Overbooked?

It's 4 AM. Finals are my life. I haven't consistently been to the gym in over a week. I feel my eyes constantly tearing up.

I am more messy than I have ever been. It's finals time, I am like a hurricane, destroying all in my wake. I designed a set today while listening to Shirley Bassey for hours on end. After three hours of her nonstop, I realized something was wrong and switched to Rilo Kiley.

Then I worked wardrobe for a TV Pilot that will not take off. If it did, then I would be amazed. It's experience and interesting. I am going to bed soon because low and behold we have to get up and be there again at 1 PM to[day]morrow. Luckily, it's down the street, which makes me happy. Unfortunately I won't have time for the gym...as far as I know I'm not waking up to go in the morning.

I miss the gym, I miss the gym. I miss the gym! I want to run again. Oh, Ambien, you kick in so quickly. I am going to lay down.

I am going to try and appear coherent for the next couple of weeks. I will fail often, almost more than often. I'm waiting for little things to make me happy.

For example. I've been promised a ticket to see Liza at the Palace from my roommate. I'm waiting for when it will appear. With finals I fear that may be a promise that just may not happen. Or, I am waiting for the Support Group to contact me about an intake session. Yet, no one has called. It's made me nervous. I should call back, but I'm so busy I forget.

It's still 4 AM.

Then there's me, waiting, for the grace of God to show up. I am waiting for my body to change and tell me it's okay to smile again. It's okay to clean up the room and get a job again. It's okay, you're worth something these days.

The computer screen is starting to move slowly in my drugged up eyes. So I'll end this quickly. I am in a state of emotional stress. Oh, but I know we all are. So in my defense, just be understanding and be polite.

Take a moment in your life to tell someone you know that you love them. Or give someone a gift. Or reconnected with a new person and show them you care too. Don't allow others to feel as lonely as you yourself have become.

Everything is swirly right now

Oh, finals times. How strangely written you are.

Snakes, Speedos and Sexuality

Tonight I snaked the toilet! For fun I wore my Red Speedo. I was feeling sexy. Not to mention the absurdity of playing around in toilet water while wearing this:

Pose much? Actually, I always stand this way.

It all seems very strange, right? But, why not put on your bathing trunks when you're about to go swimming? Oh if I could have taken a picture with the Yellow Rubber Gloves!

Now this leads me to my next point. As far as my body goes, I do believe I am in the prime of my life. I am very proud of my body, for the first time in a while. It makes me happy that when I lift my arms, abs are visible. You have to understand 4 to 6 years ago the idea of abs were a legend that I would talk about with people over firesides.

Sit back and listen as I tell you a tale. Horses that have horns are called Unicorns. Men who have goat legs are called Satyrs. People born with Abs are called Abnormals!

It was the only way I could deal with the idea that people are just BORN with 6-pack Abs. They can eat as much as they want and never lose them. Now I sort of have them [really only when I lift my arms or in the right lighting] and I'm happy with that. It's not that I don't run and lift weights at the gym. I do! So excuse me while I brag for a moment...

Bragabsbragabragsbabsbragbragbragarbabs

Okay, I'm done gloating. It's also ironic in this time. The prime of my life. I have decided to withhold my body from the touch of others. As much as looks shouldn't matter in dating and love, in the cruel reality, they do. We all want people who turn us on sexually.

The Tall Man was in great shape, but there was one night he showed me pictures of himself, when he was fatter [because you show fuckbuddies who you have no feelings for embarassing pictures of yourself when you were huge. Right? That's what I've come to understand.] So his body reflected this when examined up close. Stretchmarks, but a very flat stomach. His pectorals were well defined, but if uncared for could easily turn into man bosoms. I loved his body, more than anyone else I've met in my life [to date]. I felt hot when I was with him, because I thought his body was perfect. It obviously wasn't the textbook definition of "Hot". The abs were absent and the muscles on the body were not always all that well-defined.

When we fucked though, you could feel all the muscles working.

When I lost him, I think I mourned the loss of his body most of all. That's not that bad of a discovery. I didn't love him, I loved his body. His personality obviously needs some major improvement, though it was a decent personality, it was still a Gay New York Males Personality.

When the going gets tough, the tough calls you on the phone and feeds you bullshit.

I allowed myself to get lost for a moment. Excuse me. Yet, the outcome of that memory dive was a positive one. Positivity. A reoccurring theme this year.

Lastly, and I know you were thinking this the entire time reading. Yes, I did shower after I snaked the toilet.