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Monday April 6, 1998 6:00PM

Well, when I last checked the clock this morning, it was after 2:00AM and sleep still eluded me. I very nearly had an attack of the visitations, but I managed to divert my thoughts elsewhere.

Of course, 5:30 came an hour earlier than usual, and after less than three hours sleep. But good things were in store. Yep, it’s New Toothbrush Day! I retired the burgundy one I’d been using since the first week of January, closed my eyes and reached into the linen closet to select this quarter’s Oral-B. YES! The purple one! Wooo hooo! Well, things are a bit dull around here, so I’ve gotta make my own excitement.

The sun was still low in the sky as I slid in behind the silhouettes on I-490 East. Everyone had their visors down squinting against the sun while my retinas were sucking up photons like a starving man at a buffet. And despite leaving the apartment five minutes late, I arrived at work 15 minutes early. I have absolutely no clue as to how that happened. Must’ve been a time warp or something. Or maybe that’s the savings in Daylight Savings Time. Whatever.

So I hung out in the parking lot bathing in photons and whatever radiation causes cancer before heading inside. And the morning just got better and better. Upon arriving in the Data Center, I found they’d waxed the floor over the weekend! Wow! Things just don’t get much better than that, no sir-eee!

Well, now you can see why I’m doubly justified in taking an after-work nap. All that excitement on top of being sleep deprived. Good thing I have plenty of stamina. A lesser man would’ve been totally ga-ga by noon!

Tuesday April 7, 1998 9:00PM

Spent about 1½ hours last night chatting with Larry, Scott and daVinci. It was quite enjoyable, really, to chat with people you really only know through their journals and email. You could tell we’re used to, not hiding behind our words, but putting considerable thought into them. It makes for a somewhat stilted chat.

Ahh. A nice hot dinner, and the meds are starting to kick in. Slumber awaits!

Thursday April 9, 1998 11:45PM

I’ll probably not post this until tomorrow evening, I just have to get some things out of my head. As you may recall from last week, I’d had a reply to the ad I’d placed on gaypersonals.com last November. I’ve promised him I wouldn’t write the details of anything here, so I won’t. We were trying to get together tonight. I guess things just didn’t work out with his schedule and the holiday weekend and all. No matter. Always another time.

Friday April 10, 1998 10:30PM

Well I didn’t get to sleep after last night’s entry. As my mind wandered, I got to thinking about some of my favorite times sleeping. You know how you can remember a favorite dinner or vacation of something? All the details right there? I remember sleep that way too. I guess it comes from having a sleep disorder that I savor those times when everything goes right.

Compared to nights like those, sleeping alone is so unfulfilling. And you can see how remembering those nights, I kept myself awake last night.

Sunday April 12, 1998 4:00AM

Oh, good heavens. Where to begin? Pizza! Mmmm. Pizza and Willie tonight. He called earlier saying he couldn’t concentrate. Now considering he’s working on his thesis, it’s for the sake of the future that I had to oblige. After all, one needs to think of the big picture. Were it not for the student body, well . . .

He’s really something, you know? He’s always wondering if I feel he’s taking advantage of me. (Please, do!!!) No, I don’t quite think so. So the poor starving student shows up around six, we shared a pizza, which I’m just finishing now. Then, well, he still sees himself as a top. Thinks I’m too big. He certainly doesn’t mind a bit of rimming and ass-play. One of these days . . .

So, I’ve restored a bunch, (nearly a ½ gig!) of files looking for some of my favorite stuff to share. Found the things I was looking for, and then some. Look for it soon.

The purple party tonight at Muther’s was a real trip. I didn’t get there until around one. (Gee, how did that happen?) Ran into Vince-the-ex in the parking lot. He was getting some air. We went in and I was accosted by Michael-the-ex. Repeat performance of last Friday.

One of the precipitating events in our breakup was, of all things, a card party at his friend Julie’s apartment. Somehow, I wound up partnered with this straight cunt from hell, Kelly. She proceeded to rip me a new asshole over a game of euchre! (Like I have enough activity for original equipment one!) She was well beyond abusive to me, and I took offense. Sad to say, it put quite a damper on that party. Everyone thought I over-reacted.

So Michael was telling me that they all had another party last weekend, and don’t cha know, Kelly was equally abusive then? So Michael apologized for taking her side last November, since he had been the focus of her anger this past weekend. I guess I’m like the canary in a coal mine when it comes to people with a bad attitude.

Of course he’s telling me this as I’m trying to get a drink at he bar. The bartender passed me by because Michael had my attention when he (the bartender) came by where I was standing. This put me in a bit of a snit. I should’ve gone to Randy’s end of the bar right away. Oh well.

So the because of Easter, tonight’s theme was purple. They put purple bulbs in the lights outside and behind the bar. I wore my faded purple (nearly lilac) Bugle Boy shirt, black jeans, and just to complete the ensemble, my purple trimmed Nike Air-ratic hikers. Apparently, everyone else decided a theme was far to much to accommodate. Oh well, it was festive nonetheless.

I don’t remember there ever being a drag show at Muther’s. Aggie Dune was tonight’s "entertainment". Dressed in a purple gown, with a purple wig, she looked (by her own admission) like a big gay Barney, only with rhinestones. Shit, her earrings were like chandeliers, and the necklace had to be at least ten pounds.

I eventually found a place to stand where I could see the show. Okay, so it was the reflection of the show in the dance floor mirrors. I stood with Johnny on the steps where the old coat-check used to be and the new service bar will be. Actually, not a bad place to be. Except of course for the lesbian barback from hell. She was all in a snit because there were people standing where she had to walk. Since she’s such a fucking cunt, I just gave her shit back. After all, if it weren’t for we customers, she wouldn’t have a job now, would she?

I’ve never seen Muther’s so packed. The were out of glasses when I got there, so I got my cocktails in a 20oz plastic cup. Now plastic cups aren’t tres chic, but at the same $3.50 for Dewar’s and water, it’s quite a bargain. Especially when Randy pours!

I’ll have to admit, I liked Aggy’s show. She banters with the crowd between numbers, and just carries on like, well, a drag queen. She kept calling cute guys up onstage to show ‘em off too. At one point she called for any birthdays in the house. There were two. A guy from Syracuse turning 50, and a twink named Matt, who was twenty-something, I didn’t pay attention. So she’s got ‘em up on stage, made ‘em set their drinks down, turn around with their backs to the audience, and drop their pants. J

Now it didn’t go quite that easily, there was quite a bit of cajoling, both by Aggy and by the audience. And a couple of very red faces onstage. But (or is that butt?) it was fun, and neither guy seemed to be at a loss for new friends or dance partners for the rest of the night.

Back to the crowd. After the show when dancing resumed, the floor was so packed, everyone was restricted to vertical motion. Just a lot of bobbing up and down. There was no room for anything else. And the dance floor overflowed into the carpeted area by the DJ booth. Now part of this was because there were so many people. The other part was because the usual Saturday night DJ, Lenny, was sharing duties with the Wednesday night DJ, Damian.

Between being a working stiff, and not quite so resilient as I used to be, I’ve never gone to Muther’s during the week. I just may start going on Wednesdays. Damian is that good. I am kinda intimidated by Wednesdays though because it’s College Night, and they’re also open to the 18-20 crowd. It’s not that I’m intimidated by twinks, I just don’t want to be seen as only another Twink Hawk.

Anyway, I spent most of the night either on the dance floor or leaning against the DJ booth. Except for refills, I don’t think I walked around the place more than once or twice, and they kept the music going an hour longer than usual, ‘til 4:00.

I’ve gotta learn ASL, American Sign Language. There’s a fairly large group of guys who come in on Saturday nights from NTID at RIT,(National Technical Institute for the Deaf at the Rochester Institute of Technology.) And there’s one guy who is absolutely stunning. In my opinion, he’s the best looking guy I’ve ever seen in the bar. Maybe 5’-10", 160 lbs, gorgeous face, short sandy hair, beautifully defined arms, and always seems to really enjoy himself.

Well it was really warm in the bar last night and he (along with quite a few other guys,) had taken his shirt off. Oooo what a perfect back he has. And nicely defined pecs and abs too, nothing overdone. He had on the white RIT baseball cap he always wears, raspberry parachute pants and Nikes. When I wasn’t dancing myself, I was watching him and thinking about how nice it would be to give him great rubdown after his workout at the bar.

The deaf guys usually dance right in front of the set of speakers on the floor to the left of the DJ booth. And this past week, Muther’s moved the fog machine from the ceiling to the floor in that corner. Watching that boy dancing and laughing in the flashing colored lights as the swirling fog rose around him, was by far the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a good long time. I would not kick that man out of bed for eating crackers. In fact, if that’s what it takes, I’d buy stock in Nabisco! J

I need a cool down. Fast-forward to today.

My parents try to avoid scheduling conflicts with in-laws on the holidays by doing things differently. For instance, our Thanksgiving is held the Sunday before the holiday.

For Easter, our family has a brunch.  I managed to step in and save the scrambled eggs, but Dad burnt all the waffles and Mom burnt everything else.  (Did you know Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls make excellent hockey pucks?)

Their rule of thumb is that food's not cooked unless it's thoroughly charred and has no moisture whatsoever remaining.  But strangely, the coffee is served cold.  Of course growing up on such questionable cuisine has given we three boys cast-iron stomachs.

We had crystal clear skies, about 70 and almost no breeze.  I think I got a little too much sun on the ol' melon.  Feels like it's getting all dry, crinkly and prickly up there.  I'm still not used to this "no hair = wear hat" thing.

Yep, just checked.  I'm a redhead, but the (remaining) hair is still brown, if you know what I mean.  And the beak has a nice rosy glow too. I hope it doesn’t peel, it’s not pretty. It happened to me two years ago. I burned badly up there over 4^th of July weekend in Las Vegas. About a week later, huge patches of scalp rose up through my hair. Naturally this happened at work. In retrospect I should have gone home. I spent about an hour in the men’s room with a comb alternately loosening and combing-out silver dollar sized chunks. It might have been just coincidence, but my hair loss seemed to accelerate shortly after that.

Meanwhile, back in suburbia, things were breaking up by mid-afternoon. At first, I thought I’d come home, and grab my lawnchair, the diskman and sunblock, and head up to the roof. But it was such a nice day for a drive. And then I thought about calling Terry and Dale to see it they were home. Terry was, and I invited myself over. Except for a few weeks ago at Muther’s I hadn’t seen them since Terry’s dad died back in January.

The next choice was: Expressway, or scenic route? I’ll have to admit this was a tough one. I was already on the expressway and enjoying a lazy drive with the cruise control on. But I came to my senses and exited at East River Road. It’s a curvy double-yellow two-lane that starts at the southern end of the U of R campus, winds through the golf course at Genesee Valley Park, and hugs the river for a few miles until you’re out in the hills past the RIT campus. It’s a nice piece of rarely patrolled asphalt with dips and bends that really rewards hard driving. Not today. I set the cruise at a stately 38 miles per, and let the scenery unfold.

Terry and Dale bought a farmette, gosh, it’s gotta be over ten years ago. On the property is the "old house" which dates back to the 1820s, the "new house" built in the 1890s, a huge barn and several outbuildings. They’ve got a few cats, a couple of dozen chickens, three ducks, (Huey, Dewey and Louie) and a goat named, naturally, Billy. They’ve spent a fortune and a lot of sweat-equity restoring the new house. And since they, along with Terry’s mom, own an antique store, they’ve got the furniture an accessories to go with it. All this rural splendor just 15 miles, tops, from my concrete and steel high-rise.

Terry hurt his back yesterday moving furniture and tearing out the carpet at his mom’s house. She’s having new carpet put in tomorrow. Good thing too. I saw the old rug, still in the back of Terry’s pickup. It was that dreadful multi-toned brown stuff from the 70s. Good riddance.

So we chatted over coffee and ice cream for a while. This seemed to perk him up and we toured the grounds, and let Billy out of his pen for a little run around. The old house is in real poor shape. They’ve wanted to tear it down since they bought the place. But the landmark society got all in an uproar and wouldn’t let them do it. So it’s been ignored and used as a shed. Now it looks like it’ll collapse under it’s own weight after a good sneeze.

Terry was saying that once he gets his initiative back, he’s going to save and refurbish what he can of the timber frame and roof, and turn it into an open pavilion/pool house. I reminded him that he should have some accommodation for a poolboy. On the other hand, there’s four bedrooms in the new house. Maybe a poolboy/houseboy/farmhand.

We spent the rest of the afternoon drinking beers and surfing the satellite TV before settling on Val Kilmer in "The Saint". That man is a dream. Now I’ve got myself all in a lather again. I gotta post this and go to bed.