Dirty Little Secrets: Confessions of a Nancy Boy

Social Phobia

Wed, 21 Jun 2006 18:50:58 GMT

As a child of about nine years old, the fear of public restrooms was instilled in me by some middle-aged pervert at the Battlefield Mall. I'd just pulled down my pants for a quick Number 2 when I heard quick, heavy breaths coming from above my seat on the porcelain throne. When I looked up, quite to my horror, I saw a face, a man standing on the toilet in the stall next door trying to get a little peak over the beige (and aren't they always beige?) partition.

For years I refused the use of public restrooms, wouldn't even go at school, eight hours of piss toxins building up to be relieved only in the safety of the home. Later, I began experimenting, using public facilities only under dire circumstances. When I was finally old enough to get into bars, and when I'd had too much to drink before actually getting to the bar, use of the pisser hardly even fazed me. So drinking, and a couple drunken sexual encounters, eventually helped me to get over my phobia.

These days, I find myself giggling at bathroom wall grafitti. Today I saw one caveman-type carving that read, "The south will rise again into a multi-racial nation." Someone had come in later, it seems, and drawn an arrow to the "multi-racial" part and written "BULLSHIT."

My favorite of all-time, though, is one I found and photographed in a convenience store in Oklahoma. It said: "White is Rihgt [sic]."

God Bless America.

Viva Gaydar!

Wed, 07 Jun 2006 18:56:10 GMT

"Let me ask you this," says Mom, as if she's offering a proposition of some sort over greasy omelettes at Churchill's, like it's a business meeting. She poses the question slowly, like game show host trivia. "Do gay people know when someone else is gay?"

I try not to laugh, but I'm sure my chair tilts a bit. "Um, usually." I too am speaking slowly.

"Is there a sign, or something? Like drug dealers?"
That gets a laugh. "No, no. It's more of an... intuitive thing, you know, gaydar. And sometimes we're wrong. But, yeah, no, there's no 'sign,' really."

"I ask because when I worked at Ozark Fitness, this woman was hitting on me. And I was telling my manager about it and he said, 'You know, I've never been hit on by a man.' And I told him, 'A man would be too afraid to take the risk. You don't appear to be gay. 6'5", 275 pounds."

"Yeah, wait 'til he gets to prison."

It's Trivia

Tue, 23 May 2006 20:56:06 GMT

Sunday evening we had a "Bread Bash" at work, which is really only Pan(t)era Bread's cutesy way of saying "staff meeting." Afterwards, and after dry humping my coworker Ariel on the hood of her car just for fun, Josh, another coworker, one I've known for about a year and a half now and with whom I've shared several drunken makeout encounters, tells me, "Hey, Jeffery, I had your birthday present... but then I did it. So wait about another week and I'll have some more." I couldn't help but laugh, wondering just what exactly it could have been, considering the last time Josh asked me if I wanted to "get high" I ended up awake for 48 hours, paranoid out of my skull.

Sarah, one of our sharper shift leaders, asked, "Well, was he cute?"

Later, I found myself at Patton Alley Pub with my friend Lindsay Smith. I call her Lindsay Smith to associate her from all the other Lindsay's I know. We were celebrating my birthday a bit late because she had wanted to take me out the weekend before but wasn't able to. We sat drinking beer and talking literature when a very, very tall black man with dreadlocks came to the edge of our table and said, "Ya'll look like intellectuals, so let me pose this question." Now his voice dropped and he spoke slowly like a game show host: "What does the name... James Earl Ray... mean to you."

"James Joe what?" asked Lindsay.
"No! James Earl Ray!" he exclaimed.
"Oh." We sat in silence for a moment until Lindsay said, "I know James Earl Jones."
The man threw himself backwards in exasperation and went on to the next table to pose the same question.

"Hmm..." said Lindsay. "I really wish I knew."
We continued our conversation and she began a story about Allen Ginsberg's pedophilia that one of her English teachers at MSU, who once lived in the same apartment complex as the famous poet, had told her class. About ten minutes later, the black man stood in the middle of the bar and shouted:

"JAMES EARL RAY SHOT AND ASSASSINATED DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING ON APRIL FOURTH, 1968!"

"Wow," said Lindsay, the two of us shocked. "I really wish I had known."
I look around the bar. "Yeah. God. He's the only black man here."

"Today is her birthday/They're smoking cigars"

Wed, 11 May 2005 16:06:32 GMT

So today is my 20th birthday. One year closer to drinking legally I suppose.

On my way to Lawrence to see the Rilo Kiley fucking LIVE. Plus, I get to see my good friend Karlos, whom I haven't seen in far too long. (I can't even remember exactly how long--I do know I was dating the notorious Eric the First.) Oh! the fun to be had!

Then why do I feel so... malcontent?

Fri, 06 May 2005 19:36:25 GMT

The Savage Girl by Alex Shakar has incited some sort of hidden rage in me. About marketing and advertisements, about fashion and labels, about the very nature of people in general. Last night as Dhara and I sat by the window at the Mudhouse and watched the Cinco de Mayo aficionados saunter drunkenly by, I was half tempted to run outside and through the streets screaming, “What’s wrong with you fucking people???” all the while stripping off all my clothes as the only umbilical thread left in association with myself and Adam and Eve. Call it an existential breakdown. I found myself completely bereft of any sympathy or love for my fellow man. And in that moment, I didn’t want friends or a boyfriend or a family. I wanted complete isolation from the modern world. I wanted to be Thoreau. I wanted to dig myself a hole and avoid the media for a year and inject myself with heroin and invent things. All of this I told Dhara, except with the addition of the “fuck” word thrown in just loud enough for the gay boys on a date with their moms (which also fucked me up a bit) to glance over a few times to try and catch a piece of what had riled me so.

But I’ve calmed down a bit now. Trying to find a middle-ground between the now Jeff and the really quite insane existential Jeff.

Dhara and I also went to see Annie Get Your Gun with my parents for my birthday. Where the hell did my mother get the idea that I would want to see Annie Get Your Gun? It was quite amusing, the clichés and such, all of which the audience of 80-year-old Midwesterners, complete self-proclaimed sophisticates, found fucking hilarious. But I’ve definitely become a bit disillusioned with the theatre as well. It’s sad how I eventually stop loving everything I once loved.

The Partial Return of Stancer

Wed, 13 Apr 2005 19:18:20 GMT

http://www.news-leader.com/today/20050413-Homelessmanesca.html

Here's a link to a rather interesting article about one Robert A. Hardy, or as we've come to know him, Stancer. He's been all over the news. His picture's on the front page of today's paper. I'm a bit worried about the guy. It's all so ridiculous. They make him sound as if he's an ax murderer, some type of bogeyman who feeds on the souls of children. I still believe, though, that he is absolutely harmless. I wish I could find him. And harbor him. And dress his wounds.

Kyla told me that her neighbors (who know ol' Stancer) are making FREE ROB t-shirts, with his picture. And they're going to rally in Doling Park where the incident took place, wearing dresses and they're going to call the cops and when they arrive, the dress-clad boys will dance. Because, as these friends understand it, Rob was wearing a dress when the bitch who called the cops found him "suspicious."

Last night they had a helicopter out, spotlighting the city of Springfield in search of our loveable (albeit creepy) Pied Piper. I'd like to get ahold of the asshole journalists and tell them a thing or two about the guy, although I really don't know all that much. I mean, he is a bit strange. But it comes with the territory. I think he's a genius. A mad, mad genius.

I missed the Ides of March.

Tue, 29 Mar 2005 18:56:56 GMT

It's strange not feeling. I've realized that over the course of the past six months or so, I've become rather numb, jaded. It's both good and bad, mostly bad. I think it's why I can't write. I wrote because I felt things so deeply that I needed some sort of catharsis to deal. Now, though, it seems that nothing effects me anymore, nothing can touch me, and I'm just looking for someone or something that can get to me.

Anyway.

A semi-humorous conversation I had with Linda yesterday on our smoke break.

Linda (gesturing toward the road down below the hill): What are they doing down there? (a van with flashing lights sits parked, men in white uniforms are collecting trash from the ditches along the highway) Hunting Easter eggs?
Jeff: (laughs)
Linda: It's nice that prison inmates pick up our garbage for us.
Jeff: They don't let, like, axe-murderers out to do such things. Do they?
Linda: God, I should hope not. Oh. Chris [the administrator of our facility] spoke to me. I was walking downstairs and I ran into him and he said, "Good morning, Linda!" I kind of mumbled, "Hi, Chris." He's thrilled that I'm leaving. I probably made his day.
Jeff: Or his two weeks.
Linda: He's just such a strange guy. He's got the personality of a...
Jeff: Capitalist?
(They both laugh)
Linda: Okay. Yeah. I can see that.

"Our older brother--Bit by a vampire!"

Thu, 24 Mar 2005 22:48:00 GMT

Atomic Wednesday last night at the Drink. I was done in by one glass of wine due to the sinus medication I'd been popping in order to keep from dripping nasal mucous all along my way. It was nice being out in good company, with the likes of Tiffany, Shana, Kyla, Josh.

And then it came to pass that the faggots nearly outnumbered the heterosexuals. Travis (a boy I made out with one night at Shana's a long long time ago--thank god he doesn't remember) arrived with his entourage, including Jose (a boy who incessantly hits on me every time I see him). Jose kept asking Kyla, "What kind of guys is he into?" She kept telling him things like, "I don't know," until finally she said, "Intellectuals, I guess," to which he replied, "Well, I'm that," which made us both laugh a little. The thought that I'd be into the stumpy fashion design major in the Britney Spears sport jacket knockoff with the limp hand and the imaginary runway was just too laughable.

And in addition, I've been doubting my sexuality, thinking perhaps bisexuality really is a possibility and not something that gay boys made up as a clever guise to ease into pure unadulterated Sodom and Gomorrah-esque blasphemy. I won't go into detail with that though. Plus, my libido has dwindled some, after a few months of gimme gimme.

It has now been over a week since I'm spoken with dear old Mark and I suppose it's safe to say that it's over, if not officially. Though I think I'd like to make it so, perhaps calling him up and trying to pinpoint what went askew exactly. Eh, closure is over-rated.

I'm feeling quite well today actually. Dare I say happy? Must be on some sort of streak. I began a poem last night (about aforementioned boy) that begins with a rather subtly bitter bang, which I really like thus far. I'd like to think the mixtape I made yesterday has a little something to do with it as well. The Smiths, Shivaree, Bright Eyes, The Arcade Fire, Idlewild, The Kills, Nearly God, among others. It's euphoric. Orgasmic.

It's nice to think that music is all you need to live happily.

& Just Because:

Mon, 21 Mar 2005 20:50:11 GMT

1. Copy this whole list into your journal.
2. Bold the things that are true about you.
3. Whatever you don’t bold is false.

01. I miss somebody right now
02. I don’t watch much TV these days
03. I love olives
04. I love sleeping
05. I own lots of books
06. I wear glasses or contact lenses
07. I love to play video games
08. I’ve tried marijuana
09. I’ve watched porn movies
10. I have been in a threesome
11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship
12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy
13. I have acne free skin
14. I like and respect Al Sharpton
15. I curse frequently
16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year
17. I have a hobby
18. I’ve been told I: (women) have an applebottom, (men) am packing.
19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me
20. I’m really, really smart
21. I’ve never broken someone’s bones
22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal
23. I hate the rain
24. I'm paranoid at times
25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe and free of cost.
26. I need money right now!
27. I love Sushi - it is really yummy
28. I talk really, really fast
29. I have fresh breath in the morning
30. I have semi-long hair
31. I have lost money in Las Vegas
32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister
33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S.
34. I shave my legs (females) or face (males) on a regular basis
36. I have worn fake hair/nails/eyelashes in the past
37. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D.
38. I like the way that I look a lot of the time
39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months
40. I know how to do cornrows
41. I am usually pessimistic
42. I have a lot of mood swings
43. I think prostitution should be legalized
44. I think Britney Spears is hot
45. I have cheated on a significant other in the past
46. I have a hidden talent
47. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have
48. I think that I’m popular
49. I am currently single
50. I have kissed someone of the same sex
51. I enjoy talking on the phone
52. I practically live in PJ pants
53. I love to shop
54. I would rather shop than eat
55. I would classify myself as ghetto
56. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders
57. I’m obsessed with DeviantArt
58. I don’t hate anyone
59. I’m a pretty good dancer
60. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington
61. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother
62. I have a cell phone
63. I believe in God.
64. I watch MTV on a daily basis
65. I have passed out drunk in public in the past 6 months
66. I love drama
67. I have never been in a real relationship before
68. I’ve rejected someone before
69. I have never been to a big concert
70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life
71. I want to have children in the future
72. I have changed a diaper before
73. I’ve called the cops on a friend before
74. I bite my nails
75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club
76. I’m not allergic to anything
77. I have a lot to learn
78. I have dated someone at least 7 years older or younger
79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest ”Friday” movie
80. I am very shy around the opposite sex sometimes
81. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message
82. I have at least 5 away messages saved
83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before
84. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other in the past
85. I own the ”South Park” movie
86. I have avoided assignments at work to be on LiveJournal
87. When I was a kid I played ”the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or friend
88. I enjoy some country music
89. I would die for my best friends
90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza
91. I watch soap operas whenever I can
92. I’m obsessive and often a perfectionist
93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career
94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all
95. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s ”Children’s Story”
96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy
97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it
98. I have dated a close friend’s ex
99. I’m happy as of this moment
100. I need to get laid so fucking bad...

Wed, 02 Mar 2005 20:33:16 GMT

Oh, the nicotine dreams have got me again. Don't sleep with the patch on. It's terrifying.

Smoked three cigarettes last night. And god how satisfying they were. And how strange I felt in front of Dhara's apartment smoking with Mark and feeling both peaceful and scared as hell as the three of us talked and shared and lived without leaving the house. That boy could break me with a smile and crush my heart without ever saying a word and it feels like losing control. Damn the Capricorns. I didn't want to leave, but responsibility came calling and I left around 11:30 in order to be at least semi-rested for work.

Then woke up in an utterly depressive mood, as if the demons in my neurotransmitters outsmarted the medication I feed myself every morning at breakfast, along with my Vitamin C and Centrum.

Thinking about going to get tested for any possible STDs. But the thought of the inside of my pee-hole being swabbed isn't exactly comforting. I can't even look in there. (So I have issues with my body.) Damn it, I wish there was an easier way. But just to know, I guess I have to do it. And the first time is surely the hardest, just because you don't know what to expect.

And I'm only considering this because Eric called yesterday to tell me he's got the clap. "You might want to get tested too," he said. "Why?" I asked. "We haven't slept together since, like, April of last year." "Still, sometimes it takes a really long time to develop any symptoms." He always likes to scare me. Like a parent. But he watches out for me and usually I need to be watched out for. So it's to the health department I go. Once I get the nerve.

Sat, 29 Jan 2005 21:14:15 GMT

Well rested after a six hour nap last night left me incapable of going out. Woke up at 10:30, read The Hanged Man, was back to sleep by 1am. Up today at nine. Ready for Tiff's party this evening. And Nakato's with the ole parental units. Mmm... Japanese food sounds gooood, even if it is in the company of ma and pa.

Thursday night, went out with Shana and Alyson to the Burgundy Room for Mz. Kara's birthday party. She looked lovely and drunk and happy. Didn't stay for long though, as there was another party to track down. We actually spent more time looking for it than we did enjoying it. Lots of really unfriendly people that I didn't happen to notice drinking (this could be, though, that I was already drunk upon arrival and didn't really care to look for booze).

Tonight should be fun. I'm bringing my "Hello My Name Is..." badges. I'm going to be Captain Notorious.

I know. Geek.

Sorry this is rushed--I really need to bathe!

Thu, 27 Jan 2005 19:50:10 GMT

Work, exhausting. And I hit a cat with my car this morning whilst commuting. That's the second one this month. I think it's some sort of omen. This one was awful, though, because it felt as if I was hunting it down, the way it was running down the middle of my lane, parallel to the yellow lines. "What the fuck is that?" I wondered groggily, and then a light thump beneath me and I realized it was a calico cat. Terrible, just terrible. I'm only thankful it wasn't a lost child.

Went to visit Dhara in her new apartment last night. It's the kind of apartment you want to be photographed in for the cover of your emo band's first album, all nicotine yellow and completely tiled with vintage furnishings . Adorable. Except the neighbor kids frighten me, these ten year olds cursing in the yard like Colin Ferrell. "Maybe you could buy weed from them," I told Dhara.

I'm losing my ambition. A little bit more every day. It's like I'm constantly being kicked in the stomach and can't stand up. And I don't know if I can fight back to save myself. But I want to save myself. But from what? Life has been really beautiful as of late, even though I feel myself going nowhere ever. I'm just really glad I'm not so lonely anymore.

Tue, 25 Jan 2005 19:56:38 GMT

I could tell you all about the events of last night.

The wine. The beer on my head and all in my hair. Stancer. (or Rob) His head and my arm through the window. And McDonald's at 5am. Tiffany and Shana and Tan and Kyla and Sorie. And the beautiful debauchery.

But I'm really tired. I think I should get some sleep.

ps. Made a trip to Best Buy at 9am. From what I've heard thus far, the new Bright Eyes albums are excellent.

Oh Shallow

Mon, 24 Jan 2005 20:32:28 GMT

I just finished doing a skin refining mask. Most people don't know this about me, but I have several very superficial habits, most of which have to do with my face or my teeth. I could go into my preening regimen, but it would take a while and it's really not that interesting. I will tell you this though: I floss at least twice a day, sometimes brushing four.

Friday night found me drunk on vodka (my current drink of choice) and going to see Femme Fatality at the Burgundy Room. Got to hang out with Shana and Tan and the gang for a bit of a pre-party, catching up later with Tiff and Kyla for the party party. Kyla and I left the show briefly to drink a bit more in my car parked in the parking lot of a bank. I spoke drunkenly (or faux-philosophically, if you will) on such subjects as existentialism, death, relationships. I really like her. We talked about how we seem to have this strange connection--she gets good vibes from me. Then we danced the rest of the evening away. Tiffany hosted the after-party. I drank some wine. Went to Shana's, took a couple hits off her as-of-yet (at the time) nameless little pipe. I was wasted. I got an hour and a half of sleep before work. I did fine though. Except for the fact that one of the residents was dying, and every time I walked down 400 hall I was reminded that I too will die one day. I can never seem to shake that idea for very long. I don't think I've shaken it since childhood, when you learn about death. Ruth finally died yesterday afternoon. Her daughter came to thank me for being such a "sweet boy." I hugged her and told her to visit, even though I most usually thought her to be a raging bitch.

Last night I went to see Mindy after three weeks of not seeing Mindy. It's strange to see how she's progressed as a human being since high school. We were never close then, but she seemed to strive too openly for perfection, whereas I was obviously the crazy gay boy in town. My reputation was tarnished before entering middle school. But now Mindy is able to talk about sex and penis size and we're able to laugh at one another's unfortunate experiences. I guess what I'm getting at is, it's nice when people change, when people open up to you and are able to relate to you. Even people you never expected to see after graduation, or never expected to like as a person.

Oh, and I got snubbed for the first time ever last night. I was walking into the Mudhouse as this girl Jackie I hung out with a couple times a couple months ago was exiting with her boyfriend Phoenix, this Wiccan/model/rapper?, and I said, "H-eeey!" And then there it was: The Snub. With nose in air, she proceeded to continue walking, only barely glancing up at me. I scoffed and walked inside to enjoy my yummy black coffee.

But I must be off to the bank. And I need to call about the cost of my speeding ticket. I have yet to pay. I must say, I'm a little frightened to find out how much money I'll be shelling out.

Love and Radar Detectors.

Just for Tan:

Thu, 20 Jan 2005 18:42:59 GMT

Fantasies

Tue, 18 Jan 2005 22:12:32 GMT

I called up to the balcony from the sidewalk, “Hey! They’re kicking people out of here. Why don’t you come with us.” We’d seen him inside. We’d only stopped back by to pick up Tiffany’s keys. He hadn’t been there before we left for Ziggie’s to get food; I think all of us ate breakfast. When we returned, he was sitting in the corner. He stood and stretched and I could see the curvature of his hip bones. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and stepped out onto the balcony. The four of us left, Tiffany, Kyla, Dhara and me. That’s when I called up to him.

I think that’s how it happened. I can’t remember for sure. I’m still putting pieces of the story back into place. They’re all muddled drunken memories.

Then we’re in the car and we’re headed back to Tiff’s. The boy tells us that he’s a clone named Eric, created in 1976 to defeat the Communists. But some people call him Robert. We were never sure what his name was. He says we’ve probably seen other clones that look like him. I tell him he does look a bit familiar, and I’m almost certain I’ve seen him at the bar.

I realize once we’re at Tiff’s that I only have two cigarettes left and they’re menthol. He doesn’t like menthol. I borrow Kyla’s car to drive back to Tan and Shana’s to get the two packs of Lights out of my car. Tiff tells me to see if I can find some booze.

Everyone at Tan and Shana’s looks really tired. Shana’s wearing her pajamas. I find what’s left of the wine I bought the night before and a bottle of egg nog some random girl gave me. Natalia maybe? Cris offers me the last of his Grey Goose but when he looks in the freezer, it’s gone.

I grab my cigarettes and drive back very quickly, afraid I’m missing something.

When I arrive, he is playing guitar while Kyla plays the keyboard. I straddle the amp, the jug of wine in my hand. I can physically feel the chords he plays.

The next thing I remember is standing on the front porch talking with him, smoking cigarettes that we had to light on the gas stove because I lost my Bic. I lit both of them at once. He seemed impressed by this. It’s snowing beautiful giant flakes. Dhara comes to the opened door and I look at her secretively and say, “It’s the kind of snow you kiss someone in.” Then Dhara’s standing between us. The flakes land in her hair and he points a bony finger at the center of her scalp and says, “These are the kind of snowflakes that are completely unique.”

I’m sitting on the dryer in the kitchen talking music with him and Dhara. “Do you like Bright Eyes?” he asks.
“Oh God yes! Conor Oberst!” I let out a moan. “And in ‘Lover I Don’t Have to Love’ when he sings ‘I want a boy who’s so drunk he doesn’t talk...’” Another moan. He laughs. Then we’re singing ‘The Calendar Hung Itself.’

He asks, “Do you like Belle and Sebastian?”
“Yeah!”
He begins singing ‘The Stars of Track and Field.’ I join in.

We’re back on the streets, on our way to Kyla’s to get her keyboard. In the backseat I sit between him and Dhara under a blanket. The three of us tickle one another’s thighs and as we’re stepping out of the car, I put my hand on the headrest of the driver’s seat at the same time he does. Our fingers touch.

Inside, he goes to use the bathroom.
“So whaddya say, Jeff?” asks Tiff. “Is he gay or straight?”
“I can’t tell! I can’t get a good read on him.”
“I know, me neither.”

Back outside, we’ve loaded the trunk with Kyla’s keyboard and guitar. He runs into me as we’re trying to get into the car and I grab his hands and we spin around madly in the snow, laughing.

Back at Tiffany’s he’s playing ‘The Stars of Track and Field’ on Kyla’s acoustic guitar and we’re singing together. He moves to the chair in front of the computer to look up the tablature for ‘If You’re Feeling Sinister’ by my request. I am on my knees beside him and as we sing, we put our heads together.

“We should do some open mic night, man,” he says.

I’m not sure how our fairytale came about. Sometime when he is laying on the couch next to Kyla. I lay in the big wicker chair next to them, my head close to theirs. Kyla being a princess becomes the subject of conversation. She wants to be called Cynthia. Princess Cynthia. But she doesn’t know yet that she is a princess because she if but a mere peasant girl milkmaid. And it is decided that he is an elfin knight that will one day come to rule the land, “The Land of... where?” he asks. “Tir na nOg!” he then exclaims as I myself exclaim, “The Land of Where!”
“Yes!” he says. “Tir na nOg! The Land of Where! And you. You are my pageboy. What’s your name?”
“Dash!” I say excitedly.
“Dash the Pageboy! Or would you rather be a squire?”
“I dunno. Which is better?”
“The squire is higher up in the ranks.”
“Well, then I wanna be a squire!”
“Okay, then, Dash the Squire! I have known you for years, and for years you have gratefully worked under me, darning my outfits and clashing your sword against mine in the fields.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that,” I say with a girlish giggle.

Dhara takes on the part of the playful sprite Squeek. Stancer met Squeek in a wooded grove when she lost her bow. “You silly sprite!” shouts Stancer. “How did you come to lose your bow?” and he shakes her.
Kyla butts in. “This isn’t explaining how I am to become queen.”

And much of the rest of the night is spent constructing our play. Stancer says to me, “And I have offered you protection with my arrow’s sweet affection,” which sounds a bit dirty. We say it again and again in a singsong chant rubbing our noses together.

He tries to make out with Tiffany when she goes to bed. I have to drag him out of the room, knocking over a rack of VHS tapes. “You have to leave her alone,” warns Cynthia. “She hasn’t slept since Wednesday.” He tries to go back. I grab him and he throws me to the floor, shaking me.

“But it is not the gods’ will!” I plead.
“But it is my heart’s will,” he retorts.

Some time after all of this, Squeek and Stancer make out and he bites her hard on the back, proving what he had told us just before, that he likes to bite and to bite hard. “Where do you want me to bite you?” he asks. I unsnap my shirt and point to my side, just below the ribs. “OOW!” I scream. “That fucking hurt!” When I try to bite back, he squeals and says he doesn’t allow anyone to bite him. “Oh, so you’re just sadist,” I say and I lick his stomach, chomping down when he least expects it in the same place where he bit me.

I realize there’s still some egg nog left. But it’s too thick to drink, like Pepto Bismol. I go to add some rum. “Dash. Did you inject it with your seed?” asks Stancer.
“Just a dash,” I reply and we all laugh wildly. It’s a very stout drink.
“We should never learn each others’ real names,” he suggests.

There is mischief all night. Stancer tries to throw himself down the stairs, but we won’t allow it.

He keeps asking if any of us work at Pizza Hut. “Do you work at Pizza Hut?” one of us asks.
“No, my dad owns a dealership.” And then Squeek and Stancer are making out hardcore on the futon. Cynthia and I watch from just above them. They raise their eyes to us and we giggle and I go to make a phonecall. It’s 7am and I’m drunk dialing Devin. I ramble on about the curious boy who likes to bite people and hang up the phone. When I come back in, Cynthia, who is now Kyla again, is hiding in the corner by a chair.

“Come here,” she stage whispers to me. “Sit down. I don’t think we should be in there.”
“What did I miss?” I ask.
“Well. The bra is off now.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god! What do we do?”
“I don’t know!”
“Is Jeff on the phone again?” Dhara asks from the futon. I laugh madly.
“I think there’s some vodka left in the freezer,” I realize. “Should we drink it?”
“Do you realize that someone else’s cock was inside me just like five hours ago,” we heare Dhara say.
“I think so,” replies Kyla.
We make a vodka/cranberry juice mixer and watch from the kitchen.
“Is he naked?” I ask.
“I can’t tell. I think so!”
“Where’s my camera? Oh, shit, it’s under them!”
“Yeah,” calls out Stancer. “I know you wanna take a picture.”
“I don’t think they care that we’re in there,” I say defiantly and go to sit down on the couch. Stancer’s pants are back on. “What are you drinking?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just some cranberry juice. Trying to replenish my system.” Kyla laughs, taking a seat next to me, and then a sip.
“Give it to me,” he snaps.
“Dude, it’s just juice!”
“I have a pain. Right here,” he says, pointing to the place just below his ribs. “Did you bite me?” he asks, pointing to me.
“Yes, I did, actually.”
“Here,” he says holding out his hand and snapping his fingers. I hold out my hand. “No, get down here,” and he pulls me to my knees on floor in front of him and kisses me.
“Yeah, my mouth was just there like five seconds ago,” I hear Dhara say from above me or behind me, I’m not sure where.
“You guys need to give me your numbers,” he says.
“We need yours too,” Kyla and Dhara seem to say simultaneously.
“I don’t have a phone,” he says.
“Well, if you don’t have a phone, how are you going to call us?” I ask, crawling on top of him, kissing him more.

Then he is on top of me on the floor and he is shaking me shouting, “My squire shall not overpower me in matters of the sword or lust!” He does the line over and over until it’s right. I think my head should hurt from being smashed against the carpet so much, but it really doesn’t. I laugh hysterically, “That’s really good! I feel like I’m in fucking Dungeons and Dragons shit!”

Stancer decides now, at 8:30 in the morning, that it is time for him to go. Kyla offers to drive him home, and so we all decide to go. The ground is dusted with a light snow.

Dash hops onto Stancer’s back, but loses his cigarette and jumps back off to fetch it. “Forget that!” demands Stancer. Dash jumps into his arms falling onto his back into the snow where they kiss. It’s like a dream.

In the car, the role-playing continues. Lines are rehearsed. It’s all very tense, like the night of dress rehearsal. “Can you give Dhara a shorter line because she keeps fucking it up,” Kyla asks Stancer. It was a really good line too. I remember a couple of mine, along with the blocking. We rehearsed several times, getting lost on the way to his house.

With my hand down his shirt, my fingers grazing his nipples I was to say, “You will surely forget us.”
He was to grab my hand and say something like, “As surely as the snow, I will not forget.” It changed several times.
We’re lost. We try to convince him to go back with us to get some sleep. Something about, “But surely the way is clouded.”

We finally stumble upon Commercial Street when he opens the door, falling to the street. He stretches over the seat to give Dhara a long deep kiss. Then he kisses me too, only to sprint to the front of the car and take a deep bow. The remaining three of us watch in awe. He then attempts to make a snowball and runs away.

“So I guess this is his street?” asks Kyla and she takes a right.
“No!” someone calls out. “Go back! We have to see where he lives!”
Kyla pulls a U-turn. We’re all so disoriented. “Where is he? Did we lose him? There he is!”
She honks the horn. He looks up from the yard he walks through and waves to us. We sit there for a moment before we realize we’ve stopped amidst the moving traffic.

Stancer

Mon, 17 Jan 2005 22:02:34 GMT

All we know is that in the drunken fairytale we constructed, he named himself Stancer. And he is dangerously seductive.

Dhara shows off a hickey (pre-Stancer, by the way) while Stancer goes against the rules (smoking in the house).

Greek godlike.

This Charming Man

Rockstar pose

A Kyla sandwich. "We're the bread!" exclaimed Stancer. "And I am a hardy Rye!"

Taken about 8am. The drinking ended about two seconds prior. I downed our vodka/cranberry juice mixer and took a photo.

The bite mark left on my side from our Pink Elephant Delerium Tremens Stancer.

Story still to come. Promise.
If anyone has any information, though, speak up.

If Cheech and Chong had a band, would you join?

Sat, 08 Jan 2005 20:24:39 GMT

Excited. Nervous. About the possible prospect of a band.

Finally called about the ad I've walked by at the Mudhouse for well over a month. Maybe two. It disappeared for a while, got revised, and now it's up again. So I called, as part of one of my New Year's resolutions.

This guy Craig, the bassist, has been "jamming out" with several people, he said. He's looked at about eight guitarists, none of which he's felt are quite versatile enough. But he thinks he and the drummer and the saxophonist have settled on one. (Yes, I too find it strange that they have a sax in the band.) I want to enter as lyricist/vocalist. Craig said that about 80 percent of the stuff they've come up with has no lyrics or vocals. I go to audition with him on Monday. Excited. Nervous. Very nervous. I'm not yet sure what I can bring to the table, especially if they're influenced heavily by stuff like jazz, folk, oldies, '80s new wave. I'm quoting all this from the flier. It seems to me like they're headed in a jazzy direction what with the sax and such. I dunno. I'm rambling. Excited. I have to try. I want a band. I have to find out what I'm capable of in such an environment. Something else that worries me: This Craig fellow sounds like Tommy Chong over the telephone. And he has a child. Like a baby. I could hear it crying and he said, "I have a son by the way." And he says "Man" a lot, the way guys in bands do. I'm sure he'll turn out to be a middle aged burnout with a fu manchu.

Anyway.

Yesterday at work, I went out for a cigarette and when I came back in I said, "There's a patch of black ice outside the back door. Be careful. I nearly busted my ass."
Danielle replied, "You be careful Jeff! Did they try to gang up on you?"

"Black ice, Danielle!" I exclaimed. "Not black guys!"

Ohhh. The rednecks.

eegad! what happened to louise post??

Thu, 06 Jan 2005 20:49:05 GMT

She must've been really sad about Nina Gordon selling out.

Correlations

Thu, 06 Jan 2005 17:43:55 GMT

There’s this correlation between snow and boy. Snow and boy and song and phone. And love. And how he outgrew me.

The snow reminds me that these feelings haven’t changed.

The house is quiet today, only the steady pounding of my fingers against these keys. No music will be played today, nothing.

Cyber Sex

Sun, 26 Dec 2004 22:09:20 GMT

Fri, 17 Dec 2004 04:48:15 GMT

I'm fucked up right now but I love ytou and I hope you know2.
The past couple weeks have been a blur, ljots of wine and jIRumple Minze, which fucks you up even if it's like drinking cough syrup.

Devins leaving soon. I claled him drunk, I hope he appreciates it because there'e not a lot of people I call drunkenly. jI like him alot even jthough I shouldn't because he's so distantg. W'\e\ don't talk anymore reallu. And if we do igtSnot for long or he doesn'tn seem to be listening.
i miss jlots of poeple. I miksss them.. I hope to receive lt\ettersd or emails or whatever.d I dunno where Mindy's cellphone isd but she
's asking.

I mitght be able to get a job at the library beca8se lindsay fronm the mudhyouse's boyfre8indStu works there and says thgeres an openhingg there. It's my current dream job. I love Lindsay. There's a party tomorrow... She'd better call me.

I miisss you Iloveyou. I don't \write in here a whole lot it seems but I think of many of you \oftenthe ro\om is spiinnintg a bit I should go.

Nate Alan Karlos Zaccy Tiff Tan Shana fIlove you all....l

The gay boys keep bgetting walked in on by mindy Haha
j

keeping warm

Sat, 27 Nov 2004 20:46:50 GMT

Wed, 03 Nov 2004 20:13:02 GMT

I went to bed last night with the fear that I would wake up in the morning and ol' George Dubya would be president for a second term. Have my fears really been confirmed? It's a scary America we're living in.

Electoral College is the Hot Topic.

Tue, 02 Nov 2004 17:56:44 GMT

All weekend I had a pain in my right lung, which, being the hypochondriac that I am, led me to believe that I had lung cancer. However, I finally realized that it wasn't my lung at all, but a huge knot in my back (a pinched nerve) causing shortness of breath. So I must schedule a raping by a chiropracter.

Last night I ran into Kim at a local headshop (I always seem to run into Kim these days) and during a brief discussion on how shitty my job is, she told me that she knows the manager at Hot Topic and she thinks they're hiring. I'm a bit wary though. What would that say about me, working at Hot Topic? I don't even shop at Hot Topic. I don't even go in when I'm at the mall. But she thinks they pay eight dollars an hour and that's more than I make now, and when my pay cut comes into effect.... Plus, it would be much easier working in a store at the mall, and it's a store I wouldn't be tempted to blow my paychecks at. So it could be a good thing.

Oh, and I voted today. It was a nerve-racking experience. I'm a voting virgin and I spent a good 60 seconds or so staring at the holepunch ballot as if it was the most complicated algebraic equation I had ever seen. But I figured it out.

Last night I was telling my mom I wasn't sure who to vote for. "I'm going to have to do some research," I told her.
"Jeff," my brother butted in. "Your vote doesn't count."
I had a good laugh about that one.

No, no it doesn't. Ahh... democracy. It's still minty fresh.