Day 5

No night time cig last night, no patch today, and I. am. on. edge. I do alright as long as I keep moving. Having food in my stomach also helps. It's when I have to stop, stay still, and function that things get a bit tense. I haven't snapped at anyone yet. Or at least, anyone who didn't have it coming.

And I'm looking a bit ragged, too. I don't know if it's real, or that I'm projecting. Either way, it's par for the course. I'll look [or think I look] rough for two weeks, and then when the nicotine has drained out of my system I'll suddenly notice that my skin has cleared up a bit and that some of the lines have decreased and I'll look [or think I look] ten years younger. Just got to make it to that point.

I'm meeting Dawn in a few minutes for First Friday. I want to wake up early tomorrow and hit the surf - some chicks online wanted to learn - so probably won't stay up late. Pupus, wine, and bed.

Tomorrow is the big Hawai`i Kai Party. I'm not sure if I'll make it, which is rough - this is one of the major gay parties of the year. If not The Party. At least ... it's The Party of the ones I actually get invited to. Not that I get invited to this one. I crash it. As do a couple hundred other guys. There's a pool, plenty of liquor, go go boys, lots of men - toutes le monde.

... sans moi. I volunteered to work security at the Christmas Parade. Yesterday I was wondering why more gay men don't volunteer in the wider community, why it's always either AIDS or art that seems to get most of our attention.

And now I know. It's because we would miss all the fabulous parties.

Day 4

Day four no smokes. Or almost none - I've had one before bed each night. I put on the last sliver of patch this morning. This weekend wsill be tough. Meeting Dawn for First Friday tomorrow night, and have a full day OCDA activation on Saturday.

Status check: a little hyper and speedy, but still focused. Appetite is solid - I'm more or less permanently hungry. I cut my workout short yesterday because I needed to grind. Energy level is good, though - I've had really solid sessions at the gym. I'm not feeling social at all, though. Roy wanted to talk last night. I wanted to read & not deal with him or anybody. Weight is good, skin is good. Lungs are starting to clear out, and I woke up this morning with a nasty taste in my mouth. I tossed and turned a lot last night. I have minor cravings, but nothing too bad.

Not Safe For Work

Or for mom's - so stop reading now, ok?

And the theme for the night is: Why did Marlon Brando fall so hard? Was he always mad, and we just didn't know it for his beauty? Or did his beauty destroy him? Or maybe beauty like that is never long for this world.

Roy and I finished watching Reflections in a Golden Eye a few nights ago. It's hard to find, and I was excited to stumble across a copy on e-bay. It sounded like a lost masterpiece - directed by John Huston based on a novel by Carson McCullers, and starring Brando as a repressed gay military commander of a southern army base and Elizabeth Taylor as his out of control nymphomaniac wife. Julie Harris cuts off her nipples with a pair of garden sheers, Zorro David plays an embarrassingly campy Filipino house boy, Taylor whips Brando during a garden party, and Robert Forster rides his horse bareback and bare ass naked through the woods.

All that, yet all the movie does is bore you. It tries to scandalize us, as if that would be enough. It doesn't even work as camp - it's too slow moving. Brando is hot in middle-age but mumbles his lines. He's more of a caricature of Brando than the actual man.

And now, for the second time in a week, Brando supplies the craptastic. His posthumous novel has been nominated for Britain's Literary Review Bad Sex in Fiction award. The Guardian has the long list of nominees, and while Brando is awful my vote still goes to Giles Coren. Like Zorro indeed.

This is going to be painful. You have been warned.

from Fan Tan

by Marlon Brando and Donald Cammell

In a moment Annie was on his side, Madame Lai was like a plant growing over him, and her little fist (holding the biggest black pearl) was up his asshole planting the pearl in the most appreciated place.

"Oh, Lord," he cried out. "I'm a-comin'!"

She could not answer. It is the one drawback of fellatio as conscientious as hers that it eliminates the chance for small talk and poetry alike. But nothing is exactly perfect in this life, and for Annie Doultry the delicate but firm pressure on his rear parts was in perfect harmony with the eruption of his cock. He came and he came - we are dealing with a hero here. At one point his lover backed away to inspect the unaltered gush of it, like a plumber saying to a customer, "Don't blame me. This water supply will stop when the dam's empty."

The bed creaked and its old springs twanged as he levered into action with his hungry stomach and his big slippery mouth. Annie was at work again. With a practiced flick of the wrist designed for heavier work, he eased the cheongsam's slit wider to expose the entire butterball thigh. Without perceptible movement, her legs were now definitely farther apart, and their musculature was unresistant and frothy, as if they were no longer bearing her weight. In a sense, she seemed to float upon the musty air like an arrangement of balloons. Evidently the dexterous licking of the inside of her left knee was contributing to her support, as it would soon to her downfall.

When it came, it was a float rather than a fall. Annie's left hand was completely occupied, each finger playing a separate tune upon the delicate complexities of her pussy, so it must have been the right one that slid under her ass and elevated her and floated her onto the bed - or more precisely, onto Annie, onto his broad stomach, the sturdy muscles beneath expressly relaxed to provide the comfort of a mattress of familiar Celtic flesh. An unintelligible muttering sound came from Yummee as she subsided on top of him. It could have been a prayer to one of her goddesses, or a threat. ...

Nap time is over

Well, that didn't last long. I'll be daydreaming, and find myself composing little anecdotes about my day for the blog. I guess she's not ready to be put to pasture yet.

The problem is, my favorite bloggers either document their adventures in foreign lands or detail step by step accounts of complete mental breakdowns some even set to music.

Since I can't travel for a few months, and I haven't figured out how to upload my mixes, I'll settle for psychosis. I quit smoking again 3 days ago, so this should be fun. Maybe if I put all this in writing I'll be less likely to relapse. It's not as chic as heroin withdrawal [see the music link above], but I'm sure I'll get in some good mania, depression, and GI distress before it's over.

I have two 21mg patches left over from my last failed attempt. Which wasn't even an attempt - I wore the patches on the plane so I wouldn't be a total spaz. And even then, I would rip them off at every transfer point so that I could run outside and smoke. This time I've been cutting them in half so that they will last longer.

So far so good. I'm a bit hyper, but I also feel my lungs starting to clear. I'll be hitting the gym hard, so hopefully I'll bulk up instead of chunking up. I'm back to 190 [versus 180 after Istanbul]. Not sure how high I'll go this round.

Had my first internet date in a long time last night. Or 'date.' Darin [his real name, of course] and I agreed to meet at a Starbucks near his house. He never showed. Lucky for him, I think, because I called Madame L. while I was waiting ... and I learned a few things about my date.

One of the good things about having a slut for a friend is that you can get the dirty scoop on a lot of folks. And what I learned is that Darin does not quite have the athletic body he advertised. The baggy shirt in his photo was hiding pointy little man boobs, a pot belly, and skinny arms. Like one of those aliens from Roswell, says Madame L.

Oh silly man. Don't ever lie to a man with a blog, much less lie and then stand him up. I have no shame in naming names, Darin who works at Cost-Co. I waited thirty minutes for formalities sake, and when there was no sign of him I took off.

Time Out

I’m thinking about putting this blog to rest. I loved doing it while on the road. I find I’m not so interested in writing now that I’m home. I’ll probably use it as a random scrapbook of things I find interesting, and write again for an audience when I travel again ...

... which will be in exactly 88 days. I found tickets to Honolulu-Sydney tickets for $610 roundtrip. Mardi Gras here I come!

Massacre in Fallujah

I found a site that links to the Italian documentary that is causing all the fuss everywhere [except here, and why the f*** is that???]

Massacre in Fallujah

Pass it along.

The first half is alright, but doesn't offer much concrete evidence to back the producer's claims that the military used white phosphorus and napalm [MK-77, technically it's not Napalm. It's a 500 lb fire bomb that spreads a burning gel that is only similar to Napalm. Because Napalm is banned].

The second half makes up for that with the testimony of former US Marines who fought at Fallujah; photos of men, women, and children who's skin has melted off; and a horrifying video of a helicopter fire-bombing a neighborhood.

I cleaned up some old links, and added this one:

Fight to Survive

This site is the mouthpiece for a group of soldiers who are fighting in a war they oppose for a president they didn't elect while the petrochemical complex turns the blood of their fallen comrades into oil

I'm too pissed right now to write much. Life is pretty good outside what I see in the news. I started another emergency-hire stint at DLNR, and it was good to see everyone again. I got the runt office, though! We moved into new offices while I was gone, and all the good furniture was picked over. I have the squeaky chair, the mis-matched file cabinets, the smaller than normal cubicle, no computer, and ... no more window. Ah well. The permanent guy will have to fight for what he needs. I've had one interview for a full time position ... and really hoping I get it.

No More Yahoo! Emails

I use Earthink, and they seem to be having a conflict with Yahoo - I can't recieve any mail from people with a Yahoo email account. I thought it was because I was on the road, but I'm still having the same problem at home. Earthlink assures me that their "engineers are working on it."

So, if you Yahoo and have emailed me in the past month and a half, I'm not ignoring you. I haven't got your mails. If it's important, drop a line here.