more prose

oh sweet love of mine
my one, my desire
you have no idea what you are to me, do you?
i’d level cities and burn down empires
destroy any foe who stood in my way
just to be by your side
i’d cross mountains of fire
swim through seas and swamps and rivers and streams
to get to you
i’d sing you to sleep every night
wake you with kisses every morning
if you’d say you’ll be mine
the pictures i would paint for you
with brush, or fingers, or words
would only describe half my love
forget the fairy tales
the love stories, the legends
they’ll tell tales of us forever
run away, i’ll find you
show me your hurts, i’ll mend you
tell me your fears, i’ll hold you tight
ask me for anything
anything at all
it will be yours
i would give my heart
my soul
my all
just to feel
your hand in mine

quickie

so i'm freaking out about tests and such, but i thought i'd share this little gem of an anecdote:
it seems my roomie is not having an affair. no, instead, it's something much worse. he can't hold his alcohol. seems he passes out rather quickly or vomits (if there is nowhere to pass out) when he's just had a few... i came home last night to find him out cold on the living room floor, beer bottles everywhere, and the last few guests from his home-brewing club party on the couches. they filled me in on all the tasty tidbits about his penchant for falling asleep anywhere and everywhere when he's had a few... hence the reason i don't see him sometimes before i go to bed. he's most likely passed out on someone's couch or lawn at that point.

awesome.

in other news, i need to get back to studying.

thoughts while i should be studying

-it's always so flipping cold in this house, and i am still so flipping tired from the stupid flu.

-i missed 12 classes this past week--12! i don't know how i'm going to catch up. i probably won't.

-cutting into dead people isn't as gross as i thought it would be. i have had no reaction to it, really. i almost feel guilty for not feeling worse. i'm pretty good at it, though. our old guy looks pretty beat up, but we're doing better than most of the other groups.

-dieting is for the birds. i love fruits and veggies and lean meats, but good Lord, i also love stuff that's bad for me.

-i need to write something meaningful here, soon. i've had a few things brewing in my head. i've passed the 100 viewer mark on my counter. hoorah? seriously, though, i need to figure out how to get pictures up here too.

-i've been needing affection again lately. there's only one guy around here who really lets me hang all over him, ben. i'm really grateful for him, but still, it's not the same. i'm used to a lot more than this. i got spoiled by nick and mike letting me--no, asking me!--to sleep with them and cuddle with them.

-the gala was a huge success last week. technically, i should have been involved with it every step of the way, but i did nada. they need to fire me from the social committee. even though i was still recovering, i danced a little, got my blood pumping. nobody parties like med students. my old roomie asked me to dance with him, oddly enough, during madonna's "like a prayer." it was fun. my good buddy's girlfriend went out and boogied with my for "mambo #5," which i requested. i slow danced with my other buddy's girl for "don't want to miss a thing" because he wasn't there and they're fighting and i wanted to make her feel special. she said she was so happy he wasn't there, and she had the best time. i helped my other buddy out a little, introduced him to a girl i know that he has had a huge crush on. he's a real sweet guy when he's not around the jerk who wasn't there. he had his face right next to mine--i honest to God thought he was going in for the kiss--and told me if i needed anything, he was my man, because i was the man. it's good to be loved. i left at 11:15 because i wore out. the party went until 2 am. incredible.

-upper classman died this week in the dominican. car wreck. it's heart-breaking, really. so much had been put into him... and he's just gone. makes me a little nervous, i'm going to el salvador for part of the break. oh well, death can't be all that bad. everyone goes sometime.

-we have a new president. whoop-ti-skip. everyone was excited about the inauguration today. i wasn't. i'm pretty apathetic about everything political, nothing personal, mr. president. it's just another swearing in of another man to run this place. history keeps ticking along regardless. and also, being the self-centered person i am, i like to show my disinterest when millions of people turn their attention to something that doesn't involve me.

-more soon, hopefully a little prose i'm writing in my head. maybe a tear jerker?

BSG 4.5.1 and my roommate is having an affair

Ahem.

For all of you low lifes out there, this is to let you know that the majestic Sci-Fi show has returned in full storm. Here is my synopsis and criticism. Herein lie spoilers for you lametards who didn't watch it as it happened a little over 2 hours ago.

What was "duh": Gaeta is still depressed. Starbuck really did blow to smithereens. She 'might' be a Cylon. Or just a clone. Tigh and the Old Man still drink and swear with and at each other and point loaded guns at each other's heads and throw shit because, well, that's what they do. Roslin is upset about Earth being all frakked to hell, and burns the book of prophecy. I mean, was she just hoping to die with GREEN under her feet instead of BROWN? She's shuffling off this mortal coil, man.

What I'm proud I can say I figured out during the first half of season 4: Ellen. Everyone saw that coming. The Final 4 remembering stuff when they got to Earth. The fact that some (12+?) of the survivors from 13th Colony's Earth fallout returned to Caprica town. Saw that one long time ago. The 13th colony not being humans, really. Saw that one LONG time ago. Starbuck really did blow to smithereens. No, wait, I already said that.

Stuff I'm going "huh" about: DEE?! Seriously, Eick and Moore, either you're crazy, you like dark material, or... Dee shot herself because when she picked up the ball and jacks she saw stuff she remembered too, realized she's a Cylon, and blew her brains out because she couldn't handle it... and besides, she'd resurrect somewhere else. (Did Ellen? Are we going to see her again?) Starbuck AND Ellen can't be #5, so again, either Starbuck is a clone of herself, or there are 13 (I have this theory that there are 13 Cylons, just like there are 13 colonies), or Ellen is an older version of 6 or Starbuck. And frak it all, why wasn't Gaeta a skinjob?! Guess he ended up with too much pain and angst and outcastness and freakishly ghoulish skin to be one of the bad guys.

Criticism: How can they distinguish between Cylon and Human remains?! Baltar was never able to produce something that could tell the difference--reliably--in mass amounts.
SHOW MORE OF SIX AND EIGHT, GODS DAMN IT!!! We still had 3 and Kara and Dee... who ended up not too attractive. I watch this show for the ladies, seriously.
What on EARTH is the rest of the season going to be about? I see, obviously, we're having some repeat episodes, first with Tom Zarek. Now, obviously the trillium ship is sick and tired of their labor, but face the facts: there's some poor kid in Africa who'd happily... oh, wait, not yet, sorry, bad motivator. There also seems to be another return to the show: Romo Lampkin. (Saw him walking along with an armed escort, seems he's been incarcerated for a while?) Guy always made the show fun, had a lot of audacity (Obama would have liked him... except he had a cat, and then he had a stinky dead cat, and it looks like Obama prefers dogs, or at least his girls do) maybe he'll help make Apollo president? (Because you know it's going to happen when Roslin croaks, Zarek and Baltar canNOT be president again, either one of them.)
If the rest of the season is "more of the same" (quelling uprisings, looking for Earth or somewhere to live, running from the Cylons and being racist against them, getting in the middle of the Cylon civil war... etc.), then darn it, 9 episodes are gonna stretch out forever.

'Course, if there are only 12 cylons, there still is the whole Starbuck thing, and then Dee really is dead because she couldn't live in space anymore. (Seriously, girl, pull yourself together, YOU JUST KISSED JAMIE BAMBER. Although, come to think of it, not a bad time to go.) If there are more than 12 cylons, then anyone who has died in the entire series could come back. (Obviously there was an entire race of the critters.) Or anyone living could be one.

I say they all die a bloody, fiery death in the end, with Adama having to watch his ship burn instead of going down with it. True irony, great angst material.

And my roommate is having an affair. At least, he'd better be. There is no way some married guy's buds keep him away from home for 5+ hours. He's been out of town for the week (married, she's there, he's here, long story) and just got back today. He called to say "some buddies asked me out to dinner"... around 7. And it's after midnight. Either they're getting shmammered again (which he's only done once, thank God), or yep, he's having an affair. He does this way too much, and I get pissed because I have to take care of his damn dog. I had to take care of it all week while he was gone, while I had the flu... He needs to pay me, seriously. He'll definitely be paying me to keep the affair quiet. Hey, capitalism's a bitch.

Lots to gripe about, but going to bed, still trying to recover.

blah

i've been very sick since saturday. possibly the flu, possibly meningitis... lol, most likely the flu. fever of 103, headaches like none other, pain everywhere, nasty taste in my mouth (i mean, where else?), photo- and phonosensitivity... not being able to make real food, living off the bare minimum... i'm starving. i'm mad that i won't be able to run for a few days until my body recovers. i was starting this whole exercise/diet routine last week, and then got hit with this. awesome. on the bright side, it might help me lost the last little bit of "baby fat" around the face and love handles, haha.

i love food. i think i would triple my workout routine (which is nothing right now) just so i could eat whatever i wanted. i might do it to. i'm part italian, and i love my pasta and marinara sauce! and of course cheese, and who doesn't like breads/starches/sugars? i've been a LOT better lately though. i feel healthier... except now, of course...

more later when i feel like writing.

intro to the NY story

i never thought through the fact that if i commented on a porn star's blog i'd elicit reader traffic... you poor people. this is probably the most pathetic, boring bunch of crap you've ever read.

the NY story: basically, it a story about a guy who has a similar experience to mine as described in my last post. (wrote the story, then the previous post happened, which was pretty cool, if you ask me.) there are no names in the story, but the narrator runs into this guy at a show (inspired by a brief glimpse of a guy's back at 2:00 in katy perry's 'hot'n'cold' music video, here) who kisses him right there on the floor. it's a 'strictly platonic' night for the two of them, but lots of affection and getting to know each other. (if you can't tell, this is basically my fantasy.) the narrator sleeps over at the guy's place, and leaves the next morning, not wanting to ruin the experience or memory. just a very loving run-in, one-night stand.

but i think i need some help. i want people to post some ideas about what these guys do together. i'm from NY, but not recently. where do they go that night? what do they do together? what do they talk about? has someone ever told you something so beautiful, so sweet that you can't forget it? what was it? remember, this isn't a really sexual thing, just a great encounter between two guys.

give me some input. i'll figure out a way to generate more traffic through here so maybe there will be more than 1 or 2 comments. the general outline of the story is written, but i don't like it the way it is right now.

My "Brokeback"

this post, and subsequent posts involving the "NY" story are lovingly dedicated to the man, the myth, the legend, James "Erik Rhodes" Elliot, who writes the most gutsy, honest, heart-felt blog out there. he shames most of the rest of us, including me, who put a front and hide behind the person we want our readers to see. J.E., you hide nothing, you write what's true in your life, and you don't hide behind the porn-star persona most people think they know because they watch your films. as someone who came to "know" and love you through your amazing blog, i want to say thanks for the inspiration you are to me, and all the best to you on your quest for beauty, happiness, and the love of a lifetime.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
i have never been so happy about something so foolish. usually it's the first kiss that rocks your world, but it was my third that sent me flying through the stars. #'s 1 and 2 don't compare in any way to #3.

we drove up into the mountains for about an hour, stopping at overlooks and taking pictures of the amazing views. we talked over a lot of things we had missed in each others' lives over the 21 years we've known each other--how messed up our families really are, how we coped with things, how similar we are, both of us being the second boy, peacemaker, optimist, arts lover, sensitive type. mostly, though, we talked about why he's gay and not. at least, not really. i believe i have the choice. he doesn't. his family knows; mine doesn't, at least not all of them.

we made it up over 6,000 feet to a landmark overlook. we sat in the car, talking, and i knew. i knew the whole way up, really, but it was there his body started moving differently.

"can i ask you something personal?" he asked hesitantly in his faux-British accent. (we were both born in NY, and he's only spent the last 3 years or so in and out of the country, but he picked up the accent fast. it's his way.)

"sure." i smiled. "you can ask me anything. i might not always tell you the truth."

"never mind." he said, turning in his seat.

"no you don't," i insisted, "ask me."

"well... i was wondering... i'd like to kiss you."

i fairly launched myself over the console. i grabbed his face--thumb in front of his ear, four fingers on his occipital bone--and pulled his lips into mine.

ecstacy.

i eventually crawled over into his seat, straddled him, and drove him absolutely wild. i gave his lips a light, teasing kiss, drew back, made him follow me, gave him another, drew back, and forced him back into the seat. i went for all my favorite spots--the chin, the angle of the jaw, the ear, the neck, the forehead. it was pure, unadulterated joy.

i laughed when i saw we had fogged the windows. my first time, hopefully not my last. we kept our clothes on, and i turned down his offer to see his 7.5 incher. i wasn't in it for sex, and i had told him that within a minute of picking him up. he gasped "you have such amazing self-control," and it was true. i felt in control of every second, driving him here, twisting him there, making him lie still while i brushed his face, neck, and chest with my lips.

eventually, i wore out, having no experience (although he was incredulous when he heard it was only my third, second true kiss--"you're so f***ing good" he gasped) or endurance, and i wrapped my arms around him and lay on him. i quietly covered his face, head, and neck with kisses, whispering how beautiful he was and how amazing his skin felt against mine. i held his hand, rubbed his body, and loved every magnificent second of it.

"it's like our own modern version of Brokeback Mountain, isn't it?" he whispered. I had to laugh. it had come up in conversation earlier, and i had to agree. it was better, though. he asked me, in the middle of the passion, "do you know how long i've waited for this?" it was over ten years.

finally, he said we should head home, which was true. we had been gone a long time, and our cover story was "coffee." we would have to change that tune. we went to change seats, and he ended up on top of me for one last amazing full-body kiss. i could only gasp "oh my God..."

once i was back in my seat, he started looking for where everything had gone--his coat, his water, his camera. he looked up, and i pulled him into another kiss. i laughed--i have never been so happy--and put the car in drive. i hit the brakes, grabbed him, kissed him, pushed him away, and howled in laughter as he exclaimed "ow!" i was in a trance the whole way down the mountain. we held hands, taking turns kissing the other's fingers. he leaned on my shoulder, and i kissed his head. he upturned his face, and i met his lips. "this is so dangerous..." he noted.

i laughed. "feels good to live on the edge, huh?" we almost drove off the edge when i started kissing down his wrist. "that wouldn't happen if you'd stop being so amazing, " i playfully reprimanded him.

we lip-locked at every stop sign all the way home. it was pure magic, the most beautiful thing i've ever experienced in my life. we listened to music on the way down the mountain, including "your hand in mine" by explosions in the sky and "saeglopur" by sigur ros. it was all i ever wanted. he was understanding and respectful when i told him i didn't want to go further than the kissing and touching.

on the way back, he was nuzzling my arm, and i gently told him, "don't get attached. you're going back to england in two days, and i'm leaving town tomorrow." and it was true. he couldn't get attached. i felt so incredibly cold and bad-ass, in a way. having that level of intimacy, yet having to remain objective and let him go, and tell him to not get attached to me... not like me at all. and it felt kinda good, a little sad, like Brokeback. i'm not going to cry, though. it was perfect, and i don't need anything more.