Friday, July 30, 2010

American Shores

Do you like this photo? I took it.

You did not.

Yeah, i took this photo of this photo.

The Williamsburg Waterfront, a parody of Jersey Shore, discussed stoned and while sitting on our red couch. Going to bed soon, a vacation starting soon for us, our first together and alone. Catching Fung Wah north at seven, somewhere near East Broadway, bus leaving at 7, ferry from Boston we are trying to catch leaving at 1.

The two of us venturing to Provincetown tomorrow, spoken of by others, fathers. And we are headed there to a room named The Tempest. Have vague fears about that, the potential symbolism in a name - if it might be foreshadowing something, or if instead I read too much into things, hope for more drama than there is

Bless me, he said, after he just sneezed.

He is typing across from me on his computer and i don't know what he is actually doing, maybe even looking at manroulette or some live cam feed of sex happening and him telling them the guy somewhere in Georgia to fist himself, fingers typing away and me imagining him IM'ng his sister in Ohio, talking about tattoos and how they should get them together when he comes home

And I live in one with him,180 Meserole Street, and I think that 180 in my address has some symbolism, that there is some intended beauty there from whoever wrote this story, that living with a boyfriend for the first time, having something mutual with regard to affection and sexual desire, that that was new, the embrace of it a 180

Meserole Street between Humbolt and Graham.

And I am going to Provincetown tomorrow with him.

Monday, July 19, 2010


It is some day in mid- to late-July and I am sitting on my couch, a red couch, having just watched Godard's Contempt with Jacob, who is now asleep next to me looking as cute as can be and I have Aimee Mann playing so as not to wake him up, to continue the noise that was filled earlier with the Criterion commentary regarding the film which I became bored with because I wanted to write here in my diary and tell you about my day, my life, how things are going, wanted to perhaps tell myself how these things were going, to try to somehow verbalize these things for my own benefit, to get at something, to let myself know something it doesn't know but wants to.

In the middle of the movie, there was a lightening storm outside of our window. Jacob said he wanted to go up to the roof to watch it. We put the film on pause and headed up with full glasses of white wine and my pack of Parliaments to watch the occasional bolt of lightening streak across the sky, afterburn on the clouds surrounding it, white illuminated fog, brief enough to hint at other things.

We sat on lawn chairs that were up there and talked about all the places in this world that we would like to go.

Brigette Bardot is gorgeous, as if you didn't know, as if you haven't heard other people say that already, but she really captivated me in this film, her beauty. Why do beautiful people hold such power and what does that mean? What is this thing that we call beauty and why do we give it so much power - a hoping that there is a God and that these things are proof of divinity, nice lines, big lips, and a pretty face? I'm not sure what the elements are that compose such a concept but I think they are present in the person asleep next to me on the couch, this beautiful boy, Jacob, who I am more in love with each day.

We saw Inception last night and could not stay awake for the thing. Today, after work, after running into an old friend that I no longer talk to, already a weird encounter, this SUV pulled up next to me and called me over to it, me thinking it was for directions to something or other, Holland Tunnel or something. He asked me what he could do that was fun in the next few hours. He was a middle-aged Orthodox-looking Jew. I was very confused why he chose me to approach, or maybe not considering I was wearing a mesh tank top and cutoff shorts, but I am pretty sure he was thought I was selling myself walking up 8th Avenue, which in many ways I was and am, but was not in this particular way or was not trying to. He told me he was visiting from Israel and couldn't have fun there (what he meant by fun, I didn't ask), that he lived with his parents, and only had a few hours by himself, and that he wanted to find a place to get a massage. I told him I didn't know of any places, that I was just heading to the gym. He asked if my gym gave massages. I told him that they did not. I ran a lot once at the gym, able again to run know after a good month or so where my IT band had been too tight to run, or even really to walk without a limp. It felt great. I am so happy that I work with someone studying to be a personal trainer, who told me what was wrong with my knee and the stretches I needed to do to ease the pain. I did that and then I sat in the steamroom and jerked off with some man before taking a really long cold shower, afterwards staring at the brief and sometimes not brief sightings of naked bodies in the gym.

I was going to quit smoking when New York raised the price of cigarettes, but I did not do so. I am trying to get Jacob a job at my workplace. I am really in love with cold white wine on these hot summer nights.

Monday, July 12, 2010

"As my father said to me when he died in my arms, 'I don't understand any of it. I never did.'"

This weekend was spent in Charlotte, North Carolina for my cousin's wedding. I saw many family members I hadn't seen in years and for a moment when I first arrived around 10pm on Friday night felt totally overwhelmed when I encountered my extended family all drunk already in the hotel bar and having to talk with aunts and uncles that remarked to me how handsome I was and asking me if I remembered them, that the last time they saw me I was "this tall," them holding their hand a foot or two down from my current height, potentially true, but also very likely exaggerated claims of nostalgic and drunk family members. Once I had a couple drinks in me I felt much more at ease talking to my family and joined all the nostalgic games as well, really happy to see some of my aunts who I had not seen in years and who really were such a major part of my childhood. My aunt C and my grandma at one point asked me who I was living with now and I told them that I was living with my boyfriend and that felt really liberating to say. My gayness is a bit of an open secret that I assume most of my family knows about but which they never really ask me about, and so it was really nice to have some reason to talk about it, to feel really secure in doing so, being a bit drunk and also really quite happy with my romantic situation these days and it being something I want to share with people.

The wedding was the next day and it was stiff and overly formal, but nice nonetheless in a way that weddings often are, the public declaring of love and devotion of people that you know in front of other people that you know. I really do love my family a lot and it was quite fun to hang out with aunts and uncles that I've known my entire life as an adult now, to drink with them and smoke with them and talk about work and love. The reception wasn't starting for about an hour after the wedding and because the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, my family all wanted to grab some drinks beforehand and so we wandered around downtown Charlotte trying to find a bar that was open and found one. So much closeness is enabled with alcohol and I really felt so close with my family on this day, talking to cousins and aunts and uncles about life in a really nice way, sharing a lot about myself and listening to them share a lot about themselves. At the reception itself, I got quite wasted, as did most of my relatives. I encountered a gay aunt that I didn't really know and talked to her for a long time and am apparently going to hang out with her this weekend when she visits New York. I met this crazy flamboyant gay man on the groom's side of the family and both of these people made me feel much more comfortable at this wedding. I had a felt a bit ill at ease being a fag at this big Catholic wedding but felt so much better once I discovered I wasn't alone, that there were these awesome older queers at this wedding. There was a weird conversation with an uncle who was a priest about why I don't go to church anymore. There was awesome talk with my aunt S about everything.

After the reception a bunch of us headed to some pub nearby and continued partying. I snuck my 20 year old cousin T into the bar with me. I talked to S about my open relationship with Jacob. My cousin T told me about his romantic life a bit before telling me how awesome he thought I was for being so open with my sexuality in our family, that people talk about me in our family but how he thinks I'm really awesome. He then started to tell me how he's not sure if he's gay, how he's never done anything with a guy, but how he would like to. The things that alcohol will reveal. At some point, I went outside to use the ATM and then decided to go back to the hotel which was a block away and change out of my suit and into something less hot. I put on a tanktop and shorts and went back to the bar. They told me there was now a cover and that I needed to wear sleeves to get in. I was belligerent and hasty and used this opportunity to go to the gay bar in town, hopped in a cab, and went there.

I talked to a couple of people there who asked me where I was from, saying they could tell I wasn't from there because of how I was dressed. Despite the hot Southern weather, everyone was wearing pants and sleeves, and I told them I was from New York. I bought cigarettes for six dollars from a vending machine, finished my drink, and really missed the conversations I had been having with my family. I could have silly conversations with gay strangers any night of the week, but these were family members I only saw every couple of years and so I went back into town, changed into sleeves, and went back to this pub to hang out with my family. We shut the place down and I stumbled back to our hotel with my cousins T and J. J told me how he hoped my wedding would be the next one because it would be really funny to see our family at a gay wedding. I thought it would be too and throughout the weekend actually thought a lot about marriage and these ceremonies and family and how it's really nice these occasions where people have reason to all come together.

I watched The Boys in the Band tonight and it made me really sad at points because I thought about gay friends and thought about ones I have lost, missed them a bit, and then tried to squash the feeling, thought about moving on and what's good for a person and friendship and when they end and how mean people can be to one another. I am also thinking about a job I want and which I thought I wasn't going to get since I haven't heard anything for two weeks now after submitting my resume, but last night in a wine store was approached by someone who is friends with the person I submitted my resume to and who said he heard I was interviewing with him. I keep on playing that sentence over in my mind, trying to figure out what it may have meant, whether he was confused and heard I applied, or whether I am going to get called in for an interview. All day long today, I continued to check my email, hoping from word from this person, but nothing. And I am thinking I would have heard something by now but then keep parsing out the words of this guy in the wine store, hoping that I still may hear something from this job that I really, really want.

I am drinking wine now and it is quite hot out and I am sad and happy and I am alive.

Friday, July 2, 2010


It's July, the second day of it, soon in less than half an hour the third day of it, and soon the fourth, and on and on, the days roll. I just wrote a cover letter for a job that I really want and sent it out via email and I think it may be a bit crazy but I have this new theory that it might only be by showing a little craziness, a little personality, that my cover letters might stick out of the sea of them and maybe get me if not a new job, at the least an interview.

I have the house to myself for the second night a row and am doing not much with it, watched a really terrible documentary, wrote a cover letter, and have a PBR at my side while I listen to the classical station. Jacob is out of town for the week. David, who was our houseguest for several days, is also gone now. This past weekend was a debaucherous and fun one that I doubt I will clearly remember in the future, especially since I have difficulty remembering some sober evenings. I read a story about Milwaukee at the BML series that I thought read much better than I was fearing, it written the day before and me a bit unhappy and insecure with it until I actually read it in front of other people. From there, Thursday night, it was one drink after the next until sometime Monday morning. I stumbled from there to Mattachine. Friday I went to Bana and splashed around in the pool and hot tub and had sex with Jacob and a couple other people. Saturday had me dancing a bit and smoking a lot at Sugarland. Sunday was a very drunk brunch, followed by the parade, followed by a bar, followed by a house party where I got naked and sucked some dick and got mine sucked, followed by more bars, followed by Vandam where I danced and got further wasted, and danced in the basement at one point to Diana Ross's "I'm Coming Out" and for the span of that song was the happiest gay there may have been on the planet, that song being the culmination of a lovely weekend of festivities and made me for a moment remember that it was all about being a fag and being proud of that, embracing this person that I am, that you, that we are.

And then there was work for a couple days, then a trip to Riis Beach and Coney Island, then the departure of these two people and more work, some gym time, and today I bought the first suit I have ever bought. I bought it to go my cousin's wedding next weekend so that I can look all adult and not totally scummy and maybe even cute. We'll see how that goes. Now back to thinking about this job I want and maybe getting stoned and reading the new John Waters book, but will probably really be looking at Grindr and Facebook obsessively on my phone in my bed because apparently that is what I love to do when I get stoned these days.