Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Author: Jamez

  • 2nd Rehearsal

    So, I just got in from the second rehearsal, I’m tired and a bit sore (posture is important).

    I was telling Gary (my roommate) about how sometimes I’ll be typing a word and a different word actually comes out. (like typing “house” but what appears on the paper/screen is “ginger”) and how that can be a bit … troubling at times. Makes me wonder what else could be out there.

    So tonight, when we were warming up and the pianist played the single note for all the chorus to sing… I heard it, my mind registered it, and I came in very low. So, anyway, that threw me off for the rest of the nights rehearsal. I did my best, but was unsure of every note before it left my mouth. It’s a weird thing to have happen.

    There was a nice looking guy sitting next to me, that’s always a good thing. The one guy did hug me twice, which is a little odd. Less odd now that I’ve seen him hugging other people. It must be his thing.

    So this Saturday is the new member welcome party, and I’ve agreed to go, so that might prove interesting.

  • The First Rehearsal

    I arrived for the orientation for members at 5 minutes to five, met my “buddy” who will be my primary contact for all questions and such. His last name is James, so he’s already very cool. The orientation was boring, but nice, an full of information.

    The actual rehearsal was daunting, there are lots of nice voices in the chorus. I had downloaded the Tenor 2 parts from the website a few days ago, so I was a little more prepared than most. But alot of these guys can just read it and sing it from the page, I’m not quite that good, or at least I’m rusty enough to not be that good.

    The songs, when heard with all parts are all quite lovely.

    I chose not to participate in the after practice Karaoke at Green Lantern, instead I came home.

    There are several very handsome men, only one of whom I’ve seen naked, and one that I hope finds me as cute as I find him.

  • GMCW

    So, I’ve finally done it: made my decision to audition for the Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington. Last week I attended their rehearsal, and my audition will be in the middle of March. It was a little bit nerve racking, just showing up. They offered me sheet music and to sing along.

    It’s been almost 20 years since I’ve attempted to interpret sheet music, I don’t recall what the symbols mean which are rests, how long do the rests last and so forth. But, I think I did pretty good, I did not see anyone wincing in pain near me as I sung. I did not sing during the one latin song, as they had included some pronunciation keys which I did not have before hand.

    Anyway, it’s a lot of pretty guys, some I’ve seen in AA. I’ll let you know if I manage to get in or not.

  • Burning Desires

    In AA there is the “custom” and I’m not sure if it’s just here on the East Coast or all over (I don’t recall hearing such things in the Midwest), called Burning Desires. With a few minutes left of the meeting, the lead asks: Are there any burning desires, does anyone feel like if they don’t share they might drink?

    Inevitably, some one will raise their hand and start to talk. Now it’s rare that this person has a real crisis. There was one time when someone used his burning desire time to talk about his upcoming birthday party.

    Truth be told, I hate burning desires. I find that they usually tend to speak so long the meeting does not get done on time. They are usually very insignificant to whomever might have been sharing and a complete and total waste of my time.

  • Don't Think About Green Beans

    Few weekends ago I traveled to Mohonk Mountain House ( http://www.mohonk.com ) in New Paltz, NY. My best friend Suzanne and I rode up together, she likes to drive she’s …. you know…. American. I do not like to drive, it has never been one of those things that I want to do, which is why I live in Washington, DC and will always live somewhere that personal transportation is optional.

    I should let you know at this point that I was horribly ill, the flu or some nasty cold had taken hold of me. I was full of snot and sneezing, groggy and a bit grumpy. I made do cause I wanted others to have a good time.

    Suzanne and I stopped to eat at one of her favorite restaurants near NYC. All the servers were dressed up in white jump suits, had sideburns and reminded me of Elvis. I hate Elvis. But the food was good (yes, I was stuffed up and couldn’t taste anything, I’m being nice.

    When we arrived at the Mountain House, I was about ready to collapse. This place was huge, beautiful and just stunning. The staff were there immediately to take our bags, check us in and make sure all was good. I found my bosses, smiled and nodded and moved on to dream world.

    Sleep did not come easily, I found myself awake on numerous occasions with limited breathing and fits of coughing or sneezing. So rest I did not get.

    Saturday morning, Suzanne and I went off to the breakfast buffet, I still feel like crap, but I’m putting on a good face…. so I think. Then Suzanne and I both had spa treatments scheduled so we headed off to do that. The spa services menu at Mohonk is quite extensive, several which include them inducing you into a “power nap”. I don’t know about you, but paying someone to put me to sleep is not a pleasurable way to spend money. I chose the back revitalizer, a nice back scrub and massage.

    So a woman arrives in the staging area, and calls my name. I think that this is very nice of them to have staff come escort me to my masseuse. She leads me to a room with a tub, tells me to get in. I don’t recall this as part of the description of my treatment. I look at her a little confused, she asks me what’s wrong. I say, well, first off I asked for a male masseuse, she says: oh, is that a problem. “I guess not” I say and get in the hot tub. The whirlpool tub is actually very nice, hot and scented. She leaves me in there long enough to tenderize all of my organs for harvesting by cannibals. Then she returns to escort me to a room, “disrobe and lie on your back cover up and then i’ll come back in”. She is the professional, but I am wondering how she plans to do my back if I’m lying on it, but I do as she says. When she re-enters the room she says, “good, now we’re going to start with an exfoliation and then I’m going to lead you into a power nap”. Ding! “Now I know this is the wrong treatment!” I say loudly. Turns out it was, they had screwed up my order and the bath was considered a “bonus”, even if I didn’t like it. Once the treatment started that I was actually supposed to be getting, it was very nice.

    The dinner that night was a mandatory part of the trip for work, jackets required for men. I wore a nice mock turtle neck, some tan pants and looked pretty sharp. Suzanne wore a nice outfit that had shades of purple, mostly I liked her shoes. I might mention at this point that Suzanne is beautiful, she really is…. she’s had a boob job, is very skinny, always has men looking at here butt in department stores… mostly, I like her shoes. One of the people from work, came in with his girlfriend, they were a lovely couple; when he removed his jacket, I saw that his V Neck sweater was on backwards, I mentioned it to him and he ran from the room to change it. Everyone had something to drink, I had a cold glass of water that I dropped two Alka-Seltzer Cold and Flu into. That is the last I remember of the evening.

    Sunday morning, I could actually breathe… which was nice. I slept most of the night and was feeling a little better. Not 100% but better. The breakfast buffet was nice again, I had some pancakes and Suzanne had some fruit. The fruit caused Suzanne to be “green beans”, all the way home…. and she said: ‘please don’t write about my “green beans” on your blog’ as she rolled down the window. The ‘green beans’ were all I’ve been able to think of since… So truly this is a story of ‘green beans’, the first few paragraphs here are to mask my true intentions. I’ve become obsessed with her ‘green beans’ and the fact that the ‘green beans’ were not detectable by me… I had a cold!

    It is my understanding everyone had a good time on our excursion, even if they were exposed to ‘green beans’.

  • My Office Toilet has a Remote Control

    So, a few months back a company sent us a sample of their toilet seat, free of charge, to “test out”. They even paid for the electrician to install it. So, first let me explain…

    This thing has a seat warmer, front and back gentle warm water cleansing (you, not the toilet), and pulsating or oscillating choices if you so desire… best of all though; it has a dryer. That’s right a dryer, no more rain-forests dying, we’ll now use air to dry our tush.

    I thought at first, that this would be an odd thing, water shooting up my butt… I mean there are things that should go up there, but water was not one of the things that was desirable to me. Pulsating? Oscillating? what am I going to do in this bathroom that I need these choices readily available to me? Is it that evident that I haven’t been dating? I digress.

    I was very cautious to use this contraption, I’m usually opposed to using facilities outside my own home… yes even opposed to those ones at work, but sometimes you just don’t get a choice.

    So my first time. The soft cushioned seat was a nice touch. I did my business, no reading or anything, but I was curiously reviewing the controls mounted on the wall (it does detach, just in case half of your body really has to be somewhere else you can rinse and dry from afar). I pushed the button for “Rear Cleanse” and heard odd noises down below then suddenly a warm stream hit my back side, in the exact right spot… Maybe they have stolen targeting software from the Pentagon. It was nice, odd, but nice. I did try out some of the other button, oscillating may be my favorite, but I wouldn’t want to date it. It is important to note here that there is a stop button, a colleague of mine made sure to let us know after he “wondered” how long it was going to keep going… well, you have to push stop. Then I pushed Dry, and low and behold a nice blast of air hit “just the right spot” making me all nice and dry after it had been through the car wash.

    This contraption is just another part of daily life at the office now, I think nothing of it… until today… when the company sent us yet another toilet seat, with no explanation this time… perhaps they just think we are full of shit!

  • The Never Ending Apology

    Lets say I’m a comedian, politician or what have you. I’m at a big shindig and tell the following joke.

    “Some friends of an old gentleman decided to get him something special for his birthday. They bought him a hooker. She went to his house and knocked on the door. Upon opening it she said “Hi I am your birthday present.” He responded, “What am I supposed to do with you?” “I am yours for super sex”, she answers. He replies: “Well I am 90 years old so I will take the soup.”

    Chances are I got lots of laughs, but how many people have I offended? Lets count.

    1. the Religious Right (come on, they are offended by everything)
    2. Politicians (they have to be offended to appease the Relious Right that might vote for them.
    3. Parents (the parents who feed their children ritalin like it’s candy, but wont take away their game consoles when they are fat)
    4. and possibly… Old men (obviously the old men that are politicians – are there other kinds of politicians?)

    I also might be offended, I’m a man… and lets face it… I’m old in some people’s eyes. I’m also offended cause I’m gay, and having this heterosexual lifestyle thrown in my face is just not right.

    Rule 42. Don’t take yourselves to seriously

    Comedians make jokes, if you can’t take a joke you may want to consider doing away with entertainment in your life; but you should certainly not go see comedians. Rosie O’Donnel is not so much a comedian any more, but she certainly does manage to stick her foot in her mouth alot. Donald Trump is no comedian, but he has money so you laugh and he may pay you.

    If the incessant apologizing continues, I’m going to demand apologies from any black comedian I’ve ever heard tell a white man joke. I’ll also demand reimbursment for every advertising campaign that misled me, jail time for politicians that lied, and mental health appointments for being forced to look at bad Hollywood makeovers.

  • The Trip

    I arrived in Fort Lauderdale, on Thursday night around 5:00 pm. Michael K picked me up and took me to the resort, his place and then to dinner. It was a balmy 80 degrees, the sun was setting it was gorgeous.

    It was a pleasure to see Michael again and hear about the goings on in his life. He looks well, and I miss him, but also loved his house and wish I lived in Ft Lauderdale… well, part of me wishes that.

    The resort was simply stunning, Royal Plams, the room was immaculate. The pool a comfortable temperature, and the hot tub VERY HOT. They did a marvelous job with the foilage and the whole setting of the place. I did not see any men on my first night there, I went upstairs and watched CSI… yes I know, my priorities are a bit skewed.

    Friday morning I awoke to cold, and rain… it stayed cold and rainy until I left on Sunday morning. I am not kidding. To add some more to the mix was wind from every direction imaginable.

    I did go into the pool when the rain would cease, and I spent some time in the hot tub… until… my skin started to burn, chemical burn… seems the chlorine flow for the hot tub was on full blast and the water in there burned sking, reddened skin and even took off hair from parts of my body… ah the joys of vacation.

    It was Saturday afternoon when I noticed a new arrival at the resort, yes there had been others, but no one was worth writing about. The new arrival, his name was William, was very handsome in his white robe, cigarette smoke billowing out of his goatee encircled mouth from his balcony in the pool suite. He smiled a knowing smile at me, and I truly believe I blushed. We played the glancing/smiling game for a while and I mentioned to the other guests that he was my objective. He came down to the pool, dropped the robe to reveal a barrel chest, with just the right amount of hair and tan all over. He then swam over to the side of the pool where I was reading and stared at me.

    “What are you reading?” he queried

    “Just a collection of short storys.” I answered, standing at attention while still sitting down.

    He smiled at me and motioned me to come into the pool with him. I jumped into the pool and we had a marvelous time fondling each other in the pool he had me very excited and about to explode before I knew what was happening. We retired to his room and had some joyous foreplay before I begged him to take me… it was wonderful.

    In the shower later he washed me, running the bar of soap in circles all over my body. “Just relax” he said. His hand rubbing me in every spot imaginable. He was really very sensual and romantic.

    I did not fall in love with William, but he certainly knows how to show a guy a good time.

  • Sex

    This Friday, December 8, 2006; marks two years since I have had sex…. With another person.

    Why?

    Well, I imagine there are lots of clever, spiritual, or meaningful reasons that I could give — but none of them would be true.

    See what happens when I have sex, is I fall in deep lust almost immediately, sad really … I know. And the last time it happened was with Mr. Wright, nice name.. Who I had met in Florida in 2004 and had a fabulous time with. Believe it or not, he and I talked (email and phone) for another year before I finally asked him if it was ever going to go anywhere (he did say no, and I did move on).

    At school last year, there was very little that I found worth looking at, let alone pretending to be interested for a quickie. I don’t want to put forth the kind of energy, that I think needs to be put forth, for something that is not going to last. Hey, I’m selfish that way.

    Monday night on the metro home, there was a cute guy with an HRC hat giving me the eye, and I was giving him the eye back. Then I got off on my stop, smiled and him, and he smiled back – sounds lovely, I know. Tonight I saw him again, and this time, I saw what appeared to be the wedding band on his finger. So, I’m done playing eye games now, you may be cute, but your taken. If you’re not taken, don’t play with me.

    What makes me happy about men, but doesn’t mean I’m going to marry them.. Is the little things. “Hello handsome” – says the doctor or the UPS guy stopping his truck (tonight, I’m not kidding) and saying: “Happy Birthday, I should have told you that earlier today.” he’s cute, but he might be married too. I’m not opposed to eye candy, just stupid games.

    Speaking of DJ, the love of my life… he did send an email a while back and said we should hang out… but he’s married, and he’s married to a nice guy and I just can’t do that to him. Part of me might always want DJ, and most of me realizes if I had him I’d have to realize he would never be faithful to me, that’s just the way he is. Would he love me always? Yes, I think he and I have that… but would I be willing to put up with it? I’m not so sure. So I told him that I still loved him, and “hangin out” would be dangerous for us, and he had to realize I still loved him. His response: Always. Now I could read into that and spend time figuring out what that one word means to him and me or to him and his partner … or whatever, ok, maybe I have already a little bit, but it isn’t worth my time. There is a song by Lonestar, Not a Day Goes By, that pretty much sums up DJ: not one day goes by that I don’t think of him… and I don’t masturbate everyday so it’s not all sexual.

    At 36 years of age, I do begin to wonder when or if I’ll find him. I wonder what he is, what is it about him that is going to make me realize he’s the one. I refuse to lower my standards though, and its not like I’m looking for a Brad Pitt type … I just keep looking for the one that wants to brush his teeth with me at night, hold my hand when we walk down the street, or even come and meet my parents.

    Will I be sexless and loveless for another 365 days? Likely not. I fly to Ft Lauderdale tomorrow, where I’ll:

    Meet a nice guy,
    Have sex with him
    maybe more than once
    was that TMI?
    Fall head over heels for him
    Then come back to DC
    Realize it’s not going anywhere
    (we’ve seen this can take some time to sink into my head)
    Become utterly disappointed in all men

    Rinse, lather, repeat… Happy Birthday

  • Six

    I’m 36, and trying to decide if that means anything. I mean sure, 6 * 6 = 36, but that can’t mean anything right? 12/06/2006 lots of sixes in there also… 6*2 =12, 06 (duh), and 2006. 12*3 = 36 and of course 3*2=6. Number, math who needs its. Just one more strange coincidence…

    Of course this year I also turned 12 years sober, there are two more. The Twelve Steps of AA, the Twelve Traditions, Promises, Principles… lots of 12s more so than 6s. Bill Wilson (the founder of AA) thought there were 6 steps in the Oxford groups, and based his 12 on those 6. The Oxford groups dismiss this notion, and say they never had any steps. But, if they did, perhaps the number six has more spiritual meaning than any of us realized.

    Perhaps all those times in Vegas, when you bet on “Lucky Number 7”, had you bet on the real number, 6, you would have won. Cats with 9 lives? Lets claim dyxlexia, say the person to come up with this just saw a 6 and not a 9 at all… dang, are my cats doomed to pass on at any moment?

    36, just another number, just another year surrounded by the best of people. I’ll never be able to find anything clever about 37… next year, we’ll just go off somewhere sunny and relax… oh, wait, I do that already.