Hard Road Ahead

The election result as momentous as it is, is just the beginning.
I just hope the Dems don't fuck this all up.

Monica

(I will pretend that my friends actually read my blog on a regular basis.)
Monica! Call me whenever you get out of work.

(pre) Fall For Dance 2008

Waited on line to score some Fall For Dance tickets which went on sale at 11AM this morning. MB met me there around 7:30 and we spent the better part of the morning trading stories and gossip. There was a somewhat crazed, Jewish lady in front of us on the line and she became increasingly agitated by the lack of line progress as the clock crept towards and then past high noon. We finally, finally got the tickets after five hours of waiting and made our way down to Cafe Centosette to meet the rest of MB's crew for Sunday brunch. It was a somewhat hectic experience as our waitress seemed to be completely overwhelmed by our mere presence at the tables. But I did enjoy my 2 glasses of OJ and on the way back to the subway, KC and I bumped into Eric van der Woodsen in front of the Strand.

Sweatiest Ever

I was told by a friend that I was the "sweatiest [dude], ever".

This day included the following:
the MoMA
Ruby Tuesday in Times Square
Death Race (2008)
Private Dance Party
Pancakes

I also made a new friend along the way...

Pulse 87

The insomnia is back.
I found my old Walkman and turned on the radio. Stumbled upon WNYZ 87.7 while I was resetting the preset stations. It's a Rhythmic CHR station which basically means it plays dance club music. So now I can go deaf while I go loopy from lack of sleep. Yay.

So tonight's excitement, I met a bunch of dancers on my way home tonight. I was a little drunk as I walked my way back to Union Square after a PG-13 night on the town. I'd passed by several large herds of newbie NYU kids and I assumed the crew on the uptown BMT platform was the same. A W train pulled in and they seemed to be waiting for an N, so I told them to get on. We all boarded together and sat down, but an N train pulled into the express track, so we all changed over and got seats on the express. I was feeling chatty, so I started talking to my neighbor, Lindsey, and eventually was talking to the whole crew (Mandy, Laura, Francesco) about bad choreographers, poor turnout and the upcoming dance/performance season. My own performance on the ride back to Queens was apparently so impressive that the woman sitting across from me started smiling and talking to Laura even though she didn't know any of us. I overheard her say something like, "Only in New York can you have complete strangers blah blah on the train...", but right then the N pulled into my stop.
I believe in NY and I believe that NY believes in Sang. :)

Beijing 2008

It's been two weeks of nonstop Olympics viewing in my house.
And it was an exhilirating two weeks to be sure.
Now I have to go back to my normal life which seems diminished in comparison to the drama and the spectacle of the Olympics.
Everything seems a little less.
And it is.

Breath

So I have this problem, well, I don't know if it's actually a problem, more like a disconnect between my inner and outer lives. Of course, to even write or complain about this sort of thing is ridiculously self-involved, but the who the hell is reading this blog anyway? There aren't enough pics on this blog to warrant checking back on a regular basis (most of the pretty/party pics are in the NY Miscellany blog). The reason I mention this "problem" at all is that I happened to revisit my old Xanga blog, which was refreshingly frank compared to this one (also a somewhat painful walk down memory lane). I just wrote what I felt, no matter how puerile or paranoid or desperate. Not that I want to feel that way again, those were some shitty, shitty nights when I was writing back then, but it feels more real looking back on it now. And there were some moments of joy and hope. Most of the entries in this blog have been rather bloodless and clinical, not exactly in keeping with the title "Ich will dir mein Herze schenken". So on the eve of another half-birthday, I'll finally get around to what I should have done in the beginning - give you my heart.

Hosting Fatigue

I'm hosting potluck #50 later tonight. It might actually be #75 or #100. I've lost track over the past five years or so. We also hosted a ton of poker games before and during this recent string of dinner parties. I'd estimate that at least 200 different people have been over for our hospitality since I moved back to Sunnyside. And now I wish someone else (besides Audrey) would host a regular party already!!!

Best Tennis Match Ever

If you watched the Wimbledon Men's championship match between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal earlier today, you know what I'm talking about.

It's even better than the 1980 Borg / McEnroe final which I remember seeing as a kid (the one with the 18-16 tiebreak).

But don't just take my word for it, Caroline Cheese (the MBM commentator for the BBC said the following at the end of the match,

2128: As the darkness fast encloses Centre Court, I can just see two figures dressed in white, carrying vastly different silverware. Rafael Nadal has just ended Roger Federer's Wimbledon reign, and has he also replaced the Swiss master as the world's best player? A question for another day when we've all had a lie-down. If you missed this final, watch it on iPlayer, get the DVD, whatever. You must see it. It was possibly the best match we will see in our lifetimes. I feel like crying, so I'll stop twittering on and say bye bye from Wimbledon 2008.

ESPN Classic will be airing the entire epic match on Monday, 7pm, so go see it!!!

Origami USA Convention 2008

Hey everyone, here are my pics from the Origami USA Convention 2008.

More Ketchup Please

Sorry about the lack.
Lessee, in the past 40 days and 40 nights...
Bought 2 new pairs of running shoes for my marathon training with TNT.
Went to my last opera of the 2007-8 season (was the libretto really that terrible, yes).
Spent a parade-y afternoon with the Norwegians.
Saw Robert Downey Jr., Jack Black, & Ed Norton on the big screen.
Tasted Times Square.
Saw the Yanks beat the Blue Jays.
Won some money playing poker.
Hosted two potluck dinners (C-food & soccer themes).
Went to eight (nine?) other parties celebrating beginnings, anniversaries, and unhappy endings.
Continued my fourteen (14!!!) year streak of attending every Shakespeare in the Park performance (Hamlet, not everybody loved it).
And for the past two weeks I've been reveling in the soccer awesomeness that is Euro2008.
Hup Holland!

The Slip: Halo 27

Nine Inch Nails has a new album available for download off their site.

I remember the first time I saw Trent Reznor.
@ Webster Hall about 15 years ago.
I went with Jenny.
I was crazy about her.
I still have all those bootleg NIN cassettes she gave me.

Ko, finally

I finally ate at Momofuku Ko last night and now everyone can read about it too.

The Platonic Blow

The Platonic Blow
W. H. Auden

It was a spring day, a day for a lay, when the air
Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown;
Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there
On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.

I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined
A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged
Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind,
I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.

Our eyes met. I felt sick. My knees turned weak.
I couldn't move. I didn't know what to say.
In a blur I heard words, myself like a stranger speak
"Will you come to my room?" Then a husky voice, "O.K."

I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy
He told me his story. Present address: next door.
Half Polish, half Irish. The youngest. From Illinois.
Profession: mechanic. Name: Bud. Age: twenty-four.

He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along
The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck
The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong.
His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck.

And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.
I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh.
His reply was to move closer. I trembled, my heart
Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly.

I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there.
I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge
Of the basket I asked for. I came to warm flesh then to hair.
I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large.

He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way:
Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt.
And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away.
Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.

The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft
With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight
And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft
Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate

Singular powers of extension. For a second or two,
It lay there inert, then suddenly stirred in my hand,
Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do.
And then with a violent jerk began to expand.

By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick
Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.
Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick,
A royal column, ineffably solemn and wise.

I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze.
I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob.
I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees.
I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.

But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced
His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed
His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist
Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head.

I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown
Trunk against white shorts taut around small
Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down.
I tore off my clothes. He faced me, smiling. I saw all.

The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out
With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw
An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout
Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.

The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man,
A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth.
Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan
To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth.

Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs,
The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear,
Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs,
Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.

We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch,
All fact contact, the attack and the interlock
Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch
Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.

Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine
Person between and closed on it tight as I could.
The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine.
Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood.

I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.

Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips
Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.

I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit. I sniffed
The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist.

Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick,
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.

"Shall I rim you?" I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent.
Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass
To the dark parts behind. I kissed as I went
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse.

Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in
Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.

His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.

I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.

I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.

Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. "That's lovely!" he hoarsely said.
"Go on! Go on!" Very slowly I started to move.

Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base
Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down
In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace
Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.

Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come
As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls.
I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb
And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls.

I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered "Oh!"
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung.

Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock,
Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside.
The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.
He melted into what he felt. "O Jesus!" he cried.

Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick
Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat.
His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick,
His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.

Die Stille vor Bach

I saw The Silence Before Bach (Die Stille vor Bach) by myself at Two Boots Pioneer Theater on the last night of its run. It's Pere Portabella's latest work and though I feel like I've been waxing hyperbolic too often of late, the movie was an amazing fusion of music and film. I would say more, but this review on Not Coming to a Theater Near You captures the spirit of the film. That set piece on the U-bahn with all those kids playing the Prelude to Cello Suite #1 was my favorite, even more than all the snippets from the Goldberg Variations.

Jake Shimabukuro @ Highline Ballroom

I capped off my birthday weekend by attending a Jake Shimabukuro show at the Highline Ballroom. For those not in the know, Shimabukuro is an incredible ukelele player. He'll be appearing on Late Night with Conan O'Brien tonight. If you don't catch him you can check out this amazing rendition of George Harrison's While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

Macbeth @ BAM

Just back from watching a fantastic Macbeth @ BAM tonight. It was the 2nd time I've been to a fantastic performance at BAM in the past year. I should really go more often considering how easy it is to get there and back. There are still tickets available for the tail end of the run, so anyone out there that loves Shakespeare should boldly go.

12 Days of Ickness

I've been sick ever since the night of Die Walküre at the Met. The weather isn't helping any, but I'm determined to get some sleep and get better. This is the first time in years that I've actually gone to bed before midnight, more than two days in a row. I have a full week ahead of me, I hope it doesn't kill me.

18-1

The Giants won the Super Bowl.
There was much rejoicing.

New Year's Momentum

It's been a busy first two weeks of the year. I made a couple of resolutions or maybe 2.5. The standard one (I will lose some weight) and a more fun resolution (I will dance more). So far there's been some opera, bhangra, wii, a Feuerzangenbowle, dance, and a bon voyage. And that doesn't include the 6 parties (birthdays or just because we like to party) or 5, new to me, restaurants (Light Horse Tavern, Gradisca, Stand, LITM, & Native). It's only gonna get better.