homens

Is a 4 year gap too young? apparently the young guys are digging me, even though I want an aged wine. They're too fresh and their ideology is so unreal.

Black guys dig me. I don't know how i feel about that though... They're hot, but I want a nice white boy... or asian... maybe even a latino, haha. Chocolate is fun, but they have a habit of proving that (gay or straight) they're incapable of commitment. Ugh....

Alienated

Don't care much for Keri Hilson, but upon listening to this song, it brought back memories of shit that had started off right around now, last year. How creepy. How alienated.

You're the reason I don't change my number
Don't you know it's still the same
And I bet you remember that summer
When we kicked it everyday
Don't know how it happened, just happened
Kinda like we faded away
And I feel so alienated, don't you feel so alienated

I miss you and I want you back
I lost your signal, Where you at?
And I don't know how we lost contact
Where did you go? I'm searching for you
Can't get you outta my system
Outta my system, Outta my system
Can't get you outta my system
Outta my system, Outta my system
Can't get you outta my system
Outta my system, Outta my system
Where did you go? I'm searching for you

had this been 6 months ago, it would be relevant, but now a year after the matter, he doesn't really mean much to me, at least no more than a memory would; something that you recall for inspiration.

12-2

It's only a little piece of our family, but they mean a lot to me even if they don't know it.

AV 12-2 pt 1 (2007-2008). The original was the best. Luman, Eric, Mark and myself. I was the glue that made it THE PLACE, Mark brought gastronomy, Luman alcoholism (lol), and Eric... well himself. We did it well. Lizzy the 5th roommate, who brought Jurell and Brent, who brought lara and Renee... and well....
pt 2 (2008-2009), I stepped out, but was still there, and Mark, Jurell and Brent held it down. New faces, new feel, but it was still the gathering place, a Honolulu perse.

"This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good."

GahGah

I like her answers. Kudos

-Big dick
- To break me down into those three categories is.... sad.

日本語

Japanese or Italian?

This great debate is one of many resulting from my overly-anticipated exiting from undergraduate. 8 credits, 3 classes, and trips too numerous to count to NCC and SUNY P to get paperwork and anxiety about this departure out of the way. This degree is what this summer is about, almost as much as it will be about the sun, the beach and of course writing. Two weeks have passed where i've refrained from doing any work on my book, or on my thesis. They need to get done so that this chapter can be done. August, that's when it'll all be over.

this is no briget jones

...and tonight I just realized why I feel awkward in the gay community: gay guys suck, and Im not talking about fellatio. I have few gay friends and can't even manage to find a worthwhile guy, and sitting in the car with my new buddy and listening to his gay drama, I'm kind of relieved. Maybe death in relationship solitude won't be so bad if I avoid the drama and bullshit. "if this is a rom-com, kill the director.'

I ran into jon basedow of 'fitness made simple' fame at 7-11, rofl!

Racial tension relief

Empire of the sun

I've had this song stuck in my head... I guess I'm a hopeless romantic.



I've been digging what Nick littlemore has been bringing to the table, between PNAU, Teenager, and well most obviously Empire of the Sun. The outfits are a bit much, but all the better with Shanghai in the back

Walking on a dream
How can I explain
Talking to myself
Will I see again

We are always running for the thrill of it thrill of it
Always pushing up the hill searching for the thrill of it
On and on and on we are calling out and out again
Never looking down I’m just in awe of what’s in front of me

Is it real now
When two people become one
I can feel it
When two people become one

and for the record, i fucking hate how youtube has taken the ability to embed almost anything. To be a hardcore blogger circa 2006, when restrictions were few

Optimistic pessimism

I can't believe it. I'm getting better at being optimistic. I have goals!

I intend on saving up now to move to Washington DC within the year. I hope to find a job translating books or roughing it interpreting. This is all so that I can travel, so I can find a new land to call home. Tenho meus olhos em Brasil. São Paolo, aqui venho eu!

Peut-être au France.

But with this optimism, I can't seem to prevent myself from being pessimistic about romance. I feel something for someone, but there are things that are making it clear that this may be a one-sided sensation. I want to say something to him. But past experiences prevent the words from being spoken.

Qu'est que je devrais faire avec lui?

que coisa?!

The two things that have become apparent during the last few months:

1. Saturday Night Live is back. It's witty and fairly humorous again after about 9 seasons of mediocre skits and players. The guests all have a sense of humor again, and the musical performances have gotten substantively better (especially post-Ashley Simpson's lip-syncing incident). The recent inductees into the SNL cast have sparked laughter again into topical humor, in particular Kristin Wiig (who I'm fascinated with), Jason Sudeikis, Fred Armisen and Bill Hader.

2. Portuguese: that will be the fourth language I intend on acquiring. I've fallen in love with the lusophone culture, in particular the motherland, Portugal, Brazil, and Angola. The music is awe-inspiring, and the language is sexy despite the fact that it has some resemblence to sloppy, slurred Spanish. Jaja. I want to live in Brazil, so that will be part of my 3-year plan.

Birthday hotmess

Celebrating 23 was a hassle: between planning to have a grand outing, and having to do my presentation at the Bronx River Art Center, not to mention finals... it was just tooo much.

Firstly, I met up with Carlee in Harlem to make our way to the bronx to get the presentation of our collaborative documentary in the Bronx. Ugh. We went, and much to our surprise, the film was edited to be flawless. I was in great fear since i had been conducting the interviews and was feeling unsure about their pertinence to our topic (Ethnographic views on the pollution of the Bronx River). I'd link it, but it's trapped on facebook, so inquire me on that to see it.

Um well the gallery proved to be really amusing in addition to the presentation of multiple environmental documentaries. The are exhibit on display (until June 1st) "Bartered States" is curated by a fellow Salvi, Jose Ruiz. In addition to that the art was really diverse, including homages to the 'chicano' ways out west, as well as to the Salvadorian tradition of aggressive politicians and revolution. No wonder my parents left, jaja. The one who stood out the most to me was Irvin Morazan who had this crazy contraption atop his head. He was living art, and he was art cooking too, b/c from what i inquired he was cooking up pupusas while wearing another extravegant headpiece.

After the matter, I went back to Harlem with Carlee for some shopping and the begining of a night of boozing. Met up with Cat in Morningside Heights for some Lychee-tinis, and then headed further down to 123 Burger Shot Beer. I fucking love that place. I ran into a fellow May-8ther, who just so happend to be turning 23 also, and well 5 shot (each) later, we were really celebrating, fusing our two groups together for a bit.

The funny thing is, drinking was done for about 10 hours in about 40 different places, but it's all pretty memorable. We were supposed to go out dancing to a salsa club downtown, but opted for some random Australian bar. I got hit on by the sexy waitress (go figure). She was sexy though, have asian-half french, with an australian accent. Gay or straight, that's hot.

return home: 8am

23.

I'm doing things on my terms. 23, I'm really not a baby anymore, and can't expect to be coddled through it like 21, only to be left clueless at 22. 24, I shall present to you a man of calibre.

7-11

It's a shock to your soft side...

I'm so flustered with finals right now, that I barely have a chance to grip on what's left of my last days at Purchase, and for that matter the last days i have as 22.

23, here i come!

Buffalo stance

It's true, it's always best to hang in a Buffalo Stance. I was checking out the latest issue of Out magazine, and found some really great estuary photography by xevi muntane. Now, it's great that such a beautiful environment was being captured on filmed, but it was greater that it was being used as the backdrop for this summers upcoming swimsuit (and underwear?) trends for (gay) men.

They models were hot, and the scenery was beautiful.

Sober...?

There was a lot of strangeness in my slumber:

I found myself among the clouds, but they were at my level. This was the fog of a night full of concern. It was in this discord that I was to find my way. An eerie light from below kissed the ground. A haunting trail was uncovered in this dense blanket of moisture. I followed it, well aware that this light may not be as kind as perceived. With it I saw my surroundings: a bog, filled with a distorting magic. This was the beauty of a deceitful Nature; the charm of lucidity.

They sway and scurry, a dance of their thoughtless convictions, merely saving their faces. What else could make them distinguishable? Their claws gripping at a reality that isn't theirs to mold? This was my tailor-made experience, customized to fit the sleeves of a clenched fist and twisted fingers. My influence on this place makes my cerebral flakes become apparent. Like the sun at dawn, I've kissed everything on this horizon, even if it's been relinquished to a foggy rendition.

Feeble koalas, putting themselves at the mercy of crocodiles, who welcomed them with their open-toothed grins, inviting but a forewarning of their pending doom. I had to traverse through this maze of open doors and murky water to find my way. It would not be those marsupial exits, but some other way. So I took to the trees to avoid a jagged fate. It was there I looked into the fog to find a light, my beacon.

Eyes glaring as i planned my next move. To be the king of the highway. The nocturnal condensation made this path cumbersome and indistinguishable. The sound of hands clapping seem to be the only noise in this night. So I follow it's rhythm further into the night. The adjoining voice implies the validity of this route.

"Queen of the Highway"

-coming down, coming down, coming down. Spinning round, spinning round, spinning round...-