3 1 j u l y 2 0 0 1 .
puddle
at this hour the tears collected (in a pool
filling a cup of hands) reflected yellow,
afternoon light. they trickled down
freckles quietly. the real weeping
happened as they spilled from the
cup to the sidewalk, not from the eyes
between the eyelashes that dropped
hesitation, lids sore.
3 0 j u l y 2 0 0 1 .
catching a cold in the summer sux. ran into maurice on the way home from alt.coffee, who came over while we fixed my vcr, designed him a business card, and searched in vain for an appropriate photo for him to use online. then he left me to my porn that i can now watch (taz action, *pant*), fluids, and bed rest. the gym also helped, and for the second time after the gym, i ran into catwoman outside of the key food on 4th and avenue a. she told me about this, and i told her about this.
when i was getting an ice cream cone (i'm sick AND i did crunches, i deserve it) later that night, i ended my cell phone conversation with jami in order to not appear a cell phone asshole in the ice cream cone line, which was fortuitous since the tattooed latina that always takes my order told me, smiling but in no uncertain terms, we don't serve people on cell phones. i said, that's why i just hung up, to give you proper respect, and then asked for a chocolate chip cookie dough on a waffle cone. she shook her headit appears that louie gee's is fresh out of waffle cones, sugar cones, and as she motioned over to the wafer cones, knocked all but one cone to the floor. we both cracked up, but i sure am glad that i got that last one; it made it taste even better as it melted all over my hand on the walk back home.
i just remembered that i'm on this photographer's website: http://www.fotoreaction.com/headshots.html. can you find me?
narcissism aside, today was bloody (mary!) recovery sunday. which means brunch and shopping with jami. no, we are not a goddamn clichéi'm so butch that everyone assumes we're a couple, don't they, jami? jami? st. mark's bookshop, where i bought house of mirthmy literary buddies spending their summer weekends on water island say it's a must. then we were surprised and disrupted to find the st. mark's gap closed for good, but settled for the one on 5th avenue (faggy tanktops for me, denim skirt and more back-to-school clothes for her) on our way to paragon sporting goods (yoga mat for her, nada for me). what fun!
oink. (see yesterday)
had a blast at p.s. 1 with joe and dom this afternoon. who ever knew queens could be so cool? (just kidding, j.c.) got to see the drug exhibit that was featured in vice magazine a month or two back, plus some tiny video that was playing through a crack in the floorboards, neato. and of course, ran into everyone and their mom(m)a, including greg.org, friends without urls (now that's a band name), and did i see you there too, little sparky?
the crowd was ridiculously attractive. i developed several crushes and saw one guy, fernando, that i bump into periodically that i'm always trying to smile at. turns out another friend of mine knows him, but i got a rare case of shyness (no, i don't wanna meet him, i look ugly) at the opportunity for an intro. walked over the bridge back into town with dan and becca, then went to see the c-r-a-p-p-y planet of the apes with everett. afterwards, he decided to play a game and we walked back through the exiting crowd, he asking "we're about to go see it, how was it?" and everyone responding "it sucked!"
i love these weekends where i get to see so many people that i'm fond of and just go go goi get tired, but you can sleep when you're dead, right?
cinde's birthday party, oh my. jami and i kick-started it with pinot grigio and antipasto at oggi, right next door to that piggy bar i seem to end up in every so often, then we both headed home to change into disco action gear, then reconvened and cabbed it to nancy's whiskey pub.
or as i call it, nasty whiskey pub.
or as jami calls it, skanky nancy's.
take whatever side you wish.
jami's big and brawny friend dan is there (where are the beefy 'mos, dammit? even edgecrusher.com is down...), so she gives him a hard time while cinde, guest of honor, shows up in a parker-posey-watch-out party girl t-shirt. she gets hugs and kisses from everyone. at some point i am bad. but when i'm bad, i'm kinda good, and get friendlier and friendlier than my usual shy, subdued, strong, silent type, so it's animated conversations with the girls and then shine. it's nice to be treated well at a club, so we make short work of the line and door and get inside, minor attitude from a guy i went on a date with once, good attitude from everyone else, dr. rendezvous gets on the turntables and tears it up, i dance with the birthday girl, my friend kenyon calls to bail on krash tonight, and eventually i head out for a brief swing through my neighborhood. run into kenyon at boiler room, am so horny that i'm literally craning my head around to check out some guy's package that's so fucking big his beer is practically resting on it. if i'm that high i need to get some fresh air, so off to fat cock (calling it fc29 is like insisting on calling her j-lo), where i run into former co-workers, they don't need to see me this fucked up, off to phoenix, where there's nothing going on, off to home, where i get on aol and then trouble starts. i chat up this guy who i've traded pics with before, and around 3:30am, talk him into dropping by. on the phone he says if i come over, i want the door unlocked and you facedown on the bed naked, and guess who feels adventurous tonight? he comes in, i turn and look, wow he's cute, and now he's naked too, and getting on top of me, and i don't know if it's the way he kissed the back of my neck and pushed my legs apart with his knees, or the chemicals i've been putting in my body tonight, or that it's a hot summer night in new york, but (after we get the protection stuff taken care of) he starts to push inside me and something goes off and i. can't. get. enough. dick. like, bucking like a muthafuckin fiend, hollering, toes curling, bed rolling around on its castors... thanks, man. got to bed around 5:30am.
did the shoot today, using the ole doctor's appointment as my excuse (with the number of appointments being invoked at work lately, you'd think we worked in a tb ward). in my backpack are a soccer jersey, umbros, black and white adidas knee-highs, shin guards, and uncleated soccer shoes. only the shin guards and shoes end up on me, as well as a cock ring and raymond dragon shorts. the other guy who's in the shoot arrives; i'm a little intimidated because he's pretty much flawless, but the photographer says "you guys'll look good together, light and dark" and we're off. off to the little park area between west side highway and chelsea piersit's 3:30pm, cars everywhere, mothers and kids everywhere. we strip down and promptly clear the park, except for the jackass "ranger" who starts asking for permits and such. eventually we're all set, so we get down to posing: picture it: us lying on our backs in a straight line, legs up, balancing the soccer ball between our feet. us scrimmaging in front of the goal. me doing a push-up directly over the other guy (we're smiling at each other for the camera and he says through his teeth, "my boyfriend's gonna kill both of us"), slumping over each other on the bleachers. stay tuned for when the calendar goes on sale!
leafed through the feature on a.i. in entertainment weekly on the stepmill this evening. the late stanley kubrick's wife is named christiane. i wonder what it's like to be a nice british lady married to him and be named christiane. i wonder if i want my kids to have beautiful, ornate names (christiane), minimalist names that might push them to be those unique people with un-unique names (jane, henry), names from my favorite bands/pornstars (etienne, aiden). when i was ten years old or so, i was obsessed with thirtysomething, and i just found it on bravo. god bless digital cable and my hundreds of channels of crap. things fall apart on pause, picked light in august back up, also brushing up on a javascript book. so so hard, javascripti can nail html and css and get what i need out of photoshop, but when it looks like code and acts like code, i choke.
m o r e t e x t , l e s s b l o g
this weekend i ran into the boy that put me in a bad mood. i was way drunk (vodka soda + 2 coronas at escuelita, one more corona at barrage [oops, i thought they said baraka]) and walking down avenue a, right in front of alt.coffee, and there he was with a group of friends. we made small talk, no hug, no kiss, no mention of unreturned phone call. i smiled and cracked jokes and let his friends cruise me, then i went home and couldn't sleep and ended up leaving him an upset voicemail. i'm embarrassed about it now, to the point where i haven't even told any of my friends (some will find out here). everyone that i talk about this stuff with says that i sound fine, that i'll be fine, but i haven't felt fine lately.
1 4 j u l y 2 0 0 1 .
a boy that i liked blew me off this week, so i've been in a rotten mood. not just that, but a lot of people i know seem to be engrossed in important stuff or having some bad times of their own (is it the phases of the moon or nasdaq? no one can be sure), so i haven't felt like there's a big safety net lately.
friday rolls around. i have my 2 coronas at boiler room with the boys + girl from work, then pierogies and stuffed cabbage at teresa's. a new fellow has joined our clique, plus catching up with friends was nice and distracting for the better part of the evening, then i swing by kim's video with hoover on the way home and am introduced to their porn selection for the first time.
but you guys know i'm more of a textual turned-on'er than visual, so i go home empty-handed and instead chat it up with the boys in latinom4m, the enigmatic filmmaker/actor/boxer across the street, and jonno, who helps snap me out of my funk while looking at some webcam where the guy is sticking his big d*ck in fruit and vegetables and listening to maurice durufle's requiem (while the faure will be well known to many, the plain chant inspiration of the durufle will come as a revelation to the uninitiated, as its serenity and devotional resignation is quite moving colman morrissey) as well as skunk anansie (. . . making an astoundingly unsubtle shock-rock noise which sounds like a chunder of cheetahs in an abattoir . . .).
enough self-pity, head to wonderbar for another drink (that's number three, which is pretty extreme for little old lightweight me, but bea is serving it and i can't say no to her), truly unwind finally. when did everyone at wonderbar suddenly become younger than me? this is disturbing. starlight is way too chelsea tonight, so i check out phoenix next, run into a soused co-worker, then the cock, run into little minx after i walk in and a guy whistles at me and says "thank god you finally got here." mill around for a little while, then throw the towel in. good morning mr. hangover.
julian played a great set last night.
 ochre |
 ego |
 itchy/scratchy |
-----Original Message-----
from: jt [mailto:[email protected]]
sent: wednesday, July 11, 2001 4:32 PM
to: [email protected]
subject: suitability
who to take with you:
(i went with the cute copywriter.....)
someone who doesn't want the moon on a stick.
someone who can enjoy watching thom yorke sample the roar of the crowd and
get great pleasure in playing it back time and time again.
someone who doesn't mind standing in torrential rain (like we had to).
someone who can appreciate music and not need hits, hits, hits.
someone intelligent.
someone you want to fuck.
someone you won't necessarily get to fuck.
http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/11321590/
another design idea called "ochre.jpg" (rhymes with "ogre," not "autechre"), and yet another called "scratchy.jpg".
an idea for a new design that i like to call "ego.gif".
1. i'd like to live in san francisco, but i wouldn't be into the high concentration of HIV+ people there.
2. <!--how many assumptions do you make to be able to say this to someone else? that i'm negative, that i sympathize, that you'd know the status of people you bumped into on the street in the first place, that anyplace else is going to be any different. it makes me inarticulately angry to hear things like this. i guess it's good for me to hear this, listen and respond to it.-->
when i also hear about how hot the bartenders and trainers are in new york's bars and gyms, i remember when i used to think and say things like that not long ago at all.
i feel differently about almost everything now.
does everyone get jaded (1. worn out; wearied; 2. dulled by surfeit; sated; 3. cynically or pretentiously callous.) so quickly? so jaded that sometimes you deal with looks as furniture and other times as beauty?
finally went to see shrek tonight. it was cute, although i did feel a tiny bit disgusted with myself when they showed lord farquaad's hairy chest and i thought, for a split second, that it was hot.
in less toonophilic news, i'm going to be in a calendar. the 'mo soccer team that i occasionally show up for is part of team new york, an umbrella organization that's sponsoring folks for the gay games. to help increase the coffer, they're selling a calendar and asked interested peeps to submit their photo and contact info. i and other vain/insecure gay men in the city needing physical validation did so, and lookie here, i got called back. i asked the guy if i needed to wear my uniform and was told not to bother except for the cleats and shinguards. i'll let you know what happens; if nothing else it'll make a wicked story for the grandkids ("when your grandpapi was 25, he posed in his adidas's and a smile as september's goalie. . .")
by the way, i just bought these at adidas.com.
jami's back jami's back! she gave me a dark blue book from the american art exhibit in prague, all in czech. i've met on the artists before because he cheated on his boyfriend and hooked up with a friend of mine.
sorry the site was down. blame it on networksolutions, who didn't tell me that my domain name had expired. that means that dantewoo.com has been around for two years, not counting when it was members.xoom.com/dante_woo/ or dantewoo.tsx.org.
wake up alarm blaring at 6am life sucks with saliva still on my ass life doesn't suck put on suit and tie and wallet chain hello mr. suit of the 21st century get car service and forget to ask for receipt corporate expense policies suck make it standby onto 9:30am to detroit thank you nice ticketing lady cab drivers nicer in detroit who ride in pairs and ask you about what town you just flew in from all this for a one-hour meeting for a client guess who one hint it's not the ford that works at gucci miss 3pm flight so 5pm it is sucky flight attendants who scowl at the non-english speakers on the flight that don't respond when they tell them please fasten your seatbelt ma'am rude americans suck back home to my beloved new york city by 7pm for easy and fun html edits for a freelance project. how nerdy are you when you code to unwind? how rude is it for someone to walk out of a threeway and go to bed?