24.09.04 :: let's give them something to blog about...

if you shop long enough, like i have, you will -- every so often -- find that little something that makes living seem all the more worthwhile. you will bring it up to the cashier, agree to pay its full retail price, bring it home, unwrap it, and place it somewhere prominant in your home. this is human nature. this is what life is all about.

should you have paid that much for it? should you even have purchased it at all? will you grow tired of it? do you have what you need, or do you want what you have? answers to these questions will come with time.

in the meantime, enjoy what you have. but when you do find that "little something," trying buying it, or not. your choice. sometimes, you get what you pay for. other times, you get ripped off royally.

just some shopping observations.

posted by lonestarsteve on fri 24.09.04 6:44 AM

taking tonight to do nothing but sit at home, wash a few loads of laundry, and dick around on the internet. i might take in some light reading before turning in early. i'm torn between these 3 gripping gay tales. what would you read?

kept boy by ed culver (san diego: rapture books, 1964)

carl miller is the pampered boytoy of wealthy warner barclay, manhattan's most famous interior decorator.

then a nasty spat during a fire island weekend convinces carl that he can do better elsewhere. he looks for love in all the wrong places and winds up having a harrowing experience in 'the pit,' an infamous all-male whorehouse.

soon the prodigal son is only too eager to return home to find the forgiveness and fulfillment that only 'daddy' can provide.

the erection by chad stuart (san diego: greenleaf classics, 1972)

john ballard is a very well-endowed old man.

architect manning drake is ballard's fawning lover, and he's determined to turn the preposterously proportioned ballard building into the redemption of his floundering career as well as a tribute to the man he loves.

little do these two old queens know that their own sons, adrian and peter, are secreet lovers -- and that they will stop at nothing to sabotage the monstrous erection that threatens to wipe out the inheritance they intend to share!

the mother truckers by marcus miller (san diego: phenix publishers, 1968)

truck drivers joe, jimmy, and allyson cruise the nation's highways in a never-ending quest for rough trade.

that's how they get their kicks and break free from the boredom of the road.

when they cross paths with gino and his biker gang, however, the truckers get more thatn they've bargained for. these hardcore homos are into heavy-duty sadomasochism, and they think they've found three new slaves!

posted by lonestarsteve on thu 16.09.04 8:26 PM

been drinking a lot of coffee lately. and smoking a lot of cigs.

restless. irritable. discontent.

these are the adjectives that best describe me lately. so much change going on at work. so much to think about. so many decisions that have to be made in such a short period of time that will affect my life quite dramatically. and how am i fairing? the jury's still out on that one. most people close to me think that i'm doing quite well. that doesn't explain (nor mitigate), however, the 3-ring circus going on in my head. but i know what to do, and i know how i should act, and i'm working with that right now. there's no doubt that taking it one day at a time is the key to getting through all this.

and, who knows. maybe it's not as bad as it seems. this year has really been about change for me. not as much change, of course, as 2003, but change nonetheless. hurts to go through, so get me to the other side. and quickly, please. my head is about to explode.

posted by lonestarsteve on wed 15.09.04 7:00 AM

back from my atlanta trip. it was just that: a trip. my best friend (and partner in crimes' past), beck, was doing well and we had a good time basically doing nothing in particular. we shopped for clothes, fixed his car, had dinners both in and out, talked and laughed about everything, and nothing. we have a lot in common, beck and me. more than just a 30-year past together; we can talk or not talk about anything, and we both like soup…

i got to take my first tub bath in more than 2 years (yes, i bathe; just don't have a tub, only a shower). it was fabulous. beck has a jacuzzi tub. i poured half a bottle of bubble bath in, drank my coffee, smoked cigarettes, posed for photos, scrubbing here and there. a little piece of heaven on earth, it was. thanks for that, beck.

on monday, i made it back to houston just as hurricane frances was dipping her giant eye back into the gulf before making a second pass at florida. what a mess. what a huge storm; so much rain, so much wind. my hair will never be the same again. seriously, though, all those poor people. and now that ivan is coming…geez, give the sunshine state a break, matha nature!

once i got home safely on monday, i opted to go "swimming," metaphorically speaking, of course. i'd planned to swim once i got back, but i wasn't sure if the person i wanted to swim with wanted to get completely wet. it turned out that he did. not many words were spoken. we just held our noses and dove right in.

we didn't swim for long, and we actually never went completely under the water. we mostly waded about with the water at about chest level. but it was nice, nonetheless. (i can't even recall the last time i'd had a good swim. probably since february, with another swimming partner, of course.) i had fun. and i thought that he did, too.

problem is now that i want to go swimming with this guy again (and again) and i think -- for him anyway -- it was a one-time deal. and i'm having trouble accepting that. i want to swim with him again and this time break out the snorkeling gear and the water wings, you know? go all out. after all, i don't swim with everyone i meet and i certainly don't swim with my friends. and i am not built to swim alone for very long.

some guys take swimming very casually. and i guess that i used to as well. but now, i invest a lot of feeling into swimming with someone. i can't just do it like a machine. and i hate that we didn't have that conversation before hitting the water, you know? he made me out to be a one-time swimmer, and i want more than that.

signed, waterlogged and forlorn.

posted by lonestarsteve on fri 10.09.04 5:55 PM