i stayed my ass home.

I took this picture a few days ago. July 19th, 2006, around 4PM to be exact. There's a power outage in my neighborhood in Woodside, NY, and for the two days that I had no power I have been practically forced out of my house because I can't sleep without air conditioning.

So I eventually got up, hit the shower, then milled about the apartment with the towel up around my armpits, at which point on a whim snapped a candid photo of myself. You don't see the towel, which i have been in the habit of wrapping around my chesticles whenever i'm right out of the shower, in a preemptive attempt to soak up any potential sweat that may result from the heat. I hate sweating when i've only JUST showered.

Whaddaya know?! The picture came out pretty well, and I was pleased enough with it that I decided to post it on my myspace profile. Why the fuck am I talking about this? Because I'm trying to look at my near-obsession with online life, despite the many opportunities that present themselves for me to go out and interact with "real" people in the "real" world.

It's Friday night. I had plans to go out which I pretty much let slide, because I didn't trust my motivations for going out. Lately I have been experiencing what I can only liken to a woman who claims that her biological clock is ticking. What's the equivalent for men? I feel empty, but didn't want to fill it with anything meaningless. I don't want to LOOK for anything either, as I suspect that even if I were to run into "The One" I'd only fuck it up in my zeal to find him in the first place, so caught up in looking for telltale signs, or grilling the hapless victim with loaded questions.

I wanted to go out, but wanted it made easy for me; given door to door service. As it were I'd have to venture out and go a-foraging under my own steam. I feel empty. Sad? I don't think so. Discontent, certainly. I don't want to work at "it" anymore. The whole process of meeting somebody new, and getting to know them, and learning to appreciate whatever it is that they have to offer. Knowing this, going out JUST to meet somebody would prove unfruitful, and I'd only have myself to blame.

I'm lonely, dammit, but I can't bear the idea of settling for just anyone, or even having to look for some kind of resonance with another. I need for it to happen naturally and darn near immediately, otherwise I don't see myself finding any reason to cultivate it further.

The only thing that I did, braving the elements and whatnot, was to switch my gym membership back to NYSC, primarily because there's one on every freakin' corner, and I need it to be just that accessible. I cancelled dinner with Andy because I overwhelmed myself with my string of plans. The original plan was to: 1) switch gym memberships 2) dinner with Andy 3) go to Joe's Pub and see Lisa Shaw 4) go to a club with some friends.

Just the idea of doing all those things with no downtime in between tired me out. I had already gone to a concert and dinner the night before with some other friends, and, I was starting to feel like a crotchety old man.

This was compounded by my reward/punishment philosophy, which kicked in when I wasn't able to squeeze any gym time in for the day, and therefore didn't feel I merited all that leisure activity. And true to form I went back home and stayed there, hitting refresh on my myspace page every 5 minutes. Oy.

What's worse is when someone I'm very attracted to tells me I'm handsome or peppers me with any other kind of compliment, I feel like maybe they don't see everything; that eventually, they'll "come to their senses". I have this overwhelming desire to display myself in every damn angle imaginable, if only to find that ONE that will be the dealbreaker for them, and why? DON'T I want to be found desireable? Absolutely. I delude myself into making it conditional upon the other party finding ALL of me desireable, however, and at "every angle" if you will. Desireable, loveable, whatever.

Dude comes up to me and says I'm hot. "Sucker," I think to myself. Why do I hold MYSELF accountable for what other people choose to see, over what they don't? Probably because I ALSO know that not everyone is nearly as honest about themselves; certainly not in that regard, using their "pluses" to overshadow their "minuses."

At what point did I stop believing in the final equation? That the sum of me is greater than the plus and minuses? The very advice I dole out I'm hard-pressed to believe in, and not because I don't believe in it, but because my self-esteem won't allow me to believe that it applies to me. Annoying that I can have such a small AND huge ego at the same time.

Oh. I DID do ONE small productive thing. I made a new t-shirt. It's the "acrobat" from dungeons and dragons.

i shared a chuckle with myself...

... on the way home from Javier's house yesterday afternoon. Silly Dominic, so you finally got laid, and then some. Suffice to say I also got a lotta bit of closure in the bargain, as well.

For the past 3 or 4 months, off and on, I would call my ex, Javier, (we were together for the bulk of 2004) to see if i could bogart some cuddle time, just coz, given our history, i knew there was nothing else that i wanted from him, but felt that i could trust him enough with my occasional moments of vulnerability. Some of them, anyway, and basically I need to recharge my batteries in that way. It never does amount to JUST cuddling of course, and would be some intense, hateful, passionate, no-strings sex interspersed amongst the quietude. This last time was no different, but at the same time, because of how it was set up, it was a milestone moment for me, and at the very least, for our (non)relationship.

I chuckle to myself, chide myself at the same time. Roll my eyes in half-recrimination. "Oh, Dominic," I say as I wait for the 99S bus taking me back to New York. Yes, my restlessness took me over the river to Jersey where he lived, but that's not where it started. It started at around 6AM as I was nearing the final leg of my shift at the hotel. Impulsively I called him, and he decided to pick up, loud on the speaker. "I can't hear you because it's really loud here, but I'm at the Green Room, and I will probably be here till about seven. So if you want to meet up try to get here by then."

I don't bother responding. Instead I hang up and turn to my coworker Ricardo and calmly ask him to swipe my time card out at the appropriate time for me. Him owing me, of course, really had no choice but to agree. Quickly and efficiently I gathered my things, changed, and went out to flag a cab down to take me to Tribeca. SO not thinking.

The Green Room is an after hours spot on Spring Street between Varick and Hudson. They cater to no demographic in particular, save the restless. Every other motive is up in the air, on the ground, and easily interchangeable with the next, because the bottom line is no one really gives a fuck. Javier greeted me warmly enough, and we chilled there for a bit. He was drunk, but boasted freedom from any other uncontrolled substances, almost puffing up his chest even more, if that was even possible, and grinning proudly like a kid that ate all their vegetables. He pulled me towards him as he leaned against the wall and professed his undying lust for me. Smirking, I played along, suffering his hand on my white 3/4 length pant-flip-flop-wearin-after-work-ass. Why begrudge him his agenda when I had my own?

Further cementing my hell-bent status, I coyly followed him to the basement where the bathrooms were, and shockingly, into a stall! He picked one where the light bulb was blown out, because, while the stalls where private and had individual doors, the doors themselves were frostedly translucent. Was that ME, doin that, staring at my reflection, fogging it up with my heavy breathing, trying to maintain my balance and trying to negotiate such a closed space? Yes, yes it was. Fifteen minutes later I casually pulled my pride back on, as well as my Calvins, and we walked out of the stall, wiping our noses and pretending we were just snorting coke. Yeah. JUST snorting coke. I guess drug abuse is the lesser of two evils.

We stay for a while longer at the club, then head back to his place, and continued our mini-marathon till about 11AM, and about 6 climaxes each later, at which point we collapse from exhaustion, both having worked overnight at our respective jobs even before all this craziness went down.

As memorable as the experience was, I had come to the conclusion that I will not be dealing with Javier ever again. And not just him. Just anybody that just doesn't CUT it. I compromised too much, these last three years, and everything came to a head with the last one, forcing me to resolve or implode. I don't even have any hate or anger for any of them right now. Shit, I definitely ain't got love for 'em either. I wish nothing for them, good or ill. And the same goes for any future guys that I may find attractive but JUST AREN'T FOR ME. I just don't feel like playing along and trying to coax out whatever good or compatible or resonant THING i hope might be there, all just for the sake of a cute face.

Give me about 24 hours to contradict myself. But one thing i'm gonna hold myself to, is just letting go of these here...

goodbye Javier.
goodbye Michael.
goodbye Tim.
goodbye Coby.
goodbye adam4adam.
goodbye manhunt
goodbye men4now
goodbye compromise.

i am not a DJ, but i play one on TV

but i tend to spend my Fridays at my boy CJ's bar, and the DJ is WAAAACK... even if the song selections are good i cringe everytime the next song cuts in. Everything's so disjointed, especially when it comes to hip hop, r&b and pop music. Is house REALLY that simple? i should hope not, because yes it's just a 4-4 beat, but then ANYBODY could be a house DJ, which is obviously not the case. Anywho, i decided to give the manager a recent demo/mixtape so that i can enjoy my drink at the damn lounge. it's pretty simple, and i made most of the tracks no longer than a minute each, since i didn't wanna scare him off with tracks he may not necessarily recognize, but, whatever. enjoy!

or you can just download it it directly HERE


PLAYLIST:

Buttons - PCD
Save Room - John Legend
SexyBack - JT
Promiscuous Girl - NF
Don't Mess With My Man - Lucy Pearl
Kiss - Prince
One Minute Man - Missy Elliot
Dude - Beenie Man
Dip It Low - CM
All Eyez On Me - Latoya Luckett
Deja Vu - Beyonce
All That I Can Say - MJB

where are the fireworks? part 2

Not five minutes after David left the bar with his friends to head for Krash, I practically dragged Ross out and headed to the train station. The night was nowhere near "young" and I was determined to meet David again. Just because I chose him, and I find the idea of switching tracks and kickin' it to somebody else mid-fixation to be nauseating and tiresome.

How fast did we get there? Well, we "happened" to be in line DIRECTLY behind the unsuspecting vict--um, I mean David outside the club. The look on his face when he turned around was worth the hustle. Something about someone --a very ATTRACTIVE someone-- looking at me like Christmas morning makes me all warm and tingly inside. We embraced. Again. What? I'm needy. It's not like I asked for a freakin' ring, nor do I want one. Let's just say I'm tryin' really hard NOT to be jaded, but I got some callouses over the old ticker I need to buff off and moisturize, and hugs are TOTALLY helpful.

The rest of the night was pretty straightforward. We'd take turns leading each other around. Ross graciously excused himself, and no doubt to see what he can see for himself, but I made sure to check in with him regularly. I HATE when I'm third-wheelin' it, so I try not to do it to other people. I was SO in the mood to dance, but felt weird around David, who was totally unfamiliar with dancing to hip hop and r&b, outside of what is on TV, which even when accurately portrayed, still loses something in translation. He tried to join in, but it seemed almost caricature-ish, though I know he meant no harm by it. Other folks have done far worse, but because I can be so self-conscious I feigned A.D.D. and led him back upstairs to the house music, where the basic 4-4 time signature was familiar enough to him. I'm sure payback will be a bitch if and when he ever leads me onto a dance-floor blastin' salsa and cumbia, or heaven freakin-forfend, Paso Doble or some shit. *shudder*

Around 4 or 5AM the DJs signal closing by playing horrible music, driving out most sane folk, and the stragglers are ushered out by the steroid pumping bouncers. We walk out and David is easily convinced to join Ross and I for breakfast, and subsequently jump in a cab with me to head back to my house and cuddle, on the condition --as imposed by his friend Pablo-- that I will safely bring him to Orchard Beach around noon.

We didn't make it, of course. What the fuck for? I didn't say that, nor did I even need to think it. It was more or less an unspoken agreement between David and I that we'd basically be laid up in the bed, or lounging around my apartment, for the bulk of the day. It didn't hurt that David was feeling REALLY queasy from drinking so much the night before, and it took him the majority of the day to recover, perfectly content to just do nothing, and in my company. Finally, my guilt complex kicked in and we got ourselves together to take him back "home" in the Bronx. The LAST stop on the 1 train. By the time we got there, his friends Pedro and Eddie were in the bed resting from their day at the beach. I didn't feel like loungin' with THEM, nor did I want to go with them to Roxy, of all places, later in the evening, and so after having dinner at the local diner with David, took my ass home.

I COULD have gone out somewhere else, probably Escuelita with CJ, since he invited me, but I didn't want to feel guilty, since I told David I was going home. Yes, I know I don't owe him anything, and should only do what is actually IN me to do, not to mention I TOTALLY would've gotten over it by the time I got to Escuelita's but still I stayed home. Partially to AGAIN putter around in my room, half-heartedly work on any number of unfinished songs, but mostly just to rest up some more. The bed I shared with David was a twin, and so had to do some more catching up on rest. Solo. zzzZZzZZZzzzz....

More of nothing on Sunday, and he actually spent the night with me. He had been drinking beer, and I was starting to feel smothered, so was picking at anything that turned me off. Me being sober was nauseated by the beer breath and didn't want him breathing on me. Him not being stupid could sense that I was behaving differently and "hung back," observing me with some trepidation. I felt bad, and compromised, dragging him with me into the shower and even supplying a toothbrush for him, tossing out any subtleties. He laughed, understanding, and we finally went to sleep.

That was my weekend. Monday was more of the same, but we went to see Superman Returns, and then I got ready to go to work. While at work, apparently there was drama with his host, Pedro, who more or less pissed David off to the point where he took his suitcase with him to my job, and then my apartment to spend the rest of his stay until he flew to Argentina. Pedro finally admitted to feeling offended that David was more inclined to spend time with me, despite all the many activities and outings, the bulk of which involved really tacky or pretentious and predominantly white clubs, that he had planned for him. It is then explained to me that Pedro is really Eddie's friend. Eddie is a neighbor of David's, with whom they share a mutual friend. So even EDDIE is not as good a friend, although Eddie was more understanding, and sympathetic to David's predicament, almost feeling embarrassed by Pedro's tirade.

It all worked out for the best, because I got to spend real time with David, and got to see him on a "normal" day, and on a "normal" date, and being better able to appreciate his personality, outlook, and spirit. Not to mention the countless times he'd look at me over the course of the day, which embarrassingly prompted STRANGERS to look at me, wondering what the big fuss was about. Ain't gon' lie, though. It made me smile. Fuck it, that shit felt GOOD. At this point I had bought into the idea of enjoying it for what it was, aided by the fact that he WAS leaving, and we could realistically agree that the long-distance thing wouldn't make sense, and thereby ultimately recognize that we didn't owe each other anything beyond respect and open affection. No commitment.

So... there were no fireworks for me on the fourth of July. More laying around in the apartment, and then showing him how to get to the airport. I chose AGAIN not to go out, and was actually sad to see him go. But I plan on flyin' down to Puerto Rico to see him in August! *grin*

Meantime I'll have to content myself with exchanging emails and occasional phone calls. I've also resolved to learn spanish for REAL, and enroll in a class at the ABC Language Center. Not this week, of course, since I'm broke as all get-out, but it's definitely in the cards. Meantime I'm bringing the "Learn Spanish" guidebook and CDs to work and harrassing my coworkers overnight to repeat the fuckin' phrases with me. It needs doing, and not just to better communicate with David, coz lord knows he plans on improving his English, but to increase my value in the workforce --can you smell a driving course coming up as well? aargh-- and because I live in freakin' New York City, where people automatically assume I speak Spanish anyway.

where are the fireworks? part 1

I had originally taken off for my fourth of July weekend so I could go down to DC/Maryland and chill with my boy Justin, and maybe somehow meet up with this kid AJ that I had met over Memorial Day Weekend, but was sidetracked by a bit of foul mood and weather the day before my departure date. So many things needed to get done before I left, and just thinking about completing all of them before hopping on the bus, and going to work to boot, caused a wave of fatigue to wash over me. I needed to have certain bills paid, clothes washed, throw in some time for the gym & tanning salon, and any number of errands that would see me running back and forth around the city while hefting a huge backpack.

I tried to do everything at once, as usual. Overwhelm myself. So as per my usual response, my mind and body shut down on me, and its final imperative was to NOT do anything, and to cancel the rest of my plans to go away. In lieu of that, I told myself I would try and do something productive, but in some twisted sort of way I may as well have told myself that I was being grounded. It felt like a punishment was being handed down from my "higher functions."

And so I planned on working on my music. What does that mean, exactly? I can't even define it to other people, because my insecurities about it would get in the way, and can barely even say it to myself. I wanted to finish the songs I was working on, dammit! I WANTED to. So why did it feel like punishment?

Naturally, I rebelled. All day Friday I lounged in the bed, got up several times to fiddle with my music programs, watched some porno, and for the most part did absolutely nothing. At a certain point I decided to put it off for the next day and called up some friends to see what they were doing. My Friday nights were rarely free and I wanted to treat myself, however long the process it was to come to that decision. How did I reconcile treating myself after punishing myself, however subconsciously? Simple answer is, I'll do whatever I want to do in the end, provided that it's easy enough. My default friends, and not at all in a bad way, are CJ and Martin. However way they may perceive me they are presently the most consistent friends I have and make themselves available to me. I don't know what best friends are, but I feel I have a pretty healthy rapport with them, and they are a significant part of my support system. That being said, I acted flaky. And while I made plans to meet up with either, ended up waiting for the very last possible minute to get my ass up out of bed and get ready, and in no small part due to a chance internet exchange/encounter with a new acquaintance, Ross, who I had met through a not-so-new acquaintance, John.

We met up on 42nd street, and from there made our way up to Washington Heights to break in the night at "No Parking Bar & Lounge," where CJ bartends every Friday. We got started and drank and talked and chilled. Despite my insistence otherwise, I DID cruise. I DO cruise. It's not that I'm a prude about it, nor that I want to come off holier than thou, but I worry that I might end up resembling one of those hungry wolves that prowl around in the shadows, waiting for something that couldn't possible be attained with THAT kinda of attitude/mentality/demeanor.

Casually scanning the crowd I caught the flash of white teeth against ultraviolet light. I zeroed in on the smile's owner and assessed my level of attraction for him. Satisfied, I initiated eye contact and smiled. He smiled back, indicating mutual attraction or at least a polite one. So I continued holding his gaze until I had to break off, for fear of losing the thread of conversation that I was having with Ross the whole time this was happening. Not missing a beat I gave Ross the play-by-play, and asked for a second opinion. Ross grinned and gave me the green light.

About to be a little bolder I started to make my way over when I was intercepted by another acquaintance, Mario. So we talked some more, cracked jokes, and I gamely joined them in assessing the prospects in the room. One other individual had caught my eye, an attractive 30-something in an burnt orange v-neck t-shirt and beige Kangol cap (i couldn't see below bar level so I don't know what he wore beyond that), but half-jokingly dismissed him because I saw him talking to yet ANOTHER acquaintance, thereby invoking the "no kickin' it to your friends' friends" rule," whatever THAT was. At least, not while they were present, anyway. Still, and after sharing/vocalizing my thought process, I insisted that "I could get him" if I wanted to but then in sing-song fashion finished the statement with "will he still love me...tomorrow..?" We laughed at that. Not too shortly after, a former fling that I wish I never met, Coby, practically teleported into existence, and he was his usual charming, asshole self. I allowed myself to be sidetracked by them, introducing them to Ross and exchanging pleasantries, because there's always a part of me that wants to delay the impending encounter on the off-chance that its outcome is rejection.

Not too long after though, I grew tired of the conversation, and particularly Coby, and excused myself to go to the bathroom. It was there that I finally met David ("the teeth flasher"), who leaned into me as we "coincidentally" were at the sink washing our hands. Even that small gesture was nice, and warm, and after drying my hands introduced myself. Without going TOO much into detail, David was handsome. Roughly my height, maybe a half-inch taller at 5'11" and maybe 180 pounds, with a healthy lean build and a smooth tan complexion. He identified as Dominican, but grew up in Puerto Rico, and was only here visiting for vacation. His English was passable, but slow and deliberate, as was mine when speaking to him so that he would understand me better. We held each other's gaze the entire time, and without too much prompting even exchanged an embrace. I don't know what he was thinking, but I basically wanted to hold and be held by someone, and he was accommodating AND attractive AND masculine.

Because of the noise level and the language barrier, I asked him if we could continue the conversation outside, and of COURSE he agreed. I knew even THEN that he was really feeling me, and it was nice. With limited vocabulary, he went on to share what he REALLY thought about me:

"I feel like I've known you for years."

He might as well have told me we were soul mates. *Sigh* Of COURSE it's flattering and nice to hear, and given the space that I was in I was definitely feeling him back, but undeniably the timing was still wrong. I'm still fucked up about my previous experiences and I think the main thing that needs to change before I can fully function again is to be my own person and realize everything I've ever wanted for myself, particularly my aspirations towards songwriting/singing.

Yes, all that was running through my head. At the same time I was basically giving him the green light to continue with his charms and intimations. Because it felt good. And I'm an insecure bastard. We went back inside because it would be rude to the friends we were respectively with to NOT be with them, and to make more introductions. David had to go though, with his friend Pedro, among others, to Krash, and I promised I would meet up with them. Hell, I wanted to go anyway. Seriously. I needed my hip-hop fix, and Ross was game.