Friday, July 29, 2005

|You just have to ask the right question.|

"Does anyone know what 'evaluation' means?"

Silence.

"Okay. Does anyone know what 'form' means?"

Their blank stares. My shocking realization.

"What does 'know' mean?"

Worst ESL session ever.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 10:43.
0 comments

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|The New Deal.|

So, after speaking with my most pragmatic friend about the new deal, the one person I expected to be wholly against it (she's mostly is), actually gave it the thumbs-up.

What's the new deal?

I'm going to change my flight dates, flying out of Paris to land in New York City (through Reykjavik, no less) the afternoon before school starts.

I'm going to stay in Jeanne's apartment for that two weeks, have an awesome New Year's Eve Party, and basically have nearly a month of vacation time in the City of Lights, which will be great since the last vacation-vacation I can recall (not including the three days I spent in Pennsylvania last winter) was London, four years ago.

I'm going to live happy because I expect the friends who might stay with me to buy me dinner during those two weeks.

I'm going to constantly second-guess this plan because it basically means losing $1800 (the $800 it will cost to have Jeanne's flat for two weeks, two more weeks of living expenses, and the fees for changing my flight [change fee plus the difference]; and the $1000 I won't be making by returning to the city and starting working).

That seems to make sense for the following reasons:

1) Both of my bosses will have left my job before I return, which means that my job may not still be there.
2) Returning, I'll have no place to live until school starts. I still do not know how I'm going to do that this summer, before I leave, and I definitely don't want to have live from couch-to-couch when I know I could have just slept in a bed all to myself in Paris.
3) If I have gotten into Yale, well, I'll need to celebrate. If I have only managed to get into [insert low Tier 1/lower than Tier 1 school here, but not naming names so as not to offend anyone], then I'll need to console myself.
4) I will still return with about $1600 in my pocket.
5) While I could make $1000 more by returning to the city, that would all be eaten up because even if I'm not staying in a hostel or something, but staying in friends' apartments (who hopefully aren't charging me anything), I would still have to eat out for almost every meal, and food is where things can become costly.

Sweet deal.



promulgated by SWS2.1 at 08:58.
0 comments

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Thursday, July 28, 2005

|Who wants it?|

Today was the day that I ran into people who can help me out.

First I ran into Spencer, who looks thinner each time I see him (bear in mind that he's still super hot and I don't think will ever lose his 8-pack abs) and has me concerned, who gave me advice about applying to law school and frightened me about taking the Bar (which he'd only just finished yesterday -- uh, should exams be more than a day long?).

And then I ran into Jeanne, a wonderfully cosmopolitan girl if I ever new one. I had been planning to talk to her because I knew she was studying IR at Sciences Po. When I ran into her, I blurted out that I was going to Paris and what did she immediately ask? "Do you want to stay in my apartment?"

She has an apartment in Paris (a good part, is what I got from her) that is simply sitting empty, and will do so until about March, when she goes returns (so it looks like we most likely won't be in PAris at the same time). It's only 500 euros a month. That's 120 less than what I'd be spending, but I have to live with a French family, per the rules of my program.

However, she will let me stay in the apartment for the month of January, or as long as I need to until I have to return to NYC for school and somehow I don't know that she would be opposed to my having friends there. I'll ask her about it, but when I mentioned the possibility of mentioning it to friends, she all but lit up (she's comfortable, but no one likes bleeding euros).

So... any of you kids who floated the idea of visiting me up for it?


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 11:38.
0 comments

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Wednesday, July 27, 2005

"darling i love you, but give me park avenue." - jivejournal, 08.11.2003

"i had intended my break to be much longer. i have not yet decided if this entry is but a passing fancy, or is my return.

but the institution of posterity demands that i make record of what transpired this evening for tonight... tonight!... august 10th, 2003 at just after 10pm i can say with certainty i officially became a new yorker.

the day started like any other sunday. got up. went to work at whole foods. got annoyed by stupid customers, muscular gaies, pretty gaies, coupled gaies, and people who insist on double-bagging their singular muffins. came home. looked for sex. finally had great hot animal sex, after something like two weeks or more without any success. went to josh's. watched sex and the city with josh, pisa, and pisa's two new roommates, kim and jennifer.

and then pisa got the brilliant idea to have the krispy kreme that josh is only blocks from deliver. the idea was pure genius. pisa's a genius. pisa lettibone, girl genius. but, oh! kk doesn't deliver after 8pm. but, they are still open, right? oh!, but they close at ten. legs and arms akimbo, shoes thrust onto feet, out the door, and onto the pavement. we were at kk by ten of ten.

before going in i warned everyone to be quick as they employees would not be happy with us. as they only want to go home. we got in. made our selections. and then josh says something like, 'so, you know, i heard that at the end of the night they put the rest of the donuts on the street. not in the trash, but next to it. if we'd gotten here just minutes later.' and then turns to the kk girl, 'do you guys just put them outside?' and she says that's the case. and then josh turns to us. and then craziness ensues. cut to two gaies a bi girl and two breeder girls waiting outside the kk for the clock to tick just past 10 o'clock pm for the donuts to come out.

would they just throw them out onto the street? would they take them out some back door? does it bother them that we are waiting like vultures for free eats? would they be launched from the roof only to land kaploop! on the windows of the health food store across the street? would the homeless or anarchists who'd been waiting all day for the donuts come strolling by at 10:06 only to find that the bags are full of trash, as we'd absconded with all the baked lardy goodnesses? would they be so kind as to put them in kk boxes?

and then they came. two bags. two mega giant hefty bags. one was trash. one was donuts. OMG. did we just wait five minutes outside a krispy kreme on the uppereast side for donuts placed on the street, by a middle-aged hispanic woman, in a hefty bag? big fat whopping yes. the woman was very kind to tell us which bag contained the pastry gold.

and i carried the bag. no offense to everyone else in the party, but i was obviously in better shape to haul a heavy hefty bag of assorted krispy kreme donuts three downtown blocks and two and a half crosstown blocks. i was very afraid to open the bag and see what was inside. while the bag never touched the ground after we left the kk, it did hit me now and then and i'm sure it hurt the donuts more than me. we got it home. we opened it up. it was like someone had vomited up donuts into a hefty bag and then threw the bag into a giant rock polisher. and then gave the bag to us. but, no, the donuts were largely intact, although flattened and icing mingling here and there. it was a very integrated bag -- very progressive deliciousness.

we ate our paid-for donuts. well, half of them. and then josh got bowls and plates and forks and a soup spoon (for yours truly), we turned on sex and the city on demand, sat back, and dug in. so gross. so delicious. so god awfully bizarre. and were we scheming how to get the donuts in a less destroyed manner next time? yes. did the term radio flyer come up (for the second time this night)? yes. did josh decide and we all agreed that this would make an excellent thing to bring to a party? yes.

and as the evening drew to a close, josh stole the most complete-looking donuts from the bag, we all took some for ourselves to take home, closed up the bag, stepped on the bag to feel the crazy squishiness, opened up the bag to observe the effects of our work, closed the bag one final time, dropped it down the trash shoot and left.

at the bus stop, i looked at my sad little bag of the donuts i'd decided to make off with. came to the conclusion that i just couldn't have another. started to knit. got on the bus that arrived. thought to myself, 'i could sure go for barely constituted krispy kreme right now,' looked to my side, and discovered that i'd left the bag sitting against the pole at the bus stop.

-- moogiesluvslave's lovechild"


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 17:16.
0 comments

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|Change in plans.|

Instead of re-posting golden posts, I'm going to repost up to (but not necessarily reaching) five posts that I think could be buffed and polished into fine essays -- the important thing being that I want to write something that bears almost no ressemblance to my "I'm the black kid with a heart of gold and a mind like a steel trap from the disadvantaged background who you should let into your law school" personal statement.

Just for fun I may throw in a sex post or two, and I will admit that I'm already leaning toward the Krispy Kreme incident.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 08:30.
0 comments

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Tuesday, July 26, 2005

|The sound of the other shoe falling.|

For months I have been under the impression that Yale Law does not require a Personal Statement. That it was optional. The application, in fact, says, "Many applicants include the personal statement they have prepared for other law school applications." I thought, "Brilliant!" Of course I was going to supply the optional essay, who wouldn't?

Then today I joined Lawschooldiscussion.org (it was really only a matter of time) and discovered after reading several posts that there is a required essay for Yale. I immediately went back to the application. Not more than a few lines above the optional option is "7. Write an essay of not more than 250 words about a subject of your choice."

How did I miss such a glaring requirement, you wonder? Months ago, when I madly searched through the PDF applications of every school I could fathom wanting to apply to, I "searched" for the words "personal" and "statement."

So now I need a second essay for Yale, on anything I want to write about. That's so many things. I'm tempted to turn a post into an essay, or turn in an essay post, but I feel like that might not be wise.

...


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 19:35.
0 comments

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|Misty, water-colored entries.|

Over the next few weeks, some posts will be re-posts of my favorite B.S.E. (that's "Before the Septimus Era") jivejournal entries.

So, sit back and hold on tight as we rock and roll and meander down memory information superhighway.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 12:39.
0 comments

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|The Sex Party|

In this summer of sexlessness that really became a summer of mostlybadorpatheticsporadicsexwheniwastooweaktowithstandmyurges, i came up with the brilliant idea to join an organized sex party. My reasons were polyfold:

a. Sex.
b. Lots of it.
c. Not having to go out and find it.
d. Not looking for it in the meantime because I knew it was coming.
e. Snacks.

And, several weeks later, I am returning from my first members only sex party. Bear in mind, I arrived to the party at 8pm, 6.5hrs ago. But the last 2.5hrs was hanging out with the golden people of the party at a local tex-mex-every-burger-under-the-sun-and-some-from-a-few-other-galaxies joint.

My lips feel raw, my ego feels stroked. With the exception of one hot guy who (and this is just heresay) was "not feeling the mix" who departed early, almost all of the guys there who I found to be hot were totally into me. In the cast of partiers, there was Pinchey McMuscle, the super muscular guy who was a big fan of grabbing my sidefat and, well, I can only assume he was trying to juice me; the Dynamic Duo (really, Tritastic Trio, but I can't include myself as having met myself), two great, very hot vers guys who were as mutually strangers to each other as I was to them who descended upon me like the alien ship of Princess Carolines for Jon Lovitz in "My Stepmother is an Alien"; Puppy, the loveable but overly interested and therefore highly unsexy guy who we all decided it was best to just ignore, who seemed to find being ignored very erotic and pleasuring; and a host of others who I'm too tired to name.

The best part of the evening came mid-coiti, after I'd fucked both members of the Dynamic Duo and gotten them both to cum (on the coattails of a drawn out discussion about how neither of them can get there quickly or easily -- although I guess you might not call what we did quick or easy), when the conversation invariably turned to online sexhunting and Dynamic Duo Blond reveals his screenname on a particular site. Of course. He had looked familiar... so familiar... he's one of innumerable guys to have given me the blow off.

I did my best to fight my natural instincts and say something about it -- I'd already made the mistake of letting it slip that I have a difficult time finding sex (which was met with typical incredulity), and I was not about to bring the party down with my depressing talk about gaies and hookups and shiz. And post-party gnoshing with the Dynamic Duo, the host and his boy did not make it any easier.

Honetly, how do you work into the conversation, "You know we've spoken before? Yeah, years ago, before you came to NYC. You were on gay.com scouting the lay of the gaie cyberland and we talked because you were going to be moving to Harlem. But when you finally arrived here you kept ignoring me online and being mean/argumentative on the off-chance you didn't ignore me until I finally stopped trying to talk to you altogether." There really is no good place to work that into a conversation.

But all-in-all, a truly marvey event. There were guys who I wasn't into, there were some guys who I was into who weren't into me, but there are few things I think brought the night down ::coughs::Puppy::.

And what have I learned (here comes a second list, this must be a really amazing post, right?):

i. Perhaps I'm just better (looking, seeming, sounding, etc.) in person.
ii. I haven't read enough books about or seen enough movies from the Golden Age of Hollywood to be the kind of gaie I would be if I were trying to be any kind of gaie at all.
iii. There are sex parties happening everywhere all of the time. Boy parties, straight parties, bi parties, parties of a different color -- all the time, and all in the same apartment.
iv. There may be a NYC teacher strike in the fall.
v. Carbonated beverages (soda, water, and even juice) may be used as a further tool in the fight for safer sex.
vi. Nothing should be taken too personally at a sex party.
vii. Hitler did meth.
viii. And, finally, someone somewhere needs to write a musical about a 13yo boy who works a horrible job in Hell's Kitchen in the 1940s to save up the money each week to buy a standing room ticket for the Metropolitan Opera and proceeds to give the old(er) men there head.

Now, for the big question: will I masturbate before going to bed?


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 02:30.
0 comments

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Thursday, July 21, 2005

|Time to be a bitch.|

While I was teaching ESL my brother called me and left a message -- my older brother -- the one to whom I have not spoken since June 2002 when he single handedly destroyed my summer as thanks for having lent him $3000. Yeah, that one.

Some uncle somewhere had a baby. I'm glad I was not there to receive the call, as I don't find this happy news. I cannot think of a single relative of mine who I would approve to raise a child right now, given financial factors, responsibility and maturity levels.

Rather than call him back to figure out who had what, I preferred to dig through old buddy lists for my younger brother's screenname and wait for him to come online.

Evidently I'm an uncle now, and it is the brother who called me, the least fit in my estimation to be a father (unless he's changed for the better in the past four years), who now has a baby daughter.

I really hope that he does not expect me to call him back.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 22:47.
0 comments

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|You've GOT to be KIDDING!|

Two RC passages later, and what's it on? Max Weber and Ideal Types.


*This is especially funny 'cause I had considered saying something like, "If there is a passage on the test on mtDNA, Weber, or 'Friends,' I'm gold."


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 17:06.
0 comments

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|Damned unfair.|

I've come to a few conclusions about myself and the LSAT.

1) I have to go faster. I've improved my ability to undertake difficult questions, but I have not improved my speed on the test overall.
2) If I can improve my speed (my accuracy on all the tests I've done so far being between 90 and 100% for the questions that I actually get to) then there is no reason why I should not achieve a really competitive score on the examination, barring unforeseen difficulties (i.e. dysentery, a bad batch of #2 lead, etc.).
3) I just took a Reading Comprehension section, trying to keep my time below 10min (although below 8.5min would be ideal). Time: 5 minutes.

That Reading Comp. section was on Mitochondrial DNA. I'd be ashamed if it took me more than 8 minutes to breeze through it, but damnitall if these very technical passages of the RC section don't give some students an advantage. 3 of the 6 questions did not even require my looking at the passage (but of course I did, for good measure).

Yay for me should there be a technical passage on the real test in October on Mitochondrial DNA, but blastitall if it's on particle physics or central nervous system functions.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 14:19.
0 comments

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Saturday, July 16, 2005

|It's official: the gaies have won.|

*lin: you know what I just saw?

Auto response from HowVery90s: freebasing white
noise
...
*lin: a commercial for a dating service
*lin: for gay men!
*lin: for the raleigh area!!
...
HowVery90s: that's awesome
HowVery90s: were the guys hot?
*lin: YES
HowVery90s: figures
HowVery90s: were they not wearing clothes?
HowVery90s: i mean, mostly not
HowVery90s: i assume they were wearing something
*lin: one sec
...
*lin: so they were fully dressed, like, nicely dressed
*lin: they looked like
*lin: or rather
*lin: dressed like
*lin: will on will and grace
*lin: and they looked like really good looking college boys
*lin: and it was weird
*lin: 'cause they didn't explicity say "gay" or anything
*lin: but there was something about the commercial that just felt different
*lin: the fact that only men were answering the phones and such seemed odd
*lin: since dating services seem to always advertise hot young women
*lin: then at the very end
*lin: one hottie opened the door to another hottie and they hugged
*lin: and I was like "OMG"
*lin: then I ran over to the comp and imed you

If the Carolinas have fallen, two of the most cherished of the rhinestone studs of the Bible Belt, the rest of the world cannot be far behind.


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

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|Another year, another Harry Potter|

And the half-blood prince is really Harry's father. You heard it here first, folks.

In other news, am I crazy or does Amazon.com own everyone?


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 03:07.
2 comments

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Sunday, July 10, 2005

|The Search Ends?|

Okay, so I've made my peace with the fact that I shall most likely not be able to afford an Acme anytime soon.

But how about this sci-fi-lining tricked out number against a dark blue background with pearl white accents?

Both my penis and my computer would be happy in this bag.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 00:18.
0 comments

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Saturday, July 09, 2005

|Odyssey of the Threads.|

So, I've spent the last hour trying to clean up my room and pack up shiz to give to my mother to take down to VA when she arrives in a few days -- stuff that I shouldn't see again until I arrive at my dorm at Yale for law school (no laughs, please).

And so, of course, my thoughts turned to Paris and la rue de Delambre, where I shall be living, and then my thoughts turned to having to carry my laptop around Paris. Somehow, when I gave Michelle my old laptop, I gave her my laptop case, as well. I've been carrying it around in my MTA messenger bag and it is wreaking havoc on the bags straps.

So, I need something new. Something stylish. Something hip. Something Acme Made. Only, heavens, these bags range from $140 to $170. But they are so beautiful I want to cry, only a single tear, and then swim in it (the tear, not the bag).

I am very glad people have to come to realize that chunky, black and nylon is over, but why does design have to come at the cost of cost? Can't a bag be designed from equally durable material as the old Tumi bags of the 20th century with 21st century style (which is really just a pastiche of latter 19th and early 20th century styles) and be under $40?

I have come across these Pinder bags, which may serve as an adequate substitute (slim, colorful, Jane without being plain), but having feasted my eyes on the Acme Made, can I really settle for Pinder? That's like choosing Healthy Choice over Cold Stone, Flushing over Park Slope, Cardozo over Cornell. It may be the more prudent choice, but what is prudent compared to matters of the heart and personal mode?

And why does the assumption seem to be that only women of means like bags that are slim, padded, stylish and colorful? Not that I think bags necessarily need to be gendered, but I admit that I would prefer to carry my laptop in a more "masculine" but still colorful and hip bag, that does not cost an exorbitant amount of money.

Oh, what is to become of me?


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 12:39.
0 comments

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Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Well, New York may get to keep me just that much longer. I was terribly afraid I would have to leave this monied isle in search of lesser pastures due to the hell that would have become this city in the event of winning the 2012 Olympic Games.

Yes, it would take me just that long to pack.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 08:33.
0 comments

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Tuesday, July 05, 2005

|A letter well proven.|

As many of you know, I've had a lot of trouble with gay men recently. I'm going to spell it that way in this post ("gay") so as not to diminish the weight of what I'm saying. In having so much trouble, I decided to remove myself as far from them as I could and still move about in this city. I even requested from my friends to not discuss gay things in my presence/to me. But after a couple of weeks of really going strong, my penis grew restless and I grew lax. But, here's the thing: whenever I decide I really no longer want to put up with the crap that gay men seem to enjoy putting me through, and decide to try and get out there and meet some of them (of course, by get out there I mean sit on my ass and type away at my keyboard), they only validate my reason for wanting to go into "seclusion." Anyway, so I really hope that I hit my wall last night -- yes, with only 10 days to Bastille Day I was stupidly looking for some kind of connection - sex, conversation, a date - despite knowing what the result would be. And the result was as predictable as always.

So, in an attempt to really flush out my anger, I wrote a letter. I was not going to post it here, because you all do not need to read this shiz. It was just the kind of angst-filled letter you might expect to hear over-voiced by some kid on an "My So Called Life" spin-off. I wrote it to myself, in my head, when I was taking a shower. But it hit me - I want someone to read this letter. I want my audience to read this letter. So, I posted it on Craigslist. When I awoke, in the morning, I had ten responses in my inbox. 8 of the 10 were very apologetic and sympathetic, 1 of the 10 was in full agreement and saddened by this general state of affairs (but I recognized the email address and description of his own life as someone who has, in fact, given me the treatment of which I speak -- so he definitely was not going to be getting a response). I did not respond to any of these, lest I fall into the trap again -- and because that would, I think, deter them from getting me. I was not posting this for a shoulder to cry on or as a means of still somehow getting laid -- I just wanted that, maybe, some guy out there realizes the sort of pain and anguish his actions, en masse, have caused and are causing constantly.

But one email, one response, I did respond to. Because it proved, to me, everything that I wrote in the letter, withouth me having actually stated what the letter was out to prove.

Here is my letter, in it's entirety (not one embarassing and just patently pathetic word cut out):

Post Title: "A Thankful Letter to the Gay Men of NYC - 23"

Dear Gay Men of New York City (and perhaps the rest of the world),

I just wanted to say thank you, 'cause you guys have been great. When I came to this city five years ago, I thought that I would make all of these gay friends and join these clubs and fight for our rights and meet a lot of nice guys and have sex and date and all kinds of fun craziness. But I was wrong -- very much mistaken -- and I realize that now. I also realize that you all knew that I was wrong all along. Because you knew that you didn't want me.

I'm a fit, musc black guy of average height and slightly above average intelligence and sensitivity -- but you don't want that, not any of it. It's taken me five long years to realize this (maybe my intelligence isn't so above average, is it ;-) ?), but I get it: You don't want me here.

And so I want to thank you for being so patient in teaching me this lesson -- and being so consistent. There are few traits I admire strongly in this world, and consistency to purpose and design is one of them. When I've gone to meetings, you've treated me like an untouchable. When I've said hi in chat rooms you've ignored me. When I've posted on Craigslist you haven't responded. When I look at you in trains you give me the stink eye and when I look at you in clubs you move to the other side of the floor. When I say hi to you at parties you turn the other way and when I ask you out from class or work you flatly turn me down. But, because you've been so intent on being absolutely sure that I get this message - some of you have actually agreed to go on dates or have sex with me. And, of fifteen or so dates obtained in the past three or four years, they've all stood me up. And the same for almost all of the sex, or turned me down when I arrived, even though I look just like if not better than my pics.

But, I digress. The point is that I get it. I get that you don't want me on the sidewalk, on the train, in class or work, on your computer screen, in your inbox, at the parade, in the bar, dancing in the club, or attending your meetings for our rights. And I accept it, now. I wish I were smarter and had realized this sometime ago. It would have saved you guys so much effort if there were one less guy to freeze out. Unfortunately, you'll still see me in restaurants, I have to eat; and at the gym, because being fit doesn't stop just because no guys are looking; and on the train, 'cause, well, I don't want to have a car in the city. But, rejoice -- I'll no longer be in the chat rooms or in the parks or at The Park or at Chelsea Piers falling down on my rollerblades.

You should be proud. You've managed to force yet one more decent guy out of your clan. I'm sorry it took me so long to remove myself. I hope the next class of guys aren't so thickheaded. Maybe in the future you'll be able to stop us right at the GWB -- god, what an idea.

Again, thank you so very much. It's been a long road, but I imagine we're all that much better for it.

Peace and Love,

Jason

P.S. - Also, thanks for getting me to clean up my place those late nights when I foolishly thought that you were actually coming over.

Here is that one response:

Gee... I cant imagine why any successful people who have busted their asses for decades here and built lives for themselves haven't just rushed to fall all over themselves for some 23 year old whose been here since he was 18, offering bitter sarcasm and blaming it all on race... .you're exactly who I want to invite to my parties!

And here is my response:

I received a lot of responses to that letter. I'm not responding to any of them because that would defeat the point of what I'm saying, with the exception of yours.

I said that I was black, I however did not blame my troubles on being black. I gave a physical description of myself to indicate that, for all intents and purposes, I do not fall out of the rigid physical criteria that gay men have setup. At least, not so far outside to receive the treatment that I do.

But, the fact that you chose to read my letter and only get that I am black and perceive that as why I think I'm treated the way that I am, even though, again, I only said that I was black and at no point offered a reason as to why gay men behave the way they do to me, only supports and strengthens my argument.

So, respond to this if you will, but I think that perhaps you're precisely one of the guys at whom my letter was aimed. So, as I said, thank you. It's funny that having given not a single theory or idea as to why guys are so mean to me, you focused on your own idea and ran with it.

And having no reason to go out of your way to be mean to me, you took the time to write me an email doing just that.

So, again, thank you so much for proving me absolutely right. I hope you had a great long weekend and enjoy the summer.

Jason

::sighs:: Wonders will not ever cease, will they?


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 08:10.
0 comments

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Sunday, July 03, 2005

|WotW.|

I will hold off on posting for a week, to make sure that I've given you ample time to see it.

For now I'll say this: Intense.


promulgated by SWS2.1 at 03:20.
0 comments

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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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