Desire-less

I have no desire for desire. I only want company. Company like the stuff of Hollywood romances. McDreamy-You make me want to be a better man-Sleepless in Seattle-A writer in Paris, the city of love company. I do not have time for a relationship. Commitment takes work and I have other more pressing issues.

So here I sit.

Alone.

Blogging.

Your virtual online company is not adequate.

The Only Option

This will challenge every part of who I am.

This will challenge me emotionally, intellectually, physically, creatively and spiritually.

Survival is the only option.

Saturday Night

He tells me that we have to meet, seeing as he has failed to come to either of my parties. And seeing as he has no other gay friends, he wants to take advantage of my company and go to the strippers. I say "Why not!?! It is not something I would choose for myself and that makes it an adventure!" Off we go. The strippers are not sexy nor erotic. The atmosphere is old and depressing. We do not stay long (I have to meet another friend and he has to fly to NYC the following day).
We walk south to the subway station. We turn to go down the new stairs to the Subway at the North West corner of a civic Square. We turn to see a large man pulling at the purse of a young woman. She is pleading with him to stop and then turns to us and asks for us to call for help. He is stunned and freezes, and I run up to the top of the stairs and start to yell for Help!. The gentleman now decides he'd like to "discuss" the issue of this woman's purse with me. He approaches. I run into a group of 30-something adults standing under an awning (it is raining) to let them know what is happening. I ask them for their sanctuary (it is unlikely he will create violence amidst witnesses in which three are grown men). The attacker does come right into the centre of the group of adults where I am standing and pretends to be acquainted with me, trying to pull me out of the group in order to discuss the situation regarding the woman's purse. The adults are stunned and frozen, but luckily I hold my ground and he eventually runs to a bike gets on and pedals off. (You see - I am hardly a "man" in the eyes of the world around me).

My friend finally finds me and, being shocked, I decide to jump into the safety of a cab. My friend hands me an aromatherapy spray: "Here. Smell this. It will calm you down." I do. And it does. My friend sets his scarf on my lap. "That's for you. It's worth a grand. A client gave it to me." I now have a haute couture scarf (My friend works in the fashion industry) that is worth ten times more than any other piece of clothing I own. The scarf is long and flamboyant - it is definately not me. I am going to try to return it to him, but if he does not accept, I will give it you.
You would like it. It gave me no comfort, but maybe it will bring you happiness.

Virtual Machinations

We are cyborgs. In an age of cell phones, realtiy television, and the internet, we have become organisms that rely on technology in order to hear, to feel, to connect. I am fortunate enough to not require an electronic device to regulate the rhythm of my heart, nor an auditory system that aids my sense of hearing, but, like any other person who find themselves in the computer age, I not only require, but embrace technology as a means of connection. And so, with my binary coded arm, I reach out to those I love.

Today, I regained my internet capabilities. With my virtual limbs, I ache to touch you. Let me feel your combination of zeros and ones. After a two week hiatus, two weeks of feeling paralysed, I am back online.

I am whole again.