On the Verge of...

The Summer of Letting Go

2009-09-01T17:35:00.001-04:00

The summer is officially (almost) over. And I’m still standing. I’m more surprised than anyone.

At the beginning of July, I decided to brand this “The Summer of Letting Go” for multiple reasons, which I will list here.

* Letting go of a job I’ve had for nearly 4 years.

It was a perfectly timed ending to a long chapter of a very long book. Towards the end, it seemed as though I was living The Color Purple if it was set on the Titanic. Now that I’ve made it safely off the sinking ship, it’s onto a novel that hopefully will develop into something epic.

I’m about 2 months into my new gig and it’s going very well. There’s no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision. I feel very lucky to have stumbled upon this opportunity, and this is coming from a self-proclaimed unlucky guy.

* Letting go of a friendship that had expired.

I should have seen it coming back in November, and the better part of me did. At this point, the whole thing still seems like a blur. But luckily I have a great support system that acts as both my friends and family. I look forward to bigger and better things with them by my side, both figuratively and literally.

* Letting go of the possibility of (me) maintaining a healthy LTR in the near future.

Of course I say this now, not knowing whom I may meet around the next corner or on tomorrow’s train ride to work. But I’ve come to terms with the facts about my lack of emotional capacity where men are concerned. My next step is to work on better communicating that capacity, or lack thereof, with the men I come in close contact with.

But most importantly…

* Just letting go and having the best time of my life.

Speaking of, two week ago was Carnival week in Ptown and my virgin experience was amazing. The stories were in abundant supply.

Here are a few of my favorites:

• Indulging multiple couples looking for gay-cation threesomes in an effort to revive their fading relationships.
• Being locked out of 25 Winthrop twice and climbing through the window. Twice. Different window each time.
• Mama Fratelli wanting to fix everyone a sandwich in her sketchy motel room, when all we wanted was some pre-parade vodka.
• The tranny aftermath of tagging photos of friends that aren’t prepared for the rest of their world to discover what they were up to on Cape Cod.

And now it’s time for yours truly to turn another year wiser. Or at least a year older. Whatever. We’ll see how I feel tomorrow.

The fall means positive thoughts of cooler weather, negative thoughts of making it home to see the family and horrible thoughts of the dead cold that is to follow.

But for now, the impending birthday has me contemplating life, lust and the pursuit of a little peculiar thing called happiness.

How would I describe myself at 27?

* A jaded New Yorker, completely devoid of a sense of wonder. Is this what making it looks like? I didn't move the NYC over five years ago to make a name for myself, so why am I here? I wouldn’t know. I’ve become too lazy to care.

* A single, gay man who doesn’t run in packs and is ultimately better off alone. A huge (emotionally bankrupt) part of me has given up on love. On finding a match. A true, supernatural, unexplainable match. I'm over the whole idea of finding someone that holds my attention and also gets me.

Synopsis: I have a great job, a great apartment, but no steady man to call my own. I’ve become a firm believer that you can’t have it all. At least not all at once. But 2 out of 3 ain't half bad. It's 1/3 bad.

Tough love: I’ve become incredibly lazy, especially about my future. I need to start ACTING, and not in the bartend-on-the-side kind of way. I mean in the get-up-off-your-ass-and-do-something kind of way.

It’s funny how your mindset evolves over the years.

Right out of college, this was my favorite quote:

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.”

- Henry David Thoreau

At 27, this have become my new favorite:

“Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark. In the hopeless swamps of the not quite, the not yet, and the not at all, do not let the hero in your soul perish and leave only frustration for the life you deserved, but never have been able to reach. The world you desire can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours.”

- Ayn Rand in Atlas Shrugged

Some dreams have been realized, and them some are waiting for me in a world I haven’t reached yet. Meanwhile, the vodka will limit the frustration and my friends will light my fire.

It can only get better from here.

Cheers to 27!

Self-Awareness is a Gift & a Curse

2009-04-24T15:54:00.001-04:00

Go here to take the personality test that gave me the results below. Not profound, but still interesting!

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Disorder:	High
Schizoid Disorder:	Moderate
Schizotypal Disorder:	Moderate
Antisocial Disorder:	High
Borderline Disorder:	Low
Histrionic Disorder:	Low
Narcissistic Disorder:	High
Avoidant Disorder:	High
Dependent Disorder:	Low
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	Moderate
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! -- -- Personality Disorders --

Another Anniversary Comes (Out) & Goes

2009-04-02T10:42:00.000-04:00

I wrote this long, melodramatic monologue while I was down south last month. It’s taken me this long to put it all together. And I thought it was fitting to post something on April 2nd, which is my coming-out anniversary (yes, I must be big on anniversaries).

Here it goes…

The past few months (& years) have taken a lot out of me, and I’m just now realizing how big that lot has become.

I’ve discovered an overwhelming amount of negative programming due to trauma, caused by what I’m not exactly sure. No matter what the source, my head is a landfill filled to the brim with negative thoughts about myself as well as the world around me. And the negative aura I’m giving off is toxic. How the hell do I recover from this?

A mix of narcissism and self-loathing, I’m highly neurotic and disillusioned. I’ve become disenchanted with the image I see in the mirror and myself as a whole. I’ve lost my identity and have been self destructive for some time now.

Evolution is necessary and that necessary change requires action. Action is most often the only antidote for overcoming fear & doubt, burning through confusion, and changing habits.

In the words of James Morrison, you can’t play on broken string, and this past week was the beginning of my attempt to repair the strings I can fix and replace the ones I can’t.

So, what steps did I take to begin decompressing?

1. Reflect: Never let the world get too small – Being back in Bama, sorting through all my college & high school memorabilia (mostly in prep for my 10-year high school reunion next March), has allowed me the opportunity to reflect on how far I’ve come in the past 5 – 6 years, and more importantly, how far I have left to go.

2. Relax: You can only take so much before you turn into stone – Being away from Fantasy Island allowed me the chance to breathe some fresh air and decompress from the stoic state I had found myself in.

3. Release: We all have history we have to overcome – After taking the time to unwind, I believe I was able to release some of the negative energy & stress that had been keeping me from reaching my full potential in every arena of my life.

4. Repair/Replace/Reinvent: Change requires action – Some things are worth fixing; others are not and need to be replaced. Every action I take moving forward and every choice I make along the way will determine the levels of my happiness and my success.

Here are some realizations on career/location & love/lust that I had while I was away:

Career/Location – Maybe I’m having trouble coming up with something else to do and somewhere else to live because I’m doing what and living where I should be. This is quite possible. I do believe I need a change of venue/scenery as far as work is concerned, but I know that I’m not far from the mark in my career path. Could event planning be in my future? Maybe. Could some kind of content production be a good fit? Possibly. But for now, I feel as safe as one can feel in the current economic climate, and for that I’m thankful. My employment status could change tomorrow, but today I’m doing okay and okay will have to do for now.

Lust/Love – My ideal guy is most likely not out at a bar/club night after night. And I’ve finally accepted that my “going out to meet guys” days are over, at least for now. My lack of “luck” in the past few months makes perfect sense. I’m in a weird place as far as what I’m looking for in love/lust. I’m tired of random hookups, but have no interest in settling down with a life partner. This sucks for my sex life, but is best for my mental life. In the words of Cornfed, I’m sure my “bumper crop” will be worth the wait!

So there you have it!

I feel like I’m growing (up), or at least evolving in the best way possible. And that makes me excited about the future.

On an anniversary-related note, I need to post some pics of my 5-year NYC Anniversary Party I had at my place on the 21st of March. Stay tuned.

xoxo

5 Years & Counting

2009-03-24T18:27:00.003-04:00

This past weekend (officially Monday, 3/23) I celebrated my 5-Year NYC Anniversary!

An excerpt from my latest NYC scrapbook, "DWM in NYC: Years 4 & 5":

What’s Next? / Why NYC?

Why do people move here? Some to escape, some to hide, some to blossom, some to dream, some to compete, some to succeed, and many to find love. My two main objectives were to escape from my conservative Southern roots and blossom as much as humanly possible. In the words of Brian Kinney, I moved here to become the best homosexual I can be. And by pursuing my dreams in this competitive landscape I feel as though I have in some ways succeeded.

Why do people stay? We stay because to not “succeed”, for the moment, is merely to lose the battle; to leave is to lose the war. And although I don’t believe the man of my dreams resides on this island, or even in this city of nearly 10 million (1 million of which are likely homosexual), I believe that he may some day in the future live here or be passing through and cross my path. And that’s something to look forward to.

Why do I want to be here right now? Because I don’t want to be there (Mobile) or anywhere else; because the air here is dense with both smothering smog and unrivaled electricity; because the people, no matter how fucked up they are, make me smile on a daily basis; because I can still not see myself living in another American city; because I’m not ready to leave the states, and I’m afraid that my next geographical move will have to involve crossing an ocean. In a way, I am hiding from some things that lie outside of this city, but I’ve found a home in NYC. And to hide in my own home is a privilege I believe I have earned.

Gotta Love The Leak

2009-03-03T16:32:00.003-05:00

The old Kelly Clarkson is back, and the new album (All I Ever Wanted) is everything a hardcore KC fan could want or ask for.

Step 1:

Listen to my current favorite song on the album (Already Gone):

Step 2:

Go to VH1 to hear the whole thing before it's release on 3/10:

The Leak

New addictions like this are ones we can be proud of.

Sigh.

Lyrics to Already Gone below:

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories, they're haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye
Even with our fists held high, yeah
Never would have worked out right, yeah
We were never meant for do or die

I didn't want us to burn out
I didn't come here to hurt you now
I can't stop

I want you to know
That it doesn't matter
Where we take this road
Someone's gotta go
And I want you to know
You couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on
So I'm already gone

Looking at you makes it harder
But I know that you'll find another
That doesn't always make you wanna cry
Started with a perfect kiss
Then we could feel the poison set in
Perfect couldn't keep this love alive
You know that I love you so
I love you enough to let you go

I want you to know
That it doesn't matter
Where we take this road
Someone's gotta go
And I want you to know
You couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on
So I'm already gone

I'm already gone
I'm already gone
You can't make it feel right
When you know that its wrong
I'm already gone
Already gone
There's no moving on
So I'm already gone

DLB Made Me Cry: And It's the Good Kind

2009-02-24T10:40:00.007-05:00

The only personal consolation I've found during this strange time that I'm going through is my newly-found ability to cry.

This was a repeat offender (I had to rewind the DVR to watch it again just to make sure the first cry wasn't a fluke).

Dustin Lance Black's powerful Oscar acceptance speech:

"I heard the story of Harvey Milk and it gave me hope. It gave me the hope to live my life openly as who I am, and that one day I could even fall in love and get married.

I want to thank my mom, who has always loved me for who I am even when there was pressure not to.

But most of all, if Harvey had not been taken from us 30 years ago, (queue waterworks) I think he would want me to say to all of the gay and lesbian kids out there tonight who have been told that they are less than by their churches, or by the government, or by their families, that you are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value, and that no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you and that very soon I promise you, you will have equal rights federally across this great nation of ours.

Thank you and thank you God for giving us Harvey Milk."

Dustin Lance Black, will you marry me?! I love you for this.

My Dick Detox: The First 100 Days

2009-01-29T13:55:00.003-05:00

I prefer the word detox to drought, seeing as detox makes it sound like I have some control over the matter, while drought makes it sound like something bigger than me is keeping the dick out of my mouth and ass for a reason unknown to me.

When it comes to frequency of sexual encounters, “normal” (according to SATC wisdom) is halfway between WHAT YOU WANT and WHAT YOU CAN GET. I can’t seem to get laid, and I don’t seem to want to, so I guess this drought, I mean detox, is normal. And the detox seems to be going well in terms of affording me time to tear down some of the wall I’ve built up over the years. I still have a great deal of work to do before the people of East Berlin are allowed over without being shot, but with my own Ronald Reagan’s help I will get there. I’m not sure who Mr. Gorbachev is in my case, but I desperately need him to TEAR DOWN THIS WALL!

I’m afraid the groundhog has peaked out of his burrow to be scared shitless by his lingering shadow, but that simply means the quiet growth will take a while longer to manifest itself. I must admit this winter of discontent is quite intense. Everything feels dead, and if it’s only sleeping I can’t seem to remember what alive feels like. It may take six more weeks or it may take six more months, but the new season and new life will eventually come. I have to believe that.

Since the beginning of November, I’ve been recovering from my second real romantic relationship and it’s turned into arguably the messiest thing I’ve ever tried to clean up. I’m also left asking myself a very difficult question. Why would I ever want to go through this again? Why would I ever welcome the excruciating pain that comes with hurting another human being that I deeply care for? The answer is easy, but not easy to come to terms with. Because without taking risks you go through life only experiencing what you know, which can become just as excruciatingly familiar and equally painful.

If I’m being honest with myself, these past three months have felt more like a drought than a detox. Equal parts insecurity and indifference; too much animosity and anger; not enough direction and focus.

Where the drought is concerned, is it that the universe finally “gets me” and it’s in my corner by keeping me out of commission, or is it that the universe is cruelly punishing me for years of poor choices? I do still believe there’s a reason for everything, but I hate the thought of that reason taking so long to reveal itself.

There’s a lot to be said for staying out of trouble. And in my case, even more to be said for keeping trouble out of me.

If it’s nothing else, these 100+ days are serving as a chance for me to refresh my sexual outlook and my attitude toward the same sex in general. My hope is that I will make smarter choices in the future, in my life and in my bed.

Cheers to the big D!

I Heart James Morrison!

2009-01-28T10:41:00.002-05:00

Love, love, love. Add Nelly Furtado and I say THREESOME!

You can't play on broken strings
You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel
I can't tell you something that ain't real

A-MAZING.

Check it.

Obamanation ‘09

2009-01-27T19:39:00.015-05:00

I had the incredible of opportunity to spend the greater part of last week in our nation's capital enjoying the big party that comes every 4 years.

However, the vast majority of Americans I was celebrating with hadn't partied like this since 1996, or possibly ever. So you can only imagine the brand of euphoric energy that was in abundance in the 202 area code. And it most likely will be lingering for many weeks to come.

The whole trip was definitely one of the most surreal (dare I say emotional/touching) experiences of my life thus far.

Since I'm not a huge (or even small) fan of the District during a normal week of mundane political drivel, this was the perfect chance to visit without being bored/annoyed to tears. It seems like 9 or 10 lifetimes ago since I walked the hallowed halls of the Capitol building as a Republican page for the House. Oh, how far I’ve come!

This time JK and I stayed will a lovely older gay couple, one of the two being JK’s godfather. They generously opened their basement to us and they could not have been more hospitable. Meanwhile, you could definitely feel the welcome arms of a city that has been awaiting a new resident at 1600 Pennsylvania for some time now.

Cheers to Obama and his first one hundred days. May they be as productive and successful as my attempt to make this year better than 2008.

True Love Waits…

2009-01-02T11:41:00.004-05:00

…for no man! It’s ironic then that so many people spend so much time waiting around for love.

On New Year's Eve I accompanied MJ to the wedding ceremony and reception of one of his dearest friends from back in his Emerson glory days, and was reminded of something as I looked down the aisle of a beautiful church in Hoboken.

True love may be hard to find, but it is never hard to see. I can’t remember the last wedding I attended, understandably due to my diminishing number of straight friends. And I can’t say most straight people amuse me any more than watching paint dry. But I do know true love when I see it, and Keith and Kim are the real deal; the authentic agape. That’s why I’m not ashamed to say I teared up during the “giving consent” portion of the ceremony. This was also my first traditional catholic wedding, so that I was touched amongst the confusion and ups and downs is truly remarkable.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been quite as easy to feel the passion that was radiating from the happy couple if I hadn’t had the opportunity to hang out with them a couple times, but I would find it hard to believe that any random parishioner in that church couldn’t feel it as well. Even if it didn’t move them like it did this cold-hearted bastard.

On to the reception, while battling temperatures in the teens and both a wind chill factor and blood alcohol level of zero. The Chart House is quite a charmer. I’d say it was the perfect place to celebrate the nuptials, and even better on the most celebratory night of the year. The view across the Hudson was mesmerizing even to this jaded queen. However, the circus of dancing breeders had me briefly missing the gay ole times that were being had back in Chelsea. I must say the commotion on that dance floor briefly had me consdiering standing behind the passage of Prop 8! But then I got to thinking that a reception full of mo’s would leave nothing to be desired, and certainly nothing to the imagination. So I say take it back; the proposition that is.

But alas, I must wait for true love to find me because I’m sure as hell not going looking for it any time soon. And I won’t be exactly waiting for it when it comes, so I guess there’s always a chance it could pass me by.

But if my theory is true and true love is in fact impossible to miss, I shouldn’t have any problem lassoing the guy who makes me look at him like Keith looks at his lovely bride Kim.

Cheers to love. I may feel slightly incapable of some forms of it, but I know with all my heart that a transcendent love does exist in this fucked up world we’re living in.

2008 to 2009: The State of the Union

2008-12-30T17:18:00.002-05:00

Do you ever feel like you’re hiding out? That’s how I often feel about my tenure here on this island. The purpose of me being here seems to have escaped me, and I’m left with little more than a somewhat interesting story.

Why do I feel like my story has already ended and been told by someone other than myself? Why does the history book on the shelf seem to keep repeating itself?

Growing older has to mean something more than aging. If I’m not getting better and wiser, what is the point of all this, right?

I’ve decided I have to change the way I look at things entirely. I’m not talking about changing my way of life (at least not at first), but rather the way I do things.

A change has to come, but contrary to popular belief it is not inevitable. That’s where I must come in. What am I waiting for? I don’t know, but I have an idea the answer is nothing at all.

My current state leaves me confused by my decisions and unsatisfied with my condition. I maintain a decent existence, keep a bearable perspective and possess an unforeseeable future. I’m somewhere between being lost and being found.

I’m in need of something unexpected. Unfortunately not much surprises me these days.

Before I talk about things I CAN change, there are some things that are more than likely to stay the same.

For instance, my commitment issues and single status aren’t going anywhere in my current state of reality. Another year of unrequited love as a confirmed bachelor was not a surprise for me. And now I’m convinced of the need to have a “Do Not Enter Winter” (my newest phrase). But how long before the absence of the weight of a man is more crushing than the weight itself? The truth is I’ve lost faith in the exhausting process, in the volatile game that most gay men play. The library card in my pants is worn out and I feel the need for a sticker that says “Burn Before Reading”.

Another example of something that I can NOT change is my current path at work. The story of the agency I work at in relation to the brand I work on is far more interesting than the relationship between me and the agency. They are both deep stories of evolution, but my perspective has been compromised beyond recognition. I have got to move on before I begin to experience the law of diminishing returns. I have given much of myself, and I must take the education somewhere else in hopes of getting the compensation and reciprocation of respect and loyalty that I deserve. My absence would currently still be felt, and they need to start feeling it soon.

Now for the good stuff.

Things I CAN change (aka things I want for myself) in 2009:

* I want a new job where I make at least half the salary I think I deserve, so I can begin to build the full life that I can still only imagine.
* I want to get in shape physically, so I will be healthier and have more energy to do things I’ve never done before.
* I want to back away from the mirror, whose reflection I have fallen in love with; meanwhile reinvent myself so that the next time I look into that mirror the reflection will be more worthy of my love and affection.

Basically, I want to take better care of myself overall, while taking advantage of the perks that living in the greatest city in the world affords me. I must continue to acknowledge that my destiny may lie far beyond these city limits. But for now, I know that I haven’t used this city like it has used me. And it has not seen the last of me yet.

The mediocrity within me that I’ve been tolerating has been silent, yet toxic. I feel like I’m still standing strong, but I’m afraid I might be slowing sinking.

Here’s to another year, but to a different story; one that not even I could write or fathom at this moment in time.

To 2009. May it bring a hell of a curve ball that I am prepared to get under. Balls to the wall!

Cheers.

DWM

Best of Craigslist > New York

2008-12-12T13:27:00.003-05:00

Click here to laugh your ass off.

Here is one of my favorites:

Fingered on the RED line - Columbia University - w4m

Hi!

We were on the RED local line, I got on at 14th Street, you were already on the train. I got off at Columbia University 116th. Around 5PM. It was very crowded and you were behind me. We talked awkardly while you were still behind my back, pushed into each other. I told you I hate being an undergrad, we connected. You ended up fingering me while no one else was noticing. I didn't get your full e-mail. If you see this, let me know. I hope you do! I miss you.

I didn't get you FULL email. Brilliant! :)

We Call It Straight-ar!

2008-12-12T13:04:00.003-05:00

Love is Love, and I LOVE this short film. Brilliant!

I'm Thankful For...

2008-12-01T21:50:00.002-05:00

…friends who are present when I need them to be, and absent when I want them to be. And for the forgiving cocktails that so quickly and effortlessly erase the time we spend apart.

…a family that attempts to love (the real) me in spite of my (homo) sexual orientation and (“alternative”) lifestyle choices, which go against their entire (religious) belief system. The incapability of certain kinds of love and failure to acknowledge what I do not believe in is something I’m grossly familiar with.

…NYC for being the setting for this so-called life I lead.

…a universe that helped me develop my dream (which included living here) and saw fit to make this dream come true. At least the powers that be got the location right! The more ideal plot line will hopefully follow.

…an apartment that allows me to keep living in the only city I could imagine living in at this point in my life.

…my job for not being completely unbearable in a time when finding a new one seems impossible.

…my cynicism and sarcasm for getting me through the hard times, and my brutal candor for keeping the good times real.

I feel like my life can only get better from here on out.

In the words of one of the "History Boys,"

"I’m not happy, but I’m not unhappy about it. "

...and for THAT I'm extremely thankful!

Agree & Commit.

2008-10-17T18:23:00.001-04:00

Negotiations take time. Trust is not built in a day, a week, or even a month. Sometimes it takes nine months; nine long months to prepare yourself for the most important verbal agreement you’ve ever made in your relational life. Or at least it seems that important due to the intense complications that have accompanied the relationship from its conception.

Let’s go back almost 11 months to Thanksgiving 2007. Mercury was in retrograde and I was in for a huge surprise. Most people had escaped for the long weekend, but I had stayed behind to spend some much-needed quality time with the City. Thanksgiving night found me at Splash, meeting up with friends for a fun-filled night of holiday mayhem. I found myself leaning up against the bar. A gentleman with dark features walked confidently across the empty dance floor in a red leather jacket, apparently a guest of my friend JMS. I didn’t think much of the guy due to his guest status, and apparent unavailability.

The night (and the group’s need for adventure) led us to Escuelita, the gay club in Manhattan catering to the Latino (read: ethnic) set. JMS & I were so busy being our drunk selves and trying to pawn his roommate off on the “new guy” that I didn’t realize what a doll this guy really was until weeks later.

The next 9 months are a blur of drinking, debauchery and random hookups with the “new guy” that became less random and more perpetual as time went on. I, being the hard ass/heart guy that I am, thought very little into the emotional relationship that was forming between me and the guy that I was originally introduced to as having a 5-day internship with Conde Nast (before securing a permanent position at a children’s publishing company). Before either of us knew it, we were the best of friends and spending insane amounts of time together, especially considering our status as (geographic) New Yorkers.

Perhaps our geographic location was the factor working most in our favor. After living across the Hudson with his ex-boyfriend for the first several months of his tenure in the big city, he found a nice little studio in the heart of the LES (a 5 to 10 minute walk from my place). After securing his new digs in late January, a question came to my mind – where relationships are concerned, how does geographic proximity relate to the level of emotional closeness (and remoteness)? I was seeing MJ at least two or three times a week, a gluttonous amount by even suburban standards.

Many of my previous big city relationships have come to an end over (not much more than) me not wanting to take the same subway ride on a regular basis. Public transportation and relationships are not a good mix, at least not in my experience. So MJ and I had the close proximity, the great small talk and the stellar sex (yes I’m leaving those details out for now), so what was standing in our way from having something official?

Well, sometimes greatness needs a nudge. The same goes for great relationships. Unfortunately, the nudge that I needed didn’t come until it was almost too late.

Mine and MJ’s friendship was going really well when I met RC in April. I obviously felt the need to separate the friendship MJ & I were developing from the sexual life I was trying to maintain away from my friends. The RC romance started with a Manhunt one-night stand and ended up lasting 2 short months (my all-too-familiar one-month-in-one-month-out routine).

Then the summer happened. Pride happened. Montreal happened. The family vacation happened. A lot of things and nothing at all happened from June to August. I was still a content resident of Singles World at the end of summer, and MJ was seemingly still struggling with our friends-with-benefits status. I decided to forego a planned (plane ticket purchased) late-August trip to Chicago in order to give our rocky relationship time to breathe. He went alone and I was left alone to figure out my shit.

Meanwhile all the veiled drama was going on between the two of us, MJ was courageously trying to start a new love/lust endeavor with a younger guy named V. Brooklyn V was young and sweet, while at the same time being edgy and intriguing. He commanded attention, and had MJ’s (divided as it might have been). Things were going so well between the two of them, that going into Chicago I thought MJ had move on, or at least was ready to. I was left thinking –

“I had my chance. I made my choice. I’m apparently no longer so damn irresistible! I said no. He moved on. As he should have.”

I was feeling like MJ had stolen my mojo, but he was actually only holding on to it for me until I knew what to do with it. And it’s probably more fair to say I gave it to him in the first place.

Skip to post-Chicago, and I’m suddenly ready to take the plunge. What changed? Why the change of heart? I’m not sure at what point it clicked, but it did, and with that click came a peace of mind and confidence that cannot be explained.

On September 9 it became official. I have a boyfriend. The ball and chain is on, but for some reason I don’t mind. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like a weight at all. And if there is a chain, it’s light and loose enough to allow my skin to breath.

Here’s what I’ve concluded so far. I prefer camaraderie to commitment. Always have. But somehow the mix of camaraderie and commitment works with MJ and me, probably because the camaraderie was strong first, and then the commitment followed. Fortunately the commitment doesn’t feel like obligation and the camaraderie has always been slightly outside of the box. Our relationship allows us to be our own people and respect each other’s time, space and personalities. It requires an open line of communication and doesn’t accept the bullshit that so often creeps in on relationships. And let’s be honest, it’s easy to stay faithful when the thought of hurting the other person is unbearable.

Semper Fidelis.

That’s Latin for “always faithful”. The Marines use it and so do I. It helps me remember that this relationship is bigger than me, and it’s bigger than us. There’s a bigger picture, and I’m glad MJ and I are part of the same one.

I Am Not That Young Anymore

2008-09-24T10:57:00.001-04:00

There comes a time when the intrigue falls away & all you are left with is a recurring character in a life that you’ve made for yourself. My current recurring character is the city of New York, and the time has come for me to CONSIDER options other than this overpaid (and sometimes slightly overrated) actor. I’ve realized that by removing other options from my short list I’ve limited myself.

The cruel truth is that I’ve been falling out of love with the City for the past couple of years now, but I haven’t yet admitted that it might soon be time for a progressive migration (read: exodus). A wise man (last name Camus) once said, “One recognizes one’s course by discovering the paths that stray away from it.”

Question to self:

Could this whole New York “phase” now be considered little more than a distraction from the life I’m meant to have?

As much as I can’t see myself anywhere else, I’m day by day growing more and more doubtful that I can see myself here for much longer.

Magnetism can be powerful…and tricky. I was drawn here out of a n intense desperation, and from the beginning I got wrapped up in the romance of it all. I was overpowered by the false promises the city made me, but realistically couldn’t keep. And eventually I fell into a self-destructive pattern that will continue to repeat itself if I don’t work to break it.

Part of me feels defeated, but this is not a story of defeat. It’s a story about reaching that pivotal moment when the fantasy life I once imagined for myself in New York no longer seems attainable or attractive, or simply no longer seems worth the exhausting chase. This is the story of a person, not pulled to one city or another by familial obligation or job relocation, but rather by some grander idea of who they are and where they might best fit.

I’ve asked myself if maybe I’ve over-stayed my welcome. Maybe the city is tired of investing in me and seeing limited ROI. And just like I’ve never believed in the One in love, I no longer believe in the One in life. New York can’t satisfy me for life and maybe we’re both needing more.

When I take a step back and I look at the City, I realize that I was never meant to be the center of the universe. That makes it easier to shift my global position without feeling like there are deeper implications than there truly are. I’ve tested myself against the stresses of this city and I may be stretched to my limit.

The problem is you can’t just leave New York. You have to QUIT New York. You have to admit to yourself and proclaim to the world that you’re packing it up, calling it a day, turning out the lights.

Enough about me. Let’s hear from someone else. The following is an edited excerpt of Joan Didion’s “Goodbye to All That”, an essay about her decision to leave New York:

It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends. I can remember now, with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict, when New York began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended, can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact place on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was.

In retrospect it seems to me that those days before I knew the names of all the bridges were happier than the ones that came later, but perhaps you will see that as we go along. Part of what I want to tell you is what it is like to be young in New York, how six months can become eight years with the deceptive ease of a film dissolve, for that is how those years appear to me now, in a long sequence of sentimental dissolves and old-fashioned trick shots.

I knew that it would cost something sooner or later—because I did not belong there, did not come from there—but when you are twenty-two or twenty-three, you figure that later you will have a high emotional balance, and be able to pay whatever it costs. I still believed in possibilities then, still had the sense, so peculiar to New York, that something extraordinary would happen any minute, any day, any month.

Nothing was irrevocable; everything was within reach. Just around every corner lay something curious and interesting, something I had never before seen or done or known about. I could make promises to myself and to other people and there would be all the time in the world to keep them. I could stay up all night and make mistakes, and none of them would count.

Quite simply, I was in love with New York. I do not mean “love” in any colloquial way, I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and you never love anyone quite that way again.

I had come out of the West and reached the mirage.

I never told my father that I needed money because then he would have sent it, and I would never know if I could do it by myself. At that time making a living seemed a game to me, with arbitrary but quite inflexible rules. I never felt poor; I had the feeling that if I needed money I could always get it.

You see I was in a curious position in New York: it never occurred to me that I was living a real life there. In my imagination I was always there for just another few months, just until Christmas or Easter or the first warm day in May. For that reason I was most comfortable with the company of Southerners. They seemed to be in New York as I was, on some indefinitely extended leave from wherever they belonged, disciplined to consider the future, temporary exiles who always knew when the flights left for New Orleans or Memphis or Richmond or, in my case, California.

We were colonials in a far country.

I am not sure that it is possible for anyone brought up in the East to appreciate entirely what New York, the idea of New York, means to those of us who came out of the West and the South. But to those of us who came from places where no one had heard of Lester Lanin and Grand Central Station was a Saturday radio program, where Wall Street and Fifth Avenue and Madison Avenue were not places at all but abstractions, New York was no mere city. It was instead an infinitely romantic notion, the mysterious nexus of all love and money and power, the shining and perishable dream itself. To think of “living” there was to reduce the miraculous to the mundane; one does not “live” at Xanadu.

Some years passed, but I still did not lose that sense of wonder about New York. I began to cherish the loneliness of it, the sense that at any given time no one need know where I was or what I was doing.

That was the year, my twenty-eight, when I was discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and ever procrastination, every word, all of it.

You will have perceived by now that I was not one to profit by the experience of others, that it was a very long time indeed before I stopped believing in new faces and began to understand the lesson in that story, which was that it is distinctly possible to stay too long at the Fair.

I could not tell you when I began to understand that. All I know is that it was very bad when I was twenty-eight. Everything that was said to me I seemed to have heard before, and I could no longer listen.

I no longer had any interest in hearing about the advances other people had received from their publishers, about plays which were having second-act trouble in Philadelphia, or about people I would like very much if only I would come out and meet them. I had already met them, always.

All I mean is that I was very young in New York, and that at some point the golden rhythm was broken, and I am not that young anymore.

Leaving New York - REM

Here's the Proof.

2008-07-17T20:23:00.020-04:00

Rewind. This has been a great few weeks, mainly because most of it has been spent in the absence of reality. Let's work backwards.

The brilliant sunset on my flight back from Knoxville.

***Summer in the Smokies w/ the Fam***

Gorgeous foilage in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park.

Cherokee People. Cherokee Tribe. Shout out to Mikey D!

The bitch had wings.

The Trail of Tears bear.

Yes, he had a huge wigwam.

***Montreal w/ the Boston Bestie & Danny Boi***

Anorexia Petrova & Davita Deluxe

Le House Boy Bed & Breakfast

In the Cuzzi.

Gay Mural. Sleepy Fag.

Crazy Fag.

Le Douche

Spider Tranny

Cute Baby

Beginner Class: Twink Strippers

Advanced Class: Stud Strippers

Master Class: Bath House

***NYC Pride Weekend***

2nd Annual @ Pieces

So there you have it. It really happenned. I didn't make it all up.

I'm Baaaack...

2008-07-14T22:36:00.000-04:00

Written during the 24 hours leading up to my return to civilization:

It's a sad day when I would rather stay in the mountains of Pigeon Forge, Tennessee with the fam than to face the impending reality that awaits me on Fantasy Island. I feel I have nothing to go back to, except things that I would be better off without.

Unrealistically tight deadlines, way too many loose ends, unreturned calls & a full inbox; the reality of unpaid bills & ridiculous rent; missed connections, misplaced dreams, comatose hopes, nothing at all worth salvaging.

I am a mess. A mess with a very dim future! Nothing is waiting for me & nothing is left.
End quote.

Yes, I exaggerate in the most dramatic way possible. And I've been in one of my moods lately. But that's my right as a chemically unstable human homo. I've been misplaced from reality just long enough to hate what I see when I look back at it. Not that the suspended reality i've been floating along in is really any better, but at least it doesn't take itself so seriously.

Sitting in the Knoxville airport:

My holiday is over.
The angst is back.
I could rhyme here, but that would be both ambitious and pathetic. So I'll leave it at that...I'm making myself miserable and I'm not sure why. Yes, I understand I still owe the world pics from both Montreal and Tennessee. I'm working on it.

Young & restless,

DWM

C'est Mon Vie*

2008-07-07T23:02:00.002-04:00

Bonjour mon amies!

If you're wondering, Montreal was tres incredible! Nothing too crazy or ultimately life altering. Just lots of pure gay fun and deliciously impure implications. I'll jump right in like I usually do (pun intended for later). Wednesday night I hopped on the Megabus for my inagural voyage on the newish bus service. Megabus and percocets are totally the way to travel around the northeast! Fuck greyhound.

After a good night's sleep at Danny's pad, the BOS/NY trifecta were heading north, across the border, and checking into Le House Boy bed & bfast in the heart of Montreal's gay village. We were located a block away from rue du St Catherine, where the fags roam freely...and what unbelievably gorgeous fags they are!

They don't grow them the same in Quebec, and it definitely shows. Albeit, the majority of the drop dead gorgeous specimen seem to be strippers in one of the two well known butcher shops, Campus (for both the boy next door & twink connesieur) & Stock (for size queens and/or those of us with daddy issues), but that's just a minor detail. Beauty is beauty, no matter how ultimately inaccessible it is.

Thursday night was dinner at Saloon, where the servers are required to have asses that make even the most powerful of bottoms want to eat them out! The food was delicious too! After the strip club rounds, we called it an early first night.

Friday was amusement park day. La Ronde is a Six Flags park and was a great way to feed our need for thrills while keeping our clothes on. After a dip in the jacuzzi St our place and a nice nap, it was off to a forgetable dinner. We were having a difficult time getting motivated to go out, but once we were off the stories wrote themselves!

$20 gets you the man of your choice for one song, in a booth, where no one but the lap and the meat really knows how far the Queen Elizabeth was stretched! I picked Marco at Stock, who smelled like man, sex and heaven all wrapped in a 4 minute symphony. He heard I was a virgin to the booth, so he took it easy on me, but he was just hard (and smooth) enough to make that the best $20 spent on the trip. I really do love beautiful men.

Sufficiently horned up, we headed out to collect handstamps from Campus, Unity, and Parking, before quickly discovering it was 3am and time to head to the bathhouse. Oasis wasn't very crowded, which made it perfect for my debut! Before I knew it I was strattling a stallion in the jacuzzi, sticking my tongue down his throat, and following his tall, CHAUD ass into the sling chamber (one of the perks of being too cheap/pessimistic to rent a room for the extra $5). The voyeurs had a fieldday with us, from the sling, to the steam room, to the corner by the sofa machines, where we finally go our rocks off. Ironically, the stud cock was supposedly from NYC. A brief exchange on the way in between our two groups made him think I was from Boston. I didn't correct him and made the smart decision not to ask for his number. I mean, where does the relationship have to go when the majority of your first date was spent on a sling?! I'll settle for a hot hour and multiple encores in my fantasy life!

So that was the climax of my trip. I spent the resolution of my story trying not to spoil the whole thing. I have a great fear of the back-to-back disappointment. Saloon did a great job of satisfying both times, as did the gourmet pizza place on the corner next to Campus. I never have the same luck with men or clubs!

Things that aren't attractive about Montreal: the taxes, the taxes, the taxes! That's about it. Everything else makes me want to go back as soon as possible. I would stay at a different b&b, to keep it fresh, but I wouldn't change a thing otherwise.

Although reality is slowly creeping back into my system, it has little chance of surviving due to the impending family reunion (read:non-vacay) that begins in approx 48 hours. There's no doubt that work will be an extreme bitch every minute that I'm there this week, but looking toward Wednesday night is definitely going to help me through it.

This coming weekend will obviously be a beautiful juxtaposition to the one that has just ended. My Montreal mini-vacation was the perfect mix of relaxation and anonymous sex. Pigeon Forge will be an imperfect mix of sobriety and familial obligation. Isn't it fucked up that I'm looking forward to it? The home cooking and water park have a great deal to do with that. Not to mention the absence of a certain pre-adolecent bitch with red pigtails!

It may be the percocets I'm using to write this, but I really do love my life/vie! Now let me post this before I change my mind. Au revoir. Or until I get back from visiting Dolly. Xo

*Visual reference to come tomorrow.

When History Repeats Itself

2008-06-24T21:46:00.001-04:00

History unfortunately doesn’t age gracefully. The more times it is repeated, the lamer it grows to be and the more I hate myself for being a part of it. But shit happens, feeling take over, and you don’t know what else to do but to embrace the truth as you know it. Even if that truth is annoyingly familiar.

By now you can probably guess this is a post about my romantic life, or rather my inability to have one for an extended period of time. Nothing new here, so move along if you have better things to do and read.

Fact or Fiction? As a relationship develops and evolves, there’s not much you can do to curb the impending steam that comes when cold meets hot and passion meets companionship.

I have learned, and am continuing to learn, that I need the sizzle, the heat, the exhilarating newness and honest quality that does not come into a person’s life (or at least mine) very often.

It took over a year to bridge the gap between my first BF ever and my most recent (de facto) BF. Where men are concerned, I am a man of extremes; one-night stand for nothing or two-month fall for everything.

I would like to believe I grew a great deal in those many months I was on hiatus, where I didn’t have to worry about the next date or the talk that I may (or may not) need to have regarding taking (or not taking) the relationship to the next level (or last leg).

I wrote the following during the mental struggle that was the beginning of last week:
“I find myself here again, about to hurt someone whose only flaw is that they like me more that I like them. It sucks when the only problem is me.”

I obviously cared (and quite possibly still care) about this guy. If I didn’t care, it would have been a helluva lot easier than it was to do what I did. But if I'm being brutally honest, he didn't really have a chance. He was always on his way out. That sounds so much more horrible that I mean it to.

And it sounds like such a cop-out, but I can’t seem to change how I’m built. It's like I have some deadly, incurable disease I don't want to tell anyone about until I have them (read: him) under my spell and infected with my bullshit. It all sounds very sick, and is even more disturbing in my head.

But don’t I have the right to explore what feels right, even if those feelings are likely seasonal?

Am I at fault because I am not alone when the feelings originate?

Should I quarantine myself from the dating pool just because my actions might have a negative impact on the feelings of another person?

Don’t I have the right to rent what I cannot afford to buy? In the words of Dido, “I haven’t ever really found a place that I call home. I never stick around quite long enough to make it.” Maybe that’s the problem? Am I an inpatient dater? Do I bail at the very first hint of boredom? It’s possible.

I don’t like to think of myself as giving off a confusing first (or second) impression, but I’m sure I do. I don’t want “something more” until I do, and I want “something more” until I don’t anymore. I’m not an open book and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. But it doesn’t help when you’re trying to get to know someone better. Somewhere along the way, while my beau and I were trying to keep it simple and casual, it got complicated and confusing. He was trying not to scare me away, but it’s probably good to scare me away as soon as you think I’m worth scaring, and suffer the consequences sooner rather than latter.

Blah blah blah. So much for romance. Enough about serious stuff.

I’m getting ready for a blast of summer fun and a much needed escape from Fantasy Island.

This weekend is Gay Pride here in the city. Should be a blast, but I’m way more excited for…

7/3 – 7/7: An American Holiday in Canada

Montreal here I come. I’m a virgin, I probably won’t ever want to leave, and I’m tres looking forward to it.

7/10 – 7/14: Summer in the Smokies

Dolly’s Splash Country is calling my name. Water parks are a love of mine and it will be a great chance to see the fam in a neutral location (where Dolly is on my side)!

Hopefully the island can function without me while I’m away. I’m sure I’ll come back to a shitshow at work…that is if I come back at all.

Can’t wait to make stories and share them here. Stay tuned for that.

F.I.N.E.

2008-06-06T13:16:00.001-04:00

When asked on Jay Leno this week how her father was doing, Liv Tyler replied that her rocker father always says that he’s F.I.N.E. She said it stands for fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. I never knew Steven Tyler and I had so much in common!

F(ucked Up)
I(nsecure)
N(eurotic)
E(motional)

Story of my life.

Speaking of my life, here’s a professional life update…

So, I finally got a legitimate promotion worth talking about. Last week I was officially promoted to “Project Manager” at my agency. All that really means is I keep doing what I’ve been doing, while getting a much-needed 15% raise and a few more vacay days a year (the later due to my approaching 3-year anniversary with the concentration camp that allows me to have health insurance).

I’ve been thinking of leaving for a while, and the time is definitely drawing closer by the day. But I’d be an idiot to leave before finishing out the summer and taking the vacay days I’ve earned. From Montreal, to Tennessee, to Chicago…it’s going to be a fun summer with lost of stories to tell.

But before I go foreign, I have some local trouble to get into. This weekend is Mikey J’s show on Friday night (side note: BWC is in town from DC) and a Gay Pizza Party/Boozefest at my place on Saturday night (TWC is predicting temperatures 90+ degrees). And Pride is 3 weekends away. Can’t fucking wait.

On an unrelated note, here’s some stuff we’re watching:

Cheyenne Jackson topless. Need I say more?

The worst office freak out EVER!

Estelle - American Boy ft. Kanye West (Video)

Homeostasis is a Bitch

2008-05-13T21:36:00.002-04:00

Carrie B once said on SATC (yes, I’m anxiously awaiting the premiere) that in NYC (and in life in general), you’re always looking for at least one of the following: a job, an apartment, or a boyfriend.

With both the same apartment and job intact for about 3 years now, could it be that the universe has decided to shake it up a bit where the different arenas in my life are concerned?

Does this mean I can’t have it all?

Now I’m NOT saying I have a boyfriend, or even am CLOSE to having one (officially), but I would like to ask this question….

Why is it that once I’m seemingly doing better in the romantic arena (and possibly even happy with my current situation), my job seems to suck more than it has in quite some time.

In the words of my boy MJ, “it’s very premature for me to say that I’m happy in my romantic life. I will say that – at the moment - I feel like my life has a sudden sense of energy that it lacked.”

And I’ve been very restless at work this week. My days off made it extra difficult to wake up the past two days and commute to the place that unapologetically owns my soul. I am always at the mercies of the gods above me. And it doesn't help that these gods lack my respect due to (what seems like) a lifetime of ill-repute. I just wish I had the energy and mental stamina to look for something else right now. My annual review is coming up the end of this month, so we’ll see how I feel after they give me a pathetic raise and no incentive to stay.

Can I have it all? I certainly never have. I’m under the impression that I can…but it’s not easy. The more I am given, the more I have to work to maintain it; the more that is expected of me. For now I’ll maintain my job, and my apartment, and wait to see if the trifecta is, in fact, attainable.

My hopes, as always, are not up. But I’m strangely optimistic.

I Am Legend

2008-05-12T21:16:00.001-04:00

Not me, the movie. I finally saw it yesterday (lame, I know) On Demand. It was well worth the $5 I put into the slot machine. The whole theme of the movie was quite appropriate for the weekend I was wrapping up. I took Thursday and Friday off work (personal days) to do absolutely nothing, and it was amazing. I hibernated on Thursday, and then caught a movie (Smart People with SJP) and a museum (the New Museum on Bowery) solo on Friday. My much-needed time alone was nothing in comparison to Robert Neville’s (Will Smith) three years alone in Legend, but it (the film and my weekend) served to remind me of how important human interaction is in my (and everyone’s) life.

The basic plot (which obviously intrigues me or I wouldn’t be sharing with you):

After the spread of a lethal virus, Will Smith’s character (a U.S. Army virologist Lieutenant Colonel) is left (three years after the outbreak) fearing he may be the last healthy human in not only New York City, but possibly the entire world.

By the end of the first year following the infection, more than 90% of the planet's human population died; over 9% were infected, but did not die. The remaining 1% (around 6.7 million), were immune to the virus, but were hunted and killed by the infected, killed by fellow survivors or committed suicide due to isolation.

The isolation Neville experiences is broken only by the companionship of his dog Sam, interaction with mannequins he has set up as patrons of a video store, and recordings of old news and entertainment broadcasts. His attempts to facilitate the human interaction and reaction that he desperately missed and longed for (and fundamentally needed) struck a chord with me.

No matter how good you get at being alone, it will never make you feel as good as being part of a real human connection. As you might have gathered from my last sentence, my recent/current attempt to feel my feelings has been mildly successful. And I’ve learned that when you don’t allow yourself to feel for a while, it’s quite difficult to discern what you’re feeling when an emotion seeps through the cracks of the wall you have created. Needless to say, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.

I must say it feels good to feel again. I just wonder how long this phase is going to last. Surely it’s not permanent. As always, we shall see.

For the record…

Commentary on Smart People – SJP wasn’t very believable as the love interest of Dennis Quaid (who is looking ROUGH), but Ellen Page saved it with her great one-liners and portrayal of a Young Republican/over-achiever in suburban Pittsburgh. I guess Page, and Ashton Holmes, who plays her (cute, in the suburban kind of way) brother, was worth the $12.

Commentary on the New Museum – Amateurish. That’s all I got. It felt like parents night at my elementary school, without the HDs (hot dads). That $12 was ill-spent. Oh well, they tried. Well, at least I did.

What a Difference a Month Makes, Right?!

2008-05-08T16:46:00.000-04:00

What was to be a weekend in the city with my best friend in the world, has now turned into a long weekend of self-reflection due to a change in MSD’s plans. I’ve known for a few weeks, but couldn’t bring myself to give back the personal days off from work I had already secured. It seemed like a great chance to spend some quality time with myself, with the city, and away from the capitalist sandbox which takes so much out of me every week.

There have been quite a few developments since my last post. Never could I have predicted what good luck would be awaiting me around the dark and cynical corner. I’ve met someone...but I shall leave it at that. This blog has a history of getting me in trouble with people with which I am romantically involved. Not that it’s not good for an object of my affection to know exactly what I’m thinking; but it does hinder a relationship if the object learns about my feelings online before I have a chance to bring him up to speed. What I will say is that the past four weeks have been very pleasurable due to the current object of my (rarely-exhibited) affection. And just in time for summer!

It’s been quite some time (approximately 18 months) since I’ve felt the need to give in to my emotions. I’ve become known amongst my friends as being a hard-ass, with little interest for anything more that meaningless sex and one-to-two-night stands. But it doesn’t take long, once you start getting to know me, to realize that DWM is not impossible to crack. It just takes the right person(s) to crack me. And like anything else that gets cracked, it’s not long before the crack turns into a crevice, and the crevice turns the original entity into something else entirely.

I’m at a very exciting time in my life, or at least it seems like I am. I have a great apartment, an abundance of interesting friends, a new relationship that shows promise, an approaching three-year anniversary with my agency, not to mention that I still live in the greatest city in the world (no matter what Madonna might say)…

What a difference a month makes, right? It just shows you what a fresh human connection can do for the spirit of a human being. Oh, and the nicer weather helps! Don’t get used to this upbeat tone. I’ll probably be back down in the dumps before Memorial Day. Just sayin’ :)

Nope, That’s Not It!

2008-04-07T23:02:00.011-04:00

Welcome back, Anonymous! Still not showing your face (or name), but I get that. You’re afraid I might focus my negative energy toward just you instead of all the mother fuckers who think the same way as you. Way to play it!

My favorite quotes from the latest comments:

“He don't want you living the way you are living and will do what he has to do to bring you back home to Him.”

At least I know it’s not my sister, the English teacher/grammar Nazi.

“You need to get on your knees and ask God to forgive you for the way you have been living and the shame and grief you have put your parents through and you need to put Jesus back in the last chapters of your life because if alcohol and drugs don't get you THE DISEASE WILL. Where do you think you'll be after that big boy.......?”

Did you just tell me to get on my knees, scream at me and then call me big boy? I love foreplay!

Enough about all that…back to important things. Me, me…and me!

For a while now, I’ve been down on my job. The agency, the people, the process...all of it. But I’m beginning to realize that it’s not my job that’s the real problem. It’s what I’m doing outside of my job that’s really fucked up and out of sync. Don’t get me wrong, I probably would be better suited working somewhere else. But for now, I’m still not sure where that somewhere else is.

In my personal life, I seem to be at a loss for a first date (much less a second one). I used to joke about being better off alone, but more and more lately I’m feeling like it’s my destiny. I’ve seemed to have lost faith in the process, in the game, in the exhausting ways of the gay life I have chosen to lead. Yes, I say chosen because there are many levels of gay. I could have made the choice to stand right outside the closet with the door still ajar, but rather I have chosen to embrace the full extent of my intrinsic gayness and slam the closet door shut on my way to the head of the pride parade.

In regards to success and wealth, I’m not nearly the person I had hoped to be at twenty-five. Sadly I think that puts me in the majority, but that comforting ratio can't comfort me forever.

In regards to who the hell DWM is, I’ve come farther then most (including myself) could ever have predicted. And that means a lot.

Before the highlights, a tribute to Anonymous (captured by MJ in Hells Kitchen)...

Sorry, I rather do this instead...

Other highlights since I’ve last posted:

I had sex, multiple times (to make up for the drought)!

(insert mental pictures here)

I went home for my cousin’s wedding reception (yes, the Cha Cha slide was involved).

I got a new phone (Pearl), dropped it on the subway tracks and recovered it all in the same day.

BWC came into the city for Easter weekend (and before that MJ & I went to DC for Mardi Gras).

MJ & I took an overnight trip to AC (Atlantic City) to see Miss America 1984 Vanessa Williams in concert at Harrah's (we even stayed in the VW suite at the Sheraton)! ;)

And did I mention KBH is coming back? 4/12 baby! :)

That's it for now. I'm gonna go back to sipping on my Bartles & Jaymes and puffing on my Marlboro Lights. You're thinking, "Seriously?"...don't judge!

I Haven’t Had Sex In Some Time Now...

2008-03-02T22:10:00.002-05:00

…or posted anything on this damn thing. A text from a member of my past regarding the latter has forced me to further contemplate the former. The thoughts on these subjects have definitely been there, but absent has been the courage to compile them.

In life, I seem to be at a boiling point. The same people, places and things have been in the same pot for way too long, and it’s only a matter of days and weeks before they all overflow and drown me. I can keep trying to stir it, but it will never taste as good, smell as sweet, or look at promising as it used to.

I guess this drowning feeling comes with getting older. I’m only 25, but I feel like I’ve aged quite a bit over the past four years. I’ve managed to mature without growing up, and learn many things without putting most the lessons to good use.

Where sex is concerned, there was a time when it was easy. I was easy. The idea of getting into someone’s pants/bed used to not be accompanied by the thoughts of the impending consequences. Things like the possibility of an emotional connection, the need for a second impression, not to mention the latest strand of a disease that may or may not make its way into my bloodstream. It’s become more complicated in my mind. It’s more complicated altogether. I used to take it for granted, disrespect it, and do it to make myself feel better. The rules have changed in my head and I’m currently trying to beat the learning curve.

I’m ready for something new, dare I say something more. A distraction from my professional hell. A new infectious personality that will eventually be my demise. In writer terminology, I need a new chapter before my editor lets me go.

But in order to write that chapter, I need something or someone to shake me to my core. To make me think, act, and live differently. Maybe that’s the new job that awaits me, or maybe (just maybe) it’s the great guy I’ve yet to meet. I hope I find one or the other soon, because they obviously aren’t looking for me. I’ve been here a while now, and this island’s not that big.

May the sex withdrawals make me stronger, and the pending possibility tear me down.

At What Point...

2008-01-13T18:59:00.001-05:00

…did I turn into an emotionally shutdown, overly sarcastic, deeply disturbed human being? Did I mention immensely flawed and selfish?!

I’m not sure how all this came about, but I’m pretty sure I’m not a huge fan of this cold, cynical, blocked-off man that I’m seemingly evolving into. I could blame my self-diagnosis on nearly four years living in both the greatest and most emotionally trying city on the planet, but (per usual) I think it’s more about me (than the place I choose to call home).

The sarcasm is obviously me deflecting, diverting attention away from any real feelings that might seep out of my body, leaving me even the least bit vulnerable to reality. The Great Wall of China that I’ve successfully built around me is only going to serve to hurt me in the long run. Until I learn to manage both men and emotions, the title of “romantically challenged” (read: slut) will have to suffice.

The selfish party is probably the best part of my diagnosis, but that too could even survive a cutback.

My cynicism is only natural for a New Yorker, but it doesn’t allow time for much else. And it’s becoming increasingly difficult to mix my cynicism with a healthy romantic relationship with someone of the same sex.

Speaking of sex, I can’t remember the last time I had it sober. And that slightly disturbs me. On one hand, this means I haven’t had an online hookup in almost a year (a good thing). On the other, it scares me to think how much great sex I haven’t been able to remember due to my inebriation getting in the way.

Are meaningful sex and romance two things I’m just not incapable of? Nonsense, I know. But that’s what it feels like. It also feels like if I don’t have some of this romantic, meaningful sex soon, I might give up on it altogether.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ready to start making babies and get married (or is it vice versa?!), but someone to care about romantically could be good for my outlook on other aspects of this so-called life I’m trying my best to get in (and keep in) order.

I just have to keep in mind that the world isn’t out to get me, and neither is every guy that I have met or will meet in the future. Someone in that mix is destined to make their way into my bed AFTER they make their way into my heart.

At least here’s to hoping (for the first time in a while)…

Mikey’s D’s End-of-Year Visit to the Concrete Island I Call Home

2008-01-09T18:18:00.000-05:00

After a full week in a cabin with three Southern Baptists and only my flask to numb the pain, I was excited to be immediately submerged in a visit from my best-friend-in-the-world Michael (from P’cola, FL). He actually beat me into Laguardia by about four hours; just long enough for him to get a nice buzz going at Phoenix, while he waited for my sober ass to throw down my bags and take a short cab ride up to 13th & Ave A.

After a few cocktails, served up by the dyke bartender and her friends, the pre-party moved to Splash (don’t judge)! Of course the night wouldn’t have been complete without us running into two of my favorite C’s, Carlo & Carter (not to mention Mr. Shay who I MIGHT have made-out with on the dancefloor).

The Friday morning sun came way too soon, but we were able to conjure up the energy to trek to TKTS to get our hands on two Spring Awakening tickets for the 8pm performance. After securing the goods for $64/per, we headed south to another madhouse, Century 21. MSD picked up a scarf, I drooled over some Kenneth Cole slip-ons, and we headed back to my place just in time to chill for two seconds, freshen up, inhale some Chinese delivery, and do some tattoo research on our way to the theatre.

About Spring Awakening – can I just say that nothing since Aida has changed my world from the stage like this incredible piece of work. WERK! I have the soundtrack on constant replay and I can’t wait to see is (and that guy’s ass) again!

After taking in “The Bitch of Living”, we headed down the street to Therapy where we met up with CW before heading to the Ritz for some dirty dancing with some other locals that enjoy sweating on each other in confined spaces.

Saturday called for brunch at Sidewalk Café and a set of tattoos! Inkstop on Ave A is where we decided to put our money where our mouths were. No minimum. We walked right in. Oh, and the tattoo artist (which happened to be the owner of the place) was hot in a tatted up/dangerous kind of way.

After the painful damage was done (not before me needing Oreos to revive my hungover ass), we wandered around the EV & Soho (see pic below) until the time came when we needed to go home and change for the night’s festivities. Dinner was at Lips, an experience that is arguably not worth the money (the check for 3 ppl was $200), but was definitely a great time. Thanks for All Beef Patty for the great service!

After wrapping up dinner with Mikey D and the resident Mess (who’s should be on suicide watch), we headed to Posh, Therapy and (I think) Barrage to meet CW. I faintly remember paying $3 for a cocktail, so it might have been just a dream.

Sunday brunch proved to be quite telling, in that a 3pm reservation (organized by Carlo of course, and pictured below) turned into a 6-hour-plus booze fest that moved from the dark caverns of the Sunburnt Cow…to the slutty serenity of my apartment…to my old home at Verlaine. Sorry, Gary (the bartender), for the inappropriate display of genitalia. Don’t ask, ‘cause I don’t remember a thing. :)

The extended Sunday booze-fest with Carlo, Abe & the Nazis (featured above) proved to be detrimental to my Monday, seeing as I had to work the Project Management skeleton shift at the office until 3pm (on New Years Eve…crazy, I know!). I had the mega-shakes for most of the day, but MSD stopped by for lunch at Peep so that helped a bit.

NYE was reserved for a quiet dinner on Ave A and dancing with Tom & EJ at Rush (pics below), the seemingly revolutionized space previously preoccupied by Heaven and the twink set. I had a total blast celebratory-grinding with my bestie and one of my favorite couples in the world. I ended up taking home a loner and waking up with a splitting headache. Happy Fucking New Year!

I spent the first half of New Years Day wanting to die and the second half trying to get my life together. After Mikey D left for the airport (around 3), I was able to finally start cleaning up the mess that had been there since before I left for TN (you might here more on my trip down South later).

Overall, a NYC visit for the record books (or at least my next scrapbook)! Love you, Mikey D. Come back soon. XOXO

Cheers to MMVIII

2008-01-03T23:11:00.000-05:00

A new day. A new dawn. A new chance to fuck up a perfectly good year. And most likely I will. But cheers to trying not to do so in the first few weeks of 2008.

One of the best pieces of advice I received this past year came to me via a fortune cookie:

“Be not afraid of growing slowly; be afraid only of standing still.”

The truth is that I’m scared shitless of both. I’m scared that another 365 days are going to fly by without being able to see any significant progress in every arena in my life. At first glance, the theme of 2007 for me was LACK OF PROGRESS. It is sickening and nauseatingly pathetic, but maybe I just can’t see it…

Not that I didn’t make ANY progress in 2007, because I know I did. But the points of progress are very vague and seemingly insignificant when I look back over my double-o-seven. I guess personal evolution can sometimes be overshadowed by the lack of professional and financial progression.

And how are you supposed to define progress? Is it different for everyone, or is it just the rate that fluctuates from person to person?

Well, dictionary.com defines it like this…

prog•ress
noun (and verb)
1. a movement toward a goal or to a further or higher stage
2. advancement in general (v. to advance)
3. continuous improvement
4. growth or development (v. to grow or develop, as in complexity, scope, or severity)
5. the development of an individual or society in a direction considered more beneficial than and superior to the previous level
6. forward or onward movement
7. the forward course of action, events, time, etc. (v. to go forward or onward in space or time)
8. developmental activity in science, technology, etc., esp. with reference to the commercial opportunities created thereby or to the promotion of the material well-being of the public through the goods, techniques, or facilities created
9. increasing differentiation and perfection in the course of ontogeny or phylogeny (in biology)
10. an official journey or tour, as by a sovereign or dignitary

My continued inability to discern what I want out of life (and make progress, as I define it) has me stumped. I’m stuck in a holding pattern and the life traffic controller won’t give me clearance to land (read: I’ve been taxiing for years and haven’t been given clearance to take off).

“As tough as wanting something can be, the people who suffer the most are those who don’t know what they want.” – Grey’s Anatomy

It seems like I’m waiting for something, but I don’t seem to be looking out for it. Am I afraid of the next big thing? Could I actually be afraid of what I want? Could it possibly be any worse than what I’m living today?

Most times it’s easier to stick with the familiar. I’m currently living the definition of insanity. It’s only a matter of time before my beautiful routine turns into a nightmare of repetition and the insanity I’m living destroys me.

That said, I must learn to embrace the uncertainty (and instability) while developing an escape/evolution plan. Coming into my own will simply have to wait. I must work to conjure up the motivation to make significant progress by changing my life one day at time (like they tell you in AA)!

Before I divulge my official resolutions for Q1 of 2008, I’d like to share with the world the top 20 quotes of 2007 (as I remember them). Some weren’t spoken, written, or otherwise in 2007, but they made me smile and/or write them down in the past year. If you didn’t make the cut, that doesn’t mean you made no impact on me over the past 12 months. It just means that I didn’t write down your brilliance in my journal and therefore have no record of it!

Enjoy (if you don’t get some of them, you shouldn’t).

20. “The gayest thing about you is me.” – Happy Endings
19. “I want to buy the world a dime bag.” – JK
18. “Maybe it’s not the drugs; maybe I just hate my life!” – Me
17. “We need this!” – Grey’s Anatomy
16. “Don’t quit your gay job.” – Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
15. “Sometimes you don’t need to go to the party; you just need to know you were invited.” – Me
14. “There is a tide in the affairs of men.” – "Julius Caesar"
13. “The first time it was a mistake; from this point on it is a choice.” – Private Practice
12. “You do not merely want to be considered just the best of the best. You want to be considered the only ones who do what you do. – Jerry Garcia
11. “I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me. – Winston Churchill

Are you inspired/lost yet?

10. “If you can’t take the heat, fuck in the living room.” – Me
9. “Hell hath no fury like a David Watts Miller scorn!” – Me (inspired by Gossip Girl)
8. “I’ve never fallen in love, and I’m not sure if I want to. Maybe someday?” – Aiden Shaw in “My Undoing”
7. “The Silent Samba is easier than the Talking Tango.” – JK
6. “The word ‘lovers’ really bums me out unless it comes between the words “meat” and “pizza”. – Tina Fey on 30 Rock
5. “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.” – Skinny people everywhere
4. “I need more out of this relationship than I’m willing to put in!” – Strangers with Candy
3. “I feel that emptiness; you know, like when your freezer has no vodka left in it!” - Me
2. “Everything before ‘I Love You’ just doesn’t count.” – Carrie on SATC
1. “I’m not a stop along the way, I am the destination.” – Blair on Gossip Girl

Drum roll please……….

David Watts Miller’s Resolutions for MMVIII –

1. Get ahead (I’m still defining what this means exactly, but here’s a start!)
- Get a grip on where my life is headed, and change the path as needed.
- Get out of credit card debt.
- Get a new job (after figuring out what my plan for career transition/development should be).
2. Be more emotionally available (to people that genuinely deserve my emotions).
3. Do one thing per week that reminds me that I live in the greatest city in the world.
4. “Live to the point of tears.” – Camus

Coming soon:
-Best songs of 2007
-State of the Union

-Recap of my holidays (including Mikey D’s trip to the big city for New Years)

The pics preview above will have to do for now!

And remember...when in doubt, WERK!

xoxo

DWM

This is Awkward!

2007-11-16T12:09:00.000-05:00

It seems like forever since I’ve posted random shit that I’ve come across. Today is the day. First of all, I must say I love me some Radar Magazine.

Their mantra: “Pop * Politics * Scandal * Style”

They even make politics interesting, and I NEVER use interesting and politics in the same sentence! But it’s random pieces like this that keep me going back for more.

Note: Nothing below this sentence came from my brain. I just took the liberty of cutting down the list to the ones that made me LOL. Enjoy :)

You only get one chance to make a first impression. We (Radar) recommend you avoid the following ice breakers:

“This bar used to cool. Now it’s mostly losers.”

“Wouldn’t you just love to die here?”

“Tell me honestly: Do I look like a rapist?”

“Bulimia. Pro or con?”

“May I crack your back?”

“Who do I have to fuck at this party to find out where to take a shit?”

“Ah, yes, my profile pic is from before the accident.”

“What’s your take on the so-called Holocaust?”

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? You and me: How much?”

“Do you know the host well, or are you just blackmailing him with photos of his daughter fellating her driving instructor like I am?”

“I think it’s so cool you’re black.”

(Applying hand sanitizer) “Nothing personal.”

(Laughing nervously) “You’re just going to talk to me until someone better comes along.”

Thanksgiving (the Holiday) Came Early This Year

2007-11-13T22:12:00.000-05:00

My family (parents & sister) were in town this past weekend (Thursday night through Tuesday morning), and now I’m left to push through the funk that always accompanies the days and weeks following their presence. Fortunately this morning at work, I felt an incredible weight lifted off me and my lungs were able to breathe easily again. It might be a coincidence that this relief coincided with the ascension of my family’s aircraft, but I think not! I love them ‘til death, but 96 hours + in one sitting is a bit too much these days.

Things they disturbed while they were here (to name a few):
My social agenda (suffered the most).
My blood alcohol level (is dangerously low).
My stove (quit working for a spell on Monday morning).
Broadway went dark. (This is the one thing I didn’t see coming!)

It could have been worse, but it could always be better. Here’s the cynical rundown and obvious highlights…

So, I went to what I consider church on Saturday night (The Urge) and then was coerced into going to what my family considers church Sunday morning (The Brooklyn Tabernacle). And I must say, thank God (read: goodness) that I got some much-needed relief on Saturday night; because even though I was extremely tired and hung-over on the way to Brooklyn (and my sister bravely called me out on it), at least I had the memories of the previous night to reflect upon while the crazies around me got drunk on religion and high on ignorance.

Sitting there, reverently observing, I thought a lot about religious intoxication and how it could (and should) be considered just as detrimental to someone’s health as the more tangible substances I choose to intake to feel better about myself and the circumstances around me.

Every person alive is guilty of chasing down temporary highs; those moments that give our lives purpose; that elevate the consciousness and add complexity to the self. I believe that the freedom to choose how we achieve these moments in time is one of the greatest characteristics of our civilization.

I found it interesting that my family felt it necessary to guilt me into attending the 12 o’clock service with them, knowing that there is no way in hell (or heaven, since they believe in both) that they would have indulged me the same way and accompanied me to my favorite bar on Saturday night. We can add this to the long list of double standards that my family lives by, but why should I expect anything less (read: more).

Pastor Cymbala (whom I blame, as a leader – one of many – who is misusing the position that his manipulated and exploited congregation has ignorantly bestowed upon him) even spoke briefly about intoxication by worldly substances, and how he wouldn’t feel condemned for drinking a glass of wine with dinner, BUT how he wouldn’t do it because 1) his father was an alcoholic & 2) he might be a stumbling block to someone else who has a problem with alcohol. Well, you know what I say to that? Bullshit. Other people’s problems should remain other people’s problems. Belief in what you want and leave me out of it. I will return the favor.

As an outsider, it was very obvious that the vast congregation was intoxicated by the beautiful (award-winning) choir, loud music (I, the faggot, felt the need for ear plugs) and the ritualistic formula that resembles that of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Same thing over and over, with very few surprises and a lot of the same dramatic music used as a device to make the audience feel something they normally wouldn’t (and probably shouldn’t).

I honestly have nothing against religion, but when it comes between me and the loves of my life (sleep, alcohol & friends), it’s not on my happy list. Of course, when you put everything in perspective, my family’s idea of fun is playing dominos and Mad Gab. Little do they know that the whole time my cup was filled with Sauvignon Blanc, my only salvation this weekend. I’m such a bitch.

Highlights of the weekend:

Friday -
Spamalot, even though the whole time all I wanted was Callie O’Malley (Tony Award winner Sara Ramirez) to be back as the Lady of the Lake (instead of the sub-par singer & actress that is Emily Hsu…ugh). The Virgin Mary was a doll to treat.

Saturday -
The Palace Hotel, even though I had to endure the Madison Avenue street fair in order to have the opportunity to geek out in the real (fictional) Serena’s courtyard.

Sunday -
Fall in CP (Central Park), even though we had to search for the only 2 trees in the park that have cooperated with the changing seasons (not that we’ve had much Fall at all here in the city).

Quote of the weekend (said by Mom after the stove was found to be broken not long after she cleaned it): “I thought I was doing something good.”

My response: “You always think you are!”

Lesson of the week – LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE.

Report back to me on how that works for ya…

Is This Where You Tell Me You’re Not Gay?!

2007-11-04T23:40:00.000-05:00

I firmly believe that life is little more than a series of phases. Some phases last longer than others, some overlap, and then some never seem to end. But does everyone go through the same phases? And is it important to experience as many phases as possible in order to continuously broaden your knowledge of the universe?

Well, I tend to agree with the brilliant words of Ethan Hawke’s character (Troy Dyer) in Reality Bites:

“There's no point to any of this. It's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know, a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good; the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a cackle... and I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.”

Yes, it’s a bit dramatic, but he kind of has a point about none of this having a point! But nonetheless, we each have to deal with the different phases of our life. Some are easy, some are enjoyable, and then some are excruciating and most are uncomfortable.

This is going to sound very stereotypical and extremely narrow-minded, but I think that the vast majority of gay men go through a couple phases throughout their adult lives. The reoccurring slut phase, the relatively-short-yet-intense drug phase, and of course the let’s settle (and settle down) phase that comes too often in the lives of many.

Then there are the unfortunate few that have to pass through the purgatory of a bisexual phase. No matter how homo-friendly their surroundings are, their clouded view of, and the blurred line between, what they desire and what they are used to does little more that confuse and frustrate them and the people with whom they chose to become involved.

My bisexual phase hopefully both started and ended this past week. I’ve had a sophomoric crush on him for some time now, and now that the crush has been consummated I’m left evaluating its reality. Crushes are always based more on fantasy than on the facts. I blame this one on the Armani Aquadigio. The foreplay was subtle then evolved to overt. The chase only lasted a few days, and I’m already over the implications. It’s a cliché case of a bisexual man using an openly gay man for a great back-alley blowjob and an occasional drunk, fucked-up fuck.
I believe it came to a head when, after giving him head, I had to service myself and he felt the need to sit in his desk chair and watch like the gay-porn-watching balls-of-confusion that he is. I’m not gonna deny that it turned me on a bit, but if you’re gonna treat me like pay-per-view at least leave the coins on the dresser!

Bisexuality is definitely one of those things (i.e. tattoos, puppies, children) that automatically make a guy’s stock/stud portfolio seem more lucrative than it actually is. And it’s those same things (excluding the tattoos) that bring unnecessary emotional turmoil that this closet-extracted queen doesn’t need in his life right now (or ever).

It’s funny that I go on and on about The Bisexual, even though I never have and never will believe in bisexuality. But I guess, even though I don’t believe, I can sympathize with what he, and the others, are going through. He’s trying to hold on to the shreds of his heterosexuality, and good for him for trying to keep the family tradition alive. I just hope he snaps out of his bipolar funk before he ends up forty and alone, being serviced by strangers he’ll never need to know (shout-out to Dido, who obviously goes both ways).

I don’t think he knows about this blog, and will never tell him about it. But if he happens upon this post, I would want him to know this –

I like the man that you are. It’s just a shame that you don’t see who that man is. When you figure that out, let me know. In the meantime, enjoy SportsCenter!

I’ll end this post with another great Troy/Reality Bites quote.

“I am not under any orders to make the world a better place.”

Thank goodness for that! Otherwise, I’d feel obligated to turn this bi-boi out. :)

Onto the next phase of frustration, whatever that might be.

When Life SUCKS…

2007-10-30T19:26:00.000-04:00

…it SUCKS.

But when life is great…

…it’s just okay.

I’m not EXACTLY sure what my problem is, but I’m sure I have one. It’s actually quite obvious that I’m on the verge of a breakdown of disturbing proportions.

I’ve spent the better (read:worse) part of the past couple months talking myself down from life’s ledge, while simultaneously trying to figure out what the hell my purpose here is (that is if I have one at all).

I know, I know. It’s typical, cliché quarterlife crisis bullshit we (as twenty-somethings) manufacture in order to acquire pity and prescription drugs, but just because it’s cliché doesn’t mean it’s fake and not a detrimental part of my current reality.

Why do I keep going?! That I even have to ask that question is a huge problem. I’m still on the ledge and a reason to back away is escaping me. I absolutely HATE feeling like every choice I’ve made for the past 4 years has been wrong. It’s not easy feeling like a utter failure and a total flake. I want to quit the game; I want a do-over; a(nother) chance to do some things (almost everything) differently. But as the collective “they” say, I have to believe that everything happens for a reason. And although I used to think of regret as a four-letter word, that four-letter word is something I’ve been feeling a lot of lately.

ASIDE: I know what my family would say. They would say that I should turn from my evil ways, repent, and let Jesus take the wheel (all while moving back to Mobile, of course), but they would also pretend that their lives with their celebrity chauffeur are just as God intended them to be (read:perfect) and that they are as happy as they could be. It makes me sick to know they think this way. It makes me even sicker to know that their mindset will never change. But I digress.

And to top it all off, I think the city is playing along, humoring me, and indulging me in my pathetic nature because it’s entertaining to her and the people around me whose lives actually seem worth living.

Let’s be honest. On paper, I suck. On the rocks is where I prefer myself. Running with scissors is when I’m at my best. And at the end of the long and dangerous day, I think it all comes down to this. I’ve yet to find my calling and I am okay with that. Of course “am” here means “have to be”!

I’m sick and tired of:
-being in the dark about what I want (to be when I grow up).
-Madison Avenue.
-having sex just to have it.
-the stye on my right eyelid (that I’ve had for over a month now).

Facts:
-I don’t know how to exist outside of New York City.
-I don’t know how to exist inside a healthy, romantic relationship.
-NYC is the only place I make any sense at all, which isn’t much.
-Being single is the only status that agrees with my heart, head and stomach.
-When the sparks disappear and the fairy dust settles, the city, my DVR and my body pillow are the only ones I want around.

Having said that…

I’ve always believed that desperate times call for desperate measures, but I’ve rarely put that mantra to good use. A wise douchebag once said, “The mechanic never fixes his own car.” That douchbag is so right. I’m too busy fixing everyone else’s goddamn Volkswagon to look under the hood of my own Pinto and see that the engine is about two turnovers away from blowing the fuck up in my mother fucking face.

Like Madonna, I wrote a poem to make myself feel better about my Pinto. Sorry Madge, but it doesn’t rhyme.

Feeling like a hostage in a world of the both strange and familiar.
Spiraling out of control with no end in sight.
With no light up ahead.

So dark that I can’t tell whether or not I’m in a tunnel.
Much less if the darkness will ever subside.
Wanting to end it all, but not knowing where to start.

I’m currently weighing my options.
Although I’m not sure what those are.
In a world of gray, I’m longing for black or white.

Conclusion – I’m experiencing growing aches and pains and they might not go away for a while. Coming into my own will simply have to wait.

Stalking in CP (Central Park)

2007-10-09T17:01:00.000-04:00

So, it's not really a hobby of mine...but I do it occasionally in my free time.

It's kind of hard not to stare when hotties like these are walking around shirtless on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, especially when you're drugged up on Percocets and cheap wine!

God Bless America!

You Know You Love Me...

2007-10-08T23:05:00.000-04:00

This fall’s guiltiest pleasure is a new CW series about the dramatic lives of the UES elite, specifically the younger generation of filthy rich teenagers who are defined by their last names and are struggling to rise (or fall) above (or below) them.

Gossip Girl is brilliant, and you’re already 3 (going on 4) weeks behind!

Most of the pleasure is due to the multiple power struggles going on amongst the privileged youngsters.

Big Man on Campus Dan (Penn Badgley of The Young and the Restless) versus Dark Horse Nate (Chace Crawford of The Covenant).

Charismatic Blonde Heiress Serena (Blake Lively of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants) versus Overcompensating Brunette Bitch Blair (Leighton Meester of nothing special).

Dan & Serena obviously belong together, but will never be together in an insanely/intriguingly predictable Romeo & Juliet-like saga. Blair desperately wants Nate to love her, but knows that he will always love Serena more.

You have a washed-up rockstar Dad, a virginal little sister, a suicidal little brother, and (of course) a mother who is played by someone who used to be on Melrose Place. Not to mention the sketchy friend that’s the richest and creepiest of them all.

What’s not to love?!

Here's the math...

My crush (highly doable) = Dan

My dream (would never happen) = Nate

Put them together and...well, I think you get where I'm going with this!

Me (S) = Serena
Shane (B) = Blair

You know you love us.

xoxo

DWM

I Have a HUGE Decision to Make...

2007-09-27T20:56:00.000-04:00

Small

Medium

or Large ?

I need a change, and I believe the first change might be coming in the form of a new do.

The options -

1. Buzz it, keep it simple, and feel free to wear a beanie during the Winter months to come.

2. Cut it, keep it short and spikey, and find the change elsewhere.

3. Grow it, grow it out, and deal with the consequences of hair in my face.

Can you tell I'm leaning toward the buzz?! 'Cause I am. I just need to invest in some clippers in order to economically maintain it.

I'm giving myself a week to decide. Next weekend is the deadline. We shall see. I'll keep you updated. Wish me luck!

The First Day of Fall

2007-09-23T20:20:00.000-04:00

“Autumn is a second Spring when every leaf is a flower.”
~ Albert Camus, Algerian-French author and philosopher.

On this first day of Fall, I’ve been left alone with my thoughts and the realization that I’ve been falling from grace for some time now (and I’m not talking theology here)! I’m talking about the seemingly effortless elegance of form and manner in which I used to carry myself. Or maybe it never seemed effortless to anyone, and I’m just becoming increasingly harder on myself as I grow older. All I know is that I’ve never been this lost in my entire life. They say that age is just a number, but my number is clouding my mind. Growing up sucks, if that’s really what I’m doing!

Why is life so damn hard? Or maybe the more appropriate question is why do I make it so damn hard? There I go blaming myself again.

One of Camus’ famous one-liners is, “Live to the point of tears.” Well, the crisis of self that I find myself in compels me to do nothing else but cry myself to sleep, but I can’t seem to push the tears out. But I don’t think that’s what Camus meant. I believe he was encouraging those around him to live their life in such an intense way that they move themselves (as well as those around them) to equally-intense emotion. I’m not there yet…but I think I want to be.

It’s going to take much more questioning, introspection, and self-development on my part, but I mustn’t allow all this deep-tissue work to overwhelm my present. Camus also once said, “You will never be happy if you keep searching for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you keep looking for the meaning of life without living it.”

Fair enough. Smart guy, this Camus. He also added, “One recognizes one's course by discovering the paths that stray from it.” This is getting closer to something I can handle today. So I’ll start here.

*Disclaimer – I’m not strong enough to follow through with suicide, so you shouldn’t be worried. Unless you’re Jewish, and then I would expect nothing less!

I’ve lost my direction.
Getting farther and farther off course.
Unable to get my bearings, to catch my breath.
Close to giving up all hope of doing so.

Dreams displaced,
Map misplaced,
Afraid to feel,
Too tired to deal.

Hiding more than seeking.
Hating the world more than ever.
Angry at everything & nothing at all.
Searching for something I’ve never seen.

Lacking focus on my future.
Not knowing what I need.
Knowing even less what I want.
Lost amongst the leaves.

Life passing me by.
Restless.
Frustrated.
Projecting.
Stalling.

Spiraling downward.
Doubting my decisions, abilities, readiness and, most detrimentally, my self.
No balance or center.
Losing my grip.

Trying desperately to remember how I got here and why I came.
Experiencing something more than normal anxiety,
One too many suicidal thoughts.
The world seems as unfamiliar as ever

Wrecked.
Trashed.
Abandoned.
Pressing on fervently, or as fervently as I know how.

A rebel without a cause.

Another wise person once said, “Change the perception and the reality with follow.”

My perception is stagnant and totally fucked up right now, but this I know. I need a life change; but, more specifically, I need a career change.

The problem –
There’s not an obvious vessel for my passions. What are my passions you may ask? Well, that’s another problem! I’ve given advertising a try, and I’m doubtful if that’s where I’m supposed to spend the next ten years of my life. The sad truth is that I’m a lazy mother fucker whose work ethic is fueled by his obligation issues and fear of disappointing those around him. I keep asking myself if it would have helped had I known myself better when I locked myself into a career in advertising at the age of 17, but what’s done is done.

Maybe it’s not the decisions I’ve made. Maybe it’s the lack of decisions I’ve pushed myself to make since moving to New York. I’ve been comfortable for a while, and I’m currently suffering the consequences. I want to make a change, but deciding to make a change and then following through with it requires an extraordinary amount of strength, which is incredibly hard to come by these days.

I’m feeling the suffocating pressure of figuring out how to feel fulfilled and what changes to make. I need to get a grip and set some goals for myself. I need to learn to like more than just sleep, booze and grub.

I need to surrender to the truth that IT’S NOT A GOAL IF IT DOESN’T BUST YOUR BALLS!

And I need to realize that IT’S NEVER AS BAD AS IT SEEMS RIGHT NOW!

And last, but certainly not least, I need to go take one too many pills!

You know you love me. I’m gonna go work on loving myself.

XOXO

Gossip Girl (I mean DWM) :)

Home Sweet Soulful Home

2007-09-20T22:06:00.000-04:00

I must say that I am damn proud of my hood for stepping up and being #1 in something, if only for a little while. Read ahead to know the story.

Rounding out the top 10 (& my catty commentary):

2. Chinatown (I smell fish)

3. Washington Heights (The rooftop parties up there are great)

4. Inwood (Not gonna happen)

5. Nolita & Little Italy (The word Nolita makes me feel funny)

6. Hell's Kitchen (Gaaaaayyy!)

7. East Village (Ave A is the new 2nd Ave)

8. Lower East Side (love love love)

9. East Harlem (East here means Spanish)

10. Greenwich Village (What's not to love?!)

That's all. Just had to share!

On an unrelated note, Gossip Girl premiered last night to my rave reviews. It would be considered a guilty pleasure, but that's what my life is built around, right?! Wednesday nights on the CW. Watch the show, be the show.

The Boys of Summer (TV) are Gone

2007-09-15T17:56:00.000-04:00

So, usually summer is known as a time for drought where quality television programming is concerned. But this past season gave me enough to talk about and plenty of male meat on which to feast my eyes.

The hit of the summer was, of course So You Think You Can Dance’s third season. Season 2’s Benji’s sister Lacey and Travis’ adopted brother Danny both made it into the top 4, but neither had what it took to steal the title away from the well-deserving Sabra.

The guy rounding out the top 4 was one of my summer crushes, Neil Haskell. The 20-year-old stole my heart away with his smile even before his shirt came off! Random fact - he has a twin that doesn't dance at all. Can we say Abercrombie poster?!

In late-breaking news, love is in the air for Lacey and Hok (yes, the crasian b-boy), who have both confirmed they are dating. However, it wasn't until after fellow third-season finalists spilled the beans on them that they personally revealed their romance. Good for them, or at least him (she’s hot).

Then there was the cute ABC Family drama Kyle XY about a mysterious orphan/teenager, without a belly button, who is taken in by a social worker and her family. Kyle proves to possess superhuman powers, and of course the bad guys are after him. In the show's sophomore season, the female version of Kyle (Jesse) showed up to stir up some trouble, and I of course have developed a crush on Declan (played by Chris Olivero), the (now ex)boyfriend of the daughter (Kyle’s faux-sister). Chris is a 22-year-old hottie married to actress Alexandra Picatto as of 2006. I couldn’t find a picture online of this bitch to save my life. F*** her!

Then there’s ABC Family’s Lincoln Heights, the story of police officer Eddie Sutton, who moves his family to a troubled inner-city neighborhood where he grew up in an effort to make a change in his community. Blah blah blah, I know, but the jungle fever kept me watching. The Suttons are African American and the oldest daughter finds comfort in a cracker by the name of Charles (played by 22-year-old Robert Adamson). So effing cute these kids. And I have to admit Charles is the only reason I started watching this one (2 episodes before this season’s finale)!

And THEN there’s Greek, my favorite dramady of the summer. Leave it to ABC Family to hijack my summer! This, the first season of Greek, was ten fun-filled episodes of collegiate life revolving around the Greek system at Cyprus-Rhodes University (Go CRU!). The show follows the drama of 1 sorority and 2 fraternities in particular. I naturally would go for the president of the slacker fraternity. His (nick)name being Cappie, played brilliantly by another 22-year-old, Scott M Foster.

Is it just me, or am I getting old? All this deliciousness is 22-or-younger and are already d-list celebrities. Life is, confirmed, not fair! But I digress…

I’m sad to see them go (we’ll have to wait ‘til 2008 for these guys', as well as the boys of Entourage's return), but am wildly excited about this Fall. Shows I’m looking forward to:

Mondays -
Prison Break with the hot brother duo (9/17, 8pm EST on Fox)
Weeds is already well underway (10pm EST on Showtime)

Tuesdays –
House with our favorite fake American accent douchebag (9/25, 9pm EST on Fox)

Wednesdays -
Private Practice with the gorgeous Kate Walsh (9/26, 9pm EST on ABC)
Gossip Girl with hot people in general (9/19, 9pm EST on the CW) &
Dirty Sexy Money with that girl from the OC (10pm EST on ABC)

Thursdays –
Ugly Betty with a new love interest for the gay assistant (9/27, 8pm EST on ABC)
Grey’s Anatomy with the new crop of interns (9/27, 9pm EST on ABC)
The Office with it's stellar comedic cast (9/27, 9pm EST on NBC)
Big Shot with that delicious Dylan McDermott (9/27, 10pm EST on ABC)

Fridays -
Friday Night Lights, appropriately moving to Friday nights (10/5, 9pm EST on NBC)

Saturdays –
this is where I either go out and get f***ed up, or catch up on my DVR! SNL debuts 9/29, so that will be on my calendar as well.

Sundays -
Brothers & Sisters with Kevin finally getting with Senator McAllister's brother (9/30, 10pm EST on ABC)
And then there’s the new gay couple on Wisteria Lane, but whatever.

In other news -
One Tree Hill will be back in January on Wednesdays for its 5th go (22 new episodes) after fast-forwarding four years and all the "kids" being in different parts of the country. October Road is fortunately also scheduled to be coming back midseason.

Sadly, I predict the biggest failure of this coming season to be K-Ville. Set in New Orleans, where the remains of Hurricane Katrina still lay, K-Ville centers on the NOPD as they try to reclaim and rebuild the city. Borrr-ing!

Oh well, here's to a happy & healthy new TV season. Hopefully all the programming goodness with help me stay in more and save some green. Oh, and I'm thinking about buzzing my hair again. More on that next time.

DWM out.

Katrina: 2 years later / David: 25 years later

2007-09-08T10:20:00.000-04:00

Last Sunday I turned the big two-5, and it’s been doing quite a number on my psyche. Nervous breakdown plus quarter-life crisis, with a splash of chronic self esteem issues. A great mix for a suicide watch!

As some of you know, I spent my birthday (the Labor Day holiday) weekend in New Orleans for what has become a tradition of sorts commemorating my first appearance on the scene. Southern Decadence is always a great time…and the name says it all. But this Decadence may have been my last for a while! I’m sure that’s just the physical, mental and spiritual hangover talking, but nonetheless I’m left with mixed feeling about the weekend.

It probably wasn’t the best idea to lead-in with a visit with my fam in Alabama. It always tends to catapult me into a nasty rut. Maybe next year I should follow decadence with a detour to see the fam, instead of this year’s vice versa.

(the following was written the day I returned from N’awlins)
I hate what I’m feeling right now.
Empty, yet full (of toxic energy).
Slightly used, but mostly useless.
Lost in an emotional Bermuda Triangle of confusion and uncertainty,
with no where else to go except closer and closer to my glass ceiling.
Change is imperative, but change comes at a cost.
My next step is to discern what that cost is and if I’m willing to pay it.
(the end)

These are seemingly desperate times in need of incredibly desperate measures. The question(s) needs to be asked:

What the hell am I doing (here/with my life)? And what do I want to do when (and if) I ever grow up and get serious about life, love, and the pursuit of goddamn happiness in a world full of people trying to bring and keep you down in order for themselves to get ahead?

Oh, where do I begin?!

While I contemplate the next 5, 10, 20 years of my life, you can enjoy some pics from the goings-on since I last posted (yes, I’ve got to be better about frequency):

I finished my scrapbook of my first 3 years here in NYC. I’m quite proud of it, and it will probably be the jumping-off point for my slightly-fictional-memoir.

Mikey D & Blakey F’s visit was a success, complete with a complementary night stay at the Waldorf-Astoria and my Birthday Brunch at Essex.

My girl Katie left the city life to pursue her Nashvegas dreams. I'll miss you like 90210 bitch.

I visited Bama for a few days, with most of that time being spent in/on Orange Beach. The sandcastle has been provided by my father, the gayest straight man I know.

Like last year at Decadence, JK and I roomed together and Brian & Mike from DC (along with their friend Tim) joined us for parts of the debauchery. I got to see Anthony the native. And does anyone else find it strange that the # of our cab from the airport last year was 666 and # number of our cab to the airport this year was 766. Maybe that's why everything seemed a little off!

And I got flowers! More on this as the story develops.

Until next time...

Here's a link to more pics from last we/I spoke. Enjoy.

Where the Hell Have You Been?!

2007-08-08T21:30:00.000-04:00

Yes, it’s been a while. Here’s the update all around from this fucked up kid you call your friend (or something like that):

I survived my sister’s visit with minor scrapes & bruises.

The summer has been filled with more b-day parties than 1) i can count on both hands 2) i can remember. (Do I really have that many friends, or do all of them just have birthdays in the warmer months?!)

August 1 marked my 2-year anniversary at KBP. The Wendy’s account has been crazy but good, amd I really am in need of a change in my professional life. This pic says it all.

I’m looking forward to Labor Day at Southern Decadence, even though that will mean the end of summer. Only a few more Saturdays at the pier left for me before the leaves start to fall; it’s sad, but I think I’m over sweating through my clothes this year.

I’m still single and wouldn’t have it any other way. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. The boys keep coming out of the woodwork, and this island continues to get smaller and smaller by the day. But I’m loving life, except when I hate it.

Oh, and did I mention I bought a house. Things you need to know: 1) it’s in Mobile, 2) the down payment was the money left for me in my grandfather’s will, 3) the current renter's obviously have small children (see pic below)!

What am I going to do with a house in Mobile? Rent it out to the highest bidder & let it pay for itself. That’s what I’m gonna do! So random.

Other random updates/reminders: I’ll be 25 in less than a month, my BFF (this does not mean best female friend) MSD will be coming to visit me with his beau the weekend before Labor Day, and my girl KBH is moving home to Nashvegas to be a rockstar. I’m not prepared to talk about the latter, but anyone needing a bday list from me can give me a shout!

Love you all in my own special way.

Until next time…

When My Worlds Collide

2007-07-15T20:46:00.000-04:00

Friday night, in celebration of my sister being in town with two of her closest friends, I decided to gather some of my favorite people in the City to dine with me and the girls at my favorite tapas restaurant, Sala (Bowery @ Great Jones). The evening went better than expected and just as I had hoped. A few hours full of warm goat cheese, cool sangria & random conversation.

In addition to the three visiting Bama girls and myself, the table was rounded out by four of the most interesting people I’ve met since moving home over three years ago.

R.S. dates back to Miami, after which we made the trek here together and pursued our big city dreams simultaneously with the help of many happy hours (aka bitching sessions) at Verlaine. My love of Crasians began the day I met this fabulous fellow lush.

J.K. has been my most loyal confidante on Fantasy Island ever since our paths first crossed a few months after my arrival. His couch was my safe haven for months between Harlem and Alphabet City, and it’s quite possible that I would not still be here if it wasn’t for his generosity.

K.H. has become my rock in my professional life over the past 2 years, and the thought of losing her to her dreams in just a short while is not something I’m ready to accept. But my love for this future rock star could never waiver after all we’ve endured together at the hand of the Jews.

S.R. is my newest friend and cohort in the game of gay here in the city that never sleeps and will always fuck you when you least expect it. We share an obsession for hot boys and unhealthy food and both have a soft side that we hate to admit we possess.

An eight-person reservation made with both hesitation and excitement. An evening made only slightly awkward by my sister’s refusal to ingest alcohol and my refusal to be anything but obliterated. Another summer in Manhattan – the first for some, the last for others. I’m not sure how many more I have here; all I know is that it’s great to have friends that you know you can count on and that you feel strongly enough about to do anything for.

This may have been written with 2005 Sauvignon Blanc on the brain, but that doesn’t make it any less true. It probably makes it more so.

Cheers to Spanish tapas and its power to bring people from all different backgrounds together for a night of celebration in honor of the visiting Southerners and the hosting birthday boy! 21 for ever :)

Broken English

2007-07-08T18:29:00.000-04:00

Last night I saw the film of the summer (in my opinion). Yes, I'm definitely biased when it comes to (the mother of my future child) Parker Posey. But there's no denying what I saw.

And after reading Glenn Whipp’s (Los Angeles Daily News) piece about the film, this is what I like about it (the article that is). I liked everything about the film:

The engaging-enough romantic comedy "Broken English" focuses on Nora (Parker Posey), a mid-30s Manhattan career gal given to panic attacks and excessive drinking. But then you might be, too, if you attracted the kind of men Nora does -- a parade of losers and users distinguishable only by the methods with which they lie to Nora and themselves.

"Broken English," written and directed by Zoe Cassavetes (daughter of Rowlands and the late filmmaker John Cassavetes), can occasionally feel like an arthouse episode of "Sex in the City." But Cassavetes gives the movie a bittersweet truthfulness that distinguishes it from the pack, allowing Posey the chance to play Nora as not just another bewildered singleton with a shoe fetish but as a woman realizing that happiness and healing can only come from within.

Of course, it doesn't hurt Nora's cause to have a charming and handsome Frenchman pursuing her with an intensity that matches Pepe Le Pew -- only without the odor. Nora meets Julien (Melvil Poupaud) at a Fourth of July party. She distrusts his sincerity -- with her romantic history, you would, too -- but his passion and soulfulness soon wears her down. She's in love.

Naturally, there's a catch, a complication that takes Nora out of her element and, in some respects, forces her to face herself for the first time in her life. Cassavetes handles this with a subtlety that's free from cutie-pie theatrics, imbuing "Broken English" with an underlying sadness not normally found in the genre. And if the movie's ending duplicates "Before Sunset," right down to the dialogue, at least Cassavetes has the taste to crib from the best. "Broken English" is a promising debut for Cassavetes, and something of a career-best for Posey. They make a great team.

I agree.

My take on the film?

It was just what I needed at the exact time that I needed it. A film with Parker Posey in her element, as a quirky New Yorker with not much else going for her besides her cynicism and forgiving liver. It’s about quick love and not being afraid to live in the moment and snatch it up when you think you've found it.

And yes, the awkward blind date scene was filmed right around the corner from my office! Once of the things I heart about Parker Posey is her brilliant use of physical comedy, and this film definitely let’s her shine in that respect. Definitely a “career-best"! I f**king loved it.

For more info: click here

On an unrelated note:

if you have Showtime on Demand, run (don’t walk) to your remote and press 220 > proceed to movies and select Filty Gorgeous. This original dramedy from Oscar-nominated writer Ron Nyswaner ("Philadelphia") and director Robert Allan Ackerman ("The Reagans") charts the lives of male and female employees, as well as their chic clients, at NYC’s most exclusive and expensive escort service. Isabella Rossellini stars with Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and Eva Simon.

F**king HOTT!!

Enjoy kids!

Reality Rears Its Ugly Head

2007-07-05T23:10:00.000-04:00

Speaking of reality biting, it did/does in a huge way today. Back to work, back to reality, and back to everything that I know to be true that I’ve been denying. Yes, I’m being a bit dramatic, but it’s been a LONG weekend in every since of the word.

The past 6 days are a blur, and now I have Rihanna’s ‘Rehab’ on replay for good reason.

This is how I feel about my holiday weekend:

And all of a sudden you went and left
I didn't know how to follow
It's like a shock that spun me around
And now my heart's dead
I feel so empty and hollow
It's gonna take a miracle to bring me back
And you're the one to blame

I guess that's what I get for wishful thinking
Should've never let you enter my door

It's like you were my favorite drug
The only problem is that you was using me
In a different way than I was using you
But now that I know it's not meant to be
I gotta go, I gotta wean myself off of you

It’s official: I need to drink less and live more; spend less and write more. I’m physically, emotionally and socially hung-the-fuck-over.

The next adventure starts Monday. My sis and her two BFFs are flying in for a week to take over my pad. If all goes according to expected, it’ll be just the week in rehab that this body needs!

Cheers to that, and to me sobering up from this funk in the next 24 hours. :)

A Must: Holding Trevor

2007-07-03T12:05:00.000-04:00

Set in Los Angeles, Holding Trevor follows its title character on his cynical journey of self-exploration as he tries to cope with romance, friends, and everything in between. A sort of 'Reality Bites' from the vantage point of a young gay protagonist.

Um, I heart Reality Bites! And, hello, I'm the gay protagonist of my life. This movie is basically about me, so everyone must see it! But it's still in the "festival phase" it seems, so even us New Yorkers might have to wait a few weeks before getting our eyes on the goods.

Starring: Brent Gorski, Jay Brannan (Shortbus), Melissa Searing, Eli Kranski, Christopher Wyllie

Learning to Play the Blame Game

2007-06-17T21:14:00.000-04:00

I’m quickly learning that most people in this life (or at least in this city) have no problem ducking out on responsibility. Whereas I have grown to acknowledge my assigned “workload” and take responsibility for my actions, many others are only comfortable passing the blame onto the people around them. Playing dumb is an art for these people. Laziness is a way of life, and unfortunately tolerated.

It’s definitely official. I care too much, and I’ve GOT to work on that. Overwhelming aggravation is an understatement when dealing with these apathetic crack babies, and I need to re-evaluate my position on the world-at-large immediately.

I’ve got to learn to care less and relax more at work, and to do the opposite when I escape from the salt mines. Whereas my professional life finally seems to be evolving into something palatable (aside from having to deal with lazy mo-fos), my social (and more specifically love) life has been taking a hit. Fact: I don’t make near enough to have my nights interrupted by disturbing dreams of missed deadlines and uncaught typos. And I’m way too young not to not take advantage of all the extracurricular activities this city has too offer, especially during the summer!

I seem to be in the midst of internal karma warfare (aka homeostasis). Just as my professional life seems to be getting on the right track (or at least A track), my personal life seems to have jumped the tracks completely. I’m sure I’m exaggerating, and it might seem that I’m passing the blame off on karma, but maybe this is just me trying to adapt to my surroundings!

Life is a headache. Accountability is bullshit. Cynicism still rules. Dignity is overrated. Karma is, and will forever be, a bitch to be reckoned with! I blame the universe. It owes me a break. If I don’t get one soon there’s going to be a mental health problem.

I’m just sayin…

Commentary

2007-06-02T15:19:00.000-04:00

What is to follow is a commentary on how I spent a weekend on a mountain to personally celebrate the surmounted, proverbial mountain in my professional life. If you’re confused, give me 5 minutes!

---------------------------------------------------

It was an amazing time, lack of pretentiousness and all the things that sometimes make the City (and civilization in general) unbearable (and at the same time annoyingly convenient). Six guys (that all just happen to prefer dudes) headed north to the city of Beacon, New York to enter the woods for a holiday weekend of escape and adventure, knowing not what lay ahead of them.

The comfort factor among the group was immediate, the testosterone levels were at an all time high, and the beauty of thoughtful immaturity was vastly evident. Friendships were fostered by proximity and a brotherhood was formed out of Smores and multiple games of Truth or Dare.

(Aside: shout-out to Senor Frisky for making this trip happen & including me!)

Malouf’s Mountain is an ideal getaway for city slickers that don’t drive, don’t take cold showers, and most certainly do not do “primitive”. All the ingredients were there for an idyllic way to celebrate my long-overdue promotion to Jr. Project Manager at work.

It became official late on Thursday (before the 4-day weekend). It took me taking my assertiveness to a whole new level, and it’s a good thing for me. This evolutionary landmark is something I desperately needed in my life and the coming weeks should be telling. The coming weeks will be my chance to prove that the right decision was made, by both parties. There is uncertainty surely to follow, mainly due to the volatile nature of the advertising business. Whereas my previous position (held for a solid 20 months) came with a comfortable amount of job security, I must now be constantly prepared (and on the lookout) for the repercussions of the shifting sands of unpredictable accounts and office politics.

It’s not easy to submerge yourself in the woods for a weekend, where the ground is your bed and hots dogs are the norm. It’s even harder to return to reality after pushing yourself out of (what you thought was) your comfort zone. It comes down to this: adaptation leads to uneasiness and I must embrace the uncertainty that is upon me.

For sometime now at work, I have tried to be all things to all people. But not even God has been able to accomplish that feat, so I’m not sure why I even tried to in the first place. With this promotion, I have been put in a position where I have the ability to do good work and do things right. That’s a good feeling.

And although I’m not nearly in love with the process, I believe the experience and relationships will be well worth the bullshit & (more often than I care to admit) 12-hour days.

Here’s to advertising, project management, and the fine people at Malouf’s Mountain for all holding a special place in my heart!

And I’d like to dedicate Brad Paisley’s (I’d Like To Check You For) Ticks to my boys around the campfire. Jenga forever!

The End.

And now a word from our sponsor...

A brief description from the website for Malouf’s Mountain Sunset Camp:

On the North-Western slopes of the Fishkill Ridge, named by the Dutch settlers for the teeming waters of the creek at its foothills, lives a place where the mountain serves up the comforts of food, drink and sheltered rest under a canopy of white oak and tulip trees.
It's a place where the smoky aroma of cooking fires mingles with the living perfume of sweet birch, spicebush and sassafras.

Where fresh young springs tumble down ravines, over moss-bearded granite boulders, and the sound of every footstep is lost in the leaf song of the forest.

Welcome to Malouf's Mountain Sunset Camp, a fully-catered forest camping resort for hikers. Here, highland trails begin or end with your choice of fresh meals delivered to your private haven, with sleeping platforms crafted into the mountainside, and your every material need anticipated and provided. All you need carry in is a sleeping bag and walking stick. Custom tents are now available.

It's worth a check-out!

There's Nothing Like Gay Camping...

2007-05-31T23:31:00.000-04:00

Commentary to follow...

Makes Me Wonder

2007-05-22T20:44:00.000-04:00

First of all, I must point out the obvious. Adam Levine of Maroon 5 is my boyfriend.

But to the point, I'm in love with their latest single entitled Makes Me Wonder.

I wake up with blood-shot eyes
Struggled to memorize
The way it felt between your thighs
Pleasure that made you cry
Feels so good to be bad
Not worth the aftermath, after that
After that
Try to get you back

I still don't have the reason
And you don't have the time
And it really makes me wonder
If I ever gave a fuck about you

Give me something to believe in
Cause I don't believe in you
Anymore, Anymore
I wonder if it even makes a difference to try
(Yeah)
So this is goodbye

God damn, my spinning head
Decisions that made my bed
Now I must lay in it
And deal with things I left unsaid
I want to dive into you
Forget what you're going through
I get behind, make your move
Forget about the truth

I still don't have the reason
And you don't have the time
And it really makes me wonder
If I ever gave a fuck about you

Give me something to believe in

Cause I don't believe in you
Anymore, Anymore
I wonder if it even makes a difference,
It even makes a difference to try (yeah)
And you told me how you're feeling
But I don't believe it's true
Anymore, Anymore
I wonder if it even makes a difference to cry
(Oh no)
So this is goodbye

I've been here before
One day a week
And it won't hurt anymore
You caught me in a lie
I have no alibi
The words you say don't have a meaning
Cause..

I still don't have the reason
And you don't have the time
And it really makes me wonder
If I ever gave a fuck about you and I...
and so this is goodbye

Give me something to believe in
Cause I don't believe in you,
Anymore, Anymore
I wonder if it even makes a difference,
It even makes a difference to try
And you told me how you're feeling
But I don't believe it's true
Anymore Anymore
I wonder if it even makes a difference to cry
(Oh no)
So this is goodbye
So this is goodbye, yeah (x 3)
(Oh no)

New Paint Job

2007-05-13T21:55:00.000-04:00

Well, it’s been two-and-a-half years coming and the day finally came this Saturday. I took the ambitious step of paining my apartment (by myself). On Friday I decided that if I didn’t make it happen this weekend, it was never going to happen. So here’s the before and after(s). I must say I'm extremely happy with it!

More information coming soon (as it becomes available) on other signs of evolution in my life… :)

Nada Surf - Popular

2007-04-25T16:52:00.000-04:00

I heart this video. Well, I like the lyrics more than anything. Especially the part about a one-month limit on going steady!

Nada Surf - Popular

(It wouldn't let me embed it, so click the link mother-fuckers!)

According to Nada Surf (Brooklyn represent), this is the (teenage) guide to popularity:

(AND I QUOTE)

Three important rules for breaking up
Don't put off breaking up when you know you want to
Prolonging the situation only makes it worse
Tell him honestly, simply, kindly, but firmly
Don't make a big production
Don't make up an elaborate story
This will help you avoid a big tear jerking scene
If you wanna date other people say so
Be prepared for the boy to feel hurt and rejected
Even if you've gone together for only a short time,
And haven't been too serious,
There's still a feeling of rejection
When someone says she prefers the company of others
To your exclusive company,
But if you're honest, and direct,
And avoid making a flowery emotional speech when you break the news,
The boy will respect you for your frankness,
And honestly he'll apeciate the kind of straight foward manner
In which you told him your decision
Unless he's a real jerk or a cry baby you will remain friends

Being attractive is the most important thing there is
If you wanna catch the biggest fish in your pond
You have to be as attractive as possible
Make sure to keep your hair spotless and clean
Wash it at least every two weeks
Once every two weeks
And if you see Johnny football hero in the hall
Tell him he played a great game
Tell him you like his article in the newspaper

I propose we support a one month limit on going steady
I think It will keep people more able to deal with weird situations
And get to know more people
I think if you're ready to go out with Johnny
Now's the time to tell him about your one month limit
He won't mind he'll apreciate your fresh look on dating
And once you've dated someone else you can date him again
I'm sure he'll like it
Everyone will appreciate it
You're so novel, what a good idea
You can keep your time to your self
You don't need date insurance
You can go out with whoever you want to
Every boy, every boy in the whole world could be yours
If you'll just listen to my plan

(END QUOTE)

THIS SHIT IS SO TRUE /SLASH/ BRILLIANT!

Check these guys out if you're new: Nada Surf's MySpace

My Song Du Jour

2007-04-23T12:05:00.000-04:00

As performed by Fergie on last week's American Idol results show:

"Big Girls Don't Cry"

Da Da Da Da
The smell of your skin lingers on me now
You're probably on your flight back to your home town
I need some shelter of my own protection baby
To be with myself and center, clarity
Peace, serenity

[CHORUS]
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But Ive got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry

The path that I'm walking
I must go alone
I must take the baby steps until I'm full grown
Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay

[CHORUS]
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry

Like the little school mate in the school yard
We'll play jacks and uno cards
I’ll be your best friend and you'll be mine
Valentine
Yes you can hold my hand if u want to
Cause I want to hold yours too
We'll be playmates and lovers and share our secret worlds
But its time for me to go home
It’s getting late, dark outside
I need to be with myself and center, clarity
Peace, serenity

[CHORUS]
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry
Don't cry

Is It True What They Say?

2007-04-19T15:16:00.000-04:00

PART ONE

The last time I was in MOB was May of 2006, eleven months and countless recollections ago. Visits to “the place I once called home” are always interesting, or at least to anyone unfamiliar with what goes on below the Mason-Dixon Line. For some reason, this trip was slightly more bearable for me. My guess is that I’m finally coming to terms with my childhood, and that’s helping me to (somewhat) enjoy the place where I spent it. Call it comfortable, call it intrigued, call it jaded, call it crazy, because all that’s me!

It was a LONG weekend full of plenty of outdoor/butch activities, such as shooting rifles, playing tennis, kayaking and riding golf carts. Don't ask! There was an exhausting amount of family time, not quite enough friend time, and hardly any me time. As suspected, the homeland is evolving slowly, but surely enough. Some things never change, but others surprise you.

I am gradually learning to (partially) understand my family, but more importantly to respect their eccentricities and appreciate their intentions, no matter how much those intentions are bred out of ignorance and naivety. If they had their way, I would no doubt be in a house on their property eating Sunday dinner with them every week and having an integral part in the family business. While the “alternative life” (meaning moving to NYC) I have chosen is void of some reality, it’s not nearly as void of reality as the life my parents would have orchestrated for me if they could have. But I digress.

Overall, the trip was relatively painless, and for that I could not be happier! It could have been much worse, and has been on previous return trips. Even our attendance at the church service on Sunday caused little to no reaction from me. I’ve learned to shake their hands and sing their songs and respect them, not for the things we have in common, but for their integrity to follow something they believe in. What I do share with them is that integrity. Our beliefs just lie in different things.

Meanwhile, my absence from the island I now call home proved to be quite detrimental. KBH gets sick, the place floods…not to mention the ridiculous massacre in VA. The place seems to go to shit when I’m away, and I am now left to repair the damage done. I guess there is a price to pay for spending time with an ex and allowing the current love of your life to find out about the whole affair, no matter how innocent your intentions!

Today is Thursday. Back to the routine I call beautiful for only a day before it is interrupted by the Sluts of Boston! I guess I’ll catch up on my rest later. MUCH later!

PART TWO*

(*the following was written before leaving for my trip last week, but I didn’t get a chance to post it; hence, the title of the post above. you might want to stop here unless you have a fondness for the sound of a broken record!)

Can you really never go home? Or is that just something we tell ourselves to help rationalize our feelings toward the places we once called home? I’m gonna go with both.

Backstory: I’m embarking on the homeland this Friday, carrying with me residual bitterness and lingering hesitation. I’m continuously trying to rationalize my feelings of resentment toward Mobile. It was the place I was born, but that’s the only credit I can give it. Your home is the place or region where something is native or most common. I consider myself a native of Mobile, but I have nothing in common with what I left behind. This split between me and my birthplace took place long before I escaped over three years ago, and my parents tried desperately to ensure that the break was anything but clean, but I’ve managed to secede from that union and find many more allies amongst the strangers of New York than I could ever find if I was still living near the scene of the crime.

I’ve done a great deal of maturing over the past three years, as well as a great deal of growing apart from the family that raised me to be something I wasn’t. I’ve learned that this process that I’m still undergoing is not about forgetting about where I come from, but rather about remembering how far you’ve come.

And while I’ve come a long way, for some reason I refuse to grow up just yet. Maybe I’m still holding onto something from my childhood that won’t allow me to begin the next phase of my life. I can’t seem to get over my origin, or maybe I’m just frustrated that no one there understands me.

I’m trying to relate to them like I wish they could relate to me, but maybe that’s impossible. Silently petting the pink elephant in the room is the only way any of us know how to maintain the peace. The silence is deafening and the tension is tighter than me and my family will ever be. And that’s just the way it is.

At the end of the day, my family and I have a different idea of what paradise is. Their paradise is a wide-open space filled with nothing more than fresh air and their Lord’s presence. My paradise is a concrete island filled with little more than murderers and the people that love them!

I do, however, have to admit that I never give the South, or anyone that lives there, enough credit. I need to work on giving more credit where credit is due and accepting the fact that the South has done much more to shape me than I might ever like to admit!

Missed Connections

2007-04-04T23:23:00.000-04:00

Everyone’s heard about them. Those infamous “missed connections” postings on Craigslist that serve to both disturb and fascinate me. Does this really work? Ever?? Are these people so irrational as to think that there are other people out there equally as neurotic as them who have the time to view and post these “less-than-classifieds” on a regular basis like they do?! The answer is yes. It’s like a human lost-and-found out there!

I must share some of my favorites I pulled off CL earlier today (as well as my sarcastic comments):

Dark Angel - West 4th - The guy with the ipod... - m4w (Greenwich Village):
“Staring at you...Kept wondering whether to cross the rails to come to you...Wanting to hear your voice; dying to see your smile...refusing to smile...was scared...wanted you.”

(Oh yeah, the guy with the iPod. It really made you stand out from the crowd!)

Whitney Museum March 30th - m4m (Upper West Side):
“On Friday, after 6pm, we kept on passing each other at different levels of the museum. I was too shy to say hi. I am pale, I had on jeans and black knit shirt, shaved head and black glasses. You had a shaved head and in all black. We were both alone until my friend arrived, (he was black). I thought you were very attractive, let me know if you would like to meet up. (I guess I am not that shy)”

(Go ahead, pat yourself on the back for being a pale guy with a black friend.)

Central Park Conference Room of DraftFCB:
“Our research firm presented to your agency this morning. you work in interactive and my colleague introduced herself to you, but i didn’t catch your name. i was curious about you.”

(Wow, could you be less professional? Why didn’t you just grab the guys crotch during the presentation?!)

Justin the temp - m4m – 34:
“You are so cute. You've temped at my job for over a year now... we both studied pre-med. You make me giggle like 12-year-old girl when I see you. You complimented me on my hat the other day. :)”

(I’m wondering how many time in the past “over a year” that this loser has virtually proclaimed his love for the giggle-inducing temp.)

Took my cig on 39th Tuesday Afternoon - w4m - 21 (Midtown)
“Hey! You asked me for a cigarette outside of the champions building on 39th. I asked if you needed a light...you had one. I said that was half the battle. Anyway, you were adorable and wearing a blazer and sunglasses. If you can tell me what color your blazer was or what brand of cigarette i gave you...let's meet for coffee.”

(He was asking for a cigarette, not for a long-term relationship!)

I held the door for you. 5th ave - m4w (Midtown East):
“I see you from time to time. You seem very sweet and just wanted to say hi. Yes, its me. I was walking out and your walking in. Were both tall, you have blond hair and I have black. Just saying hi!”

(The way you walked through that door was very sweet! And we’re both tall so we must be made for each other!!)

Pretty redhead with a friend going downtown on the 1 - m4w:
“We broke the cardinal rule on the subway: eye contact and even a smile. I was late to meet a friend, and you were with yours. It was 7pm. Let's find a way to let history repeat itself (eye contact, smiles), but change the ending of the story.”

(The Corniest Post of the Day Award goes to…)

Pair of diamond earrings found on 4 train - 26 (Downtown):
“I found a pair of diamond earings on the 4 train this morning, Please contact me with a brief description of the items if they are yours.”

(Why didn’t I think of this when I lost my iPod a week or two ago?! Oh, that's right, because a fag never turns anything in to a lost-and-found!)

Alright, I’ve had enough fun making fun of people I hope to never meet. Time to get serious with a serious rhetorical question:

When’s the last time you had a life-altering connection with a random stranger? If you can’t remember, it’s probably been too long. And it’s definitely been too long since I’ve had one. I’m not talking the last time you instantly fell in love with the guy who lit your cigarette because his baby blues pierced your soul as he did it. I’m talking a legitimate exchange of pheromones that produces a genuine need to emotionally consummate the relationship. I miss connections like those. They must not miss me!

My last exchange of that nature included my ex-boyfriend, which means it’s been over six months ago since this mind, body and soul has connected with the trifecta of another man. Can I just say that it is time, the time has come, and it will never happen if I want it to, so I’m probably jinxing myself by writing this. But what the hell. Fuck the consequences. I needed to get this longing off of my chest in order to get through the week.

Until my next life-altering altercation I will be forced to connect with my platonic playmates, my regularly scheduled television programming, and my right hand (not all three at the same time)!

On an unrelated note, here are some things you should be doing in 30 seconds:

1. Watching Showtime’s new series The Tudors. You WON’T be disappointed!
2. Setting your DVRs for Entourage season premiere this coming Sunday on HBO. So excited!
3. Watching Kiss Kiss Bang Bang On-Demand. (“Don’t quit your gay job” LOL)
4. Downloading Mat Kearney’s “All I Need”.
5. Picking out your pastel outfits for Easter.

Happy Resurrection! Don’t mind sending me a card with “the” tomb on the front. My mother beat you to it.

Love and bunnies. :)

How Do You Revive a Passion…

2007-04-03T14:41:00.000-04:00

…that is currently in a coma?

Your first thought would be to mix it up a bit, right?! Well, I’ve found that solution easier said than done lately in my current relationship. I’m talking about my ongoing love affair with the city of New York. A little over three years ago I embarked on a journey to find a place to call home. And while I’ve definitely found that in NYC, lately I haven’t been able to help feeling detached and a bit estranged from the city that once made my heart beat a little (okay, a lot) faster than the rest.

You know the intoxicating feeling of infatuation that comes with a new chemical reaction between you and another attractive human being? It’s that groundbreaking chemistry that eventually goes down in textbooks as something that changed the world, or at least yours. It’s the same feeling of excitement that overcomes you when visiting a big city or any interesting place for the first time.

I miss that adrenaline rush that comes over millions of people every year, caused by crossing either the Hudson or East to begin an experience they could never have prepared for; the overwhelming sense that you are amongst greatness and a part (if only for a short time) of something extraordinary. But that rush is reserved for NYC virgins, and while your second or third time probably will still increase the blood flow to your heart and soul, there comes a time when the intrigue falls away and all you are left with is a recurring character in a life that you’ve made for yourself.

After three short years I feel extremely jaded, a self-diagnosis I had faith would not come until my late 20s. I’m 24-fucking-years-old and nothing phases me, or at least that’s how it seems lately. The mystery and intrigue have become subdued and I believe I’ve become too comfortable here. Or maybe that’s just the cost of finding a home.

Someone once said, “There is only so much you can learn in one place,” and I guess that’s true to some extent. But I refuse to imagine a New York that doesn’t have more to teach me. And I refuse to imagine this New Yorker living anywhere else, at least for now.

I’m currently in desperate need of a break from reality. A bit ironically, it seems that ever since my vacay to Miami, life has been muy loco and a bit more out of control than when I left.

If I had the monetary ability to completely disappear for a while, I would be gone. But for now I must face my reality, my demons and my subdued intrigue and ambitions. I must find a way to shake it up a bit; “it” being my life here in Manhattan. My passion for many things in this life has been sleeping for some time now, but I know it will only take finding the right antidote to revive what once was a surreal existence.

If I’m being honest here, I’m probably not ready for what comes next on my journey, but hopefully while I'm preparing I can re-ignite the flame that once burned brightly for the city that never sleeps (even those times when I wish so badly it would).

I believe I need to spend some quality time together with my City to indulge in activities I have long forgotten, to embrace her for all her faults, to bask in environments which make her worth holding on to, and to not take for granted what she’s meant to me and my multiple personalities in the past three (fabulous) years. As long as she'll have me, I will be here.

I’m Officially Not Allowed Out In Public

2007-03-25T22:45:00.000-04:00

Straight to the point, to the kicker, the MAIN reason why I should be locked up: I cannot be trusted with alcohol, men, and most definitely when the two and I are shaken (or stirred).

I have to keep reminding myself that there are worse things in life that could have happened, and worse things that probably happened last night to people in the bar around me. But it still hurts (losing my iPod that is), not to mention the loss of my navy jacket (a staple in my wardrobe). The guy who answered the phone at the bar when I called this afternoon said it all: “How did you leave your jacket at a bar? Were you a little drunk or something?” Um, YA THINK?!

I have a problem. No, seriously.

Does Anybody Know What Today Is?!?!?!

2007-03-23T15:51:00.000-04:00

Um, duh! It's my THIRD anniversary of moving to NYC. Three short (yet long) years ago I flew from MIA to JFK to begin a journey that I’m so glad that I set off on. That courageous choice to book a one-way ticket to this concrete palace I now call home was/is the best decision I've ever made.

On a slightly inappropriate, yet highly appropriate note, I find it quite interesting that the traditional gift for a third anniversary is LEATHER. It looks like we’re all going to the leather bar tonight, boys!

Just kidding. Maybe. :)

So I'm No Carrie Bradshaw, But...

2007-03-21T15:26:00.001-04:00

(this AIM convo transpired yesterday, 03/21/07)

otherperson: hello. you dont know me. but...
otherperson: oh my god is that sara?
otherperson: anyway. wanted to say hi. been reading your blog for a while. and i actually swear i saw you yesterday on houston
otherperson: and i screamed...on the verge of...
otherperson: but you kept walking.
davidwattsmiller: LOL...omg, it was probably me...i was walking home
otherperson: i was walking to hudson
otherperson: had the ole ipod in
otherperson: and i was like wait
otherperson: i know him
otherperson: this is (name withheld)
otherperson: from (blog which will remain nameless)
davidwattsmiller: ah, thanks for the comments!
otherperson: yeah. i figured. its rare im south of 14th street...i was staring at all the big buildings and nice looking people.
otherperson: lol.
davidwattsmiller: i've taken a gander at your blog a few times as well! very nice!
otherperson: awww thanks. its nothing.
otherperson: i dont know what im doing most days.
otherperson: but thank you!
otherperson: and i like you used gander.
otherperson: so just wanted to say hello and hi. and next time ill slug you. :-)
davidwattsmiller: please do! it'll be something to blog about!
otherperson: lol. oh come on!
otherperson: you must have lots to blog about
otherperson: cute boy
otherperson: young cute boy
otherperson: partying it up in the big shitty
davidwattsmiller: most "too dangerous to blog", as i say!
otherperson: oh come on.
otherperson: puleaze
otherperson: then can i live vicariously through them.
otherperson: because my blog is rather tame.
davidwattsmiller: except for the nice ass shots!
otherperson: well i dont mind up...
otherperson: yet.
otherperson: lol.
otherperson: well just up for variety
otherperson: and i have so many i need to share.
davidwattsmiller: lol...and thank you for sharing them with me!
otherperson: ill share it with you anytime.
davidwattsmiller: have a good one. and seriously, next time grab my ass or something!
otherperson: definitely. later.

The Evolution Revolution: Taking (Your) Evolution For Granted

2007-03-20T23:08:00.000-04:00

“All evolution in thought and conduct must at first appear as heresy and misconduct.” - George Bernard Shaw

For many people in this world, the word evolution has a very negative connotation. For me, it’s a very beautiful thing. For me, it’s not about apes and the big bang, but rather it’s one of the things that make life interesting. It’s a process that all of us are continuously undergoing throughout life, whether we choose to to accept it or not.

One indisputable fact about the evolution of humans is that some people are more highly evolved than others. It’s not that some of these people are “better” than the others. It’s only that the more highly-evolved individuals know something that the others don’t, or have experienced something they have yet to. One of the problems with this discrepancy comes when the advanced individual (either consciously or subconsciously) begins rubbing his or her evolutionary edge in the face of the evolutionary challenged. A great deal of this gap has to do with age, but there is a reason why many people of the same age can have very diverse personalities and values, as well as very different maturity and comfort levels. It has much to do with how personally evolved they are.

Personal evolution has to do with how your life evolves from the moment you are born to the moment you die. Our minds are exposed to many ideas and we are presented with many life choices that affect who we are and what we will become. Although evolution will gradually happen on its on, the way we choose to deal with these ideas and life junctures can go a long way in deciding how our evolutionary process progresses.

Having said all this, I consider myself a highly-evolved individual, especially when it comes to mental capacity, sexuality, and social adaptation. What I’ve found is that a large evolutionary gap can make for a very awkward evening if one’s inhibitions are compromised, mainly because our subconscious has a knack for resorting back to the familiar. While my subconscious (id?) believes it perfectly normal to (hypothetically) make-out with an attractive guy that I have a connection with, what my subconscious is not taking into consideration is how evolved my prey is in this arena.

I'll be more specific: Throw my highly-evolved nature, mixed with one (or five) too many vodka shots, at someone who still has one foot still firmly planted in the closet, and more than one person will most likely walk away confused, disturbed and utterly disgusted with themselves. In a situation like this, it’s hard for me not to become frustrated with the ignorance, discomfort, or awkwardness of others, whether it’s due to their age, background or overall unfamiliarity with the situation.

I believe it to be very unfortunate that the evolutionary process of many individuals is stunted by their less-than-progressive upbringing. Many times someone’s geographical location, as well as their cultural and religious background will cause to confuse their evolution even further.

The important thing to remember is that it (coexisting in society) has little to do with how wide the gap is between you and another person’s evolutionary status. Rather, it has everything to do with respecting other people and their evolutionary process. Although at times I want nothing other than someone else’s evo-status to align with mine, there are no shortcuts in evolution. Further, we must accept the fact that we all evolve in different ways and some people will never reach what some refer to as "maturity". No matter how you look at it, I don't think it wise to think poorly of those who are behind us in the process (or on a different course).

What we can look down on, however, are those who do nothing to enhance their process. I believe it is possible for us to take control of our personal evolution to determine what we will become. It is important that we value our freedom and take responsibility for who we are and what we do. We can be our own creators in that we can take our circumstances and do the best we can with what we have to work with. If we don't like what we are, we can choose to begin the process of evolving into what we want to be.

Let’s face it. There will always be someone more (and less) evolved than you (and I). We should not worry about evolving past someone or vice versa, but rather we should worry about ceasing to evolve at all. Familiarity can be both a symptom of a lack of evolution and a hindrance in our relations with others.

My hope for the future is that I can respect the evolutionary process of others while doing my best to evolve in style.

I’ll end on a challenging note, by quoting some guy by the name of Anthony J. D'Angelo:

“Promise yourself to live your life as a revolution and not just a process of evolution.”

I'm gonna work on that!

Goldfrapp Is Such a Badass!

2007-03-19T23:43:00.000-04:00

I never quite realized this UNTIL her performance this past Sunday night on The L Word of her single, "Ride A White Horse"! Most of you will understand why this song means something to me :) Enjoy!

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S

2007-03-18T18:01:00.000-04:00

My new-found obsession with champagne can be explained in the next few minutes:

I'm (Not) Over It

2007-03-16T12:33:00.000-04:00

Loves her!

Something I Can't Get Over

2007-03-12T19:03:00.000-04:00

Chris Richardson on last week's American Idol.

I’ve Still Got Sand in My Shoes

2007-03-12T14:30:00.000-04:00

As predicted, my time off flew by me, leaving me with little more than the remnants of a week away from reality and a cruel game of catch-up at work. But it feels good to be back in my element, where I feel more comfortable, and where I am better able to cope with myself and my current reality. (read: where I can get laid) :)

Gazing at the city skyline from the cab on the way home from JFK late Friday night, something came over me. It was a warm feeling of belonging that almost brings me to tears to recall. What sucks is that I feel more at home on this island than I do in my own skin. I have some recurring personal issues that I can’t seem to get a handle on, and that my vacation only served to distract me from (& at the same time managed to intensify). Saturday night (back in NYC) I saw into the future to a time when these issues spiral completely out of control and where my desperation becomes the source of my ultimate demise.

In an attempt to resurrect this post from its current dark status, here’s a (shorter than sweet) recap of my trip:

Touching down at the Fort Lauderdale airport on Saturday night (3/3), I couldn’t wait to take my socks off and let my toes breathe in a pair of flip-flops. After being picked up by JF & our host JC (aka Pajarito), we had just enough time to get home, get pretty, and head downtown for United We Dance at Twilo. I was way too sober thanks to the less-than-generous portions of vodka that the bartenders were serving up, but the fun was still there to be had!

Sunday was the Beach Party, the climax of the Winter Party festivities where thousands of half-naked gay men gather on South Beach where Ocean Drive meets the infamous 12th street to dance to the beats of the Circuit’s premiere DJs. It was a great time, but would no doubt have been more fun if I was on something that made me completely forget how Nicole Ritchie I looked compared to all the muscled gods that South Beach (and the gay party circuit) attracts so successfully. Deborah Cox’s surprise performance at 6pm made for a very gay moment. Imagine over a thousand queens singing every word to "Absolutely Not" (it’s pretty in a not-so-pretty way)!

Sunday night was a chance for me to chill alone while the boys headed to Crobar for another night of binge bumping and grinding. I quickly decided that the $85 at the door that I would have spent to have a medium-to-swell time would be better spent toward the cost of extending my stay through Friday (my original return flight was scheduled for Wednesday).

Monday through Thursday vanished before I knew it, and my last day was spent by the pool recovering from a night of one-too-many Red Bull & vodkas! The in-between time was filled with lots of eating (News Café is a favorite for brunch), beaching, and cruising down Lincoln Road (my favorite part of South Beach). Taking in the fresh, warm air permanently put the biggest grin on my face, which was probably completely annoying to those around me. But I didn’t care (too much)!

To summarize: I didn’t drink nearly as much as I thought I would, I did feel way uglier than I thought I would (that’s normal in Miami), Pajarito is one of the nicest, most sincere people I have ever met, and Joey got married to a good ole’ southern boy from ATL. The rest I either don’t remember or will never divulge. Let’s just say I hope the cancer patient gets well soon! JF, remember that's our little secret! :)

Spring Break (I Mean Winter Party) 007

2007-03-10T16:21:00.000-05:00

Stay tuned for details about these pics and about what I took away from my vacation to Miami!

It’s So Good To Be (Going) Back!

2007-03-02T19:20:00.000-05:00

It’s always interesting to return to the scene of the crime, especially when the scene of the crime is Miami Fucking Beach! That is where I first became a fugitive of LA (Lower Alabama). I made my escape the week before the first week of 2004, driving the 700 plus miles that it took to bridge the gap between a past that I was anxious to abandon and a future that I could never had predicted.

I’ve decided to withhold my travel plans from my family for their own good, as well as for the good of my sanity. Miami isn’t really the place that makes them warm and fuzzy inside. Not only am I going to the city that first took me from them, but my vacation is also taking me away from time I could be spending with them. Although they would probably be upset/disappointed (what else is new) at my vacation location, what they don’t understand (besides me) is that a family “vacation” is not a real vacation! And this boi needs a VACATION!

Their main concern when I moved down there over three years ago was the infamous reputation that Miami has gained for heavy drug-use and trafficking. Little did they know that the heavy gay-use and cruising is what I was more interested in. The truth is I don’t trust myself with drugs (no, Mom, alcohol is not a drug). And although I don’t trust myself with men either, it’s become much easier for me to recover from one bad hit of man than one bad hit of some of the other recreational drugs that the gays (as a true stereotype) are drawn to.

So it’s crazy to think that this will be my first time back to SoBe, especially since several of the peeps I attended MAS (Miami Ad School) with have since been back two or three times. It’s crazier to think of how different a person I am today as when I arrived their at the age of 21, still coming to terms with my sexuality and the world outside of the Gulf Coast. I was quite reserved in the gay sense of the word, only going out to a gay club a small handful of times. I never hooked up with a guy, and I don’t even think I made-out with one (this sounds ludacris in my mind right now). Another truth is that I didn’t like the gay vibe there at all. Very old, very gym rat, very much what I don’t think I would mind now at all. I said back then that I could see myself retiring there, but never making a life there for myself before 40. Many of the older gentleman that I was once intimidated by, with probably become some of my biggest crushes this time around.

I can taste the mojitos already and can’t wait to get some sun on this skinny pale body!

Wet with Anticipation,

DWM

P.S. here are some pics from back in the day (MIA ’04); it seems like FOREVER ago!

What Kind of Person...

2007-02-20T21:17:00.000-05:00

What kind of person goes to a party where there will be guaranteed sexual activity in the pool, jacuzzi, steam room and sauna, (not to mention the locker room and bathroom facilities)? Well me of course, but my question was meant to be a little more general and little less specific!

My answer to this question would be emotional unavailable gay men who are looking for other unapologetic homosexuals that share a love for at least two of the following: uninhibited sexuality, recreational drug-use, binge drinking, water-sports of any kind, or the refreshing smell of chlorine. Although it would be impossible to place all these mo’s in a general category, I find their motives to be quite obvious and generalized.

Just like myself, many gay men in NYC find it blasphemous to not partake in the unique and exciting opportunities and experiences that the greatest city in this country offers us. I don’t believe it has anything to do with morality, but rather everything to do with a person’s individual ideology. I believe it’s very important to have as much fun as possible without becoming hazardous to others around you, and my value system places having fun with friends paramount to anything else.

This post seems a bit like I’m trying to rationalize my attendance at this party, but rather it is meant to further explore where I fit in this world, and more specifically in this city. Sometime I feel like I’m on a prolonged vacation, and – in the case of this weekend – the Spring Break I never had. One of my jaded personalities hasn’t quite found it’s niche on this island, and sometimes it makes me feel like just another ordinary transplant. I seem to be continually searching for new portals into a life that may never be mine, stuck on the same level, with other players constantly passing me on the way to beating this game of life.

Should I come to terms with the fact that all that I may ever be is a city boy who conjured up enough ambitious energy to escape the country and is only good at having a good time with friends in both unusual and ordinary ways? Should I accept the fact that I may never be wildly successful or definitively great in the eyes of the world-at-large? I’m not sure, but I have hope that there is a happy-medium; where the extraordinary meets the pleasantly ordinary, where the rich meets the intriguingly economical, where gorgeous meets strangely beautiful, and where exciting meets incredibly lame!

At the end of the day, I think it’s less about gaping the differences between what I am and what I want to be and more about my lack of interest in becoming a grown-up anytime soon. I’m currently rebelling against society’s idea that everyone should start growing up after being in the real world for a few years, whatever the “real world” is.

So until the day I wake up and feel the need (and ability) to change my lifestyle and take on the role of grown-up, bring on the smell of chlorine!

Getting the Ball Rolling

2007-02-11T22:44:00.000-05:00

It’s a common idiom in the English language meaning to start something so that it can start making progress, but it’s a foolish thing to do if you’re not ready for what happens after that monumental first push. Although getting the ball rolling is never easy, I believe the most difficult part of the ballgame is keeping the ball rolling and coping with the kinetic energy involved.

I’ll cut to the chase. I want a new job! And if I could afford a therapist, he or she would say I NEED one as well. But there is a problem. I’m a lazy-ass mother fucker that may never think of work as anything other than a J-O-B, a chore, something that keeps me from doing absolutely nothing (which I’m so good at). Some might argue that I have way too much to offer to be so slothful, but it’s hard to find ambition when you have no clue as to what you want your professional future to hold.

Hopefully the ball-and-chain which is my current J-O-B will not continue to take as much toll on my spirit as it has in the past six months. It’s obvious that I have to figure some stuff out, and I’m not sure what the best way to do that is. But for now I’ll try and keep the ball rolling, not knowing the exact direction it’s headed in or what it’s going to take to get it to its destination.

For now I will keep living life as loudly as possible and drinking as much alcohol as needed to make it bearable.

How Long Is a Writer’s Block?

2007-02-10T14:46:00.000-05:00

A block is an informal unit of distance popular in the U.S. To an engineer, a block is the average distance between street intersections in the rectangular grid system used in most American cities. To a writer, a block is a devastating phenomenon involving temporary loss of ability to continue writing, usually due to lack of inspiration or creativity.

This is my excuse for not having posted a blog in WAY TOO LONG. And I figure if I’m lacking inspiration and creativity, at least I can write about that! But before getting started, I had to reference Wikipedia for further insight into this phenomenon. Here’s some information I found regarding the origins of this crippling disease I’ve been infected with.

Writer's Block can be closely related to depression and anxiety, two disorders that reflect environmentally-caused or spontaneous changes in the brain's frontal lobe.

Depression and anxiety: CHECK!

Some people would suggest that many working-class writers are sometimes unable to devote themselves to, or concentrate on, their writing because their social and economic circumstances prevent them from doing so.

Less-than-ideal social & economic circumstances: CHECK!

It is widely thought that writer's block is simply part of a natural ebb and flow in the creative process. Author Justina Headley explains in keynote speeches that for her it comes from losing touch with the characters about whom she is writing, and that by discovering who they are again the block disintegrates.

Losing touch with myself and the characters around me: CHECK!

Although there are many excuses for this phenomenon I’m experiencing, I’ve never thought it could develop into a chronic problem.

But there have been cases where writer's block has lasted for years or decades. The most notable example of this in modern literary history was Henry Roth's writer's block which persisted for sixty years and was caused by a combination of depression, political problems, and an unwillingness to confront past problems. This kind of writer's block seems to be quite rare, and most writer's block lasts between an hour and a week.

So, sometimes you have to endure a long block (900ft in Manhattan) and sometimes you only have to walk a short one (only 264ft). I guess the point here is that all blocks come to an end. Interestingly enough, the time between the end of one block and the beginning of another is a dangerous time filled with oncoming traffic and other mentally-disturbed pedestrians. These intersecting forces, which can be thought to conjure up inspiration and creativity, are all that are standing in your way of another trying block.

And don't think for a second that just because I was able to put together this posting means my block is anywhere close to being over. But that's just me being the cynical writer that I am, or am aspiring to be.

P.S. The screen-capture at the top of this post is supposedly of my block (per Google Maps), but I find it interesting that my building seemingly isn't on there (don't be fooled by the green arrow). Just what I need, something else that makes me question my existence!!

Repeating History: Another Year in the Life of Darron Mordel?

2007-01-23T22:39:00.000-05:00

Preface

New Years Eve 2006 was one for the record books, but the year that followed was truly one for the history books. Many lessons were learned, countless stories were written, and Darron’s habit of attempting to gleam knowledge from his past experiences got the best out of him while sharing his year with me. It’s truly amazing how much you can learn about someone just by looking back over journals, blog entries and anything else they’ve penned or collected in the past twelve months. All I can hope is that the chapters don’t seem strangely familiar when he reads my account.

Chapter One

The new year tricked Darron into being as cliché as possible, looking to make a fresh start at the beginning of 2006. He found himself wanting to take the cliché to the ultimate extreme by completely starting over socially and forgetting all his friends. That, of course, was a horrible idea and wore off by MLK Weekend. Darron’s hair was getting longer and he was acquiring a love for wine, as well as a crush on the kid who played Troy in Transamerica. Darron was observing Mitch’s car crash of a relationship with Jeremiah, while awaiting the next relational catastrophe in his own life. In the meantime, Darron defied gravity by seeing Wicked on Broadway for the first time and fell in love with Love Monkey, a quirky new television series that was canceled even more quickly than most of the men in Darron’s life.

Come February, Darron was feeling in the biggest rut of his life, both personally and financially. Ever since his arrival in NYC, Darron had been perfecting the art of rubbing pennies together, and had been poor for so long that he was actually getting good at it. But he had always thought that rich people were boring anyway, so he chose to embrace his financial dilemma in hopes that this vow of poverty that the city had forced him to take would make him at least slightly interesting. Darron was also forced to ask himself the question: why should the universe throw more money in his direction when he couldn’t even effectively manage the meager (yet interesting) amount of money that he was currently raking in? Darron also found himself contemplating “The Heath Ledger Method”, which requires hibernation followed by recreation. However, this method of destroying and recreating yourself takes time, patience and money; all of which Darron had very little.

At this point in time, Darron was not only lacking financial security; he was also lacking Mojo. He had lost it somewhere along the way, and found something resembling it during a weekend visit from three of his Beantown peeps. The weekend after yet another single Valentine’s Day, Darron took part in his first orgy. What came out of the orgy for Darron, besides some images requiring intense repression, was a fuck buddy of sorts. However, before long Darron broke the number one rule of a fuck buddy relationship. DON’T START LIKING YOUR FUCK BUDDY. Long story short: Darron starting expecting more, Jared obviously sensed that, and Darron got hurt by his own stupid feelings. The spontaneous disappearance of Jared baffled Darron for some time. Darron lost his favorite game to a 31-year-old stud, who left him with nothing more than two Duane Reade coffee mugs and a brief knowledge of Depeche Mode. So much for managing expectations and combating lethal emotions.

Chapter Two

The beginning of March meant a visit from Darron’s first gay-best-friend and the boyfriend. That hosting stint served as a great lead-in to my vacation with the fam. And it’s true what they say: FAMILY VACATIONS ARE NOT REAL VACATIONS! This particular family vacay took Darron to Orlando over the Mardi Gras holidays. Thanks to Darron’s parents’ Disney Visa Card, he nearly OD’d on Mickey and friends for next to nothing. But he came home with a enviable tan and a ridiculous hunger for spring weather. So he decided to call it even.

However, Darron returned from O’Town still deeply troubled. Where Jared was concerned, Darron had fallen and tripped over his own exploited emotions and expectations. Darron was never promised anything more than what he got: nothing. It was meant to be a fling; nothing more, nothing less. And only after reading his first account of this experience did Darron realize how bad it was, how bad a shape he was in after discovering the disappearance.

Mid-March was the perfect time for the theme of the year to first show its face: THE OPPOSITE OF LOVE IS INDIFFERENCE. Jared’s indifference hardened Darron’s heart beyond recognition and set his year up for quite an interesting string of events. With the son-of-a-bitch noted, Darron wanted to set out to perfect the art of the rebound fuck. However, his longer hairstyle had Darron in a very mellow mood and he wasn’t at all digging his unambiguously slutty behavior. He took up faux-stalking Jake Gyllenhal and acquired crushes on Cam Gigandet, Chris Daughtry and every other attractive or mysterious guy who he could or would never be with.

The end of March brought Darron’s two-year NYC anniversary, and along with it came enlightenment. Two years earlier, Darron wasn’t ready for the account planning world. Plain and simple. It’s hard to admit you’re not good or smart enough. But we can’t be great at everything, and it’s difficult to deal with that fact; especially until you find the thing or things you are good at. Darron hadn’t gotten around to discovering those things yet. He was too busy acquiring a new man, one older than any of his previous suitors. Jerry was 42.

Chapter Three

Jerry helped bring on an emotional hangover in Darron’s life. He thought he was well on his way to taming Darron, but little did Jerry know that baking Darron chocolate chip cookies is only a small portion of the combination to Darron’s heart. Truly blissful, amazing, life-altering sex requires emotional intimacy, and unfortunately Jerry wanted to build that intimacy before consummating the relationship. WRONG! Not only that, but he hit a pet peeve nerve of Darron’s at the onset of their relationship that (Darron believed) sent it spiraling into nothingness. Jerry made Darron wait for sex, then for dinner, and that made Darron livid. Add the ventriloquist dummy on the chair and it could be said that “it” needed to be put to sleep before it became any more attached (or alive). And trying to hold onto Darron by proposing a fuck buddy arrangement was highly pathetic of Jerry. They must not cover break-up etiquette in the 40-and-older class.

By April, 2006 was quickly becoming another year for serial monogamy. The ventriloquist dummy detox time didn’t last long before Darron met his next victim. Parker was unsuspecting of Darron’s charm and way too sweet to hurt. But alas, Darron threw Parker away despite their mutual love of witty banter and mutual comedic appreciation for Chelsea Handler. Perhaps Parker’s only mistake was thinking that anything old-fashioned was something Darron was remotely interested in. And isn’t it just like a straight-gay guy to not have condoms and lube in his apartment!

Darron celebrated the anniversary of his familial coming-out by spending Easter in the District with two of the couples in his life, and a late April visit from Dante led into his visit to the MOB for Vern’s graduation.

Chapter Four

The first weekend of May found Darron in his hometown celebrating the college graduation of a close friend, the 27th birthday of his only sister, and the annoyingly reoccurring holiday known as Mother’s Day. He returned home to NYC with a great deal of negative energy that he found impossible to shake. Darron’s calibration was completely thrown off and he found himself at a new low, standing in front of a new realization that prompted him to begin punishing himself for stupidity in his past. Darron decided that there should be no new commitments until he got his shit together. That didn’t last long!

Darron took a nose-dive into Project Management, making for a classic case of the non-committal quickly becoming overly-committed. Darron’s logic was that if he was currently hitting a wall romantically, maybe the professional wall would be less difficult to scale. It seemed logical at the time, but Darron was still feeling royally fucked up and feeling the need to fall off the face of the earth. He found himself questioning everything, being sure of nothing, not feeling himself and not even knowing what that was at the time.

At the end of May, Darron was contemplating (for the second time since his arrival two years earlier) leaving NYC. He was forced to ask himself if he was falling out of love with the city. The answer of course was NO, but his mind was wrecking his romantic life and his lack of clarity was doing nothing for his professional life except making it more complicated. All Darron wanted to be was on his feet, but he was feeling like he was on his ass trying to come to terms with his own reality.

Chapter Five

Randy Sandler, Darron’s first city love, made a brief cameo that marked the beginning of summer. That encounter at Roxy, along with the circumstances of his current reality, prompted a string of one-night conquests for Darron. While his bestie was moving his entire life to Washington, D.C. to be with the man of his deluded dreams, Darron was focusing on meeting a number of total strangers whose names he had no intentions of remembering. The only thing Darron would remember would be their insecurities, which would serve to lessen the severity of his own.

June was not only the month of the one-night-stand, but also the month Darron officially took the reigns as project manager of the Martha Stewart account at his agency; once again, trying to be something he wasn’t.

Pride Weekend in New York, spent with some of Darron’s craziest peeps, was a perfect lead-in to his first P-Town experience. The 4th of July in Provincetown was incredible, and only slightly memorable due to the intensity of intoxification that Darron subjected himself to. The daily T-Dance at the Boatslip was beyond fun, and Darron left the tip of Cape Cod anxious to return.

Darron’s return to Fantasy Island had him horny for more action, so his Independence Day climaxed with an innocent game of naked Twister with a 33-year-old guy that would later grow to regret his initial proposition. They were both considered loners, and Tad appreciated Darron’s sexual blaséness. Tad’s only mistake was not taking advantage of that blasé nature soon enough. He missed his window of sexual opportunity, but he didn’t realize the door was shut until much later. Once again, Darron’s countdown to the disappointment was, in fact, appropriate. Darron maintained his status as the guy who likes to keep people guessing, and his mystery was pretty much the only thing he had going for him at that time.

Chapter Six

A visit from Darron’s mother and sister at the end of July was bearable at best, incinerating Darron’s social life for the worse part of two weeks. His sister’s visit ended in his realization that he must have been adopted. There was no other explanation. Summer continued to fly by, but not without a weekend getaway to the Hampton’s with Kamille. That was just what Darron needed to maintain sanity for a little while longer.

Before taking off to the Big Easy to celebrate Labor Day and his big Two-Four, Darron gathered all the troops at Verlaine for a one-stop-shop get-together of all his favorite people. Darron was the first to leave, but not before numerous first-time connections were made and Darron was inebriated to a sufficient degree. That night unofficially marked the end of Twister Tad. The window and door were both sealed shut.

Darron’s return to Southern Decadence after a three-year absence was all he could have hoped for and so much more. Darron lost his dogtags in a random hotel room, but he gained memories that will last for a lifetime. From their first drunken meeting, Randy and Darron hit it off incredibly well. The fact that Randy was from NYC made it a bit surreal. But in true Darron fashion, it was short-lived and way too good to be true. The first weekend following their return to Fantasy Island called for a brunch debrief between the two new companions. Randy’s announcement of his HIV-positive status blew Darron out of the water, but Randy’s later disappearance surprised Darron even more. Darron knew there was no sensible way for he and Randy to be together, but that didn’t mean that Darron didn’t want to be part of Randy’s life for a little while longer.

That over-exaggerated travesty marked the end of summer!

Chapter Seven

Late September brought a new fall television line-up, a guy that would later become Darron’s first official boyfriend, and the end of an overall great birthday month. October was a month for laptop repairs, attempts at boyfriend navigation, a visit from an old college roommate and the beginning of a beautiful stalkership directed toward the beautiful singer/songwriter Jay Brannan.

From its onset, Darron’s relationship with Russell was nothing like what Darron had previously imagined a boy-on-boy monogamous relationship would be, except monogamous. Never before had Darron started to become good friends with a guy he was dating and it completely freaked him out, but not at first. At first, Darron found it comforting and exciting, a new adventure worth occupying his seemingly precious time. It took a month from their first meeting at Verlaine via MySpace to make it official, and just one more month for Darron to make the decision to disengage.

A month without my laptop kept me out of a lot of online cruising trouble, but trouble was waiting to be found elsewhere. In that short time, Darron found monogamy to be a huge mind-fuck and the main cause for his lack of healthy libido. The sexual restriction that most relationship-oriented people find normal and reasonable led to a string of psychosexual issues that Darron could not overcome.

Mid-November, the newly-coupled decided to end their romantic relationship and remain friends to the best of their ability. It took Darron only one month of being a boyfriend to decide it wasn’t for him. Some people are just better friends, and not meant to be anything more to anybody.

Eigth & Final Chapter

The fast-approaching Holiday season began with a visit from Darron’s mom, dad and sister. Darron had a full house and a lost mind. The last month of 2006 left Darron feeling quite overwhelmed by his mounting responsibilities at work. But the signing of a new lease on Darron’s apartment of two years told him that at least one part of his life was holding steady, despite the seven percent hike in rent.

After a long year of unrequited love, Darron was left asking himself, what was wrong with them. What happened? His only answer was that he happened. He loved the idea of loving another man and being true to that man, but the reality of that was currently too much for Darron to handle. So for now, and maybe for some time, the short stories will have to suffice.

Perfecting the Art: Breaking Up

2006-12-09T16:01:00.000-05:00

It is hard to do, but does it always have to be tres difficile?! I feel like I lucked out this time around, but I really won’t know how much until the next phase of the plan takes effect. Actually there is no plan, and for all I know I could never see RAP again. But if I have anything to say about it, the past 3 months will forever be considered the beginning of what is/was a beautiful, long-lasting friendship. I’ll keep posted on that!

And not to sound like a dick, but this breaking up thing seems to just be something that I do. Because although this was my first official boyfriend on boyfriend relationship, I’ve been through the “breaking up” process several times before. In either case (being the breaker or the breakee), I found out a while ago that getting out of any kind of relationship is much more difficult than initiating one. All it takes to initiate is a lingering glance, but to disengage after that person knows your name can be a whole other inning & ballgame altogether!

What have I learned from my first official romantic relationship? Here it goes:

(1) With every new relationship I’m pushing myself beyond what I’ve ever experienced before and stretching myself further than I’ve ever been extended. And a few weeks ago, I said to myself, this is as far as I (can) go. In the same way that a rubber band can only be stretched so far until it pops, I was beginning to feel overextended. My elasticity can vary, but is not unlimited!

(2) I wasn’t ready, plain and simple. From the beginning, I missed the spark and excitement of meaningless first encounters, and have realized that my love is water and cannot be mixed with oil, the substance that I currently view sex as being.

(3) The opposite of love is indifference, and there is no passion when there is indifference. A lack of passion will bring down any house. And in this case, the source of the strangulation of love was my familiarity with the other person and my lack of experience with romantic relationship among people I consider a friend.

(4) I know, and am okay with, the implications of my conclusions. My life is for rent, and until I learn to buy, I deserve nothing more than I get. Nothing I have is truly mine (Dido)!

(5) When it’s right and it’s real I won’t have the lingering thoughts and doubts, which accompanied me toward the end.

In the words of Cazwell, one of the East Village’s most intriguing nightlife personalities, “having a boyfriend is like having a job and right now, I work like 40 hours a week. If you’re going to take a job, you’d better love your job.” That doesn’t make complete sense to me, but I get where he’s going with the statement. Having a boyfriend is a lot of work, and I already have a job!

On a perfectly related note, check out the video to Cazwell’s Do You Wanna Break Up. Trust me. Highly enjoyable!

As always, enjoy! And cheers to my slump!

We Are Dreamboyz (With Hot Asses)

2006-12-09T13:25:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of Dreamgirls, I came across this pic last night and had to share! Talk about the Dreamettes!

And yes, I must gloat! This past week I attended an advance screening of Dreamgirls, one of the most highly-anticipated films of the year, and am ready to give a honest review:

It didn't BLOW me away, but I did have INCREDIBLY high expectations! Having said that, it was VERY enjoyable. Jennifer Hudson definitely stole the show,as many people predicted! Beyonce definitely needed to eat a muffin! I didn't like seeing Jamie Fox as a douchebag, but he played the part well! And taking into consideration that I do not like Eddie Murphy, I enjoyed him a alot in this!

I'll want to see it again for sure. But until we all can do that on Christmas Day (unless you live in New York, Los Angeles, or San Francisco and want to pay $25 for exclusive one-week engagements beginning December 15), go directly to iTunes and pick up at least two things:

(1) And I Am Telling You - Jennifer Hudson
(2) One Night Only - Disco Version (scroll down to watch the video!)

You might also want to check out Miss Jennifer Holiday's historic performance (featured at the 1982 Tony Awards) in the original Broadway musical. The quality of the video leaves much to be desired, but the performance does not!!

Enjoy!

Are You Sexually Attracted To Me?

2006-12-03T22:21:00.000-05:00

A conversation can never end well when it begins with your boyfriend asking you if you’re sexually attracted to him! This is what I heard this morning right before I found myself breaking up with one of the greatest guys I’ve ever been romantically involved with. Our relationship has been a case of familiarity translating into a lack of passion, at least on my part. I’ve never been able to remain sexually involved with someone I consider a good friend. (and that one time me and some friends were snowed in and invited a random boy over does NOT count)

My only hope is that I haven’t fucked up everything and we can still remain friends. I feel like I can be a much better friend to him than the boyfriend I have been to him.

I’m beginning to understand that the term boyfriend means different things to different people, and that my current understanding of the term is fair at best. All this time I’ve been trying to be a boyfriend without knowing what that term meant to mine. The other day I went looking for a universal meaning.

Boyfriend – n. (boi-friend)
1. a frequent or favorite male companion; beau.
2. a male friend.
3. a male lover.

The above definitions came from Dictionary.com, but the real insight came after gleaming some perspective from UrbanDictionary.com...

1. A male partner in a non-marital romantic relationship usually considered more than an ordinary friend, especially in a romantic sense.
2. Non-essential male counterpart
3. The nice guy you settle for when you realize that the hot bad boys you fall for are just man-whores who make you cry as often as they make you cum.

I know now that exclusivity is not in my current mindset, no matter how bad I wish it were. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be steady boyfriend material, but I definitely realized today that I’m not there yet. I feel somewhere in the middle, like neither completely meaningless or deeply meaningful sex can satisfy me like my DVR and a glass of vino!

So if you’re reading this, and you’re thinking about dating me, RUN AWAY!

On a related note, one that shows where my true passions obviously lie at the moment, I’m once again addicted to Real World. This time the hotties are in Denver and my latest crush is being wasted on Davis, the gay Southern Baptist from Georgia.

Wednesdays at 10pm EST. In the words of Fergie, check it out!

One Night Only

2006-12-01T20:36:00.000-05:00

I can already hear this being mixed at gay clubs everywhere!

One Night Only

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With all the hype this film is getting, I can't help but anticipate its premiere!

And in regards to the Randy Harrison comments, he was alone and looking kinda rough! My initial thought was "he must be out of work"!

Imogen Heap Meets Queer as Folk

2006-11-24T18:28:00.000-05:00

The Song = Come Here Boy by Imogen Heap
The Video = Something I Found on YouTube

Who else misses Queer as Folk?! I was reminded of how much I miss it after passing Randy Harrison (the actor who played Justin) on Avenue A the other day.

And yes, I've been addicted to YouTube lately. Don't hate!

Say It Right

2006-11-22T19:39:00.000-05:00

Check out Nelly Furtado's performance at the AMAs--

In the day
In the night
Say it right
Say it all
You either got it
Or you don't
You either stand or you fall
When your will is broken
When it slips from your hand
When there's no time for joking
There's a hole in the plan

Oh you don't mean nothing at all to me
No you don't mean nothing at all to me
But you got what it takes to set me free
Oh you could mean everything to me

I can't say that I'm not lost and at fault
I can't say that I don't love the light and the dark
I can't say that I don't know that I am alive
And all of what I feel I could show
You tonight you tonight

From my hands I could give you
Something that I made
From my mouth I could sing you another brick that I laid
From my body I could show you a place God knows
You should know the space is holy
Do you really want to go?

When's the Last Time...

2006-11-16T22:27:00.000-05:00

...you got CHILLS?!

Push PLAY and get ready for the hairs to stand up :)

Honestly, this is one of my FAVORITE pieces of documented history!

A-M-A-Z-I-N-G :)

Since We Last Spoke...

2006-11-11T16:23:00.000-05:00

So, the Geek Squad finally relinquished my laptop from the hostage situation it found itself in, and I’m back to update you on the state of my world as well as the union I find my self a part of.

I woke up this morning, alone in my bed, and rolled over to find the clock at 11:11am on this 11th day of November. I had no choice but to look forward to the day ahead. I’ve been catching up on my writings, meaning sorting through the loose papers covered with notes that have been piling up around me. It’s been quite a personal challenge not having my laptop to listen to my bullshit, but now that we’re reunited I feel a great deal of pressure to make up for our time apart.

I've been writing a lot of stuff that I consider too dangerous to blog, seeing as my last “relationship” ended (slightly prematurely) as a result of such material that I couldn’t keep to myself.

Let’s just say I’ve been doing a great deal of learning lately and feeling some acute growing pains in the month since we last spoke. See, just a few days after my last posting I had “the boyfriend conversation” for the first time in my surreal life. Since then, I’ve been coming to terms with what it means to be in an exclusive relationship where monogamy can slightly overwhelm a newcomer.

In A Relationship: three simple words that are far from simple when put together. If you find your heart racing while editing your MySpace profile setting, you know you’ve hit hard dirt, new territory, a wall that is now behind you, the wreckage of polygamy in your wake. Homeostasis always takes time, and the calibration process has been completely unfamiliar this time around. But I have to grow up sometime, and I believe that the best things in life don’t come easy. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m currently in a fight against the “single” box, but I would say that I have been forced to step out of my comfort zone recently and relearn a lesson that I thought I had already been taught.

A relationship is not a sprint. It is a marathon. You have to find a good pace and learn to both push through the uphill battles and enjoy the downhill coasts. Your second marathon is easier than your first, but your first is where you learn the most.

I wrote the following on 09.25.06, less that ten days after meeting RAP at my favorite bar via the technological miracle mentioned earlier:

You’re In It Before You Know It

An innocent glance can repeatedly turn into an unsuspected stare that seems to pierce your soul, connecting the two of you with a superhuman force that only slightly subsides when one finds the strength to look away.

A small gesture can mean a great deal when it comes from someone you think you might be beginning to care about.

Your expectations are as low as you can keep them and you are continuously having to push them back down as they attempt to overwhelm you.

You’re counting down to the disappointment, doubting if you can even do anything to prepare for the end of what has begun.

You’re in it, but it doesn’t yet possess your spirit and, thus, cannot break you unless you let it.

Your familiar lack of judgment and disregard for others in your life is reappearing. It’s not exactly a good thing, but you believe it to be a somewhat normal and needed trait of the human condition.

You feel like a predator one minute, the prey the next.
Trying not to let him get to you gets harder by the second.
Your defenses are slipping and the mercury is rising.
Where do you go from here?

Little did I know that where I would go from there was into a relationship with a great guy from Boston that is caring, nurturing, and maybe a little too sweet for his own good.

Where do I go from here?

I’ll continue exorcising the demons, facing my fears, dealing with psychological and emotional issues, fighting my relational frustrations, pushing through the funk, and above all else maximizing this learning experience.

Much Needed Repairs

2006-10-10T20:43:00.000-04:00

My laptop is going into the shop tomorrow, so I might be a bit MIA until the Geek Squad takes care of my baby. Pray for him, it's been awhile since he's been touched by another!

Have a great week, and don't miss me too much!

XOXO

Some Pics from the Weekend

2006-10-08T21:30:00.000-04:00

More details to come...

Mental Health Day

2006-10-04T13:01:00.000-04:00

It happens to everyone, the need to catch up on life!

And many of us push through the difficult times not realizing that when we choose to push through something it stays in our rearview mirrors and the chances are likely that we will encounter it again.

The past few days I’ve been experiencing some emotional vertigo and I don’t like it one bit. My life usually has a healthy taste of madness with a understood splash of psychosis, but the past few days have been nothing short of borderline insanity (neurosis with a capital Crazytown). I haven’t been myself, and it’s been quite obvious and even more aggravating.

I think it might have something to do with this skin irritation that has developed on my neck and on random other parts of my anatomy (diagnosed yesterday by the dermatologist as a skin infection, which I’m treating with antibiotics), but I believe that to be only a small part of the problem. A skin infection alone does not make a man this effing emotional!

I’m at a very pivotal point in my life right now. My current professional transition and personal evolution is seemingly converging to bring on a new strain of stress to which I’m learning to adapt.

All this, along with what promises to be a very active allergy season, has my body, mind and soul doing their best to maintain homeostasis.

As I’ve stated before on this blog, I believe the mind to be a very powerful thing. Many times it’s hard to control, but what’s imperative is that we at least try our best. Our best sometimes requires you to put on the brakes, allow yourself time to regenerate, and then push forward without having to push through so much debris.

Many of us can only afford a day, a day set aside for the health of our mind, our body, our spirit. But I believe that single day can do wonders in the fight against insanity, burnout and a never before experienced level of madness.

Speaking of madness, check out this link. In the words of KBH (thanks for sharing), it’s too good not to share!

I'm off to regenerate! Ciao.

Best New Show = Studio 60

2006-09-27T13:24:00.000-04:00

"Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" is smart, funny and it has kept my attention for the last two weeks now, leaving me wanting more. It’s not the only entity in my life that has succeeded in that task, but it's the only one I'm prepared to blog about!

Aaron Sorkin (think “The West Wing”) has done it again. He’s known for his hectically paced dialogue, and I can’t seem to get enough. His latest work is a take on the drama behind the humor of producing a popular, late-night comedy sketch show. And I love everything about it.

I completely forgot how funny/talented Chandler, I mean Matthew Perry, was/is. He plays a high-on-painkillers version of himself (Matt Albie), and he’s becoming quite the scene-stealer (in a great way).

Bradley Whitford (who plays Matt’s creative and comedic partner Danny Tripp) looks so comfortable acting in the Sorkin world. His energy almost makes the show feel like "The West Wing" on laughing gas. And I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that his character has a cocaine problem and I became addicted to this show 10 minutes into the pilot.

Matt and Danny have been lured back to television in order to help resurrect the program (identical to SNL) that is a flagship of the network (NBS).

Amanda Peet is undoubtedly charming as overachieving young network president Jordan McDeere.

Sarah Paulson plays Harriet Hayes, the leading lady of the sketch comedy series. Her character's Christianity is intriguing, as is the reason Matt broke up with her (she went on the 700 Club)!

Also playing crucial roles are D.L. Hughley (as Simon Stiles) and Nathan Corddry of “The Daily Show” (as Tom Jeter) as stars of the sketch show, Timothy Busfield of "thirtysomething" as their normally cool-headed director (Cal Shanley), and “Wings” alum Steven Weber (as the big network cheese Jack Rudolph).

There is a lot of good TV out there right now, and (don't worry) I’m not counting Fashion House as part of that evaluation. FH is my guilty pleasure. Studio 60 is my Emmy pick going into the third week of its season. So whatever you do, tune in on Mondays at 10 EST to NBS, I mean NBC!

Not that any of you care, but I feel the need to share the rest of my weekly television programming schedule with the world:

Mondays:
Prison Break (I started watching right after the Break!)
The Class (think Tom Ritter)
Fashion House (6 nights a week, baby!)
What About Brian (premieres 10/9 on ABC)
Weeds (MLP is having my baby!)
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip :)

Tuesdays:
Friday Night Lights (premieres 10/3 on NBC)

Wednesdays:
30 Rock (premieres 10/11 on NBC)
One Tree Hill (my Dawson’s Creek stand-in!)

Thursdays:
My Name is Earl (I love me some Jaime Pressly!)
The Office (Steve Carell is god!)
Ugly Betty (premieres 9/28 before Grey’s)
Grey’s Anatomy (LOVES it!)
Six Degrees (It needs to grow on me a bit.)

Fridays & Saturdays are off days (with the exception of FH).

Sundays:
Desperate Housewives (looking much better than season 2)
Brothers & Sisters (we'll see after I watch the pilot.)

What can I say? I am a PROUD TV whore!

It's Only Tuesday?!

2006-09-26T19:31:00.000-04:00

WORK
The days of me going home before 6 are no more. I’m trying to make progress in this fish tank of sharks, and life is forcing me to take some initiative where my professional life is concerned. It’s time to step up and show the goods. My goods. The goods that I know I have, but that haven’t yet gotten the respect they deserve. What exactly are these goods, you might be asking? In time my friend, you won’t have to ask. You’ll just know about them. But before that happens I have to cut the cord on my current position. And soon.

PLAY
Putting all my eggs into one basket is something I rarely do. It’s just not how I roll. I roll with responsibility and respect for my heart. Or maybe I’m just safe. Too safe. I might need to find a balance between spreading my eggs like the twelve tribes of Israel covered in bubble wrap and juggling them while wearing my favorite shirt!

WORK & PLAY

Last night, work and play collided in what was a ridiculous affair. The Gnarls Barkley (think ‘Crazy’) concert at the Nokia Theatre in Hell, I mean Times Square, was part of Advertising Week here in NYC. And today I have three things to say:

1. Open Bar = Bad
2. My Boss sharing his One-Hitter = Worse
3. This morning at 6:30am = The Worst

Allegedly, I was walking around Union Square with KT. We were wearing our sunglasses at night and loving life. Now I’m forced to recover and rest up for a weekend visit from BB, my infamously gay sophomore-year-of-college roommate.

The only thing I have left to say is THANK GOD Friday is payday :)

P.S. the PSA of the day is HYDRATION IS BEST! I unofficially miss my Hydration Nazi!!!

Intense Thoughts on a Sunday Evening

2006-09-24T23:01:00.000-04:00

When the prospect threatens your life, and it’s easy to be romanced by the promise, misread intentions can play fatal tricks on the mind.

But if you refuse to let the prospect, promise and the intentions of others control you, and don’t allow yourself to be swayed by hope that finds its way into your heart prematurely, you will be empowered to make the right choices for your future existence.

Blast From the Past…

2006-09-20T22:13:00.000-04:00

…in a good way!

It seems like I have been inundated over the past two weeks with actors from a previous scene, characters from a former chapter, players from a different video game level. I think you get the analogy.

The surprise where these (re)connections are concerned is that they have not been accompanied by negative energy. It’s been positive all the way, and it has been a good week. The majority of that evaluation might have something to do with the fact that work is a little less crazy this week than last. But the positive energy is real. It only makes sense that these sonic booms of nostalgia have something to do with that. And not many things are as mentally agreeable as a healthy dose of nostalgia mixed with just the right amount of the good kind of newness.

Lately has been a time of making new friends, reminiscing about old ones, and acknowledging the fact that I’ve had a great run so far with some great conspirators!

With Fall thick in the air, I can’t help but look forward to the coming months. I have a good feeling about what’s in store. As the leaves begin to fall, I can only hope that what’s left after the excess falls away is worth looking at until Spring. We shall see what is revealed in the coming weeks!

Continuum: Satisfaction Guaranteed

2006-09-13T21:58:00.000-04:00

Proceed immediately to the iTunes Music Store and pick up John Mayer’s latest, Continuum or face the consequences. If you only have 99 cents to spare, choose I Don’t Trust Myself (With Loving You).

Here are the lyrics (you can thank me later):

No, I'm not the man I used to be lately
See, you met me at an interesting time
And if my past is any sign of your future
You should be warned before I let you inside

Hold on to whatever you find, baby
Hold on to whatever will get you through
Hold on to whatever you find, baby
I don't trust myself with loving you

I will beg my way into your garden
And then I’ll break my way out when it rains
Just to get back to the place where I started
So I can watch you back all over again
(I don’t really understand)

Hold on to whatever you find, baby
Hold on to whatever will get you through
Hold on to whatever you find, baby
I don't trust myself with loving you

Who do you love?
Girl I see through your love
Who do you love?
Me or the thought of me?

Hold on to whatever you find, baby
Hold on to whatever will get you through
Hold on to whatever you find, baby
I don't trust myself with loving you

Big Surprise: I’ve Acquired a New Addiction

2006-09-12T19:33:00.000-04:00

(Okay, so I lied. There is no Part Two of Two. Or maybe there was, but there isn’t anymore! Moving on.)

MyNetworkTV (don’t ask me where this channel came from) has created a monster, or rather two separate monsters right behind each other six nights a week. Both are telenovela-style serials that have me twitching for my next hit.

Fashion House is my favorite of the two guilty pleasures. Bo Derek, Morgan Fairchild, the modeling industry; need I say more?! Derek is the fabulous Maria Gianni (Versace, what?!) and Derek is her archrival. Maria’s son, Luke (the incredibly delicious Taylor Kinney), finds new meaning in his art after hooking up with the superhot Michelle (Natalie Martinez), an aspiring fashion designer who is a brand new addition to the Gianni fold.

I would call it Melrose Place on crack with a splash of Dynasty and a twist of Red Shoe Diaries. It’s good stuff.

Desire, the less intriguing of the two novelas, is about a hot guy escaping to California with his other hot brother and his clueless mother after sleeping with a mob boss’s daughter. Blowing up the family’s restaurant in Jersey wasn’t sufficient, and the mobster is set on killing the douche-bag that is Louis (Nate Haden). Meanwhile, there’s this whole love triangle including Louis, Alex (the understated, yet sexier, of the two played by Zach Silva) & Andrea, the daughter of the restaurant mogul the boys find themselves working for due to their mother’s connection with one of the restaurant managers. Yes, it’s complicated.

Let’s face it, I can’t resist a good primetime soap opera. At least not until next week when I and the rest of the free world are inundated with the new fall television season. All I have to say to my DVR is, YOU BETTER WERK!

The Summer Is Over: Emotional Detox In Progress

2006-09-05T21:20:00.000-04:00

Part 1 ½ of 2

So, part two needs more time. Until then, enjoy the sights of New Orleans:

1. My inflight smorgasbord (There's nothing like cured meat with your vodka-ginger)!
2. How we knew it was going to be a great weekend (Our cab driver's name was Lucifer)!
3. My favorite street in the South.
4. My favorite alley in the Big Easy.
5. Insert bad joke here.
6. I'm a...

The Summer Is Over: Emotional Detox In Progress

2006-09-04T22:38:00.000-04:00

Part 1 of 2

Returning home from Southern Decadence is like coming down off an incredible high where everything looked better, sounded better and felt better. Or not so much better, as much as different.

Recovery is always a bitch and the self-debrief can be somewhat overwhelming. All of the great memories that you’re trying to store up are mixed with the late arriving memories that you didn’t even know you had. Putting the pieces together can be a challenge, especially when you probably should just pass out and wake up twelve hours from now. But the pieces are too intriguing for you to let them lay dormant just yet.

I found myself incredibly emotional toward the city of New Orleans. The last night of our “tour”, I even proclaimed my love for it during a “tribute to the city” video montage downstairs at the Pub. It just goes to show you that you can’t control who or what you love. Further evidence of my love came while leaving the hotel for the airport. My eyes became all watery, I was a wreck. Now I know I’ve never been in a love with a man, because I’ve never felt that feeling about one before!

Here are some pics to sustain my blog addiction until Part Two arrives:

1. Me (the B-day boi)
2. Me & My Ramada Roomie (JK)
3. MS, BC & JT (the District boys)
4. The New NYC Friend (RO)
5. The Local Reunion (AR)

DWM at 24*

2006-08-31T15:22:00.000-04:00

*pretend it's Saturday (09.02.82) at exactly 12 noon when I officially turn 24.

I am highly self-involved, socially evolved and morally devolved.
I am a free-spirit who loves a good story and welcomes an occasional scene.
I think cravings are healthy, addictions are normal and breakdowns should be expected.

I don’t avoid lust-triggers, Taint is my second middle name, and self control is a religion I will never understand.
I am more fun when I’m drunk, write better when I’m hungover, and could eat a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts in one sitting.

I don’t play nice when I’m sober, I don’t experience embarrassment often and my dance moves are underrated.
I prefer orange juice over coffee, mimosas over bloody marys and I’ve probably drank more Malibu Coconut Rum in my lifetime to fill the pool in your parents’ backyard.
Little Debbies got me through college, beer is a taste I will never acquire and I refuse to buy a bottle of wine for more than ten dollars.

I don’t eat ice cream because of the texture and don’t date virgins because of the responsibility.
I am deprived of affection by choice, condone compulsive masturbation, and believe in little more than myself.
I don’t trust sex addicts, individuals who delete their online profiles or those who have never seen an episode of The OC.
I hate hype, I’m over animation and I like some sub-sets of country music.

I work well under pressure, but don’t like to be pushed.
I like to win, but I’m not very competitive.
I used to have a lazy eye and the symptoms have since moved to the rest of my body.

Bad timing is bad, but my timing is the worst.
MySpace is crack and Pop Culture is God.
Sobriety is blasphemy and revenge is useless.
Honest mistakes don’t happen and great minds never think alike.

Cynicism is my friend, Ethan Hawke is my lover and New York City is my home.
24 is scheduled to be a great age full of much more good than bad.
Here’s to making things work.

No turning back,
David Watts Miller

Am I Experiencing a Place-Holder Phase in My Life?

2006-08-30T23:42:00.000-04:00

I’ve been feeling a little off lately. Okay, that’s an understatement. But the point is that something isn’t right. What that something is, I’m not sure. And I’m afraid that it might not just be something, but more like everything. Or I could be over-exaggerating my feelings, but just go with me here.

Something is definitely missing where my career is concerned. Actually, that’s just the thing! I don’t feel like I’m developing a career as much as using my current transition into project management as a professional place-holder—one in a long line of positions that keep me housed and fed until I figure out what I really want to do.

I just had my one-year anniversary of employment on August 1, and maybe that’s what has me thinking that it’s time for a change. It’s not that I don’t like (most of) the people, because I do. It’s not that I’m over advertising (completely). Maybe the steep learning curve is scaring me away, but I don’t think that’s it either. It’s more that I’m getting more and more frustrated by the uncertainty that’s flooding my mind in regards to what I want to do with my life.

Is an KBP exodus in order? Probably not soon. But something has to happen, or maybe it already has.

This is not a recent life development, but I have a continual need for newness.

(Everyone together now, DUH!)

It’s not necessarily that I get bored very easily, it’s more that I find many things very boring. It’s not necessarily that I have a short attention span, it’s more that I have a strong opinion of what is worth my attention. For some reason it’s much easier to know what you don’t like than to know what you do like. Likewise, it’s much easier to sense when something’s wrong then to know that something’s right.

I do know, however, that the only way to learn what is right for you is to experience things that are wrong for you. It’s just hard for me to deal with the lack of luck that I possess in the arenas of work & love.

My current situation where relationships are concerned is questionable. I’m in love with the idea of the ideal, and as we know the ideal is always unrealistic. I need to come to terms with a realistic idea of what love will be like when I find it. I’m just afraid that my standards for love are too high, and that my current degree of patience is too low. Where romantic interests are concerned, it’s hard not to jinx a relationship if you know that the person isn’t “the one” (or even “a one”). I find that my tendency to over-analyze hinders me from taking a relationship joy ride.

The “spark” that causes the venture to last more than one night disappears before you want it to, and you're left trying to hold on to something that you view as merely a place-holder relationship. This a disturbing pattern that I find myself plagued with lately. The connection feels good and right for a season. But just like with Mother Nature, seasons never last as long as you want them to. You can’t wait for them to get here, but after they arrive you can’t wait for their departure. And just like with most things in life, you don’t miss them until they’re gone.

This life is so typical sometimes that it’s pathetic, and the easiest thing to do is to be pathetic with it. But I don’t believe that’s a choice for me.

I have to keep looking, or rather keep preparing, for the next big thing. And for now, I’ll lean on the things I know for sure. I know that I’d rather have pain than what I’m experiencing now, which is a lack of any real emotion. I’d rather have the paranoia that drives me crazy and a relationship with chemistry to burn, than the (dis)comfort and restlessness that has to be written all over my face.

I need the paranoia, I need the pain, and I need to get off my ass and make something happen for myself.

I’m glad we had this little talk.

Now moving on to the important stuff, New Orleans is approximately 36 hours away and I’ve already packed my drinking shoes. Also on the list: my party hat, my dance moves and my birthday suit. Things to forget: dignity, inhibition and regard for everything and everyone.

It’s gonna be fucking fantastic. See you there.

Just Another Night @ Verlaine

2006-08-27T19:28:00.000-04:00

So last night I organized a gathering at Verlaine to acknowledge/celebrate my 24th birthday. It was to be a gathering of my favorite friends acquired since moving to New York, and I was very happy with the outcome. It was a great opportunity for some great people to meet for the first time and for me to drink way too much as usual. It was also a great lead-in to next weekend in the Big Easy. Thanks to all who made it, I love you all in my own special way!

ME, KBH & JK

TC & ME

ME & RS

EJ & TH

ME, LM & TH

TH & P

Just What I Needed: A Weekend Escape to Paradise

2006-08-21T14:38:00.000-04:00

I’m still not exactly sure what I was escaping from, but my mission was accomplished after an early morning ride on the L-I-double-R this past Friday! Our host picked up her benefactors at the Westhampton station and took us for a short drive before pulling the BMW into a ridiculously beautiful estate that just happens to be where her (KC) & her hubby (LC) live the good life when they aren’t on 3-month-long excursions to Italia.

It was immediately brought to my attention that I would not want to leave this place and might have to quit my job in order to accommodate my new lifestyle.

(Backstory: KT met KC shortly after moving to New York and securing employment at the Essex House, a luxury midtown hotel that the Mr. & Mrs. would stay at when in the City.)

After settling in, KT and I headed off to Splish Splash, the waterpark in the area where a friend lifeguards and was able to snag us comp tickets. We barely got our money’s worth, seeing as we rode two slides and called it a day due to the long lines of bitch-tits and screaming brats! So after having a possible run-in with swimmer’s-ear, athlete’s foot and an assortment of other reoccurring fungus-related ailments, we drove back to Paradise and promised each other to never leave the general vicinity again.

The evening brought swordfish for dinner and the Spanish Harlem Orchestra for dessert. We danced in the isles and soaked up the energy that comes from live salsa music played by a Grammy-winning 14-man orchestra. After returning from the Westhampton Beach Performing Arts Center, millions of stars awaited us and so did the jacuzzi!

(Sidenote: It’s never been more clear that hottubs/jacuzzis are on my top-ten-list of things that get me “wet”!)

We began Saturday morning with a stop at the Beach Bakery on Main Street (so effing cute) and a bike ride along the road running parallel to the beach. After feeling the burn, we ended up poolside for a full day of sun-bathing mixed with some clay-court tennis, ping-pong, and every good intention of kayaking on the bay. The kayaking will have to wait until next time, along with the ’66 Ford Mustang convertible that we never took advantage of.

One of the things I enjoyed most about the weekend was the appreciation for the art of (great) cooking. KC is all about cooking with the best and freshest ingredients, and she never failed to use the prep time leading up to each meal as an opportunity to teach us youngsters about all things culinary. I find it intriguing to watch someone who knows their way around a kitchen, and what a great kitchen it was!

So Saturday was a night to eat (Italian), drink (fine wine) and pass out early (in my case). I remember trying to follow a game of ping-pong between two of the other visitors (one of which was a tall, dark drink of I-wanna-tap-that water) and then being sent up to bed by KT. Good times.

Sunday was nothing more than a siesta-of-sorts for yours truly. I got some more great sun and reached the pinnacle of relaxation around lunchtime, after which I was reminded that my time in Paradise was quickly coming to a disturbing halt.

KC drove us to the station with moments to spare, with our care-package of host-prepared goodies in tow. A quick switch in Jamaica and we were pulling into Penn Station in no time. A split cab later and I was in the relative comfort of my own apartment feeling a sting of dread while contemplating the Monday ahead.

Escaping was easy. Returning is always difficult. But at least I had three days to enjoy the good life, get some good sun, experience some great food and spend some much-needed time with just me and my thoughts.

May the next 11 days fly by and New Orleans welcome me with open arms and no hard feeling for staying away so long! The reunion is going to be ridiculous to say the least.

Getty with anticipation,

DWM

You Must Watch This Commercial

2006-08-09T14:35:00.000-04:00

The Bad, The Good, & The Yet to Come

2006-08-06T21:32:00.000-04:00

I believe myself to be a recent victim of a sub-par haircut. Not that it looks terribly horrendous, but it’s not the best haircut I’ve ever had by far. But I also believe that it has the potential to eventually work itself out. And if it doesn’t get better with time, there’s always next time around, right?

We always hope that the next thing in our lives will be the best thing, but reality doesn’t always indulge us in that idea. It’s interesting to me how we as humans rate things. How do we know what bad is unless we have experienced the good? How do we know what good is unless we have experienced the bad?

Because, after all, everything is relative in this world: from food to alcohol, from beer to wine, from movies to television, from sex to relationships. There are so many different kinds of each, with none of them being created exactly equal.

I believe strongly that it is necessary to experience the bad in order to know and appreciate the good. Is the universe actually doing us a favor when it sends horrible experiences our way? Or is this just my jaded existence and tendency toward masochism showing through?

I think we must learn not only what the good is, but also how to recognize the great when it’s staring us in the face. Where the bad is concerned, I find it to be much easier to identify, with the worst being a little trickier. And where does the mediocre stuff come in, or should that even be allowed?

The only thing I know for sure is that the best is yet to come. I have no idea what form it might come in, or if it’s already here, but I hope to god I will be ready to accept it and think long and hard before fucking it up.

On a lighter and totally unrelated note, go see Little Miss Sunshine, a Sundance Indie about a family determined to get their young daughter into the finals of a beauty pageant. It involves a cross-country trip in a VW bus, and it will have you laughing out loud. I give it the Feel-Good-Movie-of-the-Summer award! It’s only a coincidence that the tagline for the film is “A Family on the Verge of a Breakdown”. :)
Enjoy.

Dan Savage: New Favorite

2006-08-01T09:26:00.000-04:00

Click on the title of this post to read a great sex column.

Go to the page below to read more about my new favorite person Dan Savage, the writer of this great sex column.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dan_Savage

And he's kinda adorable, would you say?!

The Science of Relationships: Countdown to the Disappointment

2006-07-30T20:18:00.000-04:00

Read not what the stars say
There's an evil lurking round every door
It's not enough to make you leave me
And I never wanted you to go

Talk, talk to Suzie!
“I went through a million choices”
Talk ... Suzie!
“I listened to a million voices”

And they said...
"Don't let me down" they said
"Don't let me down" they said
"Don't let me down again"
No no...

Countdown, countdown, countdown to the disappointment
"I'm yours, tonight!"

Those are some of the resounding lyrics included in Boy Kill Boy’s song Suzie (video below care of YouTube) from their EP entitled Civilian released earlier this year.

And isn’t that always the case. We have been conditioned to understand that disappointment is part of life. A person can fully meet your expectations at one moment, but that nirvana will always be accompanied or followed by a stint of dissatisfaction with the same individual. Some would call that a negative take on the human condition, but I call it reality!

So, how does this mentality affect my approach to relationships? I would say I’m very vigilant in a carefree and haphazard kind of way. I don’t take anything too seriously, especially the prospect of lingering chemistry with the same guy. Not only because I understand the fickleness of gay men, but also because I’m aware of the unsolicited fickleness which plagues me from time to time.

And where as I tend to go with the flow where relationships are concerned, there is a valid argument for devising a strategy and sticking closely to it. This brings up the question: How much strategy should be involved in developing a relationship?

Implementing a carefully-devised strategy seems like a great deal of work at my age, and it seems like a waste since I believe in the power of the universe to fuck up any strategy whenever it sees fit. So at this point in the game, I tend to leave a large percentage of what goes on in my relationships to a simple combination of the following: chemistry, chance & how much the person fits into my television programming schedule.

Everyone seems to have a different approach to relationships, with very few of us having perfected our own. And even the people who seem to have a successful approach are probably a lot more miserable than they would ever admit, but I digress.

Many people use analogies and metaphors to analyze their developing (or ripening, if you will) relationships. The one I’ve learned about most recently is the “fruit metaphor”. I obviously don’t quite understand it due to my abstinence from said food group, but it has something to do with one’s need to violently defile a piece of fruit in order to enjoy it. Or something like that!

Some people examine their budding relationships using nautical analogies, and this might bring us back to the title of this post. In the words of Blue Merle, a recently disbanded group that was centered in Nashville, “years pass & people change, bluer skies could turn to grey; though its gonna hurt for now, every ship must sail away.”

I guess this whole mentality and blog post is motivated by my lack of experience with things that last. And while part of me is continuously counting down to the disappointment that is always possible, part of me is a hopeful romantic that believes in the power of simpatico. I currently just have trouble coming to terms with the possibility that an initial case of simpatico might actually withstand the test of time.

Chemistry is not an exact science, it’s a feeling. And I believe that if I approach every relationship with equal parts feeling & intellect, the resulting outcome will always be one I can deal with.

Now, go to iTunes & purchase Toby Lightman's new album Bird on a Wire. Round & Round is becoming a new favorite song, but the whole album is brilliant.

You’re Cramping My Style/Get the Fuck Out!

2006-07-30T13:20:00.000-04:00

So, I’m past the boiling point; two weekends down the drain, my apartment is a mess, and my blood alcohol level is dangerously low.

Thank god I get my life back tomorrow. This is just further evidence that I am not meant to cohabitate. I like my space, I need my space, & I go CRAZY without it! Even little things catalyze my insanity: like guests not pulling the shower curtain closed after they get out of the shower. Have they never heard of MILDEW?! Not to mention that my electric bill will be outrageous this month due to my guests’ high-maintenance cooling issues. Quite simply, I’m over it…and I had to purge these feelings out of my system STAT before I implode. I definitely feel better now, but am still in desperate need of a pitcher of mimosa!

Thanks for reading…Now get the fuck out! ;)

Answers After the Jump

2006-07-26T13:01:00.000-04:00

You won’t know unless you try.
Often you don’t know until it’s too late.
The truth can hurt.
Regret is always a bitch.

All these statements are 100 percent accurate and equally frustrating. I’ve been waiting for some inspiration to use this entry title, and the stimulating conversation went down last night on my celly.

The concept of “after the jump” entered my realm of experience only weeks ago while reading a blog that I frequent. The idea is that, after reading bits of information on one page, you have to click on a link to another webpage before you receive the payoff (so to speak)!

(It's origin has something to do with newspaper lingo, but click on the title above to expand your knowledge further after the jump!) ;)

This concept can be compared to many life choices that we make blindly in hopes of the next “page” being worth the click/effort. We make insignificant choices everyday (i.e. what to wear to work, what to eat for lunch, etc.), but every so often we make life-choices that change us considerably. Unfortunately, many of these choices require a great deal of faith in ourselves, as well as faith in all the other parties involved (if it is a group venture). Faith is often times like shifting sand, and where there is fickle faith there will be doubt.

Doubt is a frequent companion of everyone going through (what some experts refer to as) the Quarterlife Crisis. But when doubt turns into an overwhelming and uncontrollable mindset, the results can be quite painful and sometimes catastrophic.

Many times the most intense life-choices that people make are motivated at some level by a four-letter word called Love and prompted by our fickle-friend named Heart. In the words of author J.T. LeRoy, the heart is deceitful above all things; and in the words of singer/songwriter Musiq Soulchild, so many people use the name of Love in vain. Both entities get us in trouble with ourselves more often than most of us would care to admit.

One of the concerns I have about serious love relationships (that I have witnessed lately) is that many people seem to lose a huge part of themselves during (or after) the commitment process. Me becomes us, and mine becomes ours. It reeks of compromise and I’m trying to come to terms with all of the implications, but I digress.

Back to the subject at hand, should you ever risk all you have in hopes of getting to mow the greener grass on the other side? My answer would be, “Only if you know that you’ll be able to afford to have someone mow it for you and want to look at the lawn for many years to come!”

Life is hard, and in a world of uncertainty and constant evolution security often seems appetizing. But when gaining that security requires you to give up too much of who you are, I would heavily question whether or not the sacrifice is worth it.

Worth is subjective, and it’s hard to convince someone of something’s true/lesser value when their appraisal of that something (or someone) is jaded by Love & when they tend to follow their heart without continually consulting their mind.

Many people jump without first looking closely enough at the ground below or the building across the way. Cheers to living with enough calculated risks to keep your time on Earth interesting and to dying with as few regrets as possible. Both of those things will lessen the need to come back in another life and do it all over again!

Does Juggling Always Have to Be a One-Man Act?!

2006-07-25T00:00:00.000-04:00

Juggling is an act that I’ve never been fond of…frankly, because I suck at it! I don’t mean juggling in the “keeping three balls simultaneously suspended in the air in front of my face” sense of the word (because I’m pretty damn good at that). I’m talking about the juggling of intangible things (i.e. relationships/boys).

I’ve found that much attention is paid in New York to the art of double booking. I’m not sure if it is necessary because we are such a fickle people, or if we do it because it makes us feel doubly important. One thing is for sure: many of us are always on the lookout for the next best thing, something we consider better than something we already have secured, something that could possibly ruin a good thing in hopes of coming out of the deal with a great thing.

In order to be more time efficient, and in order to counteract the impatience that many humans find intrinsic, many of us try to juggle multiple romantic relationships in hopes of ending up with the best one of the litter lasting the longest. It never works out that way! At least not for me.

I always end up fucking up all the leads I discover. And because I hate the starting-over process, I usually end up detoxing from the entire exhausting process for several weeks.

Why must it be all or nothing? Extremely busy or painstakingly bored, pathetically alone or awkwardly over-extended in the social arena; what does this damn universe have against happy mediums?!

I feel like my life is often overwhelmed by a whole lot of prospect, mixed with a morsel of romantic substance. But when that morsel turns into a lump of something great, the wait always seems well worth it.

We shall see where this morsel takes me and this blog…

Pic from the weekend:

(Another one of my rocks, my girl Bethesda)