The New Jerusalem

log

Oh log. dearest, sweetest log. i've had a night. a gorgeous night.

First let it be said i just enjoyed one of the loveliest, candy coloredest shows of my life. "Eye of the Tiger", produced by Jacob Sirof, at Spanganga. I hosted. wore the nice suit and feared the entire time that it would be damaged. no harm appears to have come. My set was nor shrill nor rushed, but, rather, a collection of random jokes presented with poise and moderation to great popular approval. I also drank jack daniels. a lot. the other comics, in order were: Sherry Sirof, Miguel Fiero, Jacob Sirof, Jason Wheeler, Blair Butler, and Connor Kellicut.

Suffice it that every single one of them had a stunningly good set. Suffice it to say as the crowd got tired as the evening progressed, Blair and Connor pulled from them all the laughs they had remaining. Suffice it to say, I was filled with pleasure at the endeavor working for everyone involved.

Afterwards, all wanted to go out, but in what direction? Wheeler went to the Latin America club on 22nd and asked us to follow. Blair wanted to go to the lexington, but her better self convinced her to get sleep before her 7 am editing session. I was bound to my ride, the sirofim, who, after whiling with their homies, decided to go to the ruby room in oakland.

we went, i was a bit reticent, but, i cannot tell you how full of the pleasure of the evening. i'd thought of asking them to take me home, but i went. and i'm glad.

talking to sherry against the wall by the bar, a man passed and... it was that feeling. the ready knowledge interest has been expressed in you. dark hair, white t-shirt. hipster black hair. i assumed i was picking up on a vibe sent to sherry, and she was similarly aware of a sexual air at his passing. i decided to investigate. he was walking to the bathroom, i followed in to see if i could see his wiener. i walked in and he was in the stall talking to a guy (outside of the stall) about a band. I feel stupid and go to pretend to pee, and he starts telling me how nice looking i am.

i can't tell you how nice that was for me. how rare, how nice. he said he thought i looked nice in my suit, but that it just wasn't the suit, and i said he did as well. He said "that is only because i can't see your penis, and you can't see my penis, because there's a partition between us. hey that rhymes." and started talking abou the rhyme.

i assumed drunk and playful straight boy.

i've been, in the past month, been getting so much interest. Why. Why?

I went out. returned to sherry and jacob. he returned to the bar. i watched him. before we left i was going to say hi again. much time later, i don't know how much, i saw him go to the bathroom. then, next i knew, he was gone. i saw him by the door. i went to say goodbye, and he was talking to a girl.

i said hi. he said again how nice i looked. he said how nice i smelled. he was pretty, gentle reader, so drunk, but pretty and APPROVING and CHRIST, CHRIST how much is that exactly what I want for all its fatuousness. for all it's lameness all i really want is a boy i think is pretty to look at me and say, without having to, without any other impetus, to say that the physical texture of my being is a thing pleasing. AND HE DID. He was drunk, it was not pure. his attentions were oddly divided. I do not understand what was occuring, but what did was nice. He said something to the girl about how great i was. i tried to reply with similarly unrepentant enthusiasm. next i knew he was pressed against me, kissing my face. pressing his body against mine as it rose to meet the challenge for which it is so often ready. He said he was going to finish his beer but he'd be back to me.

next thing, last call. he was talking to bartenders, talking to lesbians. i wrote down my number and went to take it to him. i didn't say bye, i just kind of shoved it to him and went out. i felt so stupid. so stupid... but pleased.

i feel like i fumbled not far from the endzone. maybe he just wanted someone last night. maybe i shouldn't have gone with sherry and jacob and trusted i could find my way home. maybe i should have been bolder in giving him my number. but this bastard here isn't captain self-confidence. i tried hard, i came close. maybe he kept the number. maybe he'll call.

His name is Simon.

for that moment, him pressed against me. i'll treasure that for some time.

to sleep now.

I joined a gym. with the membership i got two free sessions with a personal trainer. I thought, 'wow, neat, this will make my workouts more efficient and i'll get to talk to a cute boy for an hour." It was great. Two full hours of a physically perfect gay boy figuring out and explaining exactly what was wrong with my body. It was a lot like dating.

my fantasies have an astounding amount of backstory explaining why someone so hot is messing around with me

DeviPuja: the nice thing about clinton was that he made empty gestures we RECOGNIZED were empty gestures
DeviPuja: we wanted a guy who cared enough to pretend, but was busy enough to have something better to do.

I joined a gym, and I got two complimentary appointments with a trainer. But he always seemed vaguely annoyed I was there and gave me the most astoundingly generic program. Apparently he's an impersonal trainer.

I'm 28 and i've never in my life really fallen in love and i feel like if it doesn't happen soon, it's never going to happen. I feel like I can hear my urological clock ticking.

"the shameless really are our greatest national resource"- Me

My mother's religious beliefs are sort of a mix of equal parts judaism, native american spiritualism, and 1970's conspiracy theories. Like, we can eat ham, just not during the same meal as flouridated water, because it hurts your spirit guide.

Her spirit guide is Oliver Stone?

She wouldn't let us get immunized because she believed the vaccines were made of pork. HOPI pork.

She thought the only way to keep the cia from spying on our passover seder was to mix peyote in with the bitter herb.

Some say the glass is half empty, some half full. My mother belives the the glass is dangerous, so we probably shouldn't touch it.