that I live in NYC. My grandma is really sweet, amazingly smart, and she doesn't look like an 87 year old woman. She travels around all year long, she lives by herself, and she lives a good life. On the down side, she comes from a generation that can't express themselves, has no interest in anything new, and can't play board games to save herself.
I'm making certain that I respect her and listen to her life, but it is a shame that I can't tell her anything about mine.
Posted by G at 06:15 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
August 07, 2004
Some Pics from Texas
At the beginning of July, I went to Texas. Since I was at LaGuardia for 4 hours, I have begun the photo process. Also, I'm in a writing mood.
Be afraid. Also, click on the pics to see them full size.
Posted by G at 05:22 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
August 04, 2004
Yet another trip
I'm heading off to DFW again this weekend. My grandma is visiting my sister, so it is like meeting under a parley flag. She's a great woman, but I'm under a gag rule about discussing the GAY THING. Not easy when I visit the home territory of Arizona and every single relative (and there are thousands) asks if you are dating someone, when you are going to settle down, etc.
Losing my mom definitely convinced me that having issues with family does not preclude having relationships with them. Some of my relatives haven't spoken to each other in 20 years, and I don't like that. My Uncle Dick really was aptly named, but I still am friendly whenever I've seen him. I love and respect my grandma, and she went with me the first time I traveled to Europe.
That was a nightmare, as she had me plan the trip. Anyone who has ever traveled with me knows that I don't plan trips, they just happen. She never made her desires clear to me, so I planned a train trip across the continent. She had just lost my grandfather, and my parents were in the midst of their extremely messy divorce. Neither of us was particularly well suited for conversation at that point, and it put a major strain on our relationship for years. Nothing like sleeping in the same bed as your Grandma sans teeth to really freak out a boy. That's all I'm saying.
I'll see her, I'll listen to her, and I'll get to lie to her about dating. The funny thing is that I haven't really had any reason to lie until now. I was telling the truth before now when I said I didn't have any time. I didn't mention the boys, but she never specified gender. Nothing more fun than the pronoun game. Now I'm dating, so I'll just pull the tragedy trump card. Maybe I'll damage her hearing aid while still openly talking about gay dating, and she'll just nod sagely. What a cunning plan!
Posted by G at 11:19 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
August 02, 2004
Trip bits
I would like to clarify one thing, and I think many other carnivores will agree with me.
People who call themselves vegetarians, by virtue of their classification, should eat vegetables. Vegetables are not Krispy Kreme donuts, they are not Gogurts, they are not pot brownies. I have so many vegetarian friends whom I cannot recall ever eating a healthy salad, steamed vegetables, or a carrot. French fries are not vegetables in my opinion, nor is a Subway loaf filled with lettuce.
I believe we should have a new lazy class of either pastarians or grainarians. Roadtrip Simon goes under this classification, as he COULD eat something healthy, but a giant plate of fried potatoes works better. However, when it comes down to a cannibalistic frenzy while trapped in an elevator, I'll eat Simon before a normal vegetarian. I just like the taste of grain-fed beef over ranch beef. Too stringy.
We will both die of the same heart attack, but I got to eat steak.
Posted by G at 12:57 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBack
August 01, 2004
Kieran is much less lazy than I am
Yes, I'm a lazy bastard without anything more than the vague intent to write about my trip soon. Soon is such a vague word. How soon is now?
Kieran has already written his account up to the ninth day, please check it out. I, on the other hand, will simply need to defend certain aspects and perceptions of me as a flatulent person. I will do this soon, plus write about the daily excitement of my sweaty life in NYC.
Posted by G at 12:13 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack