Thoughts Made Bald

Mise au courant

New month, new post:

• I'm trying very hard not to get too excited about Mike and not to be overly pushy. Who knows what will come of this? But it's hard not to be optimistic about the possibilities. We already have plans to get together again for dinner next week.

• I just finished a 26-page research paper that I've been working on for a long while now. I really enjoy the research and writing process, but I'm very glad to have this completed and emailed to my professor. Now we'll see if she thinks it's as impressive as I do. ;-)

• I hate to admit this, but I have become addicted to Gossip Girl and Jon and Kate Plus Eight. A month ago I would have said these were pretty unlikely shows for me to spend time on, but they occupy my Monday nights for hours now.

• I am also developing a crush on Pete Wentz. Go figure.

• I mentioned a few weeks ago that I was going to meet a Flickr friend but then forgot to write anything about it afterwards. Uncle Ken and I spent an afternoon sunning and swimming at his pool. He is a very nice guy, interesting to talk to, and his swimming pool is really beautiful! I hope to get back there again.

• And finally, I'm excited because after years of knowing each other through blogs (before he jettisoned his), Flickr, email, and phone calls, Terry is taking a road trip to Virginia to spend the Fourth of July weekend! I'm taking him to a naughty party on the Fourth, and apart from that I'm sure there will be lots of picture-taking and other assorted hijinks. I'm sure some evidence will appear here or on Flickr.

Happy Canada Day, Happy Fourth of July, and Happy Early Bastille Day for everyone in Canada, the United States, or France!

Another Bad Metaphor

My heart leapt when I received an email from Mike that said "I've been thinking about you all weekend."

But so did my penis.

(Did that coda redeem my poetic triteness?)

We Interrupt This Program...

I've spent the day walking on air, with my head in the clouds...

And what explains my sudden fondness for trite metaphors?

Oh, nothing... except that last night, I had an actual date!

I met Mike at a party a few weeks ago, and as a follow-up to our initial meeting he invited me to his apartment for dinner yesterday evening. The food was wonderful - melon, prosciutto, and fresh mozzarella to start with; then a stew of chicken, finger potatoes, baby carrots, and onions; sun-dried tomato bread with olive oil; and a whole selection of half a dozen different kinds of cupcakes and coffee for dessert.

I can't remember laughing so much and having so much fun in ages.

And the sex was incredible. I mean, really unbelievably hot.

The best part? We've got Date #2 already scheduled.

(We now return you to your scheduled programming.)

Eden

Just by way of illustration, here's the pathetic excuse for a garden mentioned in the last post:

That's right - three pots of impatiens across the front edge of my porch. Oh, wait! There's also a big concrete planter of geraniums beside the steps up to the porch, and a pot of cacti sitting out on the back stoop for the summer.

I actually do love gardens, but other people's. A gardener I am not.

Oh, and the amazingly annoying toy guns? They have more. :-(

A Farewell to Arms

Ah, the sweet sounds of summer! The melodious chirping of songbirds, the soft rustling of the leaves as they sway in a gentle breeze, the jarring rat-a-tat-tat of the neighborhood children's toy guns!

But wait a minute – there's something wrong with this picture. The incessant racket from those war games or whatever it is they're playing is decidedly not conducive to sitting on the porch reading with a cup of coffee. It's not conducive to taking an afternoon nap with the windows open, either, and it's certainly not conducive to trying to write the twenty-page research paper that is due by the end of June.

But I'm an agreeable sort, and I actually do like children and realize that play is part of childhood, so I wouldn't seriously think of complaining to their parents. (I have, however, seriously thought of making an offhand comment to the most obnoxiously self-righteous mother that I can't believe that she'd actually permit her children to play with toy guns.)

Even so, as I was watering my pathetic excuse for a garden early this morning, an interesting series of thoughts occurred to me when I noticed two plastic toy guns lying abandoned in my front yard. Follow my reasoning here. Why would the neighborhood children have left their toy guns unattended on my lawn overnight unless they didn't want them any more? And why wouldn't they want the guns any more unless they were, say, broken? And why wouldn't I do the thoughtful, neighborly thing and take the presumably unwanted, presumably broken toys and deposit them in the plastic can that holds my presumed garbage?

I am such a good neighbor.

(Oh, be quiet. They were just cheap plastic toys. It's not like I threw away their Wii.)

Dreamboys 7: John Barrowman

I've decided that my next boyfriend is going to be John Barrowman, the dashing actor who plays Captain Jack on the BBC's Torchwood. Not usually a fan of science fiction, I added the first season of this show to my Netflix queue based both on the recommendation of friends and my curiosity about the openly gay Barrowman. After one episode, I was hooked, both on the show and on John – and I've even begun watching Doctor Who.

After reading Anything Goes, Barrowman's just-published autobiography, I am quite aware that he has a partner every bit as easy on the eyes as he is. That does throw just a small wrench into my plans to snag him, but at least my quest to lure him away from his husband Scott Gill gives me the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: a Dreamboys entry and a book review.

Here's what I posted at My LibraryThing:

"My ending isn't written yet, my show's not over. Stay in your seats. This is only the intermission."

These final lines of John Barrowman's autobiography Anything Goes beg the question of why the life story of a young performer, hardly a lion of the theater, would be worth reading.

Actually, though, it is. Barrowman, probably better known in the United Kingdom than in the USA, is a talented actor and singer, with wide-ranging experience in theatre, television, and music. He's also one of the few openly gay male entertainers in the business. So if you're interested in behind-the-scenes stories from the American and British entertainment industries told from the perspective of a multi-talented out performer, John Barrowman - with the help of his English professor sister Carole - delivers the goods spiced with a delicious sense of humor and a sprinkled with entertaining footnoted asides.

There are a few aspects of Anything Goes that might bear some improvement, however. For one thing, Barrowman tends to be his own biggest fan, well aware of both his talent and his good looks. Then, his repeated mention of celebrity names – Simon Mackintosh, Stephen Sondheim, Cher, and Carol Burnett, among many others – at times come to resemble mere name-dropping. And finally, aside from a brief anecdote about the producers of the short-lived American nighttime soap Central Park West who suggested that he keep both his homosexuality and his partner Scott Gill under wraps, Barrowman tends to gloss over any negative experiences in favor of a Candide-like "best of all possible worlds" approach to recounting his life. Fortunately, though, the personality that comes through the pages of Anything Goes is so engaging and so likeable that any flaws in the book are easily overlooked or easily forgiven.

Most Americans probably know Barrowman best for his roles in two BBC sci-fi series. So, for fans of Torchwood and Doctor Who, Barrowman's autobiography gives a fascinating insight into the life and career of the actor behind Captain Jack. And darn it, John's right - he does have killer good looks. Those physical charms make the photo of Barrowman demonstrating what he wears under his kilt just an extra added attraction to an already engaging read!

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(You can read previous entries in the "Dreamboys" series by clicking on the category name in orange just below.)

Stupidity

"Why don't you just come with me for a quick ride around the block?" asked my colleague in the middle of a fervent discussion of workplace gossip. "We'll finish this conversation, and I promise my smoke will go out my window and you won't even notice it."

"Oh, okay," I said.

Famous last words.

It took the better part of the day and a few hits of albuterol for my chest to start feeling relatively normal again instead of tight and constricted.

That's the last time I'm going to fall for the old "the smoke will go out the window" argument.

I can't believe that years ago I used to actually BE a smoker.

Vive les vacances!

It's been a hot sunny Sunday, minus last weekend's oppressive humidity. So the weather was perfect for planting geraniums and impatiens in the pots on my front porch and then going out for a bike ride - wearing actual clothes, this time.

More unbelievable interaction with Mr. Charisma ensued this weekend, too. I asked myself if his behavior would make any more sense if we were just casual friends, rather than the up-and-coming item he insists we are. The answer is that it would, but even then I would be a little offended if one of even my most casual friends did the kind of things he's doing. But I'm not angry any more, and I'm not upset. As I mentioned before, I think we're pretty much done, so I'm just starting to look on this as entertainment.

This week I'm going to meet a Flickr friend for the first time! Uncle Ken (of course he's not really my uncle, that's just what I call him) lives not too far from me and he's very kindly invited me over to his pool to sunbathe and swim. From his Flickr comments and emails he seems like a very nice guy, so I'm looking forward to meeting him in person and spending some time with him. He is pretty much a professional gardener, though, so I'm definitely not going to be bringing up my aforementioned pathetic geraniums and impatiens.

Aside from that, my week consists of two sessions of the summer linguistics class I'm taking, a lunch with friends, and a mere two days of work. Then I'm on vacation for a while.

Vive les vacances!

Fashion Tips

Look who's in the background on the far right in this photo! With the jock with the red waistband and black leg straps. That match his red and black helmet. Oh my gosh, it's me! (Click photo for full-size.)

(This photo, reposted with permission, is by Elvert Barnes, a talented DC photographer who took lots of photos of the WNBR. Many of his shots feature people less-dressed and better-built than me, so you might want to check them out!)

The Camel Has a Backache

I don't even know why I'm bothering to post this. This turn of events would ordinarily have absolutely infuriated me. Surprisingly, though, I just find the whole thing tedious; it's as though it's not even worth thinking about.

If you're still with me, though, our plot begins:

1. About a week ago, Mr. Charisma invites me to go away for the Fourth of July weekend.

2. The particular trip doesn't especially excite me, but because it is a weekend with Mr. Charisma, I accept.

3. A couple days ago, I get an email invitation to a Fourth of July pool party (all right, a pool/sex party, if you want to be precise).

4. Based on recent events, I decide that I would rather go to the pool party than go away for the weekend with Mr. Charisma.

5. However, because I have already accepted Mr. Charisma's invitation, and because I still think there might be something to salvage there, I decide that I will keep my word to Mr. Charisma and turn down the pool party invitation.

6. Today I go to the web site where you reply to the party invitation to say that I can't come.

7. Just out of curiosity, I look at the list of guests who have already accepted the invitation, and guess who is (almost) the first person to have responded that he was coming to the party? That's right, Mr. Charisma.

8. All the three-letter abbreviations that I know parade across my mind: WTF? OMG... SOB!

9. I immediately respond that I will be absolutely delighted to attend the Fourth of July pool party.

10. I decide that Mr. Charisma and I are pretty much done.

Now, I am a big boy, and I accept that I am not going to be everyone's cup of tea. Believe it or not, I've been rejected before. However, one of the things Mr. Charisma continually prattles on about is the importance of being honest about how we feel, since his former partner was apparently deceptive in that regard. If Mr. C. just said to me that he wasn't interested, that would be one thing. But he continually tells me that he is and insists that he is serious about pursuing a relationship.

I think he is more serious about having his cake and eating it, too.

P.S. After writing but before posting this, I got an email from Mr. Charisma that suggested that I may have misinterpreted not exactly his actions, but perhaps his motives. We'll see. But it was so cathartic getting my vitriol out onto my laptop screen that I'm going to post it anyway. An historical document, as it were.