Oh you silly, stupid past time of mine . . .

Finally, new Fiona Apple music! The long anticipated CD, Extraordinary Machine is supposed to be realeased October 4th. She has two new songs on iTunes. It feels so good to hear her again.

So many things to write about, and yet people already complain that I have journal entries that border on short novels. To this I have to say . . . c’est la vie . . . especially my life.

For the past week or so, I have been on a little vacation, although I haven’t left DC. Sometimes I feel like the best vacations, although somewhat boring, are the ones where you do nothing but all those things in life in which you keep on meaning to do but can never find the time. For me, it was one of those vacations, where I caught up on all the the things that I keep on pushing back because I feel like I have not enough hours in a day.

My good friend celeste_occhi_ came to visit me in DC and we had such a blast. Drinking, partying, smoking, clubbing, sightseeing . . . it’s amazing to me sometimes that we fit in all that we did in the few short days she was here. However, despite the sometimes craziness, we had so much fun.

And although it really wasn’t much for me except living my semi-normal life, I realized a lot about how I feel about DC. I don’t think I ever really give DC enough credit, and I don’t think I have in the past 3 years I have been here, and maybe that’s the reason why I found myself so miserable sometimes.


Capital Building taken from on top of Washington Monument

I always wanted to compare DC to New York, and DC will never be New York. New York is a monster within it’s own right and there are few cities in the world, if any, that can claim to have the excitement that New York has. However, do I really want to be back in New York? For the first time I can answer a definite no. Why would I go back? What does New York hold for me? Yes, I have a few friends. Yes, I have a lot of memories. But in all reality, that’s really about it.


The only thing New York really holds for me now is empty hopes and dreams. Hopes of love, and an insane amount of love lost. Hopes and dreams not realized for whatever reason, and too many memories in which I felt beaten down. So why go back? Well one because I love New York, and despite everything I always will. It will always feel like my home. It will always feel like I belong there. But in life, I don’t want to go backwards, only forwards. And I feel like if I go back now, I will only be retreading steps already taken. And what good does that even do.

And although DC could definitely use a face lift in the night life dept. and in the exciting non-political things to do area, I really realized the history and importance that DC has. I went to a lot of things that I have never gotten a chance to while I have been here. We went to the National Archives and saw the original (or a copy of the orginal) drafted constitution and decalration of independance. We saw the Emancipation Proclamation, and the amendment to allow women voting rights. We saw transcripts from Susan B. Anthony’s court trial and her fight to abolish the suferage of women.


Fountain in front of Hirshhorn Museam

I finally went to the Hirshhorn, which is the museam of contemporary art in the smithsonian. Although a lot of it is very new and cutting edge, I can appreciate the push to get people out of thier boundaries and comfort zones. One of my favorite new artists there is a man names Glenn Ligon (or something like that) and he usues text in a lot of his work as a medium. I find that fascinating, as it is something I deal with in a lot of my work also.


Washington Monument

I finally went up top of the Washington Monument, something that I have been meaning to do for a while. The weekend before September 11, my ex had come up to New York and we had wanted to go up the world trade center. With all the things we wanted to do, we never got around to it. And then the following Monday they were gone. And although it took me 3 years to do it, I am so glad I did finally go up. It’s kinda funny . . . we got there and we didn’t realize that you have to have tickets to go up. So we are like, ok well where do you get tix from? The guard said that there is a kiosk down the way, but that tickets for the day are usually sold at by 9am. Fortunatly for us, this guy had two extra tickets that he gave us. Sometimes when I am bitter and jaded, peoples generosity does amaze me. I mean, they are free tickets, but still . . . it’s the thought that counts.

Man o man did we party. Apex on thursday, which was sooo much fun. It literally gets hotter than hell in there, but in some ways it makes it even more fun. Everyone is drenched in sweat, and even though normally I would be totally disgusted, when you’re intoxicated it’s kinda hot. It always reminds me of that Britney Spears video where they are all dancing and sweating . . . it also helps when (not to sound cocky or anything) you are two of the best dancers in the place. That makes it even more hot. It’s hot when you are sweating, dancing your ass off, all the guys are noticing you and you really don’t give a damn. You’re just there for a good time.

Friday night was a little bit of bar hopping, first to 18th Lounge which, to me, was highly dissappointing . . . bad music, way too many people and just too stuffy. Friday was our straight night out, so I had to deal with all the drunken college girls and all the straight guys trying to get in thier pants. It also drives me crazy that I can’t flirt with the bartenders at straight clubs and get my drinks faster . . . after that we went to this other bar which had infinitely better music, but was still a little stuffy. However due to some unfortunate events going on in the life in my friend, the evening had a little bit of a damper on it. But we entertained ourselves none the less.

Saturday night was Madonna-rama at Nations, and I must say, I think I am getting old. Madonna-rama, for all of those who are unfortunate enough to have not encountered it, is a night where Nations dedicates it’s main room to all Madonna music all night. Sometimes, it’s sooo much fun. However, on saturday it was way over crowded and, dare I say it, I can only listen to so many Madonna remixes before they all sound the same. So for most of the night we opted to stay in the more hip hop infused little room in the front, where I think we had a much better time. I wasn’t nearly as drunk as I should have been, and my dancing was kinda off . . . but we had fun none the less. I also didn’t encounter any of my sleazy Nations boys, so that was good.


Capital Building at 3am

I forget what we did sunday night, but we still managed to stay up until 5am . . . oh I remember, we went around driving the streets of DC until the wee hours of the morning. Now, because it’s my journal and I get to say whatever I want to say, I am going to say something that I don’t recommend or agree upon and that makes me somewhat of a hypocrite in this instance. But we both were slightly intoxicated and we went around snapping pictures of random landmarks at like, 3am. I saw so much of DC that I had never really seen before . . . little side streets, the nooks and crannies of the city.


National Cathedral

We then went to the National Cathedral, which is absolutly beautiful. I always thought it was kinda lame that DC built a cathedral in the 70’s to match the majesty of european cathedrals. However, the cathedral is beautiful and I took an infinite amout of pictures. However the night that we went, it was like 4am and we parked an got out to walk around. And then the cops came and chased us out, which was slightly scaring considering we were both slightly drunk. However, we couldn’t control our laughter as the cop made me get out of the car to move the cones so we could exit that cathedral. It’s the closest brush to breaking the law that I have come into in a long time.

We went back the next day, during legal and normal visiting hours and it was gorgeous. We were walking through the gardens, when all of a sudden we saw what looked to be a deer. We thought it was some kind of statue until we ntocied it moving it’s ears. This was an almost full grown buck, with antlers and all, parading through a little forest in Washington DC. It’s kinda weird. Whenever major wildlife conflicts the the urbanization of the world, it always strikes me as a little sad and a little surreal. It’s like the part in Collateral where the cyoties walk down central LA . . . it’s just weird.

And then any vacation would not be complete without the shopping! I spent so much fucking money, it isn’t even funny. Seriously, I should be paying my bills not spending money like it’s water. I have also had the displeasure of being bitten by the designer label bug, like most gay men do at some point in thier lives. I have been buying more and more designer duds and it’s like gay crack . . . the more you get, the more you get addicted. You realize for one, why designer clothes are so expensive . . . the fabrics, they way they are made, just everything is so much better quality than say . . . Old Navy. And we all know how I feel about Old Navy. It’s only now that I am looking at $1500 Christian Dior coats and $2500 Prada suits that I am beginning to realize enough is enough. At least until I am rich and can really afford it.

In anycase, I was at Nordstroms the other day and I saw a really cute pair of Diesal Jeans. They were like, $170 and although I didn’t feel like spending the money, they were really cute. So I try them on, and totally not my size. But they didn’t have any that fit and since then I hadn’t been able to get them off my mind.


Diesel store, Georgetown WDC

So on our excursions, I went to the Diesel store in Georgetown to see if they had them. They didn’t, but they did have a very cute guy working there. Now, I usually don’t get all sappy over random people. But the more I think about it, the more my crush develops. I walked in with my friend and my roomate. We were there for about 5 mins, and this guy comes up to ask if I need help. He’s about 6ish feet tall, very cute asian, not too skinny, very short hair . . . very cute. I say I don’t really know what I am looking for, and he asks me what I like. I say not too tight, not too baggy, low rise kinda boot cut. He says he has just the thing. We make eye contact several times during the brief conversation, and I don’t really think anything of it. He says he thinks he has something for me. I see him come back out and dissappear again until I hear my name. He says “Justin, they are waiting for you in the dressing room.” I guess he had over heard my friends say my name, but it was ultra suave that he used it with really no cause. Over the course of the entire visit, he kept on saying my name. “Justin, how do those fit?” “Justin, how you doing in there?” “Justin, are you ok?” And the whole time, it never annoyed me. He was so cool and so sly about it, it was a major turn on. My roomate and my friend kept telling me, “He’s flirting with you, he’s flirting with you” but as always I brush it off as just someone being nice, or really knowing how to sell a pair of jeans. However, I was such a pain in the ass. I must have tried on like, 10 different pairs of jeans, with him running back and forth to suit my needs. Ultimately, I ended up with a $220 pair of jeans, but after all that I couldn’t not buy a pair. And while I was a bit taken back by the price, I absolutly love them now. They are just the right fit, and the look great on me. And it was one of the first pairs he brought out.

*sigh* I hate when I have a crush. I hate when said crush doesn’t make it painfully obvious if he is flirting with me or not. I don’t even know if he was gay, which makes him even more hot. And although there were aspects of him that reminded me of Mr. Big and I am sure a psychologist could have a field day with my mind, he is the first guy I have seen in a while that has taken me back. I haven’t seen him anywhere else, although my roomate said he’s been working there for a little bit. But he was just great . . . had a great build, had a great face, a great voice, great mannerisms, a great way his shirt lifted up to reveal the Alfani wasitband of his boxer briefs. A great way of asking me how much more room I needed in my pants. Lol. And he had his tongue pierced . . . I don’t know many straight men who have thier tongues pierced.

So we were there on Saturday, and on Monday my friend and I went back because I wanted to take a picture of the store to post in here for my little photo-journalism experiement. I parked literally right in front of the store, and ran across the street to get a picture. I came back to the car, and she asked me “Well?” “Well what?” I respond. “Was he in there?” she asks. “I don’t know . . . I didn’t go in.” I say. “What?!? Oh my god, Justin you can be such a pussy sometimes!” She says.

Yes, she’s right. When it comes to boys, I can be such a fucking pussy.

So she starts to get out of the car, and says she is going in. I protest . . . a lot, but she is going into the store. I follow, and alas he isn’t there. I say, ok can we go now. And as we are getting back into the car, I see this guy walking down the street with glasses, a t-shirt and shorts. He kinda looks familiar, but kinda not. Although he is staring at me as he is walking. I really think nothing of it, and get into my car. And then I see him walk in the Diesal store, and it clicks that it was him. It’s kinda cute that he was all dressed down . . . that he knows how to dress when the time comes, but that he’s still a really laid back kinda guy. And then I think, oh no what if he thinks I was ghetto and returned the jeans! That would be awful! I don’t want him to think that I am ghetto (or poor!)

My friend says that I should go back in on Thursday and see if he’s there. I say no! I was there on Saturday, and then on Monday, and then go again on Thursday? I don’t want to stalk him! Or worse, I don’t want him to think I am too desperate. Ugh, I don’t know. If anything I am going to drag my roomate there on Saturday and see if he’s there. But then I have to deal with the fact that I am going to be a pussy and be a blubbering idiot if he talks to me. I don’t even know if he’s fucking gay!

So dear readers, if you don’t read any other part of this entry, at least read the above part and give me some advice. I know I should bite the bullet and have the balls to go up and talk to him. But what if he isn’t gay? Maybe I should have my roomate ask him if he’s gay or not. Or maybe I should just fucking do it and not be a pussy! Pussy = bad. In more ways than one. And really, what have I got to lose? Only missing out on the first guy I have found attractive in a really long time. *sigh*

As I said, advice is welcome.

More pictures from our adventures under cut.




Mr. Bush's house


The reflecting pool with the WW2 memorial on one end and the Lincoln Memorial on the other.


The Jefferson Memorial


The Mall


The Capital (all the above were taken from atop the Washington Monument)


The Lincoln Memorial from the Washington Monument


Washington Monument from Ground Zero


An example of Glenn Ligon's work


More of the Capital (I never realized how beautiful it really is.)


A butterfly in the gardens of the National Catherdral.


The deer that was in the forrest of the National Catherdral.


Ok, so there is this sculpture of George Washington on top of a horse. It's a sculpture that is elevated, so you can see underneath the horse. Somewhat shockingly, the horse is physically arrurate . . . meaning he had a penis. Let me tell you, this horses' cock and balls were fucking huge! This is suppossed to be a pic of the horses' cock, but it didn't really turn out well. In anycase it was a good story. Yes, I know I am immature sometimes.

All of the following are of the National Cathedral and it's contents:




I thought this was so sad.








The Washington Monument at night.


DC at night.


Ok, so my friend and I were on my balcony, 15 floors up, smoking a cigarette, and all of a sudden this huge fucking praying mantis flys next to us! It was so bizarre! I haven't seen a praying mantis in the wild in years, not to mention the fact that I live in an urban area and I live 15 floors above the street! Part of me was terrified and part of me thought it was one of the most amazing things ever. I mean, these insects are so rare, and yet it still found us at 2am and 150 feet up. I wonder what that means . . . I am sure that has to be some kind of fokelore . . .


My roomate, whom I am always talking about. She snapped this of herself (in pure asian fashion) while we were at the Diesel store while I was trying on my 18th pair of jeans. She also took one of the guy whom I am swooning over, but I think it would be weird if I posted it . . .


DC's equilvilant to China Town.





My friend staring out the window of Starbucks in China Town . . . pondering life, love and the pursuit of both.



Yes, I am aware of my many gramatical and spelling errors. Hence why I am not an English major.