Little Bundles of Inside Voices

My female friends claim that there's something biological that occurs in their late 20's that makes them look at children in a different way. Instead of complete apathetic indifference, an instinctual mothering instinct starts to build.

Well I think that most of you should avoid that instinct because let's face it, most of us are completely incapable of being fit parents.

And it's not just women who have these maternal instincts. It seems that gay dads are becoming increasingly more common . I see gay dads everywhere in Chelsea and West Hollywood pushing the strollers of their ethnic children. Its incredibly adorable but I often feel as if these men are really smug- their eyes taunting my empty shallow life.

I just know they're thinking:

"Oh look at that sad queen, still going out to the gay bars cruising for sex. Hmmph! Thank god for [insert Chinese daugther's name] !"

And then I think to myself"

"I hope your daughter grows up fat and mean. "

But lately, something strange has been stirring inside me. Something more than just indigestion from King Taco. I've been having some pangs of desire to be a father. Me? A dad?

I don't know where it's come from but I think I'd love to impart a child with kind wisdom and independence, and to be able to nurture their lives with love and Prada.

And if I had a daughter, I would only feed her steamed veggies and brown rice, make her take yoga and ballet at a young age, get her accutane, and braces, all to ensure that she would someday become America's Next Top Model.

But even if I wanted to be a dad, as great or horrible as that could be, the role of a gay father is riddled with several obstacles.

One it's nearly impossible to legally adopt unless you've got extreme patience and a Swiss Bank account.
Two it's hard enough finding a man to be a good boyfriend; much less a good father.

But some men have decided they don't need to wait for Prince Charming to arrive. There are several gay men that I've heard of who are doing the unthinkable and having kids on their own.

Now that takes balls. Or a high threshold for pain.

Having children and being a good father would be a incredible experience- and the idea of seeing the man I love with our child, his strong arms tossing little Giselle in the air, is almost too much for me to bear. I want to be a dad.

Now I'm kind of alone on this one among my friends.

My friend Nam, a successful banker who could actually afford a child at this point, has no desire to have a child. Recently over a Korean dinner, Nam stressed the biggest argument against children.

"For one thing, children never go away. Once you have a kid, they're in your life for good. I can't even committ to having a dog.
But more importantly, you raise them, you love them, you bascially give them your entire life. And what do you get in return? Unappreciative torture. They'll hate you once they turn 14 because children are ingrates. They'll hold everything against you all the while draining you of your money and livelihood. Fuck that. Let me work on getting a dog instead. At least a dog won't tell me I'm a bad parent for not buying them a pony. And a dog will die in 14 years."

My friend Chao, an attorney, goes even further than that and hates other people's children.

He wrote me recently with the subject line: Families and Babies Suck!!
and the following email with a NYT link

"i hate fucking self-righteous parents and their horrible little bastards... ew."
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/09/national/09bakery.html?incamp=article_popular_1

If I have a kid, will I have to find new friends? Is that what happens to people with children... do you befriend other parents and act smug together?

Im a FUCKING New Yorker

So I had the fucking best time in New York. It really elucidated for me how much happiness I derive from simply being in Manhattan. It's weird how a change of address affects the way you feel and perceive the world because I felt that the world was once again a beautiful place... NOT to say I hate LA...rather the opposite. I've made peace with the City of Angels.

LA's reliable with its predictable people, traffic, and weather. It's been great for re-focusing my energies on work and myself since the nightlife and people here are a bore. And I include myself in that, I'M SO lame and boring here that I find myself disguted with myself. I fantasize about getting tattoos or riding a motorcyle to keep some sort of edginess in my life- to keep from slipping into complete sterile lameness. (both of which I think are the two lamest ways to accomplish that- it's basically a declaration of yourself as a guppie poseur.)

But honestly for a 26 year old attractive gay man, I am becoming edgy in that I don't do drugs, am not caught up in having anonymous sex, and don't feel compelled to be part of a scene.

For once in my life, I embrace being alone. I don't need a posse of men who pose as mean girls backing me up in order to live my life. And for me that's sadly a HUGE development.

So Los Angeles has given me some necessary tools to mature into the man who I want to become- it's given me the space, the time, and the job I needed to do that- and it lacks the urban noises & shiny things that I use to distract myself.

That said... I'm coming back to New York in June. I need to be able to walk in the city I live in. I need museums, good DJ's, and ambitious people who aren't retarded entertainment droids.

So anyway New York and Provincetown were sickly amazing. Ptown for two days gave me a shock of salty cold air and humble people who made no mentions of career or name dropping-worthy friends.
I drove up to New York in time for Halloween- my favorite holiday- and met up with my best friends. We laughed like old friends do- loud and unrestrained.

My favorite moments were walking the streets of New York, my eyes wandering over large buildings and passing strangers.

Err...scratch that, they were the ones I spent with my best friends and my ex-boyfriend. I really am one of those annoying New Yorkers who can't live anywhere else for too long- but a big part of that is the fact that my community of loved ones are the same. We're all New Yorkers. It's in our blood and in our vision of our futures. Despite all its hassles, its bad weather and high rents, New York is my home.

Never Fade

Guess who's back in the motherfucking house?!

Me.

It looks like I might be back for a short trip to New York on the 31st of October after a weekend in Provincetown.

Knowing that I'll be spending time with my EX on Halloween, and then seeing my New York bitch pack has lifted my spirt so high- higher than all of the anxities, self-doubts, and dark thoughts.

White Lines

In the August issue of Seventeen, Kelly Osbourne talked about her recent stint in rehab, and comments upon the prevalence of drug use among the celebrity set.

"I just want to let people know that if you think any of these blonde bombshells
aren't drug addicts, trust me, they are because I've done drugs with them. I'm
not going to name names because that's not fair, but we all are. I think it's
part of being young, being famous, being insecure with what's happening to you,
and just wanting to be accepted by the people you hang out with."

So lets get beyond the embarrasing notion that I occasionally read teen chick mags that I get free at work.

Reading Ms. Osborne's words, I was thrown back to my drug-addled life in New York. The countless number of nights spent getting high at my bar job, and party-hopping with my posse of boys, and how more often than not, it seemed that every gay Manhattanite was open to snorting some sort of white powder. Nightlife is very heavily centered around drugs, especially cocaine, and I found it increasingly hard to navigate New York's club scene without being offered various powders and pills.

Although there were plenty of times I was glad to accept the offers, the drugs were one of the reasons I decided it was imperative to quit working in bars and needed to leave New York. I didn't want to be strung out anymore. And I didn't want to waste my entire youth in Discotheque listening to Junior. There's gotta be more to life than a bump and making out in the bathroom of Crobar, right?! I mean, thats all some queens have been doing for years, and to them (& and a reminder to myself) I say: fucking expand your horizons ladies. Drop the vial of K and make sure you don't let the drugs prevent you from living life outside of nightlife.

I've been mulling this stuff over in my head lately because it just occured to me how sober my life is now-- and how disconnected I am from any nightlife scene here in LA. I'm surprisingly very content with that- although I will readily admit- I miss the promises of casual drunken/high sex and the VIP status that came with being a party boy.

So it was sorta funny when I read Towleroad's blog and read Boy George's recent arrest for cocaine possession and falsely reporting a burgalry in his Nolita apartment.
I don't know whether or not to feel sorry for the guy.
He presumably called the cops for some reason, forgot to hide his stash of blow, and then got arrested for the whole thing- sounds very messy. Mental note: don't ever call cops when I have a kilo of coke in the apartment.

I'm off to do some holistic organic zen thing- or whatever the fuck a sober-ish person is supposed to do in LA.

Fuck it. I'm going to find my xanax.

The Good Fight to Own A Home

In light of the constant housing bubble talk, this article from the LA Times on poor Mexican families buying their first homes outside of Mexico City really puts things in perspective.

Carlos Hernandez Pineda, a new homebuyer, is featured in the article. He commutes 5 hours a day and works 12 hour shifts, but that commute is worth it for him. Because he finally owns a house- something unheard for the working poor of Mexico His home is only 328 square feet.

"At least we're not throwing away money on rent," said the 38-year-old, who
shares the dwelling with his wife, mother-in-law, twin daughters and pet dog
Guero, whose name is Spanish for Whitey. "This is an
inheritance for our girls."

The article goes on to make the interesting point. Will these communities of pint-sized housing appreciate in value? Or will they become the new barrios of Mexico City?

Why I Love Jake

Jake's hot. Jake's buff, and he's not afraid to be seen hanging out with the gays.

He's inherited Johnny Depp's knack for choosing edgy good roles that provide him with genuine hipster appeal.

Mr. Gyllenhaal garnered a cult following with Donnie Darko, followed it up with the critically acclaimed Good Girl, and is now going to take it up the ass from Heath in Brokeback Mountain. And this after playing a marine in Jarhead...
It's all too much for this horny boy to take!

JAKE's THE SHIT! Take a big whiff.

Pop pop that thing...

I had a bit of a random night tonight, and ended up being dragged to Rage- this ridiculously tacky type of gay bar that plays pop dance remixes. Lots of synthetic fabrics and blonde highlights. Total horror show.

But they played Christinia Milian's Dip It Low video. I had completely forgotten about the Lolita soft porn video- that features a bikini-clad Milian being spun around in grease by a room full of men.

The video's fairly raunchy- scenes of Milian undresing are intercut with animation of a flower opening up its petals- and I find it exhilirating. Why am a gay man, do I love hot slutty girls?

I think I secretly want to be one.

Check out the video here. (You might need to have a Yahoo Account)

It's Been A Long Time...

Who's not cut out to be a blogger?! ME, bitches.

I've been way too busy with work and the general BS that goes along with life to write.

But here's a recap for the few friends that take the time every now and then to read this. In the past few months I've come to the realizations that:


1) As I had originally thought, ME and Fag Hags don't mix. I don't like strange co-dependent relationships where my time is manipulated by some needy fat chick who can't stand being alone. In fact, fag hags bug the fuck out of me, and I found myself being mean to the one I was hanging out with. I'm not proud of that. It's not cool to be mean to someone just becuase you find them annoying. (It's loads of fun, but it makes for very bad karma) So I decided to check out of that friendship.

2) You can have too many friends. Having moved to LA, I've met a lot of people. Most of them retarded lame-asses with no real ambitions other than bar-hopping and gym routines. I'm starting to value my lone time more than hanging out with a bunch of socially-stunted gays with the mentalities of high school girls.


That said... I think the biggest differences between LA and NY so far have been:

1) Driving. Duh. Totally sucks when youre used to downing a dirty ketel martini with a couple xanax. That doesn't really work when you have to get your car from valet, sit behind the wheel, and navigate the streets of LA- where I swear everyones drinking and driving.
2) The people. I'm sure there are great brillant ambitious people in this city. I've met several, but they're diffused in this sea of half-witted wannabes who seem to comprise the majority of the young demographic in this city. There's not the pulse of intelligentsia that reverbs through Manhattan, and a lot of that has to do with the entertainment industry. The museums here suck, the LA Times is a piece of shit, and people tend to know more about the new fall TV line-up than Bush's current foreign policy. So yeah, LA people are tacky dipshits with ugly clothes.

So yes, I'm moving back to New York sooner than later. In the meantime, I am enjoying LA despite my greivances.

I'm off to the gym and beach now. Ta ta.

Are you a Kristen or a Lauren?

When watching such thought-provoking television as MTV's Laguna Beach, you can't help but ponder the philosophical quandry- Am I a Kristen or a Lauren?

Or worse, am I a Jessica?

The show is so fucking engrossing that I find myself talking about the pack of spoiled blonde bitches as if they were my group of friends. Pathetic? Completely. Especially since I'm a 26 year old (gasp!) faggot who's social life really should have moved on from high school dramatics.
But it hasn't. So get into it.

Bush: Race Had No Part in Recovery Efforts

"The storm didn't discriminate and neither will the recovery effort," Mr. Bush told reporters at a news conference after touring parts of New Orleans in the back of a military truck. "The rescue efforts were comprehensive. The recovery will be comprehensive."

Ha! Let me know when your comprehensive recovery efforts are going to start, Bush. I'm sure the good people of New Orleans can wait on your schedule.

And you can say all you want about race not playing an issue, but its abudundantly clear that class certainly did, because the government had no plan on how to evacuate those citizens whom depend on public transportation.

I'e totally fallen in love with Anderson Cooper. There's a great article about him in the NYT in which they label him the "anti-anchorperson" for wearing his heart on his sleeve during his coverage. He's cried twice on the air, and angrily questioned Senator Mary L. Landrieu's, Democrat of Louisiana choice to thank on-air federal officials for their response to the devastation.

"Excuse me, Senator, I'm sorry for interrupting. I haven't heard that, because, for the last four days, I've been seeing dead bodies in the streets here in Mississippi. And to listen to politicians thanking each other and complimenting each other, you know, I got to tell you, there are a lot of people here who are very upset, and very angry, and very frustrated.

"And when they hear politicians slap - you know, thanking one another, it just, you know, it kind of cuts them the wrong way right now, because literally there was a body on the streets of this town yesterday being eaten by rats because this woman had been laying in the street for 48 hours."

To be an American

I can honestly say that I am embarrased to be called an American.

Hurricane Katrina showed how little our federal government cares for the social welfare of our poorest citizens.
Why it took our President three days to show up in New Orleans is beyond me. THat Condi Rice was out shopping on Fifth Avenue buying Ferragamo shoes the day after the hurricane disgusts me.

Look, Condi, you may be Secretary of State, but as an elected official of the highest level, you are expected to act in an appropiate and responsible manner. That means no vacay with shopping sprees and Broadway shows while a horrific natural disaster destroyed the lives of thousands. That's just fucking retarded, you dumb Republican piece of trash.

I like how Bush is now heading a special committee to investigate "what went wrong" with how our goverment reacted.
I'll save you the time, Bush.
What went wrong? It was the fact that those affected were poor black folk. The next time a hurricane hits, we'll make sure it affects only rich white constituents, and I'm sure your ass will cut your vacation short to get to the ravaged city.


Last night Gov. Schwarzenegger released a statement informing the residents of CA that he will veto the CA Legislature's Gay Rights Bill. To that I say fuck you. I defended you before, Arnold, but no more.

I'm likely to continue ranting like this for some time now. I'm truly disgusted by how our nation's leadership seems to care less about civil rights and social welfare than it does securing access to oil.

Eyebrows?

Methinks that whatshisface from I-Candy doth pluck too much? What you think?

Reality Check

I'm not in Vegas. No, I'm at my office in downtown LA nursing a bad stomach flu that I got from the EX.
Fucking bitch. I curse anyone who gives me the shits...except that the EX is still the sweetest piece of man candy in the world. Grrrr...As much as I would LOVE to HATE him, I can't!

So this past weekend was spent with me lying on the couch moaning, passing gas, and watching Laguna Beach reruns. How very UN-GLAM! SEE HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN?! I've become Anna Nicole pre-TrimSpa. I used to be thin, gorgeous, and in demand.

Altho I felt like complete ASS, I let myself get dragged out to I-Candy in WeHo. That's the bar being featured on that cheesey ass reality show on Bravo with the buff muscle queen with the overly plucked eyebrows crying about how he came out late in life because being gay in LA is so hard. YAWN.
Go watch some hurricane coverage bitch, get off your cross, and realize how lucky you are that youre a rich white man living in California. You may suck dick, but at least you're not starving. Actually far from it. Cry me a river, faggot.

Btw, looking at that hurricane coverage, it makes you realize one important lesson: When the government says to evacuate an area, you do it. Apparantly about 50,000 peole chose to ignore the evacutation notice and ended up realized they made a big mistake once the water filled their houses. That's fucking scary shit there people. I'm including the victims of the hurricane in my prayers.

And now back to my shallow life:
Last night I had to say good-bye to Kirk, my geeky animator, who's off to Italy and New York for two months to work on a series of coffee commercials. Am I sad? Ehhh...uhh... not really.
I told him to have fun, fuck hot D & G models, and to get tan.

And as of Thursday, I finally have health insurance. HEALTH BENEFITS, WHATS UP!??!
One of the few perks of having a boring fucking job.

Chow Chow

So it occured to me while working out last night that many of you have no real feeling for who the important people are in my life.
So here, for you, is the start of a series of handy reference guides using current pop culture fixtures.

Chow Chow, one of my most favorite people in the world, is very much one-half of the Skeletwins (TM Pink is the New Blog) meets John Cho from Harold and Kumar go to White Castle with alot of Patsy from AbFab. And a big heap of Janice Dickinson.

He spends more money on clothes a month than most people spend on rent, and he's a vicious she-bitch with sharp claws and a razor wit. I'd say he's part Naomi Campbell but everyone wants to be Naomi, including myself. Namoi is without a doubt the world's preminent Supermodel. No one else comes close to working the attitude that really defines the spirit of SUPERMODEL realness than Ms. Campbell. Go slap the help, sweetie, and do a kilo of coke off of your Louis Vutton luggage while touring Africa on some Goodwill Ambassador tour. While giving face. That's nerve.

I called him last night as he was out partying with our mutual friend Carly who's sexual orientation is harder to pin down than a greased pig at a Weight Watchers convention.
In mid-conversation, he began yelling at some car, "Take your ugly Jetta elsewhere, Jersey bitch!

What Happens in Vegas...

im being sent to vegas for work this weekend for the biggest fashion-buying event in the country.
MAGIC.
Bring it.
Alto I must say Vegas is disgusting. It's full of hick trash wearing oversized tees and ugly khaki shorts.
And there are NOO hot gay men there..its sort of a wasteland for the fags.
So am I excited about going? Eh.

I'll probably kill some anorexic blond bitch...or make tons of best friends.

Anyone know of a hot slutty gay stripper with tons of club and drug hook-ups?

The Best Week Ever

So last week was an incredible week for me.
My best friend Owen came out from Chicago to hang out with me for four days. He goes to medical school at Northwestern and he'll hopefully become a plastic surgeon someday and suck all the fat out of my ass when I'm 50 and look like Jabba the Hut.
At Stanford, we were the crazy druggie stoner bitches who thought we were so cool because we would cook K in the dorm kitchens, but honestly hanging out with him has always been more adventure and comraderie than just getting high.
Together we're like the Hardy Boys of the Circuit.
In his company though I've done some of the most rash and ridiculous things...he seems to be a catalyst for impulsive behavior.

One time during gay pride, I was drunk...natch...and while waiting in line to get into the END UP in SF (the most cracked out place on God's green earth...PERIOD), I met this FOBBY asian guy who barely spoke a word of English but was saavy enough to flash me his vial full of K. I did what any self-respecting crack head would do and proceeded to make out with the little rice paddy while swiping his K and handing it to Owen.
Karma bit fast becasue the both of us entered K holes and had to jump into the nearest cab...only to wake up on my bathroom floor the next day with a pool of drool around my head.

But this past trip was different. I had to work that weekend, and most of our time was spent catching up and working out. He's grown up to be a gorgeous man... but is refreshingly more concerned with life than looks. All in all...even though this reunion lacked black trannies, k holes, and a big party, it was nice to hang out with the man who's become my brother.

But the next time...it's on, bitches. I'm talking about Black Party/Alegria/Junior marathon, and I'm taking the House of Aviance with me... I want runway on K with a thousand buff daddies surrounding me while Abel spins. Work.

On Friday I arrived in Ptown and hung out with the EX and his friends. It was of course messy. And emotional... but completely worth it. because im criminally insane.

I could spend the rest of my life in his arms. He's coming out to visit next month and I can only hope that things become easier for us.

I love him so much that there are times I hate him. Loving someone complicates things, especially when the two people in love are control-freaks.

Well that's the update for now...
I'm going to Barry's Bootcamp sometime this week. An intense bootcamp work-out in which you do cardio for half an hour followed by free-weights. Some hot trainer I met at Crunch last night talked me into it. Supposedly they used to give t-shirts away to people who threw up, but they were giving away too many t-shirts, so now when you puke, you just get to take a break. It's totally the sick sadist shit I love.

Reporting from Ptown

I took the red-eye Thursday and got into Provincetown early Friday morning. In all, I got less than 3 hours of sleep, was wired on a gallon of coffee, and lost my toiletrie bag, but the four days have been worth it.
Ptown is a small paradise, and spending time with my ex has been a gift.
I'll write more on my time here when I return to LA.

What?!

A friend...I won't say who sent me this text this afternoon:

Our friends dog just ate our used condom. What do I do? I am so embarrased but afraid hes' going to vomit it up and there'll be a condom on the floor. Aaah!

Woody Allen on LA

I don't wanna live in a city where the only cultural advantage is that you can make a right turn on a red light.

Listing

Soooo much has happened and Im so busy at work I cant really write it down:

1) Went to birthday party for friend's personal trainer on Friday. Everyone there had a SICK ripped body. I felt skinny fat so I turned to patron gimlets. I kept wondering.. where the fuck do you find the time to work out so much? Oh yeah, that's your fucking job. The party was at Fiesta Cantina, which I realized is the high-school cafeteria for West Hollywood gays. We sat at a big table out in front...and at one point this salty gaysian friend of Kirks asks him, "Why are you sitting with all of the plastics? They're all porn stars and personal trainers."
And its then I realize those are the heros and idols of the shallow gays... and Im as shallow as a kiddie pool for midgets.
Just kidding..I'm not, but I did allow the body facism at the table to dazzle me and to make me feel bad about myself at the same time. After a couple drinks though, I was all about groping feels and hanging with Kirk.
2) I saw Carrie at the Hollywood Forever Cemetary with Kirk. So much fun. Tons of young 20 somethings packed the big lawn in front of the mauseloeum and drank their concoctions and ate their picnics. Kirk brought New York Style Deli sandwiches and cookies from Stolichnaya Bakery.
3) Met a really cute dressing-room guy at Club Monaco. But its hard for me to figure out whether or not I think he's cute because he's actually cute or because I'm a sick flirt and I like to make out with dressing-room guys.
4) I hate being poor. In trying to dress well for a job that's involved with fashion...how do you pull off a cohesive look without going broke? Shoplifting? That would be tragic. Look at Winona, she's never really recovered.
5) Michelle took advantage of Sephora's return policy which is the best in the nation. While working for her former PR agency, she got a BUTTLOAD of expensive facial products, didnt use any of them, and took them into Sephora claiming she got them at the one in SoHo New York.
She got herself a 300 credit. Now how do I convince her to get me some Strivectin-D?!
6) Jake's in town. He's still so hot it makes my head spin. He got asked to enter a stripping contest last night. Its only when you're with a really hot guy that you realize that you're not super fucking hot yourselfbecause the world all seems to fall all over itself to talk to Jake. If I wasn't fucking him, I'd hate him.
7) Work's really busy so I'll be quiet again for the next several days.

XOXOXO