Man Wrangler

Close Call

I'm back to watching the sun rise in the courtyard outside of my window at work.  Yesterday, Jeffrey called me late in the morning.  He was upset and injured.  The wooden block that holds our kitchen knives at home had fallen off the shelf and cut his head open in four places.  He was bleeding.  Alarmed I asked him how deep the cuts were and was he using compresses on the wounds.  Later he called back and said he was better, but I was still shaken up a bit.   Our knife set is one of those industrial, chef-certified collections.  I was glad he was okay, because in all honesty there was nothing that I could have done right at the moment.  Even if I were to bolt from work (which I couldn't due to staffing shortages) I couldn't have made it home for at least an hour.

When I did arrive home around one in the afternoon (I'm working on the early bird shift of 4a these three weeks) Jeffrey still seemed a little scattered.  He has to return to work next Monday after a seven week vacation, and his anxiety level is on par with a kid returning to school at the end of the summer.  After I took a heavy nap for an hour or so, I joined him in a delt workout at the gym.  We discussed our plans for the fall with a return to his schedule and the upcoming changes to mine.  I think we have the food preparation worked out, but we'll have to tweak it as we go.

This morning when I woke up at three I noticed the air was just shy of being crisp.  The leaves on the trees had that heavy end-of-the-summer rustling sound as the wind blew through them.  I liked it and slowed down my walking pace as I strolled toward the subway.  Fall is one of my favorite seasons of the year.  Once I get a feel of that first cool morning I know that from here till New Year's it's going to be all right.  I love the colors, clothes, return to warm foods and being able to hold and sleep close without sweating to death.

Window Seat

I've been working at my current job for almost three years, and today I finally figured out the building outside of my window in the courtyard faces west.  Big deal, huh?  Well it's one less mystery to solve and ten seconds of my life I can finally put to rest.  Today was the first of a three-week start time at four in the morning.  The perk to an early start time is the subway runs direct from my house to work in less than 40 minutes.  During the day it's an hour commute and a total of three train connections.  Once again, who cares?  I do.  I like the door to door service. 

Jeffrey's been a trooper.  I know my schedule sometimes throws him for a loop, but I find it humorous his greatest concern is how are we going to figure out meal preparation.  He returns to work next Monday and I'll still be on the early morning shift, so that's left him anxious about lunch and dinner.  All he's asked of me over the next two weeks is to make an attempt to at least spend an hour a day together, whether it's at the gym or over dinner.  Eating together does make a difference.  We get time to catch up and watch our favorite DVR'd shows.  He's like a kid at the end of his school day, rehashing events and proposing ideas for the next day. 

Right now, I'm just watching the time count down to noon.  I'm dog tired from a tight turn-around schedule at the office and want to curl back up in bed.  Perhaps with Jeffrey, but I doubt it.  He'll probably be bouncing around the house all day.  Ooo, I forgot that he's making chicken cacciatore today.  Mmm. 

October 17th

That's nine weeks or 45 days.  And right now I'm at the halfway point.  I've asked myself the question, "If I were given the opportunity to improve my life, career and potential income in 90 days would I do it?"  The answer (though it's been difficult to come to this realization) is overwhelmingly yes.   I find it no different than the final year of college, where I was juggling multiple responsibilities all at once. 

This week I have found myself in the negotiating chair with everyone around me: colleagues, superiors, friends, family and Jeffrey.  At times it's felt like standing naked in an icy downpour with the wind whipping small hail stones from all directions.  But I keep telling myself to just remain calm, make a daily to do list, get plenty of rest, eat right and workout to remain focused.

I received a positive email from a work colleague.  I responded thank you, but will breathe a sigh of relief after October 17.  Till then, it's just one day at a time.  No guts, no glory.

Spin Cycle

Birthday wish.  Blue brief pair.  Size large. 

I'm hooked on AMC's Mad Men.  Holy shit.  Can't wait till the next episode.

Weather is changing.  Definitely feel fall in the air.

Jeffrey cracked me up.  He took the comforter from my side of the bed with him to his summer retreat.  He said his dorm room smells like me.  I called him Linus.

Spent the last two nights hanging out with my brother.  We cycled around the park near my house and hit the gym.

No Picture

It's been awhile since I posted a blurb without a picture of the day, week or weekend.  It's reflective of my life right now.  What would someone want to see anyway?  Me sleeping, eating, working, lifting, showering or all those other mundane day in and day out activities that have now over consumed my time.  Jeffrey doesn't want to hear it, but the past couple of evenings have that cooler temperature which has lifted my spirits.  Fall is around the corner and this can only mean one thing: Football season!  Psych.  That's what my boss is excited about.  Personally, I'll just be happy to enter a subway platform without sweat pooling in the shady, nether regions of my anatomy. 

Jeffrey bounced back to his summer retreat this week with some of his other colleagues to finish their second week.  This of course was after a massive workout weekend.  We blasted our delts, arms and chest leaving us moaning with acheyness as we hit the bed Sunday night.  Right before we fell asleep, I relayed a small snippet of information I once found funny in a gay dating book about the pros and cons of certain guys.  "Gym bunnies.  Pro: Looks great in public.  Con: They're always sore and say things like 'Please, don't touch me' and 'can you lay on your side of the bed tonight?'" 

Attended a small housewarming party in the city Saturday night.  Matt and his roomies have a new place in Peter Cooper Village just off the east side.  The views were amazing, both inside and out.  It was great to see so many other fit guys in one place.  O and my brother were funny, they said they were sticking together so that they at least gave the illusion of looking like one of the muscle heads in the room. 

Thinking Place

"Oh no," I said to the O as I whipped out my camera.

There's a Tex-Mex restaurant in our neighborhood that serves the best fresh lime-juice margaritas, but the food has yet for me to declare, "Holy shit!  Finally some real Mexican food in New York.  Fuck yeah!"  No, it's the margaritas for me.  Today, after my afternoon appointment, all I could think about was one of those margaritas while riding home on the train.  Maybe some chips and salsa.  The only problem was their five-dollars-each-till-seven-in-t he-evening special on margaritas ended in one hour.  That meant three drinks at best. Four would be a miracle.

So I stopped by home, drop off my day-clothes, put together a load of laundry, change into some shorts and head down to he basement to do my wash.  I figure it's only fair that I wash my clothes this week.  Jeffrey has been away at a summer retreat.  He's studying the American Civil War.  I'm fascinated by the subject, and it sounds like he's having a good time.  He said his dormitory bed was really small.  

I get the laundry going and decide that I don't want to cook myself dinner.  It's just me.  And it was the perfect excuse to go have a margarita before seven.  So I walked down the street, taking in the heat from the sun baked bricks.   I looked ahead to my destination and read the grease-pen sandwich board standing outside the Tex-Mex place.  It said, "Real lime juice margaritas.  Five dollars.  All night!"  Whoa.  I could've been knocked over with a feather at that moment.  It was like having a Starbucks set up shop in the neighborhood.  No longer restricted to seven o'clock, I wondered if this was a one day gimmick.  Either way, I was sold on three later.  I enjoyed the fact that I had a tiny niche in this crazy world, knowing that tomorrow I get to be an adult all over again. 

Summer Discoveries

 
Babe, you've got taco shmutz all over your face again.

Jeffrey had never had a "homemade" taco till about two months ago.  "Why would I eat Mexican food?," he said.  "It's not like something I would find out here [on the east coast]."  And it's not like I know how to cook true, authentic Mexican food.  Sure my grandmother on my dad's side of the family did, but I rarely got to sample her home cooking.  So my tacos are like this sorority girl take on this classic little wrap.  I use ground turkey, Mexican seasoning, and Greek yogurt for sour cream.  They're so whitewashed, but tasty.  Still, Jeffrey loves them.  I think we went through a two week period where every other day he would bound into the kitchen, much like a boy, and request tacos for dinner.  Finally one night I told him had I known tacos were the way to his heart, I would have skipped all those fancy dinner concoctions I created when we first started dating.

Physically, Jeffrey is packing some serious tight muscle.  He's like a 16-year-old kid going through puberty for the second time in his life.  "Feel this," he'll say while flexing his bicep muscle.  Of course this usually happens while we're strolling down the street.  My best friend Scott used to do the same thing back in the day. "Dude, check out my arms. No, seriously, feel them."  And in both of these incidents there's no moving on to the next point in the conversation till after the arm pythons have been given a squeeze.  Still it's really adorable to see Jeffrey reach his physical goals.  He often reminds me that for the longest time he just saw himself as this skinny east coast kid.  I wouldn't say he's skinny, more like meaty and ripped.  And I'm quietly flattered when people tell Jeffrey how great he looks.  "Well, I have a great trainer," he'll answer without mentioning my name.  Which is fine by me, I would probably pull one of those classic, "Oh but you did it all yourself." 

Been listening to a lot of George Michael's old albums as of late, especially Faith and Older.  His concert at Madison Square Garden had a spiritual effect on Jeffrey, O, Kev and I.  Jeffrey put it best, as gay men we have Judy Garland, Kathy Griffin and a variety of other female gay icons, but very few male.  It's cute, the other night Jeffrey got the idea to disassemble his official 25 Live program his best friend Chuck got him and hang up the pictures on the inside doors his closet.  Like some sort of teenage boy shrine.  This way when he opens the wardrobe, there will be his hero.  I told him go for it. 

Life Meaning

"You're a squirrel."

"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account." -- John W. Gardner

Daily Donut

 
"Gurl, get the shot before I go shirtless."

I find myself frustrated these days, and I have accepted the fact that I made choices to get me to this point.  Continually, I have that superficial fantasy of an 18-year-old boy who throws his computer, tells the world to fuck off and runs away to be a bartender.  Then I realize how much loathed bar-flys back in the day when I worked at JR's, the lack of health insurance and working every major holiday.  Physically, I find I'm sore as shit these days because Jeffrey and I decided earlier this summer that we would bulk up during his break from school.  We've been doing these mad-crazy lifting routines, which have firmed up areas of my body I never realized could be feel any more rock hard than they already do.

Moving to dayside hasn't improved my sleeping schedule by much.  Even last night I woke up at three in the morning in a drowsy panic that I was supposed to be at work, till I realized I'm not supposed to get up for another three hours.  I really hate it when that happens on the weekends.  Nothing worse than rolling awake in bed on Saturday morning wondering what and where in the hell am I.  Jeffrey's a sport.  He gets up in the morning before me, makes coffee and breakfast before sending me on my way. 

Half the time I don't even remember what day it is.  My time rotates around learning the new technology at work, projects, sleep and delts, traps, back, pecs, legs and arms.  Otherwise I'm just running in-between subway trains, dressed only in a white t-shirt and khakis to keep cooler, but not necessarily dry, on the platforms.  Jeffrey refers to this point in my life as strum und drang or storm and stress.  There's no point to this entry, except that I think we're going to the beach this weekend. 

Summer Read

I'm inspired by Isherwood and the movie I saw over the weekend: Chris and Don, A Love Story.

Smitten Kitty

 
Squirrel has a new man-crush.

Horizon Beyond

I've come to embrace the reality that all the parts to a successful life are in my hands.  And that I'm really fucking busy at the moment.  No guts, no glory.

Encore Kids

 
Text from Kev: Gurl we are doing it [George Michael's concert] again!  O and I got tickets for Wednesday night!!!!!

25 Live

George Michael at Madison Square Garden.  His alleged final concert tour.  Fantastic party evening. 
Party boys Chuck, Jeffrey and Kev were amped all day.  It didn't hit me till we finally got to the Garden.
I recall an interview George gave about the production of his 1996 album Older.  He had just lost his lover, and was so depressed from it that he spent days in the studio, smoking spliffs, to ease his pain.  It was also his first post-Sony Records release. Honestly, this man is a hero to me.   
Kev, O and I all share another thing in common: Even though we didn't know each other in '88, we all attended George's Faith concert at Fiddler's Green in Denver.

George apologized for being away from the U.S. for so long.  It had nothing to do with him being gay, or all the other crazy press in the States.  He loves Americans.  After all his partner, Kenny, is one.  And yes, that was one of many JumboTron female boobs for the "boyfriends who were dragged" to the show by their girlfriends.
  
O was "seriously feeling it" early on. By the end of the night the Garden was a dancing, mad mess.  

Crazy Workouts

Departure Wish

"I leave my life up to destiny."  Daniel about his proposed return move to Italy.

Amber Acreage

 
I have often wondered if people can communicate after death. 

I stood knee-high in the middle of the north field of my grandparent's farm.  The breeze heated the cavity of my chest as it brushed atop the heads of the golden brown wheat.  As I walked through the tightly sown rows of straw, the tips of the dry grass tickled my calves like silken fingers.  On the far west end of the field I thought I saw a scarecrow.  It was my grandpa who had passed away five years ago.  He was dressed in a dark blue button down shirt, circled in sweat, and a halo of perspiration to match that surrounded the rim of his John Deer ballcap.

"Ga'dammit Robby!  Watch out for those snakes!"  he yelled.  I looked down and noticed a rustling just a few feet away.  Then I spotted a large coral snake. It was the size of an anaconda.  I started to run towards my grandpa, but I was wearing flip-flops and the weight of my body couldn't part the rigid straw.  Panicked, I noticed he was in danger himself.  I shouted to my grandpa there was a giant red Hereford bull charging up fast from behind him.  Next thing I knew, the bull had head-butted grandpa into the sky and across to the farmhouse below on the other side of the field.  The snake stopped pursuing me and my grandpa hung limp from a rain gutter on the side of the house.

From the farmhouse I heard grandpa whisper, "Be careful out there.  That field is worth two million."  And then an invisible irrigation sprinkler began to water the dry earth.  I couldn't see the actual pipes, but the water fell in large blops around my ankles.  The grass became slick and I started to slide faster and faster towards a fenced in iron windmill at the base of the field.  My face was wet, my heart raced as the on-coming barbed wire started to rotate like chopping knives.  I crossed my arms to protect my face, and hit a wooden fence pole that jolted me awake on my living room couch from the thud of the impact.

I wondered what grandpa might have been trying to say.

Sweet Offering

 
Kev offered me a bite of his Pepperidge Farm sugar cookie.  "Ew, soft-batch.  No thanks."  Yech, they taste like chemicals.

Heat Procrastination

 
New York Philharmonic in Prospect Park, Brooklyn

I just can't think these days, so I guess I must be in love--with summer that is.  I never do anything creative during the months of July and August.  What's the point?  I mean, I mentally sketched out an idea in Glenwood, Colorado, for the path I want to take with my book proposal, but that was contingent upon what my work schedule was going to look like for the next couple of months. 

Well, I found out the answer yesterday.  I had applied for a position in my company some weeks back.  "You're not getting the job," was the first thing the hiring manager said to me.  Okay, but all is not lost. There's opportunities coming down the pike, and I've been assigned a rather large project to consume my time, so I'm fine with where my production career is headed.

Now I need to figure out how to divide my time fairly with writing my proposal, work, the gym, my friends--both old and new--and, of course, Jeffrey.  Not an impossible task, just one that will come easier after a sound eight hours of sleep. 

Ritzy Night

Matt and O celebrate their birthdays at The Ritz

Well hello.  Doormat for Matt.  When we saw it in Aspen, I was like "perfect birthday present."

 
Who's the hip-chick in the yellow shades?

Three perceptions on age: Fear, constipation and watching for falling houses.