Sunday, February 27, 2005

In the conversation that B and I had in which we decided to be more than just friends (to be sure, apparently he'd wanted to be more than just friends from the time he first saw me [!] at "Les Invasions Barbares" and the whole conversation was prompted by his taking the baby step of asking for "casual sex exclusivity," which I explained seemed to be counterproductive), I warned him of my incompatibility with dating: my lack of interpersonal sentimentality.

Evidently he has some of his own incompatibilities with dating. So, we'll see how all of this works itself out.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 10:43.
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Saturday, February 26, 2005

B he is.

Dammit. C will have to be a bottom, no buts about it.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 11:02.
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Thursday, February 24, 2005

I fear that whatever might be possible between B and I may be thwarted by my lack of sensitivity, among other things. But that would be a shame because, for probably the first time, I've met a guy who seems to be more concerned with my needs/hungers/concerns than his own -- the roles have been reversed.

I'd rather not stop being the center of attention, at least not for a little while.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 20:42.
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What horror! I only just now realized that one of my sidebars has been wrongly labeled this entire time. I considered changing it without informing any of you, but that would be highly un-Kantian, and while I more or less strive to defy Kant and all of his glory, this is a point at which we reach a modicum of accord.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 09:29.
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Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Having myself a big and rich time on College Walk after French, I was nearly bowled over by Dean McD.

Dean McD has mastered the art of the five-minute power meeting. In no more than five minutes she can find out what you want, tell you what she needs, create, layout and get your consent on a game plan and shake your hand as she's seeing you out of her office.

In any case, the recommendation forms I'd dropped off to her just yesterday evening were ready to pick up. Apparently the head of the French Dept. (a woman with whom, to the best of my recollection, I've never spoken/communicated) gave the thumbs up to my going abroad. Presumably she spoke with my French prof. As she and Dean McD are both on the committee that will decide my fate, I'd say that things look promising.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 14:27.
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Are the Fates telling me that I'm on the right path to enlightenment when, the day after I decide on a new scholastic (and life) game plan that includes reading some sort of print news almost every day of the week, Columbia starts having free copies of the NYT in and around campus.

What a wonderful world it would be if I can wake up on Sunday morning and go to Lerner to find the Sunday NYT ready for pick up.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 12:15.
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Is 7.30 in the morning, when you are working on a paper you foolishly left to the very last minute, a good time to receive a phone call from your probably gaie, possibly drunk, very likely high, ex (maybe still?)-con uncle who has heard from other sources that you do not go to church, wants to express his bafflement at this news, remarks more than once that he's "not crazy" and wants to know if you love him and the rest of your kin?

If anyone asks, the answer is no. No, 7.30 in the morning is not a good time to receive that phone call.

Pass it on.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 07:54.
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Sunday, February 20, 2005

Does anyone recall why I got married in the first place?

Because I had to ensure that I would get to return to school at an affordable price, that the stunt of not turning over their tax forms that my parents did (because I'm still considered independent) last year could not possibly get in my way again. Eventually my wicked step-mother (#3, who I've never met) submitted her forms, but it was all too late. And how could I be sure that they wouldn't refuse the following year (this year)?

And so I was married. And the celebration was fabulous. And then my wife, without telling me or discussing it with me, filed her taxes as "single." It was only by a happenstance of luck that I questioned her on it before clicking the "submit" button when I was filing mine, else it could have been a bureaucratic nightmare (since the plan had been to file "married but separate"). This presented a problem because I'd already told the school I was married, and the school took in new information in stride. Now I would have to go back and recant. Moreover, now I would have to ask my father for his tax information again (ultimately the school had decided to just ignore my evil step mother's finances).

And so I did (call my father). And, lo and behold, they filed JOINTLY this year. So, to get his forms is to get her forms and he seemed none too eager or willing to convince her to give them to me.

So, I got married for no reason since the school chose to agree with me. Soon I'll be shelling out $600 for the divorce. The one benefit from my marriage was ruined by my wife's not actually thinking of me. And now I'm right back to where I was thirteen months ago. And, as I predicted would happen, the wicked bitch is doing precisely what she was doing thirteen months ago.

At least I was right.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 20:17.
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Thursday, February 17, 2005

In addition to the other things that I've had to do to convince "them" that I am interested in, deserve to and capable of going to Reid Hall to study in Paris, two more things have been added to the list:

1) I must start reading Le Monde
2) I have to read some sort of contemporary book on French affairs today

Yes, I must read it in the near future. No, the fact that I must do this work that has no actual bearing on the application on top of the other things I must read and do in school should not be postponed until after they inform that I have or have not been accepted.

If I do not get in, I will be royally t-ed off. This I vow.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 16:59.
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In the past evening I think I corresponded with the English boy maybe five or six times (between us, not all from me). He started it, btw.

Could I have found a B?

I asked him if he wanted to see the French movie tonight with me and Liz, and he said that he would if he could but he cannot. I responded saying something, but ending with, "Have a good weekend." Mind you, this is mostly all in French (c'est bon, non?). His response, translated, was: "You wish me to have a good weekend, but I hope that we will have the opportunity to see each other before Monday."

It's my intention to not get too excited by this and to not make what was a vast mistake on my part with A -- seeing each other every single freaking day for, like, two or three weeks straight. I can only barely stand to see myself for that many days in a row.

So, maybe a B?


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 11:43.
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What constitutes a good reason for not getting your homework done and being so tired all day long that you have to actually ask the professor of your last class of the day if you can leave early because you are having severe headaches from trying to stay up (and being sure to make it clear that the oppressive fatigue is not due to her lecture)?

A cute, adorable and hot English boy grad student at SIPA who is fluent in French and contacted you on a gaie sex site because he recognized you from around campus, with whom you spent four hours talking and making out.

And how'd he recognize you, you may ask? Oh, because he saw you at one of the movies at La Maison Française and found you attractive.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 03:13.
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I think that maybe the demographics on high risk (for HIV contraction) groups of gaie men may need to be redone.

Granted, I have not looked into this extensively, but I've come to notice something of a trend on gaie sex sites, specifically Men4Now and Manhunt.

The "high risk" men are the ones who claim "low risk" behavior (I mean, other than having, perhaps, lots of sex with men who they hardly know). These black and hispanic men in low income (relatively, it's all still NYC) areas say they are HIV negative and engage in "safe sex" practices. Yet, to look, in areas of the city which are predominantly white (specifically Chelsea, which is something of a given, but many of the men are still under 28 years of age) one will find many of the men are claiming "Positive" status or at least "No Preference" for safe(r) sex versus raw/bareback.

Of course, maybe it's just that the white guys are keener on being aware of and upfront with their status, but something tells me that may not be it...


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 02:23.
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"However, coercion lies on a continuum, with the Nazi medical experiments and alien abductions on one end and truly free and informed choice on the other end..."

What great texts we read.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 02:19.
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Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Sunday I had dinner at Deluxe with Emily and Tom. To catch up on times, but also to milke them for LSAT and law school details.

Here are the nuts and bolts of what I learned:

1) Logic games suck.

2) Kaplan's test scale is shifted below the LSAT scale (hence the increased score guarantee) which means that I actually may have scored a 163/164 on my prep test.

3) Despite having the whole building wireless, Columbia Law is woefully behind the times because while NO laptops are pre-fab w/ floppy disk drives anymore, you have to have one to take the exams.

4) If I can meet, date and fall in love with another potential law student and matriculate to the same school, then we can say we're just "roommates" and maybe get a 2br apartment all to ourselves.

5) It's better to apply to law school's earlier than later.

6) Logic games really suck.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 23:11.
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Monday, February 14, 2005

Acronym of the Day:

BOMFOG

Brotherhood of Men, Fatherhood of God

You DO NOT want to be around when the bomfog rolls in, trust me.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 19:43.
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V-Day. War is hell.

A man at the store (a gaie man, therefore he should have known better) was purchasing a red, heart-shaped box of semi-expensive chocolates for his loved one (not an assumption - his cashier chatted him up about it).

***DISCLAIMER*** I am neither for nor against Valentine's Day. I do not mind the idea of people the world over rejoicing in "love," and I am quite fond of the fact that it's not just between lovers, but parents give things to their kids, friends give things to one another, and so on. That being said...

I think my feelings on acts similar to those of the man described above are best put into words by Rose McGowan as the Would-Be Teen Queen of Jawbreaker:

"Never send a rose unless dyed black as a warning. And if one is sent to you, destroy it along with the sender. Emotionally, of course."


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 08:59.
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Sunday, February 13, 2005

What's the most delightful thing that a young, collegiate fellow can discover on a Sunday afternoon?

That on the fortieth page of the 60pp paper through which he's been trudging appear the words "Conclusion" and, later down, "Notes." The beauty of discovering that twenty pages, a full 1/3rd of the reading, are just references is almost worth softly weeping over.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 15:02.
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I wonder where I'd be now, what I'd be doing, and what mental state I'd be drowning in if I'd come out later in life? Had I waited until freshman or even sophomore year of college, would I have a different look on the whole gaie community? Would I care more than slightly (which is, currently, all that I can muster) about gaie rights? Might I look on the Roxy with fond feelings? Or would everything that has happened to me in the past seven years more or less have taken place in three and I'd be in more of a hyperahomothropic state (yes, I made that word up)?


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 10:58.
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I had an interesting night last night... and now, today, this morning, rocking out to country music as I plunge through articles on "metacorporations" and "mobius strip organizations" I find myself wanting one thing:

To be in a smoky, dimly-lit honky tonk with a cold beer in my hand badly singing "Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" with my equally inebriated friends. Granted, few of my friends like country music, I can't stand being around smoke and I hate beer, but right now all of that would really hit the spot.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 10:21.
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Thursday, February 10, 2005

The most curious thing just happened to me.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 03:00.
1 comments

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Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Well, my application for studying abroad in Paris has been sent. Just now, online. Now it's a matter of my French Prof. being uncommonly unflakey and getting her recommendation form in on time, and the same for my Dean, and the same for the Registrar and my transcript...

All I have to say is this - I have done everything in my power to make sure that I can and get to go to Paris. From checking my application essay about thirty times and probably driving Liz and Michelle crazy over the smallest grammar concerns to working three (yes, soon to be two) jobs to make certain that I can afford it.

One way or another I'm going to Paris, and Ms. Harry will be walk behind me singing my theme song the whole time.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 22:53.
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Monday, February 07, 2005

Socialist Joke of the Day:

Two Slavic gentleman are walking, the first man showing the second man around the town. They pass by a factory.

2nd man: "How many people work in that factory?"
1st man: "About half."


шутка.




promulgated by SWS2.1 at 19:32.
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Sunday, February 06, 2005

So I had this plan. A plan to explore the greatness of New York City. I called it, brace yourself, "The Great City Plan." I even gave it it's own Gmail address. The plan was (and mostly still is) brilliant. I would send out emails to friends on a semi-regular basis saying things to do in NYC that would be fun and inexpensive. To finally put to use that reason we give friends and family far and wide for why we insist on living in a city that has the gaul to charge $1200/mo for a 200sq. ft. basement, windowless, studio apartment.

But there was an unforeseen flaw in the streamline design of this plan. A fly in the ointment of my genius: the people. Despite the open receipt of The Great City Plan, few people responded to the emails and, of the two events thus far, the turnout was minimal and mostly the same both times.

Maybe people are actually busier than they let on. Maybe they have no actual interest in doing things. Maybe they thought my emails were spam. In any case, they didn't come, couldn't come, wouldn't come, didn't want to come.

I'll keep trying, of course, but I realize now that The Great City Plan has to be a plan for 1, with room for others.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 01:41.
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How was The Seven Year Itch, you ask? Well, that's "between Kate and Italy."


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 01:40.
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Friday, February 04, 2005

I have begun lightening my existential and tangible load in hot pursuit of my future.

First, went Cheer New York.
Second, went gaies and sex.
And, today (well, in two weeks), went Whole Foods.

I have worked at the Whole since I left school, and, since my return to Academia, it's been nothing but a monkey on my back. Today I did not want to go in, but because I've not gone in a lot in the past few months, not going in could have meant the end. I refuse to get fired from a job that I hate but do better than almost anyone else. Hazaa, a break!: I can go seasonal. I can stop working there now, but can ask to be scheduled when and where I want to, can return to being there full time in the summer should I not find more lucrative employment, and I will stay seasonal as I leave to go to Paris next term ::fingers still crossed:: and then have a job for when I return.

And, as I often do, upon realizing this was the decision for me, I immediately seized upon it and took a break to fire off a letter to my Team Leader to let her know of my decision. You want to say, "But how will you survive down one source of income?" Well, the heavens have aligned and all signs point to "Bling." I did the math. By leaving the Whole and just working at the library (not counting my paid internship), I actually come out making about $10 more a month than I did at the Whole. That's because since starting school, I've rarely worked a full shift at the Whole. Often I went in late, left early the same day, or just called out. So, while I was scheduled plenty of hours, I wasn't fully working them, even though my hourly wage there is vastly more than at the library. But then I received a nice raise from the library over winter break, so by squeezing four more hours in M-R and working a full day on F, I make more than I did at the Whole and have my weekends free!

Yes! I will lose the discount. But I'll also cease to need to purchase weekly metro passes. And most of the food I buy at the Whole (save for when I was buying prepared food for lunch [and no longer buying that will also save me money]) wasn't really that costly. If you aren't buying raw goat's milk cheeses or truffle oil, Whole Foods isn't so expensive.

I feel lighter already... and I'm accelerating into my dreams.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 15:51.
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Thursday, February 03, 2005

It would appear that A and I have broken up again.

Yeah, I don't know how it's possible either. One would think that it would require having gotten back together. One would be mistaken.

More details to follow.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 01:17.
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So I believe that, while at work today, I received a set of microfilms for the brother of Herr Doktor. The last name is distinct -- How many Faustus' are there in the Columbia area? And how many of them would be getting newspapers on microfilm from the same state (and perhaps city) of their birth?

In any case, I left him a note. Either Dr. Faustus will read this before his brother receives the reels and let him know, or his brother is about to be freaked out. That or he will once again be thrust into the shade of his brother and this will be the straw that breaks the camel's back and it will mean the end of the Faustus line.

I guess we'll see.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 01:12.
1 comments

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Tuesday, February 01, 2005

So I've decided that, when the time comes and I have the appropriate means, I am going to adopt two boys who are approximately the same age and raise them as twins. I mean, I won't tell them that they are twins - that's just crazy. But I like the idea of raising two children at the same age.

You already know the name of one of them. Recall from the Land of Jive, "Hamilton St. Claire." Well, I've decided that the other boy will be "Wintson Salem." I've always enjoyed that name, and I hear Wake Forest is a good university.

Winston Salem and Hamilton St. Claire. They may get beaten up a lot, but they'll still be really cool.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 14:50.
1 comments

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Yesterday was the day that rained crazies.

First, at work at the library, I was attacked by another library employee. Having moved around his behemoth cart by picking up my tinier (but still book-laden) cart and only just placing it down, he started ranting and yelling at me. At first, I had no idea what to do.. it was a library after all - an age-old institution of peace, harmony, and NO yelling. I quickly regained my composure (or as much as I can when so completely thrown) and stammered out that I was only just there for a second. Well, tried stammering out. He kept cutting me off with his screams. Mostly: "Get out of my way!" and "Why won't you get out of my way?!" and "I'm trying to work HERE!" and "What, don't you understand? I am calm. What I don't get is WHY WON'T YOU GET OUT OF MY WAY SO THAT I CAN WORK?!?" In his defense, at this point, I was intentionally remaining in his way, although not really because my cart was truly quite dinky and he could have easily maneuvered around me. Here's the thing - I have something of a temper. I am very good at keeping it under wraps. But, these days, when losing a job is looming over head and school isn't starting off super well and so many other things, I find myself hoping every day for some kind of conflict that will allow me to inflict pain and suffering on another human being.

I chose to steady my hands, although what I wanted to do was push his cart down the aisle and throw all of his books onto the floor. Instead I walked away. Found his supervisor. She was basically of the mind that I've only been here since September and he's been here for years (assuming she had the right guy in mind, as I did not think to get his name as I did not think he would give it to me) and that was basically all she had to say. My queerfit wasn't strong enough. I think the combined queerfit of me and my boss (when I tell him today as he was gone yesterday) will force some kind of action.

Then when I arrived home there was an email from a guy I'd been corresponding with for about a week now. We had plans to get together this weekend. In the email, he thanks me, "Austin," for being thoughtful enough to call and cancel. I am not Austin, nor have I ever been. I emailed him back, asking him if he was doing a Blake Shelton impression or had the wrong guy. He emailed back that he didn't have the wrong guy, and that he was just impressed with me, Austin, because so many gaie guys just do not know how to be respectful and call if they are going to cancel for a date (sex). I responded to this saying that it is indeed a lacking trait in gaie men, thoughtfulness, but that I am still not Austin.

And then the crazy hit the fan. He emailed me back, "I thought you were called Austin, I am sorry darling! maybe it wasn't you that called me then? was it? someone called me to cancel plans with me? so if you are taking all this credit on behalf of someone else well then that's fucked up."

I replied: "1. Uhm, no, I am not Austin. 2. I did not call you. I do not even have your phone number. 3. We had no plans to cancel. 4. I think you must be crazy if you think I'm 'taking all this credit on behalf of someone else' and calling that 'fucked up' when through the course of all of these emails, the one thing that's remained constant is that I've insisted that I am not who you seem to think that I am."

His response: "ok bitch fuck you too lol."

My response: "Awesome. So now I can be quite certain that you are crazy and rest safely in the understanding that we won't be getting together on Saturday evening. See this as my being very thoughtful, much like Austin, and canceling on you. And with more than a few days notice --now that's classy.

Best of luck in all of your endeavours.

SWS2.1"

His response to this was no response at all as the email bounced back to me. Even though I'd only emailed him a matter of minutes later, he'd already blocked me.

And finally, the third of this day of one-acts, was receiving a series of emails from a very unattractive (but nicely muscled) man on a sex site disapproving of my stated sexual identity. Evidently, I am not a top. Nothing about me says top. In fact, he is sad for me because I am so clearly a bottom and how dare I have the audacity to proclaim otherwise? To be on here, looking to penetrate, when I all really want is a thick, hard cock driving through my anus like an elephant on parade? These are not the words he used. My words are significantly better. It suffices to say that, yet again yesterday, I was thrown.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 10:17.
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________________________

|Septimus Warren Smith 2.1|

I went to an Ivy League undergrad.
I go to a top NYC law school.
I date men (well...).
I live in Bed-Stuy.
I don't need more to say,
just more room to say it.
Etc.

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