Five inches

It snowed in London.  Four days ago.  About 4-5" of snow, actually.  The transport system, from airplanes to trains to buses to cars, has been seriously strained ever since.

Never before has 5" fucked more people.

Favorite Words

A very dear friend and my workout partner of the past year or so has come to London for a visit with his parents.  Along with heading out on the town the other night for some lovely libations, today we did what we seem to know best - hit the gym and catch up on each other's gossip.  As we were getting changed to hit the weight room he looks over at me while I'm getting undressed and am rambling on about something and interrupts me with:

"Oh fuck!  You've stayed in shape!  Bastard."

"Pardon?" I respond.

"Look at you, all trim and...  There's a bit more of me than there used to be."

"You say the sweetest things..."

I want to be a librarian!!

It's been almost two weeks since my last post.  I wish I could say that I've just been too busy to write up all the interesting things that I'm experiencing here in London, but in reality, I'm just spending a lot of time in the library.  The life of a grad student, I guess.  I do see a short break in the tunnel ahead which will allow for some much needed light.  But it is just a short break after submission of coursework and before exams.  I'll take what I can get, I guess.

Which brings me to a new idea I've had on how to explore London as a grad student.  As I know I have a few London-based readers, what are a couple of cool libraries around central London?  I've noticed that I've been drudging back and forth to my campus library which, to be honest, is a bit of a drab place.  It serves me well, but there are many times I don't actually need anything from the library.  It just serves as a place to focus on studying (I cannot study at home at all.  Never really could.)  The only matter of convenience with my campus library is that it's open 24/7, but in reality, the number of times I've stayed in the library past midnight aren't that many.

Suggestions?

Five on the 5th

So it's the 5th of November (Remember, remember the 5th of November...) and time for another edition of Five on the 5th.  Blogger Stephen Chapman who writes the blog The State of the Nation UK organizes a monthly photofest of sorts.  It's called "Five on the 5th" and it is five random photographs taken from your life on or in the days leading up to the fifth of each month.  This month's optional theme is "Recycled."


I struggled quite a bit with the optional theme in the days leading up to the 5th and took several rounds of photos to try to make it work.  At the end of the day, I just didn't have anything I really liked.  So this month I just have some random photos to post.

London Experience #318

It was late.  Well past midnight.  I had just finished up at the library and was walking home.  After a quiet if spine-tingling walk through Green Park I was just rounding the corner by Buckingham Palace when I heard it.  It was distinct and clear in the cold night air.  A woman's scream.  High pitched and filled with fear.  Followed quickly by the deep, resonant tones of a man screaming in anger.  In a language I certainly did not know.

It was difficult to see from distance, but I could easily make out two people scuffling ahead on the sidewalk opposite.  As I walked toward them I heard a loud "thud" as one person was thrown up against the ply-board wall of the construction barricade, followed by sobbing and soft words spoken as if in apology for some previous act.  The man continued screaming.

I hurried to cross the street as the man grabbed the woman by the upper arm and flung her across the sidewalk where she tripped and stumbled, almost falling into the street.  Before I reached the scene another man, obviously having just finished up at one the two pubs nearby, saw the incident and quickly put down the bottle he was carrying and walked in the middle of the melee, acting as a shield for the woman against her boyfriend attacker.  Once I got to the scene, the attacker calmed down immediately and turned to me.  "Hey, what's up?" he asked rather nonchalantly.  "I'm fine," I said with some caution in my voice.  "Things don't seem to be so okay here.  I think you need to step away from the woman."

At this moment a building security guard arrived and on his two-way radio requested that the police be called.  The attacker turned from me and started yelling, attempting to get to his prey through the human shield.  The woman ducked away and moved toward me while the two men had a slight scuffle, which resulted in the (now very apparent) drunk human shield on the ground.

"Do you have a way to get home?" I asked the woman as she and I started to walk away from the scene.  I heard her attacker screaming after us.

"Yes, I do," she said and held up a set of keys.  "But he has to come with me," she continued and motioned toward her attacker who had closed the gap between us very quickly.

"We're going," he said to the woman now behind me as I turned to face him.  His demeanor had changed completely.  He was now calm and collected.  The anger I witnessed just seconds before was nowhere to be seen.

Before he could move past me a police van arrived and the security guard waved them down.  The attacker turned and looked at me.  Like a light-switch the anger had returned and the rage in his eyes was evident and intimidating, even though I'm a good 6" taller and had him by at least 20 lbs of muscle.

The woman sat on the curb crying as the police attempted to take her statement.  The man was put in hand-cuffs and placed inside the police van, cursing the entire time.  The drunk human shield was now nowhere to be seen.

A new addiction

It is well documented that I have a bit of a substance abuse problem.  I. Love. Shoes.  Before leaving Austin I painfully culled from my shoe collection the 10 pairs of shoes I was to bring with me to London.  From a collection of 68 pairs.  It was challenging.  It was heart-wrenching.  No, I am not being overdramatic.  Well, maybe a little.

As I was doing laundry last night and hanging my clothes up to dry on my fancy new "indoor airer" I noticed what could possibly be considered a new addiction.  One that has likely gone unnoticed by a good many people.

I seem to be addicted to buying new, cute undies.

At present I am the proud owner of 49 pairs of undies.  Yes.  Look at that number again.  Four.  Nine.  And yes, I just double-counted them to make sure.  I'm not exactly sure when it happened but it sure as hell did.

Now, is this a problem?  I'm not sure.  I mean considering with all my workouts each day (sometimes as many as three a day) I do go through them quickly and I can easily rationalize needing these and possibly even more.  But... if no one is seeing them on me but me, is it so important to have such a fabulous variety of drawers?

Seriously?!?!

All I needed was the restroom.  Simple as that.  I had enjoyed a few beers and it was time to "break the seal."  I did not expect... well... what I got.

As I rounded the corner to where the urinals were I almost ran into this guy at the end.  Well, it wasn't really a urinal set-up.  More like a big long trough for guys to saddle-up to.  I'm not the biggest fan of this set-up, but I really didn't have much say in the matter.  Anyway, this guy was standing right at the end of the trough, reading a book.  Or a magazine.  Or something.  I just remember thinking it odd that he was standing there, pants undone, urinating while reading.  In a bar bathroom.

As he was the only other guy in the bathroom I went to the opposite end of the trough, turned away from him as best I could, and took care of matters for myself.  Being a bit pee-shy I just needed to go off into my own little world.  So I finish, button things back up, turn around to exit, and exclaim, "Holy... jesus..."

See, what I was not expecting to see when I turned around was him, facing me, pants undone, penis erect, pointing straight at me.  And it was... rather... large.  Rather...  yeah...

"Ummmm.... uhhh... excuse me...  I gotta...  holy jesus..." Is all I could mutter.  I sidestepped him and made my way to wash up and leave.  He followed me to the sinks as if to try to strike up a conversation.  I was having none of it.  I am, after all, a good Southern woman!

Coming Out

He was a stranger in our kitchen, doing a bit of washing up.  I needed to get to the kettle to make some tea.

"Oh hey, I don't think I know you," I said as I said my excuses to reach and grab the kettle.

"I'm Michael*," he said.  "I'm here visiting Rachel*"

I made my introductions and we struck up some mindless banter while I waited for the water to boil.  What program we were each in.  Which campus we attended.  Had I been to the UK before?  Things like that.  As part of my explanation for the last question I mentioned that I had dated someone from Britain before and as such had visited a few times.

"Right," he replied.  "Yeah, a lot of British girls go for American guys.  And the other way round, as well."

"Well," I started.  "Often British boys and American boys go for one another as well.  Boys and girls don't have the monopoly on that."

"Oh right.  Yeah.  Of course.  Cheers." And the mindless banter continued.

I should have known...

It was bound to happen.  I knew it would happen.  I guess I had just hoped it wouldn't happen for a while.

Me: "Howdy, I'm Cary."

Him: "You're American, aren't you?  Where are you from"

Me: "Good catch.  I'm from Texas."

Him: "Hrmmm...  I met a Cary from Texas once.  You didn't.... by chance...  know my good friend 'Brit Boy'?"

Me: "Ummmm.... yeah.... HI!!!!"

Yuppers.  It has happened.  The first people I actually talked to while out and about trying to meet new people on my own here in London are friends of my ex Brit Boy.  Great.  Fabulous.  Wonderful.  Fantastic.  Wanna know what's even more fabulous?  They think I should work toward building bridges with Brit Boy since I am now in his country.

Seriously.

I have no words.  After what he said to me after our break-up I have no desire whatsoever to have him as a part of my life in any way shape, form, idea, concept, or thought.  I don't know that I can explain it, but it was just so negative.  I try to live my life in the positive arena and that experience just wasn't anywhere near that.

However, it is apparent that me living here in London is gonna mean me running into Brit Boy's friends. Well, I knew it was gonna happen.  I mean, he did live here for 15 years.  I guess I just hoped it wouldn't happen the first time I went out to meet some people outside of the grad program for which I am here.

5 on the 5th

I figured that since I am now residing in the UK, I should play nice and do as several UK bloggers (and those elsewhere in the world) are doing.  Blogger Stephen Chapman who writes the blog The State of the Nation UK organizes a monthly photofest of sorts.  It's called "5 on the 5th" and it is five random photographs taken from your life on or in the days leading up to the fifth of each month.  This month's optional theme is "Round."

It's also an opportunity for me to get back to taking pictures.

Here's my first contribution.  Posted without comment.

And now for something completely different

The silence surrounding the issue of teens being harassed and bullied due to their actual or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity has gone on too long.  People are people and all deserve respect and love.  In a time when kids are dealing with just trying to figure out who they are and how they fit into this world, the last thing anyone needs is to be fearful for the life and safety.  And for these kids to think that ending their lives is the only way to escape being tormented...  For too long have we not taken the steps to ensure the safety of ALL of the students.  It is time to step up and show that we give a damn.

Ummm... Ma'am? I'm trying to pee here.

Gentlemen's Public Convenience.  Apparently that is what a public toilet is called here in the City of Westminster.  The City of Westminster being a... borough? within the city of London.  As part of my immersion into London I have been trying to wander around and explore a bit each day.  I mean, I got really lost my second day here when I went for a run and... well... If there was a wrong turn to make  on my route, I took every single one of them.

Anyway, I was out and about yesterday just getting a feel for the neighborhood, checking out different gym options, and such when I realized that I *really* had to pee.  Luckily, there are these "public convenience" facilities all over the place.  You know, so George Michael always has a convenient place to go hook up with his random of the night.  I enter and it's actually not too bad.  I mean, it's not the men's room in the Four Seasons, complete with bathroom attendant ready to hand you a towel, offer you some cologne, and a Barbicide disinfected comb to run through your hair, but it wasn't a rat-infested, piss-smelling, hobo-sleeping shanty either.

Oddly, there's a small line to use the facilities, but I quickly get to a urinal while a few others are waiting for a stall.  So there I am, pants undone, urinating when there's a sudden knock on a door behind me I hadn't noticed before and a woman enters the gentleman's public convenience.  Holding a roll of toilet paper in her hand she looks around.  "'ello love," she says to a man waiting patiently for a stall.  "You need the stall, do ya?" At this point I am no longer able to pee.  It just stops on its own.  "'ello lovies," she says rather loudly in the direction of the stalls.  "People are waayyting.  Hurry along," and she closes the door through which she came.

I kinda look around in shock and try to finish my business.  As I'm washing my hands, she knocks and comes in again.  This time fully entering the room.  Once again she says to the people in the stalls, "Lovies... hurry along in there.  People are waayyting."  She then walks toward to stalls with the roll of toilet paper and passes it to the occupant under the door.  I hear him thank her as if nothing is unusual here at all.

All I could do as I left the Gentlemen's Public Convenience was nervously laugh.  I'm still not sure why I was so uncomfortable in the situation.  Meh... Just another thing to get used to I suppose.

And... I've arrived

I took a moment the other day and realized that I have 11 unfinished blog posts that I started to write up over the past few months. For whatever reason, I apparently have been unable to get the words to come out in a way that I felt was... pleasant. Humorous. Honest. Wait a minute. Since when was honesty a required aspect to my postings here?

Anyway, I have arrived in London. After many delays due to bureaucratic issues I was granted entry to the UK and have started to settle in to my new home. Starting, being the operative word. My new home is a 12'x12' sparsely furnished room with a bed that would make a tenant in a correctional institution toss and turn. I have a few linens, the means to store some clothes, implements for personal hygiene, and the ability to feed myself. So, all in all, I'm doing alright.

It's also been raining constantly. Now, of course I expected this. I've been to London before and I spent most of last Fall and Winter watching the weather in London so I'd know what I was up for. I also knew that this is the biggest area of concern for me. Rain. Lack of sun. For months.

The city is still a new and interesting place for me to explore, which I have been doing to some degree. I'm trying to walk most places and the streets are a little less than easy to learn. I went running the other day. I intended to run for about 40-45 minutes. A little over 80 minutes later I got home after asking three different people for directions. I will say, however, that jogging past Buckingham Palace is kinda cool. I'm looking forward to my next run around Parliament and Westminster Abbey.

The course has started and I'm happy to be here. I'm scared as fuck to be here. I'm feeling the pangs of lonliness about being here. I'm feeling the pressure of being here. A night has yet to pass where I do not cry at some point in my preparations for sleep. I mourn the loss of my comfy life back home. I mourn the absence of so many friends. I doubt my ability to complete and accomplish this goal. I mourn the distance from and worry about a loved-one.

But in the end, I'm in London. I'M IN LONDON!!!! And that in and of itself fills me with pride and energy.

Sorry about the somber energy of this post. As I branch out more in the city I'm sure more craziness and shenanigans will ensue. They always do.

Random wandering around Austin

Just a few pics from a recent bike ride around Austin...

Don't ask me who I was channeling this past weekend.

This past weekend was Austin Pride. Saturday was, to put it simply, quite an interesting day. It started off bright and early for the Austin Pride Run 5k, complete with costume contest. Yes, I wore a costume. No, I will not post a picture of it here. I'll just say that the theme was "On the Beach" and I may or may not have been channeling Bo Derek. You can likely take it from there.

The rest of the day I tooled around on my bike around town, spending time with friends (some of which was poolside), and generally enjoyed an ungodly hot day. Perhaps it was the heat of the day that ultimately did me in regarding being able to handle the masses of Saturday night. Perhaps it was the heat that made them go all crazy. Perhaps it was just a combination that should never have happened. Like brown shoes with a black belt. Or capers and fruit pie. Or Dorothy Zbornack and anything backless.

So the gay bars were crazy mad busy. Many of my friends were out and about so I was enjoying hanging and drinking and chatting and dancing. Dancing shirtless. As one does. (Hey, if you got it...) At one point a big mob of amateur thugs wonderful people came walking up the stairs of the club where I was. Apparently someone said something about someone's mom or whatever and there were some fiery Latinas getting ready to "pop off" or something equally annoying. And the group seemed to be rushing through the club like a bunch of whirling dervishes, running into people, knocking people over, etc. I saw the train wreck coming and skirted outside to the balcony to get some fresh (albeit muggy) air and get away from everything for a moment.

As soon as I stepped outside and sat down an older gentleman walked directly up to me, stuck out his hand in greeting and said, "My name is XXXX (I can't remember), I am from Caracas. That is in Venezuela." He kept holding onto my hand. "Yeah, I know where Caracas is, I'm not an idiot," I replied. Without missing a beat he said, "You are very pretty. You're eyes are like fire." He kept holding onto my hand. Looking him dead in the eye I said, "Wow, that's nice. Can I have my hand back?"

Bitch, party of one? Yeah, I'm not sure who I was channeling at that moment.

No sooner did smooth operator walk away when some little twink boy walked right up to me, sat down next to me and asked for a cigarette. (Yeah, I was smoking. It just seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the time.) He had to be all of 22 years old, all bright-eyed and smiley. I gave him a cigarette. He put his hand on my leg and asked for a light. I lit his cigarette. He did some sort of smile, a shoulder lift, and what I can only describe as a mimic of a hair flip. I looked at him. I looked at what I assumed to be a friend of his closing in on us. I grabbed my drink and just walk away.

Mega-bitch, party of one? At this point I must have been channeling Shannon Doherty.

I went downstairs, found my friends, and decided it was time to call it a night. I walked outside to a massive throng of people walking up and down the sidewalk. And I gotta say, none of them looked all that happy. For Pride Weekend, people sure didn't seem all that proud or happy. I'm thinking it must have been the heat. I mean, I don't normally go from zero to bitch in 3.4 seconds.

I quickly got to my car and made my way home. I'm not sure I've been so happy to make it home alone on a Saturday night in quite a long time.

Well that was unexpected

So, there's this boy. He's tall. He's cute. He's funny, if a bit quiet. In fact, in the one-plus years I've known him, the total time we've actually had a conversation is prolly less than one work week. He's just this guy that is around. We see one another. We smile. Perhaps we make eyes at each other. I'm not sure.

Well, Saturday night was a bit of a throw-down dance off between me and a couple of friends. Suddenly this boy is next to me on the dance floor. We make eyes. We smile. We chat. At some point we exit the dance floor to cool off. In this particular club there is a wonderful spot overlooking the dance floor underneath an A/C vent, which is a just heaven on Earth after being on a crowded dance floor. We make our way there and chat some more.

Now, I may or may not have been a little inebriated at this point in the evening, so what we chatted about is a little less than clear to me at this point. I do know that at one point we kissed in a, "Oh yeah, we're going home together tonight," kinda way.

At some point after 3a.m. when we left the dance floor for the last time we hopped into a cab and started to make our way back to my place. Now, I have to pause for a second to say that me taking anyone back to my place at the moment is a big deal. Why? Well, considering I'm currently processing through all of my worldly possessions for my impending move across the ocean, saying my house is a disaster area is like saying the devastation to Galveston Island after last year's hurricane just needed a little sweeping-up. Well, somehow he convinced me that I had a reason for my place to be a disaster area, whereas his place was equally atrocious but he had no reason for it and we made our way to my house.

Upon arrival there is some kissing. Some clothes are discarded. Smiles make their way across our faces. Good times were had by both of us.

As we cuddle up and begin to drift off he asks me, "So, what took us so long to have sex?"

"Ummm... I wasn't sure that you were interested," I reply. "You're stupid," he says as he pulls my arms around him closer. We slept without moving, waking in the exact positions we laid down in.

The next morning, smiles once again spread across our faces. He asks if we should hang out again. I agree. We exchange appropriate information. We've text'd back and forth a small amount this week. But once again, I can't tell that he's interested.

Trust me. I understand the "Oh, let's do this again sometime soon" thing that is just said and not meant. I will admit that I've done it myself. I'm perfectly fine with this being whatever it was. I'm also okay with this being something more than just a random. The degree that it's something more...? Oh, I dunno.

But for whatever reason, this boy has been on my mind this week.

Ummm... Thanks?

By now y'all should all be aware that, among many other classes, I teach a naked yoga class. This past weekend we held a naked yoga retreat out in the Texas Hill Country, which was glorious. Beautiful weather, for the most part. Great yoga sessions. Lots of fun activities. It was all rather nice.

Until...

I finished leading a practice session on Saturday evening about the Lotus flower as a metaphor for human existence, complete with poses associated with the elements and a visualization meditation at the end. As I was chatting with the students, a man that I had not met before made the comment, "That was a great class. It answered a question for me." Thinking that he was going to express how he had been struggling with something and was able to find some clarity due to the practice I inquired about what he had learned.

"I can see why your body is so well put together. Yoga is really helping you keep looking so good."

*blank stare*

Really? You're hitting on me after that? I talked about the challenges of the human condition and how we are able to rise above our defilements and the sufferings of life. I talked about not only connecting with the physical elements of our surroundings, but to seek inspiration to develop our spiritual awareness. And now you're hitting on me. I thanked him kindly and moved along.

The next morning at breakfast he again approached me and asked if I had ever done any modeling. Odd question, I thought, but I said that yes, I had done some swimsuit modeling in the past.

"Well, I'm a photographer in Houston. If you'd like, I could take some pictures of you. You can even stay with me, and I'll feed you and entertain you while you're in town."

Wow... If the first time had been a little odd, this was just downright creepy. "Uhhh, thanks. I'll keep that in mind if I'm ever down in Houston," I said and politely excused myself. Another teacher that was present for this exchange later told me that it was good the teacher's back was to me and creepy guy cuz the look on the teacher's face after creepy guy said this was just too much.

I'm surprised and impressed with myself that I was able to maintain composure. Is it sad that I'm getting used to dealing with older creepy guys making odd advances toward me?

But... where are their clothes?

Friday night, April 30. Two days before the anniversary of my birth. I arrive in Washington D.C. to engage in some raucous events to celebrate said anniversary. Well, I'm not sure we intended them to be raucous. I mean, I am a good Southern woman. I don't do such things.

Do you really believe that?

We started off at Eatonville, a FAB-ulous Southern-style restaurant that serves up some mean drinks and even better fried green tomatoes. Since my friends and I readily admit to be the lushes that we are, we sat at the bar where our bartender Lauren took care of us. Drinks, apps, shots, drinks, food, shots, drinks, drinks. People wandered off on their merry way. Lauren explained her philosophy of people that "ain't shit." People joined our group. More food, shots, drinks... I think you get the idea.

Once we were well sauced, we piled poured into cabs and went... well... to a strip club. A male strip club. A male strip club in Washington D.C. For those of you that may not know, in Washington D.C., the strippers wear, well... shoes and socks. That's it.

It was definitely something to behold. If anyone says that there aren't enough guys willing to dance around on top of a bar, waving their business around, then you need need to head to D.C. The place, while not huge, was fairly large and had quite a few guys dancing around, shaking their money-makers.

Having never, ever, ever done anything like this before ever in my life, I had a few questions. What was allowed in my interaction with the entertainers. What should I expect? Where do I put the tip?

As it turns out, it's all very easy. One can touch below the knee and above the waist. The entertainer will likely just wave his ooh-hooo in your face. Place any money one tips the entertainers in their socks. Well that's all very nice. And boring. And Puritanical.

Well, leave it to me to push the boundaries. But I totally didn't start it. At some point in the evening, after a drag show (yes, they had drag queen shows as well) I was upstairs, enjoying the scenery, and decided to show my admiration to one of the dancers. I went up to him, smiled, and looked up at him as he was dancing on top of the bar. He waved... something... at me. I smiled again. I attempted to place the dollar bill into his sock. I missed. I looked up at him and smiled again. He laughed at my drunkenness lack of coordination. On the second try, actually having to watch what I was trying to do, I successfully tipped him. To show his appreciation, he smacked me on my head with his penis.

I was taken aback. I looked up at him in amazement, his cock just dangling in front of me. I looked him in the face. I looked at his cock. I took my hand and smacked his cock like a cat smacks a play toy.

He tried to scold me gently, telling me that I'm not supposed to touch him there, but I guess the look of bewilderment that I had on my face was humorous. He just laughed and shook his finger... yeah, his finger... at me.

Hold, please.

So I just got back from a rather interesting trip to D.C. for some birthday shenanigans. I shall try to get some stories up soon, but first I gotta see if I can remember the weekend. Or if y'all are old enough to hear some of these stories. Or if I might get indicted for revealing some of the things that occurred.

And he's gone...

Theater Guy is now gone. After one week, the show is moving on to Denver, CO for a two-week engagement. I'd like to think I sent him off with a nice little "Thanks for visiting Texas!" farewell.

This past weekend was rather crazy busy. The Hill Country Ride for AIDS was this past Saturday, so getting all prepped and ready for that took some doing, and then there was, of course, actually riding the ride. So my time spent with Theater Guy was a little limited. I had hoped to get together with him on Saturday night, but after getting up at 5:00am on Saturday morning and riding 65 miles in the Texas Hill Country, I just didn't have the energy. So, after a massive amount of sleep on Saturday night and a nice yoga and pilates workshop on Sunday morning, we got together Sunday evening for a farewell... ummm... thingy.

As we walked into his hotel downtown I commented that it had been a while since I had been in that particular hotel. Immediately I felt a little weird for saying that. I mean, I had been in that hotel for very above-the-waist reasons. Seriously!! Well, okay. Let's face it. For some very below-the-waist reasons as well. He just laughed. It's always nice when two people really understand the interpersonal dynamics in which they find themselves.

And so we ultimately found ourselves at the end of our liaison. Which was fine. As a friend said to me as I was heading off to meet up with Theater Guy, "He's here for one week. You're leaving in less than four months. This is PER-fect."

True. Very, very true.

Well, that's... honest!

I have now gone out with Theater Guy a couple of times and we've had some very good times. He's cute. He's funny. He's witty. He laughs at my jokes. He's cute. You know, all the things I look for in a whirlwind kinda thing with a guy that's in a traveling theater company that's gonna leave town in a few days. I mean, don't you have your own list of criteria for just such an encounter? See... I thought so.

Our get togethers have been a little challenging as I work during the day, he's in rehearsal for a good portion of the day, and he has the show every night until late. Tonight we got together for dinner and a nice little wander around the UT campus, just kinda chatting and laughing. As we walked back to the theater for him to get ready for the evening show, he asked if I was interested in getting together after the show. "Hrmmmm... I could be. What'd you have in mind?" I asked.

"Well, to be honest, I was thinking it'd be cool to just hang low. Cuddle, watch a movie. Make out."

I cracked up laughing. Hysterically. "Yeah, I think we could make that happen."

Like I said... At least he's honest.

In the Heights

Last night I went to see In the Heights, a Broadway Across America production here in Austin for the week. The story explores three days in the characters' lives in the New York City Dominican-American neighborhood of Washington Heights. I wound up going as a guess of John Aielli, the morning DJ on our NPR station here in Austin, KUT, and I gotta say, he gets some great seats!

The show was fantastic. The musical numbers were riveting. The choreography was outstanding. The boys were... HOT!!!! I love shows set in New York City during the summer heat. The costumes worn by the boys were very appreciated. Oh, and the story was not bad, either. (I kid, I kid). The story was great. Everyone in my party except John Aielli cried when certain plot line came around. To be honest, however, John had already left the event after the first couple of numbers, leaving us, his guests, to enjoy the show. Did I mention we were in 10th row?

After the show wrapped, Ava Ghurl and I went over the Oilcan Harry's where they were hosting the cast party for In the Heights. We chatted with many members of the cast and crew throughout the evening, learning their stories, recent travels, how they liked Austin, etc. All the while trying to work my way into talking with the sexiest men on the cast. You know, just to get their views on Austin.

While during the play I had my eye on one guy that I had informed Ava Ghurl that I was hoping would do dirty things to me. Once I actually met him after the show, however, I thought he seemed a bit pretentious and... well... Yankee. Seriously? Wearing dark designer sunglasses in a dark bar at midnight? mmm-hrmmmm....

But, I did spend a good portion of the evening talking to a new addition to the traveling cast. He had been in the Broadway production and is venturing out for some time on the road. Today, we met up for dinner. I took him to get BBQ and Amy's Ice Cream - had to ensure he got those two experiences under his belt. Tomorrow, if we can make it work between his rehearsal and check-in for the night's performance, we may venture out to Barton Springs. I'm guessing that Barton Springs is something that he doesn't get to see very often in New York City.

An Introduction

This is Carebear. Well, technically, this as a Carebear. But more importantly, this is my Carebear. For whatever reason, I have grown very attached to this little stuffed animal over the past couple of months. We go to a lot of events together. We sleep together. We've gone running together.

Some people think it's getting a little out of control.

A couple of months ago I was at a house party. At some point in the evening, the host brought out a ton of stuffed animals and kinda threw them around the living room. He handed Carebear to me. See, the one nickname that has truly stuck with me over the years is Carebear. My P.E. teacher in 3rd Grade, Miss McFall (a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader) started calling me Carebear. It just kinda stuck.

Anyway, at the end of the party I informed our host that I was taking Carebear with me. We belonged together, I said. He didn't argue.

We've been practically attached at the hip ever since. He goes out to the bars with me, has gone to yoga on numerous occasions (he's not so great at the balancing poses yet), we ran the Capital 10K last weekend together, and I think he might be joining me on the Hill Country Ride for AIDS this upcoming weekend. Just have to figure out how to affix a seat for him on the bike.

A lot of people look at me oddly as I carry Carebear with me to different events. Some people understand that absurdity and hilarity of what I'm doing. Really, I'm just doing my part to ensure no one takes things too seriously.

I was not expecting this

This is what I ran into the other day while cycling around South Austin. In the front yard? Hrmmmm, I woulda thought that a goat belonged in the back yard.

I had half a Tic-tac three days ago

Cleanse [klenz] verb, cleansed, cleansing.

Verb (used with object)

1. to make clean.

2. to remove by or as if by cleaning.

Verb (used without object)

3. to become clean.

I started a 9-day cleanse this week. First two days were nothing but this magical elixir four times a day and lots and lots of water. No food, no drinking. All total, I consumed less than 400 calories for these two days while still maintaining normal physical fitness regimen. By the end of the second day I was about to gnaw off my left arm I was so hungry, but I made it through.

Starting on the third day, I switched to a magical shake several times a day which has increased my caloric intake to just under 900 calories. Has this impacted my physical activity? Not one bit. I'm still cycling everywhere, hitting the gym, running several times a week, and getting in as much yoga as I can. The result? Well, I am starting my fourth day of the cleanse now and I have already lost 7 lbs. From the right places? Perhaps. The abs seem to be starting their spring rise to the surface. I'm not sure, however, if this whole thing is having much impact on the extra bits on the side.

But maybe it is. Today is the beginning of Day 4, and I have several events, fundraisers, and parties this weekend that might make it challenging to stay the course. Yet with such good results within such a short time, I'm gonna try my best. And, watching drunk people while sober can be a fun spectator event.

Vanity, Cary. Cary, Vanity. Oh, you've already met!

Lake Season is fast approaching here in Central Texas. The weather is getting warmer, the Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrush are starting to sprout, and the boys are starting to run around town shirtless. What does all this mean? Well, it means that Cary is busy getting his body ready for Lake Season. Not only am I running in the Capitol 10K and riding in the Hill Country Ride for AIDS, which are requiring a bit of training in and of themselves, I'm increasing my gym time, decreasing my eating, increasing my yoga, and decreasing my drinking. Sorry to make your head spin with all those ups and downs... and up and down... and spinning around... Oooooh, that makes me think about...

nevermind...

Since this is likely to be my last Summer in Austin for some time I figured it best to ensure that I am looking as good as possible for all the limited-clothing hot weather that Austin serves up so well. "How's it going?" you ask. Well, not all that well. I mean, the shoulders are definitely responding to the routines. As are my arms, my legs, my chest, and my butt (which I think *was* starting to get a little smaller, much to my dismay). But... my mid-section is standing there, arms crossed, sticking its tongue out at me, essentially going, "pbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbtttt!!!!"

I am not a happy camper. Now, the cum-gutters are developing nicely, but the rest is just so... BLARGH!!!! I'm not sure what else to do. Here's my basic weekly routine:

Cycling to work (15 mile RT): 5x/wk

Running (4+ miles): 3x/wk

Weight training: 2x/wk

Teaching yoga classes: 5x/wk

Taking yoga classes: 3x/wk

Training rides (40+ miles): 1x/wk

Since my weight is staying pretty steady and I can tell my muscle mass is increasing, it follows that my amount of body fat is decreasing, but just not from where I want it to decrease. People in the running group with which I've been running lately have been cajoling me to run with my shirt off, and I keep brushing them aside, insisting that my body is not ready for that just yet. However, if I can't get my body to a point where I feel comfortable doing that with all the work I've been doing lately, I'm just gonna go the other direction and start downing Bon-Bons, pizza, Tex-Mex, and bags and bags of boxed wine. Yeah, you heard me. Boxed wine!!!

Let's Talk About Sex

My entries as of late have been far too focused on exercise with little to no mention of... Sex!! Well, there's one minor problem with me talking about sex right now. I'm not having any.

I know!! I know exactly what you're thinking. "How could this be?" And to be honest, I'm not exactly sure myself. I mean, I think about sex. There are numerous boys around town that I have found rather attractive and which induce tightness in the Levi's, but in the end, I'm kinda, "Meh... why bother?"

I think I may need to see a doctor about this soon.

I was out to dinner recently with Kelicious and some friends for his birthday when one friend asked me who I was dating. "No one," I replied. "Oh, you're dating everyone?" my friend then asked, with a wink. I paused for a moment, thought about his question, and said, "Oh hell no. I don't have time to think about anyone else's feelings these days."

Now, this might seem a bit crass and uncaring, but I've just got so many moving parts in my life as I prepare for the next step. Getting laid takes a bit of effort (admittedly not too much for me, really...) and I just don't have the energy for that. However, I'm not really missing sex that much right now. Yet, in the words of my good friend Great Abs Guy, I do miss missing sex.

I like to Hash!

This past weekend I was introduced to an event that I am amazed I was unaware of for such a long time. Apparently, this event has been occurring in Austin for 25 years without my knowledge. For this, I am so embarrassed, disappointed, and excited.

Hashing. For those that are unaware, it's drinking and running. Seriously.

Hash House Harriers are known as a drinking group with a running problem. And it gets so much better.

In Austin, every Sunday, rain or shine, the group meets in a different place to drink and run. Volunteers set up the trail, which is different every week. A few beers are enjoyed, and then the running begins. The trail is marked with specific marks, known as hashes, to tell you which way to go. However, there are many opportunities to go in one of many directions. It is in these instances when those that set the trail can mess with the runners and set up many false trails, increasing the overall length of the run for those poor souls that run off in the wrong direction.

At some mid-point in the run, a beer stop is scheduled where more beer is consumed. Then more running, until you reach the end, where more beer is consumed.

The trail this past weekend wound through a greenbelt in West Austin with lots of vines, thorns, steep slopes, and creeks. I may be a bit scratched up and bruised, but I gotta tell ya. It was the most fun I've had exercising in a very long time.

And yes, I've already checked. London as several Hash clubs, with runs occurring almost every day of the week. Looks like I know what I'll be doing in my free time during grad school.

Hill Country Ride for AIDS

It's been a few years since I started riding my bike as my main mode of transportation around town. Since making this switch, there has been an event in which I've long wanted to participate. The Hill Country Ride for AIDS. It is an annual cycling event that rolls through the beautiful central Texas Hill Country where riders and volunteers raise money for life saving support for thousands of Central Texans living with HIV/AIDS. However, since I work for the legislature, during years of the legislative session, I have always been precluded from riding. Yet, with this being my last year in Austin, for the foreseeable future, I figured I need to get with it and finally ride.

So, I'm all registered. I'm riding with a team of fun guys and have my personal fundraising goal. Now I just need to kick my training into gear. After talking with my riding partner, I'm sure I could do the 65 mile course I've chosen tomorrow with no problem. Now, I might not be all that comfortable or be able to walk the next day, but I could do it. So, in order to keep my social agenda in order in the days following the ride, I guess I should train and get my body in order.

If any of y'all can make a donation, I'd greatly appreciate it. My personal fundraising page can be found here.

Austin, te amo.

Austin, Texas. I have now lived here for over 10 years. This is the longest I've lived in any one place outside of growing up. At times I feel so completely comfortable here that I can't imagine myself leaving. At many others, however, I find myself bored with what the city has to offer and I desire the many wonders the rest of the world holds.

When Brit Boy and I separated last year, I thought my plans to head across the ocean for grad school were in serious jeopardy. I wasn't sure if I could just pick up and head over to the U.K. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it happen financially. I wasn't sure if I would make the friends I felt I needed to feel comfortable in London.

Well, fuck those thoughts. I'm heading over. I requested deferred admissions to grad school and they said, "You know, we really like you. Yeah, we can wait a year for you to join us." So, this Fall I'm heading to London to start a new chapter in my life.

Excited? You better believe it. Scared? You better fucking believe it. Petrified that I'll fall flat on my face and wind up living in a van, down by the river?!?! Well, maybe not that scared, but there is a bit of that in there. But in the end, I'm ready for something else. I have loved Austin for the past decade, but there are so many other things out there to experience.

"But, doesn't Brit Boy live in London?" you ask. Well, as far as I know, he lives in Brighton now. And while that's not too far from London, there are several million people in the London area. Depending on whether you are talking about greater London, the Greater London Urban Area, or the metropolitan London area, London has between 8 million and 15 million people living there (these estimates are a few years old, though). The likelihood that I'll run into him is pretty slim. And even if I do, I can always turn around and walk away.

But please. I don't wanna focus on that. I wanna focus on all the wonderful, adorable, cute, sexy, studly international boys that live in London that will just absolutely LOVE the fact that I'm a Texan. I mean, the last time I was there as a single man, it felt like I was beating them off (hey now!!!) with a stick. I may not have a Texas accent, nor can I fake one very well, but they don't know the difference. And what is it they say? Fake it till you make it (with a cute boy).

And... I'm back

Oh hi!! It sure has been a while. There are tons of excuses I could make, but in the end, I just didn't feel like writing for a while. Finding my reset button after the whole Brit Boy situation. Dealing with talking to Kevin for the first time in 4+ years. Getting things all settled for the next big step in my life. It all took a bit of energy.

As you might be able to tell, there are lots of things going on and lots of activities for me to recount. I just hope my writing is is still up to par with what y'all expect from me.

I've also moved the blog from Livejournal to Blogspot. While I've been able to move most of the posts, I kinda fucked it up on transferring the comments. Oh well... I never said I was any good at any of this.