I visited the city a bit more yesterday. Had a good time. Watched my cousin finish his site, and hung out with the Fireman. We went to a leather store. It was nice. He said that I have a nice body, I always feel like a medical experiment due to all the visits to the doctor for my diabetes, so I can't really say at all now a days. Especially since I gained about 40 pounds last year. Part of it was due to my more efficient digestion and processing of nutrients with my new insulin regime and the pump. The other part is the Southern Diet. And the last fragment of my weight game comes from not exercising.
I could get into the whole thing about always walking and riding my bick in NYC and Europe, or into better eating habits overseas, etc . . . But I won't. It just waste my time in dealing with where I am right now.
Anyway. I was looking at all the leather gadgets and I thought that some were very interesting. Others were freakin hot and I couln't wait to squeeze my fat ass into the leather and latex pants. There were also these blue jean overalls that said Pig on them. That was nice too.
The fireman seemed in the right place. Like he really wore a couple of those uniforms himself, but to save lives, not for parties. The firman is very interesting. The way he talks about medicine and the calls he has been sent out too is very interesting. And his view of Atlanta is interesting too. As I was getting into the car, I grabed a newspaper dealing with the leather scene and I realized that I have seen my body transform in the last year. Partly due to age, partly due to diet, partly due to getting a handle on my health. I am becoming more like those guys in the picture. I just need a consistant training schedule and, Bam! I will be staring at the Eagle. I asked the fireman if I was turning into a bear. He said no. But, I think age, my body and my taste (big hairy masc. male bonding straight or gay, over twink disco lights . . . though those have their place) are pushing me out. I am on the search for a new community. Running around and being the only black guy or the only non-straight one or both for 4 straight years really sewed my lips together. Like I didn't comment on all that I saw. Plus so many people thought that I could not speak German, when I could. I just did not feel like relating what I really thought because it would be belittled anyway. I soon, gravitated and made my own little small clicks. But none in the hairy man department. This is so new. It doesn't matter. I think sexual taste change all the time, and depending on what you have to deal with in life.
The fireman also said that he could see my package yesterday. I did not see it, and never pay attention to that on myself. The fireman said that it is because I am bisexual . . . I am never aware of my dick's presentation like gay men are. I chuckled. Very interesting hypothesis. Could anyone expand on that theory, class? I would like to here personal observation before moving on.
Anyway. I watched cousin do his thing yesterday with clients visiting and everything. His website is almost up and I will have to get a link together, as well as to all those other blogs that I love on the net. I have found a good number dealing with the academe, sexual identity (by normal everyday people), political issues, fashion, glam, etc . . . and I will share cause I think others may enjoy them, even if they are not all literary and political, etc . . .
So I guess I am mixing things up.
Wanted to go see what this Flex is all about. But I did not have the chance. I stayed with the cousin and then left him for a little while in the afternoon. Instead of more boys (it is vacation), I decided to have the thing that for me is far more satisfying than sex. I love Sushi (no pun intended). I know saying sushi is more satsifying than sex is very single, white and female middleclass . . .what am I suppose to say . . .BBQ Ribs? Go screw yourself if you think that way? I guess I will screw myself later. Doesn't look that hard (no pun intended). There was a guy at Swinging Richards that looked like he could do that/
I had one small Saki. 1 seaweed salad. 2 Rock and Roll rolls which were basically eel with avacado. And Ahi Poke. It is a raw Tuna salad. Very good, though I thought it was a fresh tomatoe salad at first and sat waiting for my main dish, till I realized that the waitress said Ahi Poke when setting it down. The place was trendy. Nickiemoto's is the name I believe. There were many gay couples inside. Very preppy with their blue blended shirts that had a slightly starched sheen coupled with mustard yellow tinged khakis and laser pearlie white capped teeth. Their skin was perfect, their hair gel gave them the look as if they just came back from snorkling in Mali and their small time chatter was devoid of any seriousness or pitty. Life was a party at every booth. And the women were happy too.
I was sat by a beautiful drag queen that was on her way to becoming unspookable. She had a little raspy voice. I wonder if getting your Adams apple shaved would help. I know it does cosmetically. All her mannerisms and politeness was so genuine and sincere I touched her on her should like she was a woman. The real bonified female waitress was also attractive and straight forward and we had a little tension. I think it was not so much sexual (though it was there), but from me knowing what it is like waiting a table and being very smart. Which she was. And she had some experience under her belt in life too. She was the perfect server.
The bill was $32.89. I gave a $7.11 tip for a total of $40.00. Flex would have been $35.00 not counting drinks or whatever they have in there. I made the right choice.
I have not had sushi in forever. It was perfect except for the hiziki. It was too cold and did not have enough sesame seed oil for me. The seaweed was blanched too long too.
Now. I am sure such comments about the over blanched seaweed is very faggoty behavior. It must balance out my D+ in the "package awareness" department some how.
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Otherwise the ride back to Tennessee today was very nice. You must see how Chatanooga is situated. It is in the more mountainous region of Tennessee in the southeast. After you cross Mount Eagle coming from the South, then it is more flat and starts to transform into the Tennessee valley.
For those of you that do not know, Tennessee is divided into three regions. The mountainous East, whose regional capital would be Knoxville. The Tennessee Valley in the middle, which is capped off with the city of Nashville, the actual state capital. And the western third is part very flat and fertile and very condusive to planting cotton and other crops. Its earth is feed by the Mississippi river and its regional capital is Memphis. That is why we have three stars in our flag; why you do not find many agricultural plantations in the middle and eastern part, but much livestock and horse breeders; and, why today was so nice since I have not spent much time in the mountainous part. Just around Mount Eagle. Chatanooga looks geographically very interesting. It is so massive. It is just wilderness.
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3 comments:
I love how you have the question mark after "Go screw yourself if you think that way?" Maybe you didn't mean it, but I hope you keep it, because the questioning, the tentativeness in that otherwise direct statement is intriguing. I also have to say what a head trip it is for me to read your blog, a friend from way back when and to read about Nashville and Atlanta and Monteagle and all those routes I've travelled, especially since when I lived there you were up here. La vida es asi, no? A trip.
Yeah. It is a trip. I feel that in a lot of ways I have closed or partially closed my NYC life (can you ever really leave New York?), and now you guys are up there and I am wondering how our experiences are the same and how they are different. We are at different stages of our lives than before, but something seems consistent.
And as for me down here, I feel like I have been gone for awhile and all the old stomps and relationships are in the background. In the foreground are all these national parks and wineries and resturaunts that I could not see in the past because I was young and not brave enough to leave my community . . . or to defy it, as the case may be.
Time plays this trick on us. In a way, it does not seem that long ago since I left Nashville, but when I sit down and really think about the person I was, and how many times I have discarded parts of myself and built new dimensions to my life it is really amazing.
In terms of that question mark, I kind of meant it and I kind of did not. When I was writing I felt the tension, and couldn't figure out how to say what I wanted to say. It is like you said in your blog, this difference between who you are writing "to" and who you are writing "for" is present. It blurred for a second, and the question mark just caught that murkiness I felt.
Sometimes I feel like my little blog project is exposing daily experiences that I normally just register in my brain somewhere and then use as a source to make fiction. But this is like a daily diary, and I don't really have the perspective right yet. You know? Is it art? Is it a diary? Is it my little devilish voice I get to let out under "Littlemilk"?
I just don't know.
?
I am starting to just think of it as a blog . . . an entity and an art form unto itself. Cause how many guys from the hood could I tell half this stuff too. Going to a leather store with a fireman? Please!
I don't know. I am not a guy (except when I am my avatar) and don't exactly know from the limits of guy-from-the-hoodness, but it always seemed to me that the guys we grew up with loved you for the eccentric intellectual position occupied then as well as now -- in and out of the hood. Maybe going to the leather store with a fireman doesn't fit into that, but I wouldn't be surprised if it did.
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