1.6.99
Once upon a time, there was a youngman named Troy, (aka Satansson) who really published an online journal. He was quite conscientious in his effort, and talked about just anything that he pleased. Frequently, he obsessed about his bisexuality, but reading his journal was a true pleasure. I really got the feeling of ownership. It was his, and if you didn't like what was there, you could just go and fuck yourself.
Troy fell in love with a gayboi, consequently had his heart busted into little pieces, and the journal perished (not necessarily in that order) Ohh, sadness in the tiny kingdom! There was a short blurb on Robb's page, and he seems to have reposted his old journals (there are about 400 pages there) on the Gay Street server. Want the URL? Let me know. I'm too lazy to make links right now.
Thinking back, I believe it was though Troy that I came to know "The Great Journalists" of the Internet. First, there was Casey, whose journal was truly legendary (and pau,) Then Tommy and Robb, and on to Lohengryn (uhh, I should get laid as often as that boi.) All this eventually leads to myself, down at the bottom of the food chain.
Why should I babble on about Troy? His honesty was amazing. He just wrote what he felt, without prejudice, and answered his email within the context of his writing, again with the attitude--you don't like it? Bite me.
One thing he wrote aptly describes how I feel right here, right now. I've leafed through a printed copy of his journal in an effort to find it, however, it escapes me. Pardon me if I screw it up. It was a reply to someone's query about why he wasn't posting work daily. His reply went something like this: "Because often I can't. Not only is this time-consuming, frequently, I feel totally emotionally drained. I am often so tired by the time I post these words, all I can do is sleep."
Bob's words for this????
That's me, right here, right now. My entry previous really shagged me out, and now I have to really fight to regain my strength. I love the feedback that has been coming my way, lots of guys who are telling me how touched by the story of Joe and I. Some read it on Tommy's page (a short email version appears on his " Old Page " along with 2 other really neat stories. Go look if you are feeling your faith in mankind slipping.) That's really the best part of this whole thing, and the reason I keep plugging away. The knowledge that I have made a difference in someone's life, as small is it might be, it is truly edifying, and satisfies my need for altruistic behaviour. Thanx.
In other fronts....Sucky Kona weather today, resulting in a smoggy, totally unbearable atmosphere. My throat is irritated, eyes watering, and I feel crummy as a result. Compound this by the fact that the blood supply hasn't been as bad as it is since 1974 (!!!) Upstairs at work, the lab is littered with boxes of packed red cells and platelets from the mainland, testifying to our need. Even after importing all of that stuff from California and Washington, we still have less than 400 units on the shelf.
We usually have 1000. Ugh.
Translation? OVERTIME FOR ALL!!!! Woo Woo! Nobody sleeps! Caffeine, Nicotine, and Dramamine for all! (The latter for the poor souls who work on our mobile bus.) A bus story, then au revoir. There was a group of terribly handsome chiropractors, dentists, and such that graced us with their presence in Kaimuki today. Such a cute group of guys, though I really ought not flirt with the donors....
Anyway, our cache of magazines consisted of all women's stuff. New Woman, Better Homes, Young Vagina, you know the sort. Well, one of the handsome professional types commented that we ought to come up with some new ones better suited for their rugged, masculine, athletic, hairy forearmed, muscular, large bulged selves. Young Dr. Bob started thinking of the magazine in his backpack. Ahh, yes! I shall save the day, and offer my highbrow magazine to the handsome stud!
Unfortunately, I forgot that I was a gayboi. It was Vogue. The one with the Hillary Rodham-Clinton interview (great, btw) *sigh* I blamed it on the Kona weather.
Troy fell in love with a gayboi, consequently had his heart busted into little pieces, and the journal perished (not necessarily in that order) Ohh, sadness in the tiny kingdom! There was a short blurb on Robb's page, and he seems to have reposted his old journals (there are about 400 pages there) on the Gay Street server. Want the URL? Let me know. I'm too lazy to make links right now.
Thinking back, I believe it was though Troy that I came to know "The Great Journalists" of the Internet. First, there was Casey, whose journal was truly legendary (and pau,) Then Tommy and Robb, and on to Lohengryn (uhh, I should get laid as often as that boi.) All this eventually leads to myself, down at the bottom of the food chain.
Why should I babble on about Troy? His honesty was amazing. He just wrote what he felt, without prejudice, and answered his email within the context of his writing, again with the attitude--you don't like it? Bite me.
One thing he wrote aptly describes how I feel right here, right now. I've leafed through a printed copy of his journal in an effort to find it, however, it escapes me. Pardon me if I screw it up. It was a reply to someone's query about why he wasn't posting work daily. His reply went something like this: "Because often I can't. Not only is this time-consuming, frequently, I feel totally emotionally drained. I am often so tired by the time I post these words, all I can do is sleep."
Bob's words for this????
Emotionally deficit and morally bankrupt.
That's me, right here, right now. My entry previous really shagged me out, and now I have to really fight to regain my strength. I love the feedback that has been coming my way, lots of guys who are telling me how touched by the story of Joe and I. Some read it on Tommy's page (a short email version appears on his " Old Page " along with 2 other really neat stories. Go look if you are feeling your faith in mankind slipping.) That's really the best part of this whole thing, and the reason I keep plugging away. The knowledge that I have made a difference in someone's life, as small is it might be, it is truly edifying, and satisfies my need for altruistic behaviour. Thanx.
In other fronts....Sucky Kona weather today, resulting in a smoggy, totally unbearable atmosphere. My throat is irritated, eyes watering, and I feel crummy as a result. Compound this by the fact that the blood supply hasn't been as bad as it is since 1974 (!!!) Upstairs at work, the lab is littered with boxes of packed red cells and platelets from the mainland, testifying to our need. Even after importing all of that stuff from California and Washington, we still have less than 400 units on the shelf.
We usually have 1000. Ugh.
Translation? OVERTIME FOR ALL!!!! Woo Woo! Nobody sleeps! Caffeine, Nicotine, and Dramamine for all! (The latter for the poor souls who work on our mobile bus.) A bus story, then au revoir. There was a group of terribly handsome chiropractors, dentists, and such that graced us with their presence in Kaimuki today. Such a cute group of guys, though I really ought not flirt with the donors....
Anyway, our cache of magazines consisted of all women's stuff. New Woman, Better Homes, Young Vagina, you know the sort. Well, one of the handsome professional types commented that we ought to come up with some new ones better suited for their rugged, masculine, athletic, hairy forearmed, muscular, large bulged selves. Young Dr. Bob started thinking of the magazine in his backpack. Ahh, yes! I shall save the day, and offer my highbrow magazine to the handsome stud!
Unfortunately, I forgot that I was a gayboi. It was Vogue. The one with the Hillary Rodham-Clinton interview (great, btw) *sigh* I blamed it on the Kona weather.
<< Home