Began The Finished

"Spinning around again, I rub my eyes... this can't be happening."
-Imogen Heap, "Hide & Seek"

My left hands smells like bleach. Randy would be in heaven. So would my mom's cat. The smell reminds me of the indoor pool in Seattle when I was a toddler. I can still feel that water and see the steps. I've always loved the water.

Steve has been writing me every day for the past couple weeks. I didn't mean to scare him so, but when do I really mean to do this to anyone? My lunch and tour of Woodcrest last Wednesday was a brief, but happy reunion.

"The Path of Least Resistance" It's a song on the 3rd Moodswings album, Horizontal. Have I ever been on this path? Maybe I know when I am because of the boredom. Is it only in conflict that we learn the truths about who we are and face those truths? Can one grow by not being challenged?

I write less when boys are in the picture. I think it's because my mind is too tied up to focus on the words I want to use to explain anything. I think also that on a conscious level I'm aware some read this and that I censor myself. Maddening, I tell you. Censoring one's self is the ultimate in tactful brainwashing. Funny, I wrote about this almost one year ago: http://earthjeremy.blogspot.com/2004_09_01_earthjeremy_archive.html#109584311431625544

Time to plan my evening.

Don't Yell Fire

The fire alarm in my room will not stop beeping at intervals because the battery is dead so the electric connection keeps warning me. I've searched the house and don't see any 9volt batteries. A trip to the store is in my immediate future. (for something so simple)

Wrapped

My demons take a swim tonight. Choppy water impedes their grace. That's a good thing, I think. I am self-aware...haha, but what that gets me is a brain wrapped around ideas and seldom any action. This has been an expanding state of affairs with me. No decline in sight. I get this feeling that I'm on borrowed time. It's a sense, nothing more. 2:11 a.m. A house DJ, Kascade, is what I have downloaded from the mention of Shaun. I have names orbiting not EarthJeremy, but the Jeremy core. A Soul? Crossing paths that energize, stimulate; zap, short circuit. Sometimes too much energy has nowhere to go and not enough has nothing to move. Flow. It's missing at the moment. I think the flow control is impeded by my brain stopping to be wrapped. I see a picture in my head of a wrapped brain being presented as a gift. Bow on top. I wait for my replacement.

Three in One or 3-to-1 or 3,2,1 ?

I was sitting there petting a 3-legged dog named Rocco. This was earlier today, I'd guess 3:30 a.m. Jeremy, the designated driver. Phil, down from San Francisco. We went to BJ's pizza in Laguna Hills and ate in the bar. Dustin & Wes were working. A single woman in her 60's, Joan, sat down next to us and made conversation while she waited to go salsa dancing. She was quite the spitfire. She asked if I was gay.

Phil and I moved on to Woody's. My water to his gimlet. We spoke of his struggle to find a group of gay friends where "gay" is not the center of their world. He does not want a "gay lifestyle." We got to the understanding that he has an "alternative-indie lifestyle." (Haha, whatever that is.) I'd like to think I just have life. The style of that life changes like styles of any time, era, fad. I like that there are gay ghettos and that there are those that want to be known for things other than their gayness. What I don't like is when the two can't agree that each serve the greater community and are not better or worse.

Sebastian joined us at Woody's. There was talk of going to some party in the hills, but midnight came and I was fading. Home for him. One a.m. and Phil wants to say hello to Ali spinning at The Boom. On the way in, Shawn Long is outside smoking and we all reconnect quickly. Inside is Joe, the boy who one the wet underwear contest the week prior. He looks cute with his clothes on too. I get that intuition sense around him that there is attraction but that I should stay away. I've decided to suspend action until further interaction tips the scales. Ali is playing musically, masterfully as ever. I meet Shawn's roommate, Jason. Phil is making conversation with this tall guy who has unbuttoned his shirt and explained that he is a porn star. Before we know it, he's pulling his pants down and mooning the bar. Nice ass, but way inappropriate. Lights are coming up and I'm REALLY ready to get out of there. Joe kisses me a bit more than expected as we walk out. Says he'll call to invite me to a party tonight.

Speaking of parties... Shawn and roommate can't drive. So I offer to take them to an after party until they sober. We drive there and it's a small space where about 20 people are trying to make due. After about 10 minutes, everything is moved about two miles down PCH to another location. That house party has ended so everyone walks about three blocks to a 3rd location where we finally settle for the evening. This is where I meet Rocco. I figure the dog is just as bewildered as I am with all the people around. Neither one of us had a leg to stand on to force anyone not capable of leaving to go. I pet Rocco, refill his water, then decided to go and bring the car closer to the location.

These are the short spans of time where life is bustling around me and I feel removed from it. I'm watching it go by and now I suppose I'm capturing it in text. While I am part of it, I don't feel part of it. When do I?

Last Wednesday I started cleaning my room. I came across some old art supplies; construction paper, poster board, paints and glue. It was a definite sign to take a break from cleaning...haha. (Any excuse would've done) I started making a card for Mario. It's not like I had talked to him lately or seen him since SF Pride. It was a sweet card. Something I had not gone out of my way to do for someone in a long time. I suppose it was romantic, a bit. It's confusing having that part of me that exists with pure lust and it being felt toward one or more people. It contradicts with some beliefs I have about the types of relationships I want, but it's life and not style. I call him before bedtime and tell him I have something to drop off. He is surprised and I can't stay long as Cardwell is in the car waiting and we're supposed to be somewhere. A very sweet, second kiss in front of the leasing office sends me off on a cloud-star. I'm a little school boy, kicking his foot on the ground with hands in pocket. I leave this splendor to a darker destination.

Flirting in a half-way house, halves of me will settle on different souls. The first to take action often gets my attention, though by no means necessarily the object of any affections, just an appendage or two. (Or three) Intuition here is always heightened. It is accurate to the last decimal place, but the moments are fleeting, disconnected and feared so much by so many that one's clarity is questioned. What is always clear.... a body can only handle so much pleasure before it must rest.

Martin's going away bash at Choice in Long Beach was fun. We watched Rudy De La Mor's show. The still shots can be seen at: My Yahoo Photo Album.

I have a few hours here to myself before dinner with Mark & Sebastian tonight. Maybe a walk. Maybe some meditation. Maybe tea. Odds are 3 to 1 that I'll do none of the above.

Behind, behind (lagging)

I want to write stuff... but no time now. Just a thought to myself.

Taking Pause

"He pulled my balls, I touched his dick."
-S.P.

DISCLAIMER

I wake up on Rey's couch to the sound of my phone alarm. 7am. Please no. Morning wood mixed with the remnants of some bizarre dream and the dull, persistent ache of a pending hang over. I have to be at LAX by 9:20am to pick up Dominic. Skyy 90 is something to sneak up on you. I'm sure it wasn't the Squirt.

I've been meeting a lot of new people lately, hence an absence from some writing. I find it hard to collect my thoughts on exactly what to say about any of them. All I can know for sure is that their motivations seem pure and so far I've not been tipped off to anything that would see them as vexations. I've come up with the idea that I need some sort of disclaimer on me that others can visibly see so that nothing is misread. I have a way of being affectionate and meaning it, but no necessarily for the long haul or for developing it past the space and time that I share with someone. Drats.

My new t-shirt line will be called: DISCLAIMER. The word "disclaimer" will be in all caps and basically the logo while the rest of the words will be in the fine, small print.

DISCLAIMER: I am sincere at each moment and interaction. I belong to myself and I share different parts of me with different people. I owe you no explanations.

DISCLAIMER: You need a disclaimer.

It came from Norway

Prestegard... the English version. (Someone on Ellis Island fucked it up, I'm sure)

English: rectory Spanish: rectoría Norwegian: prestegård

English: estate, farm, property, ranch, yard
Spanish: agrario, granja, patio
Norwegian: gård

Hot Desert Trip

8:46pm, Las Vegas

I just finished shaving and didn't bother drying my face. It's so warm here in Las Vegas that the wet skin is a small heaven. I'm enjoying it as I type because after the next sentence I'm sure it will be nearly dry. This is the kind of heat that no matter how much deodorant you put on, you're always a little damp all over. Mini-beads on the brow and back of neck that cool as a wind hits them; absorbed perspiration from the chest and lower back that soaks into an undershirt. There is that body scent of one's natural smell and deodorant that mixes in warmth like this. Body humidity smell. In its own way it is sexy and that's how I feel knowing the venture that is about to be undertaken in a couple of hours.

Nathan is in the shower. My outfit for the evening is laid out on the chair next to this bed. My phone rings. I don't know the number so I send it to voice mail. I wonder if whoever it is will leave a message. I don't know if I want to take another shower before going out, but as I hear the voice mail beeping, I realize that I definitely do want to shower again. (pause to listen to msg) It's an invite to go to a club back home, but seeing as I'm not there, it would be difficult to be in two places at the same time. Hmm, I think, "Not hard with a video cam projecting my image." Burp.

I bought a pair of shoes--because one seldom buys just a single shoe--at this store, Elitan, at the Irvine Spectrum about a month ago. They're royal blue, yellow around the sole's showing side and back. The shoelaces are yellow and there's a red design on the sides and on the back near one's achilles tendon. I think of them as "toy" shoes. They are the only pair of shoes I brought with me to Vegas, but I've been wearing my orange flip flops since I've been here. Summer and bare feet are my childhood memory. It's comfortable being barefoot. Sunscape [Alucard Remix] by Amtthew Adams/Stratosphere Soundsystem.

I played Blackjack at The Fortune casino here in Henderson. Steve & Barbara were great company as we watched our money get sucked into the house. Nate was the dealer of choice throughout the day. He made losing seem fun, or maybe we were all doing that. I learned that Barbara has been married 44 years and now enjoys going on cruises and that Steve is probably gay. (Though there was no confirmation) I had nothing to drink at the table and am not in the mood to drink tonight when we go out.

It looks like there has been a shift in tonight's plans so I'll abandon typing to figure out how to make the best of the news I've been given. (9:14pm)

Party Screamers

Space in the closet if freeing up.

I've felt too tired the last 24 hours. The kind of tired where all I want to do is stay laying down, motionless. Sleeping. I felt this way while Jorge was here yesterday. When I took him home, I thought I would go to bed early, but when I got back home I started eating and eating. I ended up staying awake and watching TV until 3am. So lazy right now. I've forced myself into a sitting position to write this.

Quiet, quiet house. A world of vehicles in the distance out my window. One of them is backing up somewhere; the familiar tones of the backup beeps. All of the sounds begin to trail like that of an airplane that flies overhead and then is lost in the clouds.

I got to spend some time with Cardwell on Tuesday. He came over to go to Thrust. Jorge went too--his first time at any type of club at all. That was fun to watch. The whole night was actually very positive. Bobby & his cousin, Patrick, were there. Jorge knew people. Randy was in a punchy, jovial mood all night. I danced and smiled. I was soaked by the end of the evening, so the change of clothing that was waiting for me in the car was as good as cotton gets in my life. The Denny's occupation afterward was the most laughter I've had since the drive home from Las Vegas last year with Cardwell. Tears just bursting out of my eyes; the flow increasing any time that Randy and I actually looked at each other while listening to the conversations around us.

In the rear view mirror of my life, I've never been the kind of morning personality that smiles upon encounters with people. Even while happiness has briefed its rays upon me, there is a reservation with wreckless abandon that keeps a room.