Smiling is cute.

Last weekend I went to Bloomington on Friday for a date. I am still receiving flack for what ended up turning into the longest and best dates of my life. His name is Nick, and we met up Friday night. Well, I ended up staying Saturday night too, because we had so much fun together. It was just very comfortable, and I never have had it happen like that before. We did end up going out drinking that night, which turned out to be a bigger ordeal than I really wanted to take on, because he has cerebral palsy. I'm totally fine with it, I mean his isn't really that bad, BUT when he drinks, he does fall down a lot, so luckily I wasn't that drunk, so I could steady him for the walk home.

Anyway, Sunday I got really sick. Like I thought I was dying sick. My phone had died, and I was laying in bed feeling like the world had literally put all of its atmospheric pressure inside of my skull. So, your first instinct isn't to pick up the phone and call people to tell them how bad you feel, right? Well, I checked my messages on Tuesday, and I hadn't any, so I just figured everyone was just assuming I was staying at his place for a while. No no, apparently my mom was about to file a report with the police, so luckily I called on Wednesday telling her I finally felt better and that I was going to come home. Coincidentally, my mother had been contacting all of my friends, NONE of whom, mind you, live in Bloomington, so none of them knew where I was. Even though, had they gotten ahold of Joy, who DOES live in Bloomington, everything would've been ok.

Long story short, I had a good date, but I've gotten so much flack for it that I almost regret it. I really like this guy though. The only thing that concerns me is the fact that he does like to drink a lot, which is totally ok with me, but with his cerebral palsy he does get a little uncontrollable sometimes, and it scares me that he might hurt himself or something. Plus, he can't drive, so it's a one way distance relationship, which really kind of sucks, because anytime I would want him here for a family gathering, I'd have to go pick him up and bring him back, and do it all over again to take him home. I guess it's sort of karma for not having a car for such a long time, and making Justin pick me up all those times.

"Coupling" on BBC

This is quite possibly the most hilarious show I've ever seen. I've rented the first 2 seasons and have completely enjoyed both of them. In fact, I watched season 2 twice. I have season 3 on order, so I can't wait for that. Sadly, there are only 4 seasons of this brilliant show. "Damn BBC bastards!" -Steve (season 2)

Sorry, I don't want to write about much.

Gay Guys Drink.

I just finished a weekend of gay boozing. I say gay, because all of it was either with gay people, or at a gay bar. Seriously, those gays love to drink. I was talking to one guy, and he said that he has been out every night for the past 2 months. TWO MONTHS! That's ridiculous, unhealthy, let alone, expensive. Oddly enough, he had the most obtrusive and typical personality, and afterwards I had to profess my dislike for him. Coincidence? I went out both nights to Greg's, or "Our Place" as the older guys call it because that was it's previous name. SFA took me there, and I think he was in a position to think that it was a date, which I MIGHT have let him believe the week before, but both nights I thought I made it blatantly clear I had no intentions of dating. I kept talking about my interest in other guys and I made sure as to not let him get too close, or kiss me. He's a bit upset now, but he'll get over it. I mean, SFA does stand for "Strictly Friends Aaron." Those were our terms when we first met, because he is the first gay guy friend I have made here in Indy. I find myself to be really uncomfortable in Greg's. I don't feel like I fit into the gay culture, or something like that. A couple of guys on Saturday took it upon themselves to give me some tips on how to dress, and redid the outfit I had been wearing. I feel dumb and naive about things like that. I always find myself shocked in the gay scene, which, you would think by now that nothing would phase me. Everytime...it still does. For instance, there was this adorably cute/hot guy probably around my age, and he was sitting at the bar with this guy who couldn't have been any younger than 55. G-ross. As if that wasn't enough, later I saw them making out, and SFA told me that the old guy is always there with younger guys like that. So, I'm thinking they're either escorts, or they are getting some sort of compensation for it all. I just can't imagine being 22 and being with someone who is more than THIRTY years older than me. Sheesh!

Anyway, the weekend was fun. I met new people, which is always great, and I guess I learned a little more about the gay culture, which is always useful. Maybe one of these days I'll understand it all.

I've been missing Justin a lot lately, yet not in the conventional way. The only time I ever miss him is when I go to bed, and I'm hugging my pillow, I remember how great he felt in my arms. "God himself did make us into corresponding shapes, like puzzle pieces from the clay." Thank The Postal Service and Iron & Wine for those lyrics. Other than that though, I really don't miss him. I was thinking the other day, I didn't even cry over Justin. Not one tear. Then, I couldn't even remember the last time I cried, which is very awkward to me. I am usually so in touch with my feelings. Maybe I've become numb.

Gay guys camp.

This past weekend I was subjected to a new part of the culture to which I belong. Here in Indiana there is a gay campground. Weird right? Most of the gays I know are like, "Ewwww, dirt!" No no, there's plenty of others. My friend Neil invited me to go down with him in his RV, so it wasn't really roughing it by all means. He said he would provide plenty of alcohol, so of course I was swayed. Why not meet some new people anyway? Driving into the place, after buying a membership, I visibly was the only one there under 30. I'm thinking, "Shit...It's just a bunch of old bears." Well, I guess they're out in their natural habitat, eh? Anyway, we set up camp and stuff, and come 4 o'clock, it was time for the first cocktail. Why not, right? There's really nothing else to do. Enter James Denton. No no, not really, but he looked just like him. Neil was yelling at him out the window, so he came over to talk to us. We were introduced, and basically after that I just stared. Neil was telling him that he should shave, because he was looking a little scruffy, and out of nowhere, I was like, "I think it's sexy." Awkward silence...."Ok...I need to use the facilities, and I walked away. Anyway, the drinking ensued, and I was actually being very responsible about it. I didn't want to get completely hammered, because I didn't know anyone there really, and it was a big huge group of gay guys, who which many of were naked. Actually, I did really well until nearly the end of the night. The jello shots were really what got me, but I remember all of it. Anyway, there's what they call, "The Chicken Coop," which is basically an old barn that they've turned into some sort of sex pit. I walked in, saw the porn playing on the tele, and the swing, wait no, they call it a "sling," that was hanging by it, and a picnic table which had been modified with some padding on it. I was like, "What's that for........Oh...." Silly me. They were like, "It's a good thing you're pretty...." Anyway, this new friend I had made, Andrew, and I went to the chicken coop, because I wanted to check out the selection of porn, to see exactly what was appropriate sex watching while using a sling. Mind you, the alcohol was affecting me, and I had the awesome idea of trying out the sling. So Andrew laaded me up into it (your legs go up in stirrups! It felt like I was going to give birth!), fully clothed, I might add. So I'm laying in it, and honestly, it was pretty damn comfortable. It felt like a hammock! Some old guy appeared in the doorway, and I hurriedly jumped out of it as fast as I could saying, "No no, I'm not here for that..." and stuff along those lines. Luckily, I shooed him away, and I decided it was time to leave the coop. Later, I was told of, "Fort Dicks," (which I thought they should dub Fort Dix, because it's more classy) which is basically a privacy fence around a picnic table, and guys go there at night-time for anonymous sex. It's not right really, or safe, but that sort of thing is quite common with our culture. Anyway, Andrew and I went to it, because I was curious as to what it looked like, and luckily, no one was in there. 2 guys eventually did come in later, but I was trying to make it a social event, trying to get their names and introduce myself. When I was greeted with looks of disdain, I decided it was best if I were to pop out of there, just to make sure nothing actually happened to me that I didn't want to allow. Actually, I ended up hanging out with one of those guys the next day, but didn't realize it until halfway through. It was pretty unnerving, but I still had fun. There was a lot more promiscuity, and approaches by older men than I would've wanted, but other than that, it was enjoyable, and I got to meet some new people.

It's a little bit funny...

It's a bit ridiculous trying to post at my house. My comptuer, plus the lack of a good connection speed, makes it almost an hour process to just publish one blog post.

I've been looking around lately, and thinking about getting in the dating pool once more. The thing is, all I seem to find are disappointments. Gay men, I swear, are the shadiest type of subculture there is. They are all full of promises, yet when it comes down to something realy, they flake out and disappear. This, of course, is basically referring to meeting people online. I'm not really a bar hopper, so I don't really have any place to meet any single men, so I get on chat rooms, mostly just gay.com. I have been bound to find many a good chat or two, but when it comes down to actually meeting or anything of the sort, the guy will suddenly get "kicked" offline, like that's even a valid excuse anymore. Honestly, how many people still use dialup? Or, I've even had it get so far that we will talk on the phone, and when it comes to getting directions to come pick them up, or something, their phone will miraculously die and I won't be able to get ahold of them again. Uh, hello, plug your damn phone in. It's not that hard.

A bit disappointing all around, but I've gotten cynically used to it.

The girlfriend's fine, I don't like you.

I just got around to finally listening to Avril Lavigne's new album, "The Best Damn Thing." What the hell was she thinking? I don't care how happy you are now that you're married, there's no need to stoop down to cheerleader level, airheaded girl lyrics. Her second album, "Under My Skin" proved to show that she was actually a decent enough singer, and that she was maturing in her music style with songs like "Nobody's Home," and "Slipped Away." Now she's basically running around in underwear with soccer socks on in her video for "Girlfriend," acting like she was actually the popular girl in high school. I guess her standing as "punk" was controversial enough, so maybe she just decided to say fuck it, and become a full blown pop idiot. What is up with this album cover too, are those scissors in her hair?

Summary: terribly catchy lyrics...for a 14 year-old girl, or fag.

2 stars

I've returned

I hope the hiatus hasn't been too long. I had to reformat my computer and get everything working again, and I'm finally back! I will be writing in here more frequently, because my other blogging community has pissed me off, and I will not be returning. You may notice a few changes in the format of things here. I will be writing about my life experiences, posting poems and short stories, making fun of celebrities, and offering reviews of books, movies and music. Kisses to my readers, and I hope you welcome and enjoy the change.

Justin and I are no longer together. We just didn't match at all. It was a pretty good break-up, and we talked a little after that, but then out of nowhere, he went immature and blocked me online. It was immaturity like that that bothered me about him so much sometimes. I still plug a few sentences into his email or text messages, and he responds nicely and like we're friends, yet I'm still blocked. Sometimes I miss him, and then I remember that.

If you aren't already, I would advise you to become familiar with The Raveonettes. "Pretty in Black" is one of the best albums I've heard in a long time. They sort of remind me of a mixture of The Beatles and Blondie.

I went back to Purdue last weekend to see some old friends, and it turned out to be a pretty positive experience. It's funny how nothing ever changes there, like Purdue is some sort of time capsule where some sort of immaturity stays within. I felt like I had grown so much from the individuals I visited. I went hope with a sense of pride and sadness simultaneously. It seems that I left part of my youth in that town, and I think that's why I'm so emotionless now.

More

Americans are often left wanting more. I have given most of the blame for this on technology, because everything is so "instant gratification" these days that if there is any waiting or delay, we get pissed off that we aren't getting our way.

Dictionary.com offers many definitions of the word "more," but my favorite is, "something of greater importance. " Sometimes, still, I find myself wanting more. This often makes me feel selfish and devoid of any pride because really, why can't I just sit back and enjoy what I have? It's always like, "Awesome...I really wanted this Hard-Fi cd...but damn it! I want that Mika cd too!" Why can't I just sit back and enjoy listening to the Hard-Fi cd? The Hard-Fi cd will always be there for me, because...well...it's mine. The Hard-Fi cd is comforting, and pleases me when I need it to. So tell me, why is Mika over there calling my name?

I can tell you why. It's because I want more from Hard-Fi. MORE! At night, when I lie in bed and feel lonely, Hard-Fi isn't there holding me tight and wishing me off to dreamland. Hard-Fi isn't there to kiss me when I don't initiate it. Inanimate plastic tends to not move on its own...especially if it were to involve human emotions. The Hard-Fi cd sings me good songs, and I really like to listen to it...but sometimes I just want it to say more. Like suddenly I will buy the international version, imported from Britain, and it will have one extra song that will make everything complete. That I could finally sit there, and listen to everything Hard-Fi has to say, completely satisfied and happy.

Not to make anything better, but then you're living your life, and eventually you're friends are introduced to the Hard-Fi cd. Well, they don't like it! Blasphemous I tell you! Can they not tell what good music is when they hear it? Hard-Fi makes me happy, and that's all that should matter. You bringing down the cd with all of your negative speak about how weird a song or two is doesn't help me. It actually just makes me doubt my judgement of the cd. I was completely happy, and impressed with Hard-Fi's talent, but now you've gone and suggested something, and the little voice in the back of my mind that MAY have had a criticism, is coming out to meet and greet your opinion, and trying to see if they would be good friends.

So now I want even more from Hard-Fi, like suddenly, they have to reprove their talent to me.

Just maybe I will find that import, and Hard-Fi will give me just the little bit more I want. We'll see...but eventually I will get tired of Hard-Fi, if they can't muster up the talent that Mika is willing to give me.

Pride?

Yesterday kicked off the "big weekend" as a lot of the gays call it. It is Indy's Pride weekend. You might compare this to a Mardi Gras of sorts, because it seems to be the perfect excuse to go and make the biggest ass of yourself as possible. Pride? Really? I'm not sure if I could run around claiming that I'm this so-called "proud" to be gay. I mean, I'm comfortable with myself, but I live a different life compared to a lot of the other queers. Since it's pride, everyone seems to believe that they must pull out their most ridiculous outfits accesorized by rainbow bracelets, shirts saying, "I love cock" and so on. I don't know about you, but I definitely want to go celebrate with a bunch of ass-less chaps, leather suspender wearin, whip carrying, make-up wearing, shirtless fags running around saying "Heyyyy gurrrrrl." Pride, to the gays, apparently means "the loss of dignity for oneself." I'm gay, sure, but I'd like to think that I fit in a little bit more in the world. I look for a long-term relationship, hopefully some day turning into a family. I wear decent clothing, nothing TOO gay. I don't run around with shirts on saying, "Ew, vagina!" So tell me, why would I want to go "celebrate" being gay, with a bunch of guys that make me ashamed of what I am. THIS is the shit that gets televised, and those god-loving, difference haters see on tv, and just solidify their hatred for the homosexual community. Who wouldn't? Hell, I'm gay, and when I see a bunch of half naked fags running around in super shiny silver speedos, waving rainbow flags and humping everything within a 5-foot proximity, I'm embarassed. Embarassed for them, and embarassed for me, because that's the community I "represent."



Unless you haven't guessed, I will not be attending Pride this year, or any year near in the future.

New Knowledge

It seems Justin and I are now official and all the business. It's been 2.5 years since I've had a boyfriend. I can no longer be that cynical single guy who hates couples! Such sadness... No longer will I have the crazy drunken nights out, dancing, having fun, meeting new people...Actually...more like forgetting everything, being told who kissed me the night before, receiving phone calls from guys that I apparently enchanted the night before and I can't even remember their name, coming home to the lonliness, an empty bed, no one to share anything with... Yeah, I'm really going to miss being single...let me tell ya... Having someone special in your life is really a positive. (Go ahead and puke, Jarred.) Hell, I've lost 15 pounds since I met him. At the launch of seeing him, at first I wasn't sure if, in fact, I was ready to "settle down," as some may say. I was still lingering on those crazy nights that I'd spent, but really, sometime you have to grow up. It's odd and ironic that it took a 20 year old to teach me that. We're getting older, and it's not all fun and games anymore. I mean, sure, it's ok to go out every now and then and have some fun, but if, like at the beginning of college, is a party every night of the week, it's almost pitiful. I, of all people, finally know this.