I've been getting e-mails asking me if I'm okay, inquiring after why I haven't been updating the journal as regularly. I keep forgetting how many of you there are out there, and it's very gratifying, but there's no gentle way to put this: I'm doing this for me, not for you!
That having been said, don't think I don't appreciate the concern.
Now, since "I'm doing this for me, not for you" doesn't really answer the question, I've been giving it some thought and I realized that yes, I am okay, and that the main reason I haven't been updating the journal as frequently is because I've totally lost any mobility with my computer. Now that it's tied to the external monitor, I can't carry it with me, and consequently can't tap away on my journal entries in the places where I do them most: coffee houses and public places. You see (and I don't know why you should see this when I never quite realized it was happening before) most of the entries for the journal in the past came about as I was killing time in coffee shops and the like while I was waiting to meet up with friends. Finished work and need to meet someone? No time to get home and back before the scheduled meeting? Well, then! Plunk yourself down in a coffee shop and bang out your thoughts!
So now that the computer isn't with me all the time, the quantity (hopefully not the quality... oh, who am I kidding! I have no illusions about the quality of this writing!) is suffering. Maybe all this will change when I can afford the new computer again. Alas, that day keeps being pushed back, as there's always something to do with my money... namely pay rent and bills. Welcome to everyone else's world!
So, there you have it. I'm nor hiding from the world in some deep dark depressing, I'm just doing most of my journaling in the paper journal, since that's still portable.
Are cats supposed to chase their own tails? Truckstop does. A lot. At first I thought it was 'cuz he was growing up with and imprinting on Max, but the fact is that I don't think I've ever seen Max chase his own tail... he's just too old to care about that shit. Max is so laid back, his version of getting excited over a chew toy is to walk a little faster.
The Demon Cat of Flatbush, however, is a bundle of energy. I don't know from cats, mind you, but he appears to have reached this stage where he's discovering his hunter insticts, and pounces on just about anything that attracts his attention... principally moving feet. Mine.
But I also see him going after his own tail for hours on end, and it's really kinda funny. I'm just wondering how normal it is.
So Ken and I went to see the new David Cronenberg film, Spider. I'm not usually the world's biggest Cronenberg fan, but I liked this one... as much as one can like a story such as this. It's not your grandfather's Cronenberg. At least with this film, he's seems to be coming down less squarely on the side of visual gross-out. It's a quieter, tenser version of his usual confusing take on what's real and what's not.
Afterward we hung out at my new favorite coffee shop, The Grey Dog Cafe on Carmine Street in the West Village. We spent a couple hours catching up and discussing the film, life, and everything.
He looked incredible in the candlelight on our table, and I tried to get a shot of it, but my camera just isn't up to the task of shooting in low light, as we've noted before. Still, I tried, and the picture to the right is the result. Considering that it's taken in low light with my awful camera, I think it's quite fetching, don't you?
It was really nice to see Kenny, and have someone of my own ilk and age bracket to hang out with. Not long ago I mentioned that Eric likes to tease me about not going out enough with "the gays," and he's absolutely right. The level of comfort I have with Kenny is something totally unlike my relationships with my straight friends - which, mind you, I wouldn't change in the least; I love those people as much as I love my own family. And in a case or two, I like them better. But Ken and I are going through life at approximately the same age, approximately the same place in the world, so it's nice to have someone to share that with.
I'm gonna make a confession about Ken that I'm probably going to regret: I have very great regret that on paper, he'd make a great boyfriend (don't think I haven't thought about it)! He's everything I want in a parther. He's kind, he's soft-spoken, he's smart(er than me), he's really attractive, and he's not nuts. Unfortunately there are two very big obstacles to my ever going all mack-daddy on him: Physically, I'm not his type, and he's not really mine. I know this because when we're out, we both drool over exactly the same type. Young preppy guys who look nothing like us. Believe me when I tell you, it's not lost on me what a stupid, crying shame that is.
Well, I went out with some guys I "know" (as in "have chatted with online but have never actually met in person) from the gay.com Manhattan chat room. Usually these rooms are crazy hook-up venues, but this particular group of guys just wanted to get together and socialize, since we've been chatting for so long and were curious about what we're all like in person. A couple of the guys are the sort who don't post much of a profile or picture 'cuz they're not out so someone - usually family - and don't want them stumbling across photographic evidence of their gaiety.
But having chatted with them so long, I was curious to meet them in person. So we got together at a bar called The Works, on Columbus Avenue, and drank beer and shot some pool. It was a really good time, and it was nice to finally meet these guys in person. But you want to know something weird? Even in THIS group, I ended up being the only single person! I'm destined to be a perpetual third (or in this case, seventh) wheel.
Thankfully that thought didn't hit me until I was well on my way home, or this might have turned out to be a really depressing experience. As it was, I had a great time, enjoyed the company of some really nice guys, and managed to avoid sitting at home in front of a TV all night.
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