Hello? Universe?
I'd like to know some really great sex please.
Healthy, uninhibited, confident, fun, sex with a man who keeps me in the moment, and thinks I'm just as amazingly attractive as I find him.
Please, no lazy, narcissistic douche-bags, only interested in their own gratification, and no guys who will hurt me.
I suppose those are redundant parameters. But in the name of being careful what I wish for, I just thought I'd be concise.
Masturbation is fun, but it'd be nice to be touched by someone ...who's not me.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
Friday, November 05, 2010
I'm Like This Sometimes
I got the letter "from me" "to me" in the mail today. And an interesting thing happened: I typed it out to share, and then realized it truly was just for me. There was something very affirming about the process and the decision.
If I had to give it a name, I'd say self-sanctity.
Sorry, not much for blogging fodder, but something I can look back on some day.
Nothing worse than telling someone about a surprise and then never revealing what it is. Nasty goat bastard that I am.
I'm feeling really cerebral today, and I know how boring that is. But I don't really have any readers, which makes this for me. 'Kinda nice.
I wrote something on July 24th of this year, that I'm going to share instead... it's from the "Pink Notebook". I'm not mentioning real names of course... so that may detract from the heartfelt nature of the words. Hopefully one can imagine full, given names substituted for the privately assigned nicknames.
July 24, 2010
No one in this life has loved me the was "Lion" has. May I keep him close and show him nothing but love in my days. Even as I explore love and reconcile love.
May there never be any doubt in my heart that I have loved three men deeply... "Eak", "Scooter", and "Lion".
Each of them have pieces of me known by no other men.
Each of them occupy my soul and being with the purity of wanting what is best for them and to know them the rest of my days. To forgive and be forgiven, to tread with courage to be vulnerable, and the willfulness to do them no intentional harm through life's inevitable transgressions.
.....
It's so singularly meaningful to only me, even now. Perhaps especially now. But I feel blessed to love the way I do and not know any other way to feel about them. I want to know them and love them and give them myself. Maybe one day there will be another name to add to that list with whom the chemistry will be mirrored and perfect. Thus far something has always been just out of reach.
My heart's a vast place. My head's a black hole. Disparaging things could be said, but not by me anymore.
If I had to give it a name, I'd say self-sanctity.
Sorry, not much for blogging fodder, but something I can look back on some day.
Nothing worse than telling someone about a surprise and then never revealing what it is. Nasty goat bastard that I am.
I'm feeling really cerebral today, and I know how boring that is. But I don't really have any readers, which makes this for me. 'Kinda nice.
I wrote something on July 24th of this year, that I'm going to share instead... it's from the "Pink Notebook". I'm not mentioning real names of course... so that may detract from the heartfelt nature of the words. Hopefully one can imagine full, given names substituted for the privately assigned nicknames.
July 24, 2010
No one in this life has loved me the was "Lion" has. May I keep him close and show him nothing but love in my days. Even as I explore love and reconcile love.
May there never be any doubt in my heart that I have loved three men deeply... "Eak", "Scooter", and "Lion".
Each of them have pieces of me known by no other men.
Each of them occupy my soul and being with the purity of wanting what is best for them and to know them the rest of my days. To forgive and be forgiven, to tread with courage to be vulnerable, and the willfulness to do them no intentional harm through life's inevitable transgressions.
.....
It's so singularly meaningful to only me, even now. Perhaps especially now. But I feel blessed to love the way I do and not know any other way to feel about them. I want to know them and love them and give them myself. Maybe one day there will be another name to add to that list with whom the chemistry will be mirrored and perfect. Thus far something has always been just out of reach.
My heart's a vast place. My head's a black hole. Disparaging things could be said, but not by me anymore.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Ever Dance with the Devil in the Pale Moonlight?
I always ask that of all my prey.And here's the proof that I was indeed a Vampire Slayer for Halloween. Sweet PJ sent me the pictures today. Despite my ponch, I think I look pretty damned butch. And really... what an amazing setting for photographs. That would be one of the reasons why PJ is such a good photographer.
Fun stuff, this vampire slaying. Though those stakes are sparkling clean even now.
Truthfully I wouldn't have the heart to kill anything. Even if it was undead.
I do miss wearing the mascara and eye liner. I need an excuse to do that again.
Balls Harvey
Before I start in on my real thoughts...
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.
Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.
We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)
Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.
This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)
"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.
Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.
We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)
Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.
This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)
"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Heartsblood and Letters to Yourself
I addressed and mailed a letter to myself today. Like actual snail mail, in an envelope with glue and a stamp and a dirty Canada Post box and everything.
Entertaining huh?
It's a personal growth and emotional recovery exercise in "The Artist's Way". Which incidentally, I'm finding really engaging in ways I didn't anticipate.
I think there's a concrete/physical/psychological element to receiving and tearing into a letter you've written yourself. That's strictly my hypothesis as to why it's an exercise. I've never actually written a letter to myself before. ...I've left messages on my own voice mail to remind me of things, but that's about as close to this (brand of) crazy I've ever come. Though I have heard it's a cheap way of copyrighting your material to mail your work to yourself, and not open it.
At any rate, it was a "letter to the editor" of sorts. Intended to defend my creativity against the enemies of my creativity. You wouldn't think one would have many enemies of their creativity. I managed to think of a few. It's all about wallowing in your own damage to find out where and how it happened. Bring on the healing. I'm ready.
I wrote Scooter a 3 page letter yesterday, and kinda finished it off today. No, I'm not going to give this one to him either. I've written soooooo many letters to him. You have no idea. He's received maybe 4 or 5 total out of at least 50 to 75. I'm not joking. As I said, they are my therapy. They allow me to say all the things I want to say without making a complete ass out of myself time and again. He doesn't respond to my letters. Not verbally, not written, not emotionally. I get no response. Sooooo... they go in a box. Out of my head, onto the paper, into a box.
This particular letter came really close to being given to him tonight. I'll have it on me when I meet him for dinner. Astounding proximity. But I always run the "fever" letters past my friend "Marti". Fever, as in I'm running one, and delusional enough to send it. She's been following the Scooter saga for well over a year now and knows just how crazy-in-love I am. And she sympathizes, though she's close enough to me to tell me I really should run or let go. As she did today, when she read this Fever Letter. A barrage of text messages and some loving advice later, I've decided I need to sit on this for a while, if only because I'm not sure I want to try so hard anymore. Really, maybe I should let things fade if they're going to. I don't want to campaign for anyone to love me. What would it be worth to win it?
I say that now, but my angst will spike again and I'll be in "all or nothing" mode and licking envelopes in the name of true love.
*barf*
Scooter is a train wreck. He needs me as a friend more than I need him as a boyfriend. Truthfully, there has to be someone better for me. I realize this. I can recite it with sincerity. But Fuck I love that boy. No one will ever convince me not to. Not even him. I need to do it on my own. I'm a stupid, stupid, masochistic Capricorn. Big yellow sign on the lawn of my mind... "Caution: Goats Obsessing".
He may yet get that letter. It's pretty hardcore heartsblood.
Another Scooter song.
"How" by Maroon 5.
I have been searching for your touch
Unlike any touch I've ever known
And I never thought about you much
Til I'm broken down and all alone, ohhh
Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
I can feel it in my guts
What's going on with him now
And don't patronize me with lies
I'm a man, be a woman now, ohhh
I have been bound by the shackles of love
And I don't mind if I die tied up, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
But how?
But how?
Ohh yeah
Why must we be so ugly
And please do not think ill of me
Why does the one you love
Become the one who makes you want to cry
Why?
Why?
Why?
And how?
How?
But I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
Entertaining huh?
It's a personal growth and emotional recovery exercise in "The Artist's Way". Which incidentally, I'm finding really engaging in ways I didn't anticipate.
I think there's a concrete/physical/psychological element to receiving and tearing into a letter you've written yourself. That's strictly my hypothesis as to why it's an exercise. I've never actually written a letter to myself before. ...I've left messages on my own voice mail to remind me of things, but that's about as close to this (brand of) crazy I've ever come. Though I have heard it's a cheap way of copyrighting your material to mail your work to yourself, and not open it.
At any rate, it was a "letter to the editor" of sorts. Intended to defend my creativity against the enemies of my creativity. You wouldn't think one would have many enemies of their creativity. I managed to think of a few. It's all about wallowing in your own damage to find out where and how it happened. Bring on the healing. I'm ready.
I wrote Scooter a 3 page letter yesterday, and kinda finished it off today. No, I'm not going to give this one to him either. I've written soooooo many letters to him. You have no idea. He's received maybe 4 or 5 total out of at least 50 to 75. I'm not joking. As I said, they are my therapy. They allow me to say all the things I want to say without making a complete ass out of myself time and again. He doesn't respond to my letters. Not verbally, not written, not emotionally. I get no response. Sooooo... they go in a box. Out of my head, onto the paper, into a box.
This particular letter came really close to being given to him tonight. I'll have it on me when I meet him for dinner. Astounding proximity. But I always run the "fever" letters past my friend "Marti". Fever, as in I'm running one, and delusional enough to send it. She's been following the Scooter saga for well over a year now and knows just how crazy-in-love I am. And she sympathizes, though she's close enough to me to tell me I really should run or let go. As she did today, when she read this Fever Letter. A barrage of text messages and some loving advice later, I've decided I need to sit on this for a while, if only because I'm not sure I want to try so hard anymore. Really, maybe I should let things fade if they're going to. I don't want to campaign for anyone to love me. What would it be worth to win it?
I say that now, but my angst will spike again and I'll be in "all or nothing" mode and licking envelopes in the name of true love.
*barf*
Scooter is a train wreck. He needs me as a friend more than I need him as a boyfriend. Truthfully, there has to be someone better for me. I realize this. I can recite it with sincerity. But Fuck I love that boy. No one will ever convince me not to. Not even him. I need to do it on my own. I'm a stupid, stupid, masochistic Capricorn. Big yellow sign on the lawn of my mind... "Caution: Goats Obsessing".
He may yet get that letter. It's pretty hardcore heartsblood.
Another Scooter song.
"How" by Maroon 5.
I have been searching for your touch
Unlike any touch I've ever known
And I never thought about you much
Til I'm broken down and all alone, ohhh
Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
I can feel it in my guts
What's going on with him now
And don't patronize me with lies
I'm a man, be a woman now, ohhh
I have been bound by the shackles of love
And I don't mind if I die tied up, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
But how?
But how?
Ohh yeah
Why must we be so ugly
And please do not think ill of me
Why does the one you love
Become the one who makes you want to cry
Why?
Why?
Why?
And how?
How?
But I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Love: the Disease
Countdown to an evening with Scooter tomorrow night.
He brings out my neurosis full force. ...And the deepest sadness I've ever known.
November 7th marks the 2 year anniversary of when I met him. I've never loved anyone as much as I do him. And he keeps me at arm's length. And breaks my heart over and over.
I let him. Like a complete bitch with no self-esteem, I let him. Just to have him in my life. Just in the off chance that I can show him how much I love him.
He draws me in... And pushes me away.
From one day to the next I waffle back and forth between showing him nothing but love... and telling him good bye for good. Good bye is winning today.
Everblue
Love doesn't come alone, now does it?
Present perfect tense
So you made yourself a new world
Where even strangers make more sense
I pay the pain up right straight ahead
And with the beat
You can ease yourself into the light
Or keep that record on repeat
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
Fought away the sleepless hours
Unsettled dreams will make you keep
You can paint them all your brilliant colors
Just don't fall off into the deep
Happiness is not a burden
Oh, how the pendulum will swing
I have felt the ground, I've seen the seeds
Out of which grew golden wings
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
High above the stars are dancin'
To a soul, one bird is singin'
And it's you, my Everblue
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
You know I love you
My Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
He brings out my neurosis full force. ...And the deepest sadness I've ever known.
November 7th marks the 2 year anniversary of when I met him. I've never loved anyone as much as I do him. And he keeps me at arm's length. And breaks my heart over and over.
I let him. Like a complete bitch with no self-esteem, I let him. Just to have him in my life. Just in the off chance that I can show him how much I love him.
He draws me in... And pushes me away.
From one day to the next I waffle back and forth between showing him nothing but love... and telling him good bye for good. Good bye is winning today.
Everblue
Love doesn't come alone, now does it?
Present perfect tense
So you made yourself a new world
Where even strangers make more sense
I pay the pain up right straight ahead
And with the beat
You can ease yourself into the light
Or keep that record on repeat
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
Fought away the sleepless hours
Unsettled dreams will make you keep
You can paint them all your brilliant colors
Just don't fall off into the deep
Happiness is not a burden
Oh, how the pendulum will swing
I have felt the ground, I've seen the seeds
Out of which grew golden wings
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
High above the stars are dancin'
To a soul, one bird is singin'
And it's you, my Everblue
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
You know I love you
My Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
Monday, November 01, 2010
Halloweekend in Words
Well, Vampire Slayer costumes garner a considerable amount of attention. This I've learned. Lots of comments, a few gropes, one ass-slap and a whole lot of bedroom eyes. It's the mascara. I'm certain of it. People dig a guy in mascara and leather.
Though attention does not a fun weekend make.
Friday and Friday night were fun. Our staff Halloween party was cute. The food was amazing. (though it always is.) I tied for "best costume", and won a DVD and a piece of Hayes carry-on luggage (pink! and yes, I'm that secure.). After work, I stood in an impossibly long line at the LCBO for booze, and then took an equally impossibly long streetcar ride to Parkdale to hang out with my friend Peachy at his place and proceeded to drink a lot. He DJ's/hosts a night at the Press Club once a month called Queer Social and that was our destination. Good scene. Nice little bar. Live music and then some lost 80's stuff. This was the first QS since August, when I met a sexy 22 year old "Vin", who I made-out with for hours at and after the club. And he just happened to show up this Friday too. I suffered a little indignity of feeling a little too sexy for my alcohol. I was all touchy-feelie with him, and he (though receptive) told me he just wanted to be friends. A good thing, because I don't want another boyfriend, but OUCH!
The boy sure can kiss though. Lordy.
It was his birthday. We danced a strange combative conversation during which he told me he'd give me his phone number. I told him I'd give him mine instead. This puzzled him. So I told him, I'm 50% "don't believe you". Once he had my phone number, he immediately called to see if I'd actually given it to him, and texted me. "Hellos". I later texted him back "Hellos & Goodbyes. : )". I realize that's maybe a little cold and dismissive, but I do not need another 23 year old. 3 of the guys I've had "things" with over the past 2 years have been under 25. They're untrainable. Horrible pets.
I was out late that night, and was texting back and forth with my friend "PJ" who is a very kind and sweet suitor. He insisted on picking me up and driving me home, which probably rescued me from hypothermia and got me home a good 3 hours faster than the TTC would have. He stayed the night at my place. We were going to have brunch at his place on Saturday anyhow, so it worked-out well. He made me an amazing omelet and then we headed out in search of cupcakes and bow ties. Which just plain makes me smile.
He needed a bow tie for his costume as an old-school press photographer. And the cupcakes.... just because cupcakes rock.
He never did get a bow tie, but we shared a dozen mini-cupcakes on the beach, watching waves, and petting dogs. Me in my full costume.
I highly recommend dressing like a male-on-male porn star and going to a dog-park. The dogs don't mind, 'cause they see your soul and wag their tails. Their owners... not-so-much.
Again though... fucking cold.
Not too long afterwards, we headed to The Guild Inn in Scarborough, which was beautiful. We walked among a huge collection of pieces from demolished structures, that are brought to this site for posterity. There are massive pillars, and arches and statues and such, made from cut stone and marble and the park just has a surreal "gorgeous graveyard" feeling to it.
PJ, being a skilled (and sought-after) photographer, took the opportunity to snap a few "in character" photos of me in my costume in some amazing surroundings. I climbed atop an 8-foot stone sculpted pillar and posed with stakes in hand and cape blowing. Incredible fun. I was a rock-star/superhero. ha!
This was my first "autumn walk" of the year, and I got to enjoy two of my favourite sounds: crashing waves and crunching leaves. PJ is playing a good game, considering how unavailable my heart is, and how quickly I threw the anchor off the boat at top speed, shortly after we met. His is a good soul. I care for him already. Though I'm not sure romance is in the cards. Like I said though, he's playing a good game. He's charming and gentle and has a great approach to life.
PJ, dropped me off at my best girlfriend's place, so she could do my makeup again. She was solely responsible for how readily I would wear mascara again just to turn boys heads. I didn't stay there long because I was late for dinner with "Poppycock" and "Meaty". I always smoke entirely too much pot around them, but hey, it was Halloween. We actually discussed a few favourite Halloween memories from childhood, and then their landlord joined us for a late dinner where the conversation strangely-enough turned to 4 year olds who poop their pants, not once, but twice. Meaning, twice the conversation went there. Not "double-load pants pooping". Good times.
I'll sum-up the rest of Saturday night quickly because it wasn't that interesting.
After dinner, I headed out to the village on my own. Strolled up and down Church street twice to see where things were happening and to enjoy the good costumes.
Lots of bare-flesh for such a cold night. But I think as Canadians, we forget that winter is not a sexy time, and a good cold snap makes outdoor lingerie a poor choice for Halloween.
This stroll up and down Church street was when I got the majority of my "great costume" comments, and a grope and lots of loving glances. It would be easy to become intoxicated by feeling that desired. (an interesting experience for me)
I went to a club that was having a "bear" night. That's the sub-category of homosexual culture that I fall into strictly based on stature and body/facial hair. The night is called "Pit Bull". The music and the crowd, are not my thing. Admittedly, I was kind of on the prowl for at least a little make-out action, and thought this place would be my safest bet. Wrong. After one drink and about half an hour waiting for a good song, I took off. The music really, really influences whether I can remain in a club and it just wasn't happening. I don't know why I bother going there in all honesty.
My fail-safe for good music is actually a lesbian bar called "Slacks". The DJ there is usually a "9 out of 10 songs are good songs" category DJ, with a sad penchant for the Black-Eyed Peas, which I forgive resentfully. I didn't even really get into the club on this evening though, because one of my favourite young guy friends "Sauce", texted me and wanted to know where I was and what I was up to. I have had a huge crush on Sauce for 3 years now. He's gorgeous. I'd rope the moon for him if he didn't have a boyfriend. But seeing as how he is 22, it's probably best that that never happens.
I waited in line til he got there, and we went in for a while, but he felt self-conscious because he didn't have a costume and he's not much of a club kid. So... we went for Chinese food. Sadly he called his boyfriend who brought along four very odd friends so the meal was a little awkward, but Sauce and I shared a cab ride home and enjoyed each others company. This was a late night.
Got home at 5 am, went to bed at 5:30 in full make-up like all the professionals, and slept til 10am when awakened by a call from "Pugs", my 59 year-old downstairs neighbour lady. I was an ass and ignored her call because she wanted me to take pictures of her dog in a devil costume, and I knew I could endeavor to get that done later on in the week when I wasn't running on fumes and crispy-fried shrimp. "Pugs" will make me pay for this neglect in some sulky Virgo way. I should call her today to make amends.
So yes, I was up at 10, and had a Skype date with "Lion" for an hour. He's in Spain, so it was late afternoon for him. He was looking all cute and chipper and practically jumping through the screen because he loved my beard being all dark from the makeup. "Lion" is my Spanish boyfriend. We had an incredible Spring romance while he was in Canada that I'll undoubtedly talk about another time. He always makes me happy.
Though, I crashed emotionally shortly after we spoke. I don't know if it was the pot or the alcohol catching up with me but I was a sad mess yesterday afternoon. Too much time to think about "Scooter". I spent the afternoon writing him an e-mail I'll never send him. That's my therapy.
At any rate, I decided I wasn't going to let the heaviness keep me home. I went to the tree house to meet up with Poppycock and Meaty again. From there, we went to "Ginger" and "Bert"'s place. Ginger was dressed as a viking, and Bert opted for a very classy impersonation of Queen Elizabeth. Poppycock and Meaty are in "new couple" mode. They didn't wear costumes. Poppycock is one of my best friends and I really can't picture him in a costume.
The five of us decided to go down to Church street again. The city closes the street for Halloween every year because it's such a huge party-slash-spectacle. I highly recommend it. There are so many costumes and music, it's kind of like Pride without the spectators and vendors.
Bert became an attraction almost immediately. Who knew that so many people want nothing more than to have their picture taken with the Queen?? He was loving it though. There were people practically lining up just to pose with him. I became an unofficial escort for him because it was hard for him to walk in his shoes. Since I'd only met him once before, it seemed a strangely intimate thing to do for him to be walking by my side, on my arm. There were a few times when I had to take a reality break and stop treating him like I was paid to protect him. Not that heels in a sewer grate aren't a bonafide hazard for anyone, much-less someone who'd never dressed in drag before.
Poppycock and Meaty headed home early, as I knew they would. As much as I love PC, he doesn't have a "good times" constitution. The nest is always calling his name. I wasn't ready to go home, but I was really cold. So I accepted an invitation to go back up to Ginger and Bert's apartment. Not knowing either of them, I was a little awkward, but Ginger and I have fooled around before. He's seen me naked.
And Bert, being new to the city, doesn't have many friends here and he's quite warm and receptive to the possibility of friends wherever he goes. I saw it in the conversation we had last night while I was walking him around, when we first met after Labour Day at a housewarming party and in the lobby of their building where he engaged two drag queens in conversation. Best advice of the evening dispensed from a man in a dress.... "Avoid boys in their 20's. I mean, you can Fuck 'em. But don't let 'em anywhere near your heart."
Where was this drag queen 2 years ago before I met Scooter?
I also noticed Bert has a rapport with the doorman of their building. And I think it's a good sign of character when someone speaks with respect and familiarity to someone who works where they live. I had a bit of a lengthy conversation with the doorman while we waited for 2 friends of the drag queens to see them as a complete troupe.
The doorman is an expatriated soldier from Afghanistan who fought for the "bad guys" for 9 years and gave it up to escape war altogether. He's been in Canada for 2 and a half months and can't believe his own luck that he's working in an apartment lobby in downtown Toronto.
That makes me smile too. We never know how good we've got it, til we meet someone who's grateful to do a job most of us would consider "beneath" our aspirations.
"Ginger" and "Bert" had originally asked me up to go in their hot tub, but I opted just to bundle-up and talk to them while they indulged in a dip. Bert's had one helluva life over the past 3 years. My heart went out to him. We really connected.
Post hot tub, we went back to their apartment and watched "House of Wax" on TV. An appropriate movie for Halloween night on many campy, gory levels. Bert had been commenting about my pants all night, so I let him try them on. Yes, I stood in my underwear in the living room of 2 practical strangers while one of them cooed over how nice my leather pants felt. Isn't being gay, free-spirited?
Song of the day... you might not like this one. New Dragonette. It's called "Animale" and I'd say it's risky business. Certainly not the propulsive, radio-friendly stuff they're known for. But I love the "datsik dubstep" remix. It's unusual. Makes me wanna grind. : ) No lyrics I could find. But I love the lines "Scratch at the door, your name is not on the list, go on n' show 'em your fangs, what kind of jungle is this?"
Though attention does not a fun weekend make.
Friday and Friday night were fun. Our staff Halloween party was cute. The food was amazing. (though it always is.) I tied for "best costume", and won a DVD and a piece of Hayes carry-on luggage (pink! and yes, I'm that secure.). After work, I stood in an impossibly long line at the LCBO for booze, and then took an equally impossibly long streetcar ride to Parkdale to hang out with my friend Peachy at his place and proceeded to drink a lot. He DJ's/hosts a night at the Press Club once a month called Queer Social and that was our destination. Good scene. Nice little bar. Live music and then some lost 80's stuff. This was the first QS since August, when I met a sexy 22 year old "Vin", who I made-out with for hours at and after the club. And he just happened to show up this Friday too. I suffered a little indignity of feeling a little too sexy for my alcohol. I was all touchy-feelie with him, and he (though receptive) told me he just wanted to be friends. A good thing, because I don't want another boyfriend, but OUCH!
The boy sure can kiss though. Lordy.
It was his birthday. We danced a strange combative conversation during which he told me he'd give me his phone number. I told him I'd give him mine instead. This puzzled him. So I told him, I'm 50% "don't believe you". Once he had my phone number, he immediately called to see if I'd actually given it to him, and texted me. "Hellos". I later texted him back "Hellos & Goodbyes. : )". I realize that's maybe a little cold and dismissive, but I do not need another 23 year old. 3 of the guys I've had "things" with over the past 2 years have been under 25. They're untrainable. Horrible pets.
I was out late that night, and was texting back and forth with my friend "PJ" who is a very kind and sweet suitor. He insisted on picking me up and driving me home, which probably rescued me from hypothermia and got me home a good 3 hours faster than the TTC would have. He stayed the night at my place. We were going to have brunch at his place on Saturday anyhow, so it worked-out well. He made me an amazing omelet and then we headed out in search of cupcakes and bow ties. Which just plain makes me smile.
He needed a bow tie for his costume as an old-school press photographer. And the cupcakes.... just because cupcakes rock.
He never did get a bow tie, but we shared a dozen mini-cupcakes on the beach, watching waves, and petting dogs. Me in my full costume.
I highly recommend dressing like a male-on-male porn star and going to a dog-park. The dogs don't mind, 'cause they see your soul and wag their tails. Their owners... not-so-much.
Again though... fucking cold.
Not too long afterwards, we headed to The Guild Inn in Scarborough, which was beautiful. We walked among a huge collection of pieces from demolished structures, that are brought to this site for posterity. There are massive pillars, and arches and statues and such, made from cut stone and marble and the park just has a surreal "gorgeous graveyard" feeling to it.
PJ, being a skilled (and sought-after) photographer, took the opportunity to snap a few "in character" photos of me in my costume in some amazing surroundings. I climbed atop an 8-foot stone sculpted pillar and posed with stakes in hand and cape blowing. Incredible fun. I was a rock-star/superhero. ha!
This was my first "autumn walk" of the year, and I got to enjoy two of my favourite sounds: crashing waves and crunching leaves. PJ is playing a good game, considering how unavailable my heart is, and how quickly I threw the anchor off the boat at top speed, shortly after we met. His is a good soul. I care for him already. Though I'm not sure romance is in the cards. Like I said though, he's playing a good game. He's charming and gentle and has a great approach to life.
PJ, dropped me off at my best girlfriend's place, so she could do my makeup again. She was solely responsible for how readily I would wear mascara again just to turn boys heads. I didn't stay there long because I was late for dinner with "Poppycock" and "Meaty". I always smoke entirely too much pot around them, but hey, it was Halloween. We actually discussed a few favourite Halloween memories from childhood, and then their landlord joined us for a late dinner where the conversation strangely-enough turned to 4 year olds who poop their pants, not once, but twice. Meaning, twice the conversation went there. Not "double-load pants pooping". Good times.
I'll sum-up the rest of Saturday night quickly because it wasn't that interesting.
After dinner, I headed out to the village on my own. Strolled up and down Church street twice to see where things were happening and to enjoy the good costumes.
Lots of bare-flesh for such a cold night. But I think as Canadians, we forget that winter is not a sexy time, and a good cold snap makes outdoor lingerie a poor choice for Halloween.
This stroll up and down Church street was when I got the majority of my "great costume" comments, and a grope and lots of loving glances. It would be easy to become intoxicated by feeling that desired. (an interesting experience for me)
I went to a club that was having a "bear" night. That's the sub-category of homosexual culture that I fall into strictly based on stature and body/facial hair. The night is called "Pit Bull". The music and the crowd, are not my thing. Admittedly, I was kind of on the prowl for at least a little make-out action, and thought this place would be my safest bet. Wrong. After one drink and about half an hour waiting for a good song, I took off. The music really, really influences whether I can remain in a club and it just wasn't happening. I don't know why I bother going there in all honesty.
My fail-safe for good music is actually a lesbian bar called "Slacks". The DJ there is usually a "9 out of 10 songs are good songs" category DJ, with a sad penchant for the Black-Eyed Peas, which I forgive resentfully. I didn't even really get into the club on this evening though, because one of my favourite young guy friends "Sauce", texted me and wanted to know where I was and what I was up to. I have had a huge crush on Sauce for 3 years now. He's gorgeous. I'd rope the moon for him if he didn't have a boyfriend. But seeing as how he is 22, it's probably best that that never happens.
I waited in line til he got there, and we went in for a while, but he felt self-conscious because he didn't have a costume and he's not much of a club kid. So... we went for Chinese food. Sadly he called his boyfriend who brought along four very odd friends so the meal was a little awkward, but Sauce and I shared a cab ride home and enjoyed each others company. This was a late night.
Got home at 5 am, went to bed at 5:30 in full make-up like all the professionals, and slept til 10am when awakened by a call from "Pugs", my 59 year-old downstairs neighbour lady. I was an ass and ignored her call because she wanted me to take pictures of her dog in a devil costume, and I knew I could endeavor to get that done later on in the week when I wasn't running on fumes and crispy-fried shrimp. "Pugs" will make me pay for this neglect in some sulky Virgo way. I should call her today to make amends.
So yes, I was up at 10, and had a Skype date with "Lion" for an hour. He's in Spain, so it was late afternoon for him. He was looking all cute and chipper and practically jumping through the screen because he loved my beard being all dark from the makeup. "Lion" is my Spanish boyfriend. We had an incredible Spring romance while he was in Canada that I'll undoubtedly talk about another time. He always makes me happy.
Though, I crashed emotionally shortly after we spoke. I don't know if it was the pot or the alcohol catching up with me but I was a sad mess yesterday afternoon. Too much time to think about "Scooter". I spent the afternoon writing him an e-mail I'll never send him. That's my therapy.
At any rate, I decided I wasn't going to let the heaviness keep me home. I went to the tree house to meet up with Poppycock and Meaty again. From there, we went to "Ginger" and "Bert"'s place. Ginger was dressed as a viking, and Bert opted for a very classy impersonation of Queen Elizabeth. Poppycock and Meaty are in "new couple" mode. They didn't wear costumes. Poppycock is one of my best friends and I really can't picture him in a costume.
The five of us decided to go down to Church street again. The city closes the street for Halloween every year because it's such a huge party-slash-spectacle. I highly recommend it. There are so many costumes and music, it's kind of like Pride without the spectators and vendors.
Bert became an attraction almost immediately. Who knew that so many people want nothing more than to have their picture taken with the Queen?? He was loving it though. There were people practically lining up just to pose with him. I became an unofficial escort for him because it was hard for him to walk in his shoes. Since I'd only met him once before, it seemed a strangely intimate thing to do for him to be walking by my side, on my arm. There were a few times when I had to take a reality break and stop treating him like I was paid to protect him. Not that heels in a sewer grate aren't a bonafide hazard for anyone, much-less someone who'd never dressed in drag before.
Poppycock and Meaty headed home early, as I knew they would. As much as I love PC, he doesn't have a "good times" constitution. The nest is always calling his name. I wasn't ready to go home, but I was really cold. So I accepted an invitation to go back up to Ginger and Bert's apartment. Not knowing either of them, I was a little awkward, but Ginger and I have fooled around before. He's seen me naked.
And Bert, being new to the city, doesn't have many friends here and he's quite warm and receptive to the possibility of friends wherever he goes. I saw it in the conversation we had last night while I was walking him around, when we first met after Labour Day at a housewarming party and in the lobby of their building where he engaged two drag queens in conversation. Best advice of the evening dispensed from a man in a dress.... "Avoid boys in their 20's. I mean, you can Fuck 'em. But don't let 'em anywhere near your heart."
Where was this drag queen 2 years ago before I met Scooter?
I also noticed Bert has a rapport with the doorman of their building. And I think it's a good sign of character when someone speaks with respect and familiarity to someone who works where they live. I had a bit of a lengthy conversation with the doorman while we waited for 2 friends of the drag queens to see them as a complete troupe.
The doorman is an expatriated soldier from Afghanistan who fought for the "bad guys" for 9 years and gave it up to escape war altogether. He's been in Canada for 2 and a half months and can't believe his own luck that he's working in an apartment lobby in downtown Toronto.
That makes me smile too. We never know how good we've got it, til we meet someone who's grateful to do a job most of us would consider "beneath" our aspirations.
"Ginger" and "Bert" had originally asked me up to go in their hot tub, but I opted just to bundle-up and talk to them while they indulged in a dip. Bert's had one helluva life over the past 3 years. My heart went out to him. We really connected.
Post hot tub, we went back to their apartment and watched "House of Wax" on TV. An appropriate movie for Halloween night on many campy, gory levels. Bert had been commenting about my pants all night, so I let him try them on. Yes, I stood in my underwear in the living room of 2 practical strangers while one of them cooed over how nice my leather pants felt. Isn't being gay, free-spirited?
Song of the day... you might not like this one. New Dragonette. It's called "Animale" and I'd say it's risky business. Certainly not the propulsive, radio-friendly stuff they're known for. But I love the "datsik dubstep" remix. It's unusual. Makes me wanna grind. : ) No lyrics I could find. But I love the lines "Scratch at the door, your name is not on the list, go on n' show 'em your fangs, what kind of jungle is this?"
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