To Start.
Wow, I'm so good at posting entries. Good thing blogging isn't cool anymore or I'd be even less cool than everyone else. But you know what. I'm still way better looking in out-dated baggy jeans than about 98% of the douchebag crew and their tacky ass skinny jeans. Hipster fashion looks lame. I'm not even going to say gaye because I'm in the center of Gay and we don't do skinny jeans. SF gays to comfy and kind of well dressed, but with way less effort than our outermerican counterparts. You can always tell a new gay by how much time/money (s)he spent on dressing up. Real gays don't spend, we inherit and own whatever it is we choose to don and everyone else can suck it.
Parker Posey.
I was feeling low this morning. Not sure exactly why. OK, I have an idea, but I'm not going into it here so fuck off Rhoda, I'm the Mary. Anywoot, went to bed at like 8pm just to flop around in a comfy bed, woke up at 10 then went back to bed. Woke up this morning with my usual 630 and snoozed until 7, contemplated even staying in bed. Like I said, feeling low, no real reason, just was. So I'm on my way in and my book is done so I'm flipping through fag mag Out which has a surprising number of totally readable articles. Enter one of said articles on our maiden of the indy Parker Posey. Fucking love her. She could be my moon goddess and I her doting man slave (salve?). I would go gay for her if she wre to only ask. I'd make a good piece of arm candy and she's so super fantastic. So it's an interview with her and about her career and the quips of hers are so genuine and dry and funny that I was snarfling back guffaws on the BART this morning. I was all ready to have a great day until it started off with two cranky bitchy shit storm emails. Emails where people who don't need to be CC'd are CC'd because the people originating the email want to make it look like I don't love them in they way they want to be loved. By 10am, all was well. Did some good clensing of some office space to give my helper monkey a new office that I can see and so the day went well.
Utilikilt
For my birthday I asked not for presents but donations toward a single big gift, a Utilikilt. Normally I don't want things for my birthday, I don't even like doing the whole birthday party thing, but I figured it was the big 30 so I should do something special, dispite me being new to this side of the Mrka mass. And I'm not exactly new, I'm just reintroduced. I'm from here for crissakes, I can't exactly be new. And as it's coming up on a year I'm feeling less and less a NYCer and more and SFister... though you can never convince me that SF has a functioning mass transit infrastructure or that its policies on getting new structures built isn't even worse than NYC's....
The Gay Agenda
- G.Y.M. Keep up with the gym and try try try to finally have that line thing in between my man chesticles. Just think it would be cool to have a hot bod at least once in my life.
- Art. WTF, d00d, when did a hiatus from art become a mantra against creativity as a whole? Enough time has elapsed from archischool wherein the creative must be once again expressed and rejoiced upon and within.
- Friends. Its universal that the norcal mantra is, "oh sorry, I forgot." People in NYC may be mislabeled as rude, but at least they'll tell you to your face when your shit stinks, read you for filth and kick you to the curb when need be. Norcaliens smile and say "let's see each other soon" and then forget and don't call back.
More soon, I promise. In theory.