My friend James wants to go drink margs at Cafe Noche. I hope they come in plastic buckets.

Had a call from PJ's employer this afternoon - he never picked up his bus ticket. Can I move my home and my office by tomorrow morning? Will it matter? 'Cause I ain't opening the door, and I ain't answering the phone.

Talked today (electronically) with a nice boy in the Gaza Strip. That was certainly interesting. He's interesting. Totally closeted, of course. Lives with a family of 10 plus his mom and dad.

The new state security force is probably tracking that I'm conversing with a gay art student in the Gaza Strip, and they're watching my movements.

Had a wonderful dinner with my friend James. Gave him a Visor for Christmas - he's loving playing with it. I think I monopolized the conversation talking about the theater - I'm still so identified with that theater that my name comes up on a google search associated with it.

Okay, time for some sleep. Wish me luck. Until tomorrow .. and "Star Trek - Nemesis!"

Ten shopping days -

Today has been irritating in the extreme - my MFC keeps printing incoming faxes over the top of jobs I'm trying to print; it's favorite is to print an incoming fax over the top of a page of postage labels that I've loaded, which then causes the MFC to print Express Mail postage on a black piece of paper.

Relocking loans, resubmitting loans, and trying to prioritize things by the number of days left in the month (ten - see above) before their anticipated closing dates. Watching my loan officer sulk because I'm not dropping everything to work on HIS file (note - file. Singular. One) which doesn't close until after January 12. Hello - it can wait.

Seeing David for lunch. He's my married buddy, who's so cool, but can't hang out after work because .. he's married.

Argh. Just so frustrated today. Not sure why.

Definitive word that says nothing -

Much like Trent Lott's apologies for his racist affirmations, the Medical Examiner's pronouncements on the cause of Johnny's death tell us little if anything:

"Acute Hepatic Failure with Cirrhosis due to Hepatitis B Virus Infection and Chronic Alcoholism, Associated with Myocarditis"

So, he died of a heart attack brought on by acute liver failure. Okay, like we didn't know that already.

The only news here is that he had Hep B. The part about alcoholism is assumed, and the phrasing should make that clear.

Time to vacuum and then go to work.

Hola chicas.

Today, today, today, today. Rain. More loan applications. Took a loan application from some very good friends; I've refinanced their house before. I just wonder what this is going to accomplish for them.

They're so set on doing this, and at the same time I have a couple who I can take from a 30 to a 15 year loan, keeping their payment the same, and they're resisting. Cutting 11 years off their mortgage? And keeping everything status quo ante? Sounds like a deal to me!

It's just all bass-ackwards.

Plus, I got a contract in today that needs to close by Christmas? The title work and the appraisal won't be done by the closing date set in the contract. What are people thinking?

It's just all something.

Spent part of my first PJ-free day chatting online with this really sweet guy from Poznan, Poland. He's just fun to talk to. He and a girlfriend are planning on traveling to the US for six months to study. He said it was -10 there in Poznan; about 0 degrees to those of us from the land of arrogance. He's freezing, and thinks that living in the sub-tropics sounds great.

I'm resolving to make this apartment mine for at least a good long while yet - I'm here through December, 2003, and so I'm thinking it's time to make some things more workable. I'm going to have more shelves put in the laundry room, have the speaker wires run behind the walls, have the sheet rock repaired, and the living room, dining room and kitchen repainted. Found a guy today who came by; offered to do the work for $300. Uh - scary?

I'll figure out some way to have it done, anyway. I'd REALLY love to rip up the carpeting, and put down some sort of dog-proof floor covering. Which, if I'm going to stay here, I may consider. Carpeting is so conventional, but these two dogs track in dirt like they're farm tractors. Not to mention the inevitable random puking, etc., etc., etc.

Kurtis and David - the penultimate gay couple - have their house in beautiful shades of taupe and beige with gorgeous tile floors. I don't think their dogs evacuate. Their house is always clean like .. I don't know .. the maid is scared to death of Leona Helmsley. But THEY HAVE NO MAID! They do it all themselves.

How does this happen? They both work. They have a yard, two dogs .. but .. it's always Better Fags & Gardens over there.

Plus, they both work out and have a social life.

Makes me wonder if they're space aliens or something. Or if I'm just lazy (which, if you were to follow my dad's line of reasoning, I probably am) My sister thinks I'm addicted to the internet. Which probably has some validity, too.

BUT I HAVE SOMEONE WHO I PAY TO CLEAN MY HOUSE. Every week. He grooms the dogs, too.

And still it looks like wreckage to me in here. Of course, today was house cleaning day, and he had to cancel.

Headed to Richard's for dinner tonight - Rick (the partner) wants to ask me some questions about my brief stint at The Alexander Group - how they researched, how they presented, etc.

Haven't heard from James today - before Thanksgiving - we talked EVERY day. After Thanksgiving - nearly zippo. I'll have to hunt him down.

Plus, he's my exercise buddy - and I need to get back on the track with him.

Well, it's time to get some sleep.

Ding, Dong .. you know the rest

All night, I've felt like popping in "The Wizard of Oz." I felt like one of the Munchkins.

I got home from my appointment at 9:00, and PJ was packed (using two of my kitchen trash bags. How high class is THAT) and I popped him in the Riv for the 25 mile ride to his mother's house. I was gracious - I didn't tell him that his new job was basically a scam, and that he was going to hate it. I also slowed down enough that he could get out of the car without tripping or dropping anything.) The whole ride home, I was grinning.

What was I thinking?

So, since Thursday, I have ejected PJ, Matthew, Jason (remember? The one "stuck" in Kansas City) and .. who else? The boi count is SERIOUSLY down here at the Casita de Divo for Wayward and Homeless bois.

Yes, it's a whacky, worthless clearance sale on bois!

Well - staying in for the weekend, which means that I get to watch "Nemesis" with my friend Mikey - the guy who fixed my computer last weekend. I also get to avoid seeing Al Aparicio, and Pablo the male dancer - more on that soon.

There is a God.

PJ got a job today with a company that sells magazines door to door. He leaves tonight.

He's left me his Camel tschotke collection to sell on eBay; he has a Palm IIIC that he has decided to keep.

Why, I don't know. It's the only thing he has that's worth anything, is probably why.

And out of the closet they run -

About a year ago, I ran into this great guy online - Mike - GREAT guy. Funny. Smart. I don't even remember how I came to be talking to him. But, we spent WEEKS talking. He made me laugh over and over again. One of the things he told me from the start that was he WASN'T gay, and wasn't interested, he was always being confused for being gay. Of course, he "didn't have problems with gay people."

"My sister had a cousin went to school with someone who's gay." Kiss Me Guido, 1998.

After a while of talking to him, he told me that he had been wondering about gay sex. A few days later, he said that he felt really comfortable with me, and would I please "introduce" him to the thing.

Well, this guy is damned handsome .. what can I say?

After a few times together, he told me that he had found a girlfriend, was no longer going to be able to talk to me, as it was too distracting, and that he found the whole idea of a male relationship repulsive.

Okay, well .. Godspeed then, right?

Over the last 18 months, I've heard from him from time to time. A few months ago, he got laid off (along with most of the IT people in Southeast Texas) and shortly thereafter, his girlfriend .. had a meltdown? Showed her true personality? Dumped him.

This, the woman that he said he was going to marry.

Over these last few months, I would wake up in the morning and find a very early morning, overnight "I wish you were up and online" message from him.

These messages were more lascivious than my portrayal, but I'm trying to be discrete.

The last of these messages was just a few weeks ago.

So, today, I'm working away (sort of) and he sends me a message. Yes, he's horny, BUT - now he needs a place to live.

Can you see me shaking my head?

Talking to PJ - he's the "temporary house guest" at the Casita de Divo.

He just asked me why I wasn't buying him cigarettes and beer.

Here's our conversation -

east75644: whats a guy gotta do to get some brew and smokes
DrDivo: you mean
DrDivo: out of me?
east75644: besides get a job
east75644: because im already tryin to get a job
east75644: ?
DrDivo: So, you're saying, room, board, pick-up service, laundry facilites, smoke AND booze?
east75644: oh god the debt is piling up
DrDivo: how did I get to be so priviliged
east75644: ok room and board is anulled because im fun to be around, pick up service is anulled because you want to be around me laundry facilities are anulled because you dont want me to stink up your place and the smokes keep me from going crazy and the booze makes it all worth while
east75644: whew
DrDivo: uh-huh
DrDivo: I think that needs to be bogged
east75644: bogged?
DrDivo: yeah
east75644: whats 'at meen
DrDivo: for me to know and you to figure out

Eddie.

Today, I brought my little black book (of poetry) and put in the poem about Eddie. That's the one that starts off "Delta - Houston Hobby Airport"

Eddie and I had quite the email relationship back in 1998. When it came time for me to bring him down here, I choked. Well, for one thing, it would have cost me more money than I was comfortable with - and I just didn't trust.

Ah, well. Trust.

I haven't had Eddie's picture around for a long time. A few months ago, after Johnny died, I pulled out the diskette that had all of Eddie's emails on it, and re-read them.

Eddie - who then was about 23 - said he worked for the Toronto Raptors (that's the basketball team, right?) as a trainer. And then, there was that picture. Oh, my.

This lad - who has the same picture - claims to be 23. Has space and time abated? He also claims to be "straight." I guess one should make some allowances.

And maybe my trust wasn't so misplaced after all.



face-pic.com profile for visually_addictive

I have often questioned falling in love
I have derided it
I have intellectualized it
I have rejected it
I have rationalized it

For every time I have given my heart
to a beautiful young man
with a dazzling smile
and a sparkling personality

With whom I have shared moments
So Intimate
So loving
So delicious

Each time I have lost my heart -
He wasn't ready
He was unsure I was the one
He was not on the other side of my love

And I have ached
with longing
and with disappointment

I have been sure it would
have worked

If only I had been enough.

More.

If have often questioned falling in love.

Yet
I always do

For God has an endless supply
of beautiful young men.

August 18, 1998

Expectations

Expectations are a way of living
In a future reality

When one ceases to live in the
Present

One is always open to
Disappointment
Discouragement
Disassociation

After spending time in
Expectations
One ceases to try to succeed
in Reality

Because the state of disappointment
becomes Reality

Expectations
Are a double edged sword

Expectations embody both
the best of what we dream
and the worst of what we fear

All at the same time

September 23, 1998

Flight 1045
Delta
Houston Hobby airport
Dreams that might have been
Dreams that may never be

He said everything I ever prayed for
Every danger sign was there

Faith is required
Trust could be a grave error

What to do?

July 15, 1999

Lineman -

I am a lineman.

My life is defined by lines. Limited by lines. Operated inside of lines.
I was trained that one could not ride this ride if one was not taller than the line.
If you don't measure up to the line, you cannot even board the ride.

Some of my lines are imposed upon me. Some I have painted myself.
Some lines are comfortable. Some lines are infuriating. Some lines are unfair.
Some lines have no explanation. Some lines belong to other people, but affect me anyway.

My line collection includes:
The college educated line
The over 40 line
The out of shape line
The lawyer line.

Many of my lines are my own private lines. My lines are set by me, measured by me and operated by me without input from other people.

Over the last months, I have moved back and forth across some lines. Some lines have been moved without me being told. Some lines that I thought I had painted over are still there. Line movement is unfair, as it requires you to be remeasured; especially when you have finally been able to ride the ride.

God has no lines.

Sometimes, I feel that I can move around without the lines.

I do know that I need better paint to paint out the lines that I no longer want to stand behind.

November, 2002

Bumper Cars - May, 2001

Having a new boyfriend
is a lot like bumper cars

Both are shiny and fun looking

You spend a lot of time
struggling for position

Both are so attracted that they
nuzzle up and keep coming back
to each other

Every so often, they bump too hard
And run away from each other

To win the game, they have to learn
each other's movements

They have to learn to keep their sides together at all times

They have to coordinate their motions and work together

To bump all the other players away

Most players at bumper cars
Give up after only one try.

My friend James was this morning writing me that he had a chance to take a free class on poetry writing; he was confronted by it .. I realized that I had never shown him any of the poetry that I have written. So, I thought I'd just post/paste some of it here.

I have two on my hard drive; the others I'll have to transcribe later today.

Ah, another morning - rich, dark, steamy coffee and reading the news (what they tell us of it anyway) while thinking about the day ahead.

Today, it's all about credit reports. I have clients for whom I have promised improvement in their credit, and today I hav to pull out the magic wand and wave it over their respective credit histories. It's not hard work, it's just close detail work - looking for clear inaccuracies and inconsistencies, and getting things phrased in such a way that a credit bureau clerk will find them compelling.

Mixed reviews on my opening blog salvos - my friend James (who's an inveterate on-line journalist) LOVED it, and wants to be my blog fan. Whoo hoo! My first regular reader. My very dear friend Larry was a bit overwhelmed by it all. I think he was still rattled by the nudie pictures of crowds at a German clothing store that I sent to him yesterday -

Off to work I go (after a suitable make-ready period) to accomplish more financial miracles.

Why is it that we're all that and a plate of cheese to someone who holds no interest for us, and yet, we can never find someone to be interested in who feels like the heavens have wept, the clouds have parted and the angels sung that we are interested in them?

Today, I had two emails - one from a very nice and successful man in Italy who told me I was his dream man. Uh - the LAST time someone told me that, he turned out to be a crackhead who loved old, fat men who were married and had enough money to keep him in baggies and cocktails without his actually having to work. And that was shortly after Clinton's re-election.

Another from a fine gentleman in the UK - who was just wanting to send a friendly note.

Mind you, neither of these boys would have garnered my interest except as a conversational partner over a few cocktails while remaining fully dressed and at arms' length.

Why is it that my heart beats pitta-pat for a married guy who's totally non-potential? Or does it? Actually, after my boyfriend up and died on me back on August 11 (Hmm .. I need to write his mother, I haven't heard from her in weeks) I was questioning whether I had felt anything for him at all. He didn't make my heart race, but he sure was wonderful to be with. I miss him. I was missing him earlier today. He was a companion; someone who had found the person he could safely be with, who he could be open with, and with whom he could start making some plans for a new life.

And then - ka-whammo. He's gone, replaced by the detritus of eleven EMT technicians, two doctors and a fire department captain in my living room, as they rolled him out with the bedsheet from my bed.

I still haven't replaced that (note to self.)

Yes, he was handsome, and he was flirtatious, and funny, and wonderful to be with. I slept so soundly when he was here - just like the dead. I never heard him when he got up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, chatting on the internet until near dawn. He was an amazing chef, and could be so fussy, and so particular about everything from bruschetta to reduced wine sauce for ice cream.

I gained twenty pounds while I was with him.

It's almost gone. All that's left of him is his cowboy hat, this little tschotke that he gave me the week before he died, and a picture of him in a frame. And eight more pounds.

I put out the Christmas ornaments over the weekend. I hadn't decorated for Christmas in years; always writing it off to a lack of space, or a lack of time, or a lack of anyone to care. It was probably a matter of having the family drama come to a complete and final end about the time that I moved into this apartment in 1998. This was to be the first Christmas that I (we) was going to go all out; buy a tree, put up lights outside, play Christmas music .. the works. Johnny (that's the boyfriend) loved Christmas, he said, and he was talking about what all we were going to do to make our first Christmas together special.

I didnt even get a first Labor Day weekend, let alone a Christmas.

But, I digress.

Is this why I'm fascinated with bois who want money, boys who have girlfriends and wives, and perfect men who live in another time zone, in another climate, in another country?

The political climate here (in the US) is getting very scary. The replublican leadership is talking openly and wistfully of segregation, and the mainstream press (and the Democrats, who deserve to die a political death for being inept, incompetant and unable to focus on anything but bringing in enough money to be re-elected) says NOTHING. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Here in Texas, the state sodomy law (which applies only to same sex match-ups; opposite sex wrestling matches being apparently sanctioned by the church and the lege) is clearly going to be overturned by the Supremes sitting on high in DC. The Governor has said publicly and on the record that the sodomy prohibitions criminalizing same-sex behavior was "appropriate."

To quote the Texas Tourism Bureau, "Texas - It's like a whole 'nother country."

Try "Nigeria" We have oil, we spend little or no money on public infrastructure, and the churches and political leaders build piles of stones with which to smite anyone who colors outside the lines.

Okay, now I have myself worked down into a state where I should just go to bed. I'm sure they can't arrest me for that. Yet.

Has anyone else noticed a disturbing similarity between events in the US over the last two years and the events in Germany between 1933 and 1935? The establishment of a new, unified internal security structure? The establishment of a new "military" legal system in which even US citizens who are declared to be "combatants" (so far) can be prosecuted without having counsel, a jury, or open proceedings? The establishment of holding camps for undesireables who are not charged with any specific offense?

Ah, blog beginnings.

Men, chocolate and coffee. These things are best when rich.

It's cold tonight in Houston, Harris County, By God, Texas. (a plug for the local tourism bureau - "you're gonna love this city") I'm not used to near freezing temperatures, even if I still have some winter garments that keep me warm. Made spaghetti tonight (it's easy and you can look like a miracle worker) and about to walk the mutts.

This is the time of year when NO ONE WORKS. In my business, nearly everyone is on straight comission, which means, of course, if you don't produce, you don't eat. However, every year, the elements necessarily to obtain a closing get slower and slower from mid-November onward until about December 10 - everything comes to a dead stop. By January 15, everyone will be whining that things are so slow and that income is cut back, but if they'd just work December like it was any other month, we wouldn't all suffer through this.

But, I digress.

Boi news for today, December 9, 2002 - my sweet friend in Frankfurt is going to be in the Caribbean in mid-January, and asked me to meet him there. What a lovely idea! However, I can't decide which is worse - the fact that the best airfare there is over $700, or the fact that I can't earn OnePass miles doing it.

I step aside from news of bois for a moment to do some serious whining. Last year (2001) I attained Platinum Elite OnePass - which is sort of like the booby prize for flying a whole lot. It doesn't get you much; just near guaranteed first class upgrades, and early boarding. I've been Elite OnePass since 1998; but last year - Platinum - the Holy Grail of traveling. This year (2002) I haven't been on a Continental flight all damned year - so, come midnight December 31st, I convert to a sheep. A cow. A regular passenger with no priviliges and no fancy card to wave or to swipe through the automated check-in machine.

Again with the nested forks.

So, to go meet my wonderful, handsome, charming friend in the Caribbean? Or do I do something more reasonable, like pay off my credit cards, or work on paying off my car?

Boi #2 for the day is my ongoing rehabilitation project PJ. Just before Thanksgiving, he was living with his grandmother up in East Texas, and I helped him out with some money, a bus ticket home, and so on. I had thought that his recent experiences has humbled his party attitude enough that he could be trustworthy. However, the Sunday beforeThanksgiving, I was trolling for a dog sitter ( he had promised to stay at my place and watch the dogs ) at 8:00 at night, as he hadn't called, hadn't contacted me, nothing.

So, two weeks have gone by with me hurling epithets his way whenever he contacted me (which happened as I was sitting on an airplane at the St. Louis airport) Yesterday, he called over and over and over - seems his mother's boyfriend had thrown him out of the house, and he was standing at a pay phone at a Kroger store. After an hour of yelling, recriminations and blistering commentary (all on my part) I relented and picked him up.

So, he's been here since yesterday. He's been very subdued. I'm not sure how long this will last, but it is here for the time being.

Boi #3 today is Jason, who's a traveling "bisexual" "masseur" I've been talking to him on the phone about a week now, and he's just disarmingly charming. Yesterday, he was driving his girlfriend to Nebraska, to deposit her with her mother, and head back here to Bagdad on the Bayou to make some cash. I have offered to (after meeting him and determining whether he was on the up and up or not) to let him stay at the casita de divo for wayward boys a day or so, and today was the highly predictable cash call from Kansas City. He only wanted $80 of so, and promised to pay me back as soon as he returned to Houston.

Of course, there was the highly predictable hint of car trouble, which could delay his return. Why do I even take these phone calls?

Started talking over the weekend to Bart in Portland, who's a smart, pleasant, handsome man - and Calvin in British Columbia, who's a self-described lesbian. Damn, I can understand why he calls himself that - he's so witty, such a good conversationalist, so damned handsome that I have nearly checked out the pricing on a U-haul to north of Vancouver without yet having met him. He's flirtatious as he could be, which just SENDS me. It's not fair.

Only ten more hours before I can brew up some incredible coffee and sit here before the computer thinking about my day. Almost reason enough to go to bed.

Talked to my favorite married guy today - David - he's so sweet, so fun and so handsome - why the heck is he married? It's just not fair. At least we have this great business day friendship that keeps me on my mettle from 9 to 5:30. And, I called the guy I met last Sunday a week - Curtis - he is so butch and manly - plays so hard to get, but tonight he asked me if I could set him up with a number of guys who would meet he and I over at my place to do him.

What is this with these bisexual and "straight" men that they want to be the center of attention for a bunch of stiff meat? It's like they go from first experience to wanting to be tied to the bed in six days - in the first instance, there is NO prize category for my level of achievement (my level is now "Family Value threat") and is it unreasonable to expect a guy like me to be able to make a successful home business of satisfying these "straight" guys' sexual fantasies? Hell, I just watched a program last night on HBO that showed these blond bimbos making $500 to $1000 an hour for doing less! All I need is a steady stream of topmen who are certified clean and sober. Maybe it's something to look into for the new year.

I already am set up to take Visa and MasterCard.