MORE THEY STAY...THE SAME?

Let's see...most naughty moment in my life lately?

Months ago, this guy moved into Hotel S. I remembered him as somewhat annoying, constantly grinning. He was also a violinist...I saw from the looking at his application. If I had to describe his look and mannerisms, Violinist Guy favored Scott Speedman and Speedman's character Ben Covington from the WB teen drama 'Felicity.'

Obviously, I was hooked.

There was a day recently when I had gotten out of work. Our routine was to meet up and hang out. Talk was usually on a lot of different things...but mostly sex.

I knocked on the door. The sound of running water was coming from the door. Naturally, I thought it was the sink. It wasn't until the water stopped and the door opened that I realized that the water was from THE SHOWERS.

So there in front of me was Violinist Guy in a damp tightly wrapped light green towel. He was still damp, his jaw ajar. Then it formed that smile that I knew so well. So...Scott Speedman.

"Hey," he said. "Didn't hear you. Come in."

So...I did. And we did what we usually did. Talked. Joked. Chatted. And...he stayed in the towel the whole time. I would expect him to get dressed in his bathroom, but no. So I grinned and bared wet hairy chest and bulge in my face.

"God, look at that," Violinist Guy exclaimed, looking down and grabbing himself through his towel. "That's me. Wanta touch it?"

"Uh..." was my muted reply.

Did I mention that Violinist Guy has claimed on numerous occasions that he's straight?

Yeah...a few days before my 29th birthday...and I still got funny little naughty moments like that.

Is that a good thing?

LOSS

It was obvious. Yeah, I blamed it on being busy with work. Or I blamed it on oversleeping. OR I blamed it on too busy with ALTERNATE SPIN. In any case, the truth was right there.

I hadn't done a column in months. And I sat down to think of an idea or theme, I came back with a blank mind. I also winded up with a blank page.

I actually could not think of anything. Why? Had I...after a decade of column writing...come to a point where I had talked about everything? Or worse...I had nothing of relevance to say?

I went about my day, the questions nagging me. I walked to the store and saw sexy guys all over the Gaslamp, making me think the days of multiple sexual misadventures are over. I sat in the computer lab next to some touchy feely high school couple, thinking that my days of edgy writing are behind me. I talked to a co-worker who revealed Rich's had a Wednesday night, revealing I was out of touch with gay culture.

I would work on my fiction and felt just as disconnected. there was an arc I planned for AS's current season...its sixth. And it's been pretty plot-driven. Except...I was a character-driven writer. I hadn't touched NAKED EYES in months scared I would wreck the ending...or not wanting to let go for the characters? So many ideas floated through my mind...and I could not construct anything.

Not only had I lost any relevance...but I lost my narrative voice.

Was old age turning me into...an idiot?

POINT

I read the article on Wikipedia. It was about the Reconstruction era of United States History. I t was fascinating. Most of the knowledge of history was pre-1865. I wanted to learn more about this ear since my latest AS story would deal with a world where the end of Reconstruction went down differently.

It had been a while since I studied history for an AS story. I used to do it regularly the first three seasons. And I wanted this world to be as realistic and plausible as possible. I wanted this story with underused character Rembrandt to have relevance.

Then it occurred to me. Relevance. That was the point of my columns. That was the point that I wanted to make with NAKED EYES which had at its center a main character escaping his past which has to do with a rape. I had a point. It wasn't just mindless jumble.

"Yeah," Violinist Guy said as he talked to one of his friends on his cell. "It's just Diego. Yeah...he's still here...he's here because he likes being around me."

I stared up at him, my sandwich half-eaten. My forehead frowned. Then...it relaxed.

Violinist Guy...was right. I did like hanging around with him. In a world full of blah and bs, it was nice to be able to run up to his room and for a little while just not think about it. It was just two guys doing nothing really, just enjoying each other's company. Knowing that there was a point...that we were relevant to each other at least.

NOW

I had unread Citybeats. I had unread gay magazines. There were several books on Taosim on my desk. A few horror debuts on it as well and Michael Laimo's latest. There was a book on why loners were the way they were and who are the famous ones there.

And I had every intention of reading all of them. Soon.

Right now. I had things I wanted to say. At 29, I was still relevant. Now it was just time to show it.

Diego


 

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