HAPPY NEW YEAR

Well, a new year is upon us.

Time to make a few resolutions and changes.

For starters, no more married men for me - nothing but trouble. Exciting, yes, but stable, no. I think this year I will stick to men who are single and openly gay.

Next, I'm going to try to make a new set of friends. The problem in Manhattan is that its population is very transient; and in 2007 I lost many friends to the West Coast and other worldly ports. Of course, "friends" are a dime a dozen on the island of lost souls, but I'm looking for a new "smart set" to hang out with.

I'm also going to attempt to date again. I mean, it's been five years since my partner died from bladder cancer, so I guess it's time, right? It's hard watching the love-of-your-life waste away in front of your eyes - and I don't think you ever get over it. Last week, while I was in recovery from a minor operation, I kept insisting to anyone who would listen that "Denny was coming to get me", so I guess it's something I live with even in my Ativaned subconscious.

Well, this year I'm going to try to let another man love me - and not just in the biblical sense.

Wish me luck.

SPORTS FANS

You know what I don't get?

Televised sports and the millions of dollars that are paid to the athletes.

Oh, I know what you're thinking: What do I know? I'm a big queen who would rather dance around my apartment to the soundtrack of "Dreamgirls" than watch sports.

Probably true.

However, I just don't understand what is so great about watching other men/women tossing a ball around. I mean, I could understand if you were actually playing the sport, but to sit and watch and cheer from a sofa?

I don't get it.

I should also point out that most professional athletes are dumb as rocks, seldom vote, and if they do vote, it's Republican. Furthermore, when questioned as a group, very few even knew about global warming. I mean, how could they know about global warming when the majority of them drive Hummers. And I won't even go into all the sex scandals, rapes and drugs these athletes get involved in. Oh, did I mention they make millions of dollars a year?

As I said, I just don't get it.

SUPERSTAR

I love this great quote from Andy Warhol superstar Brigid Berlin.

"My mother wanted me to be a slim, respectable socialite. Instead I became an overweight troublemaker."

ONLY IN NYC

I found this little tidbit while I was cruising the men for men on Craigslist - I think it's hilarious.

i have an STD but wanna get blown anyway. (serious) - 27

Reply to: pers-515403676@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-12-20, 3:33PM EST


i know this is irresponsible of me but i don't care.
I have had a burning when i piss, a little bit of discharge, etc. It seems like a textbook case of the clap.
my doctor is on vacation until after christmas so i can't do anything about it until then.

the obvious, adult thing to do would be quit screwing around.

but i am one horny beast right now. jacking aint cutting it.

so if you wanna get with a 27 year old, 6'1" 170lbs athlete with good abs, tight ass, and thick cock. . . get in touch.
Of course i'll wear a condom.
and its syph. . its curable.

pics for trade

serious only. . . and don't preach to me. i could just keep my trap shut about all this but i'm being up front. so don't preach to me.

PARTIES

It's high season for parties in Manhattan - and I'm not missing a single one.

Last night, I attended the one-year anniversary of the Rapture Cafe - a decadent and divine coffee shop on Avenue A. Of course, all the hipsters and dragsters were out, but it was the stage show that was truly amazing. Many clubbers got up to talk and sing, but the highlight was most definitely the stripping rabbi with the eight-inch shlong and prosthetic tits.

Yes, only in New York City, kids.

SICKO

OK, we all know the health care system in America sucks, but I've never experienced it first hand - until now.

My mother - a senior citizen - had an operation this past week and was sent home within 2 hours of the procedure. I mean, she looked like death warmed over.

Once home, she moaned and groaned for three days.

My parents have excellent health insurance and this is the treatment they received.

God help the rest of us.

LOOKING FOR MR. GAYBAR

It's a colder than normal in Manhattan. I mean, it's mittens and scarf weather. I had just come from a painfully dull straight person party - all wrinkly faces and bad clothing choices. I couldn't wait to leave. Once home, with the cold winds blowing against my cheap rent stabilized windows, I began to feel lonely - and horny.

It was too cold to go out looking for love, so I turned to the Internet; and within minutes, I had found a trick.

The man that showed up at my door was beautiful, but when he opened his mouth, Fran "The Nanny" Dreiser came dancing out.

"I'm just a queen from Queens," he laughed in a nasal voice when I inquired his origins.

OK, I strategized as I looked at his muscles and cute dimples, let's get this over with as quick as possible and with little or no talking. With my mouth clamped over his, I led him into the bedroom. Once undressed, his Internet pictures did not lie - his body was rock hard with a bubbled ass and a dick that was both gargantuan and beautifully shaped.

Things were going as scheduled until he questioned the music in the background.

"Is that Dusty Springfield," he squeeled.

"Yes," I said running my hand over his lips trying to get him back into the moment.

"I have her greatest hits," he said. "But she isn't one of my big three - Cher, Elton and Whitney. Oh, I just love those three. I used to love Barbra Streisand, but she didn't answer the fan letter I wrote to her last year."

OK, the sex was over. I had now discovered the piece of the puzzle to this beautiful man's singlehood.

He then went on and on about his love of all things Bette, Celine and even Reba.

I couldn't get rid of him fast enough.

I mean, it's fine to be a big queen, but for the love of God, please butch it up a bit for an Internet hookup.

TOO MUCH

The thing about living in Manhattan is you never lack for things to do.

Let me explain:

Last night I attended Dirty Thoughts - an event that invited writers to share their thoughts on sex.

A pre-op tranny spoke of her love for her fully functional tranny cock. At times, her penis prose became quite graphic, but since I was sitting in a slick downtown coffee shop that considered itself a vision of nowness, I couldn't wince. One of my best friends is a tranny, and although I think of her as a 100 percent female, we seldom talk sex. I mean, I'm a 100 percent man-loving gay boy, so the thought of a pecker in lace panties is non too appealing to me. In other words, some sex acts are better left behind closed doors.

A bearish looking man was up next. He told a moving tale of searching for love via unsafe sex in a world filled with HIV. He held the audience in the palm of his hands as he spoke of his journey to find the right man to give him the "gift". Once HIV positive, he found it wasn't all parties and pride marches as in the HIV medication advertisements. Not surprisingly, his story turned into a story of regret and sadness.

Finally, an older man of about 70 spoke about his sexual trysts with two brothers in catholic school. The timeline was the 1950s. He detailed hidden meetings and hidden signals that seemed so foreign and unbelievable to his young audience. In the end, both brothers became priests and were later involved with molesting alter boys and sharing them with the writer on the stage. He didn't seem to have any regret about molesting young boys. In fact, he had a sickly sweet smile on his face when he spoke of the alter boys.

As we left the coffee shop, my friend looked at me: "I don't know about you, but that was way too much information."

MARRIED MEN

The world is full of married men.

Let me explain:

A good friend - I'll call her Bess - told me over the weekend she is in love with a married man. Of course, she said, he is going to leave his wife.

As she told me of their steamy afternoon delights, I ordered another soy latte and bit my tongue.

Yes, I know better.

I've had experience - lots of experience - with married men. At first the passion is amazing and it all seems so refreshingly naughty - as if your dull life suddenly has a new sense of purpose. But then it gets messy. Feelings get involved, and eventually someone gets hurt. And yes, he never leaves his wife.

I didn't tell my friend any of this. Love is always on loan - never the nest egg we can depend on, so who was I to burst her heart shaped balloon.

I smiled and wished her well.

SCARY SHIT

As I watched the YouTube Republican debate last night, I was horrified by the hillbillies and rednecks that call this party home. I mean, these people - as well as the candidates - scared the shit out of me.

Why do these people champion the right to carry guns, but demonize abortion? The fact is the more guns a society has; the more those guns are used to kill people.

Why do these people, who claim to be God fearing Christian fundamentalists, back the death penalty 100%? I mean, last time I checked, Jesus did not preach about electric chairs and gas chambers. In fact, I think Jesus said to turn the other cheek.

Why do these people hate illegal aliens as much as Bin Laden? I mean, the Mexicans that are cleaning your houses and mowing your lawns are not the enemy. Granted, some enforcement in this area is needed, but to demonize these people in lynch rallies is wrong.

As for the candidates, John McCain looked one hundred years old – and can we talk about that turkey neck? He preached his love of the Iraq war, which made him appear terribly out of date. I’m sorry, but I don’t want some geriatric warmonger running the country.

Mitt Romney scares me the most. He refused to answer any of the questions in a straightforward way. I mean, with his slicked hair and greasy smile, he looked like a smarmy used cars salesman who would say anything to make the sale.

Only Rudy Giuliani came off as somewhat sane.

STUPID DEMS

How stupid can the democrats be?

I mean, for the first time in years the democrats have the American people in the palm of their hands - and what do they do? The fools choose to back a candidate with no chance in hell to win.

Yes, I'm talking about Hillary Clinton.

Recent polls report that she will lose to anyone tagged to the republican ticket. I'm sorry, but too many people hate Mrs. Clinton.

What the democrats need to do is nominate a candidate who can win - or it will be eight more years of shit.

SHIVER ME TIMBERS

It's getting colder in Manhattan - and I'm not complaining.

Why?

Because the freezing New York City winds not only keep my concealer matte, they keep me bone thin.

Let me explain:

I call it my shake and shiver diet - and here's how it works.

When the temperatures turn frigid, I never wear a winter coat or a scarf, so I run wherever I go and my poor body is always fighting to stay warm - thus, the shake and shiver diet.

It works great.

DEBT

What is wrong with America?

I was at the post office today and some idiot was holding up the line because he was paying for his various packages using several credit cards. I mean, this poor fool was putting $5 on this card and $10 on this card and so on and so on.

That idiot was a snapshot of modern America.

I mean, most Americans are thousands of dollars in credit card debt, their houses are being foreclosed upon, and the newspapers talk of nothing but of an upcoming recession, but what do they do....they go shopping. According to the news, the stores were jammed to the gills on black Friday.

I personally know two friends of meager wages that owe over $40,000 on credit cards - and this is on top of their mortgages.
.
When is this going to end? Who's going to pay these bills?

FINGER LICKING GOOD

I needed a good night out.

Yes, I certainly did.

This weekend, I went out with a horribly pretentious bore that talked of nothing but money and work. In fact, this “friend” made me feel so bad about my career and finances, I cried all the way home. And for the record, my career and finances are just fine, but when you're boozing it up with someone who pushes their $300,000 a year paycheck in your face, well, it’s easy to feel like a loser. Thank God he bought the Vodka/Cokes, so at least I had a free drunk.

Yes, sometimes living in the richest city in the world can be depressing, but I digress.

I needed a good sleazy night out. Yes, Sperm night at the Cock bar was calling my name. Of course, I always go with the intention of meeting a new husband, but that never seems to happen.

Take last night, I was sitting at the bar watching the queens cha-cha when a foreign man sauntered by and smiled. He was a tad drunk, but cute enough for a Sunday night. He held my hand - how nice I thought. He brought my hand up to his mouth to kiss it - how romantic I thought. Then, without notice, he started sucking my fingers - very smooth and erotically. I mean, here I am sipping a Vodka/Coke with one hand and getting the other hand sucked. Yes, only at 3 am in NYC.

I must admit it felt rather good, but why do I always attract the freaks?

WHAT HAPPENED?

OK, I love my plastic surgery, but sometimes you have to look in the mirror and realize you have created a monster.

Take Meg Ryan, does she really think she looks better? I mean, doesn't her agent or BFF tell her she looks ridiculous?

Meg, lay off the injections.

ONE BALL IS NEVER ENOUGH

When work is slow, I tend to go out way too much and drink way too much. And sometimes, I get myself into situations that can only occur in Manhattan.

Let me explain:

Late the other night, after a few Black Bitches (vodka/coke), I went out cruising for a bruising. It was one of those Manhattan nights when the three deadly vices of singlehood rear their ugly heads. Yes, the terrible trio of horny, bored and lonely - a lethal combination on the ultimate island of lost souls.

At a dim bar on the Lower East Side, a sexy foreigner was giving me the eye. Greek? Italian? Arab? Israeli? Spanish? Didn’t matter, foreign men love me. Soon we were in a dark corner making out. When we came up for air to order yet another cocktail, he said to me…”You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No,” I said, my mind racing to place the face.

“It’s been about 10 years,” he said. “I look different, but you oddly look the same.”

I smiled at his charm and remembered to send a thank-you note to my injection specialist.

“Maybe this will remind you,” he said as he put my hand down his Diesel low-rise jeans.

Shamelessly, I groped the goods.

Suddenly, I knew who he was.. His name was Marcello and he was a one-balled actor from Barcelona with a never-ending sex drive, but oddly, with all that testosterone, he was remarkably bad in bed. I broke it off with him not only because of his poor sexual skills, but because his libido woke me up in the middle of the night so often I was beginning to look my real age.

“I remember you,” I smiled.

We adjusted ourselves and went back into the main club. Two girls ran up to him and asked for autographs.

“I have a show on the CW network and I’ve done a few movies,” he said.

Hmmm….this was looking better.

We went back to his very upscale condo on the West Side Highway in the West Village.

In the morning, after an all night love fest, I was exhausted. Yes, in the past decade his sexual skills had improved, but he still wanted it every 15 minutes. He looked at me sans concealer in the harsh light of day and commented that I looked tired.

I gave him my cell number, but I doubted I would answer his calls. I love the fame game, but I also like my sleep.

FREEBIES

In Manhattan, there is a party every night. In fact, there's probably hundreds of parties every night.

I like the afterwork cocktail parties held in honor of openings/celebrations of new stores or products the best. Not only do you get free food and drink, you get a bag full of goodies that you can sell on ebay.

When I first moved to Manhattan and pennies were sparse, I would angle for invites from anyone to get the free food and drink. I mean, where else can you get food, drink and products for free?

Only in Manhattan.

A SJP WEEK

This must be my Sarah Jessica Parker Week.

Monday night I sat two tables away from her at the oh-so trendy Box; and tonight I walked past her on Avenue A as she filmed a scene for the Sex and the City movie. In was raining and she looked kinda miserable. No sign of the other girls, but perhaps they were in their honeywagons, which were parked on Tompkin's Square.

Yes, In Manhattan you never know who you will bump into.

YOU NEVER KNOW

The thing about living in Manhattan is that you never know how your day in going to evolve. In other words, the sky is the limit.
I mean, when I lived in the Midwest, my days were well scripted and about as spontaneous as a daily bowel movement.

Not so living in the city that never sleeps.

Yesterday I woke up to a ho-hum day, but an afternoon phone call changed all that. On the other end was a friend with free tickets to a dress rehearsal of the Rockette's Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall.

Cheesy? Hell yes, but fabulously campy, too. The show was filled with more special effects and 3D images than a Star Wars movie. Of course, the high point was the limber legged Rockette's kicking up their heels, but I also adored the dancing bears and dancing midgets, too.

And thank goodness I'm not Jewish, Muslim or Mormon, because the show is totally a Christian feast for the eyes. In fact, I'm surprised some do-gooder liberal hasn't shut the place down.

A chubby lady from Long Island who was sitting behind me said it best... "I thought I had died and gone to heaven at the Celine Dion show in Vegas, but this show takes the cake."

Afterwards, we went to the Box on the Lower East Side for drinks where Miss Sarah Jessica Parker sat two tables over sipping a white wine.

I love New York.

TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD

Well, it's about time.

President Bush presented Harper Lee with The Presidential Medal of Freedom - America's highest civilian honour - for her outstanding contribution to literature. Lee's only novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, is one of my favorite books. I mean, I fell in love with the book when I was a young sprite of nine and have reread it many times.

I didn't know it, but I must have sensed a kindred gay spirit in Lee's words. It was years later that I discovered that she was lifelong friends with gay-as-a-goose Truman Capote - both Catherine Keener and Sandra Bullock played Miss Lee in the Capote films and both were wonderful.

The book, which is basically a simple story about racial tolerance and doing the right thing, also won the Pulitzer Prize in 1961.

Lee never wrote another book. When Oprah Winfrey asked her why? She simply stated that she had said all she had to say.

Bravo.