Armistead Maupin screwed me over! Well not really, but close.

Last week I read this book called The Night Listener” by Armistead Maupin, Maupin is famous for the Tales in the City series of books. Here is a synopsis I found online for the book:

"Gabriel Noone forms a bond with a young, troubled listener to his late-night radio show. As Noone's friendship with the dying boy grows, he feels he can unlock his innermost feelings. But troubling questions arise, and he is forced to confront all his relationships - familial, romantic and erotic."

The troubling question the synopsis is referring to is whether the dying young boy actually exists or not. I feel screwed after reading it I felt that over all it was an excellent book. However, at the end there is no resolution. I finished it with no idea whether the boy was actually real or an elaborate literary hoax. Knowing that this was based on real events and feeling kind of burned by this, I decided to do a bit of online research. In my furious internet hunt I came across a great article from the New York Post all about it. This is some serious fucked up stuff. The article is well worth the read if you have a few free minutes. I of course don’t have the link ready so if you would like to read it you will have to do some of your own research… Just Google Anthony Godby Johnson (which is the name of the dying boy in question).

2 months since the airline

Well Mario has worked for the airline for 2 months now. To my surprise I have not freaked out yet… well at least not completely. It seems that loneliness has been the best diet ever as I have lost ten pounds in the last 2 months.

I have also quit smoking, sort of (I had one yesterday afternoon). I went to a party last Saturday and got super drunk and remember bits and pieces of the evening but what I remember clearly is someone saying “wow, you chain smoke”. Not the most pleasant compliment to hear, so I decided to yet again give it a try. I have quit several times and failed… I think that even if I cut down that will be good enough for me.

That’s about all there is to report today.

Cyberbored

Wow. I really have nothing of interest to write about. I have a screaming headache and all that’s on TV is this terrible Stephen King movie called “desperation” with Steven Webber, the guy from the TV show Wings.

I promise more excitement in a few days, perhaps I will get myself into some sticky situations and hilarity will ensue.

Het vdiiinc doec kceuds sas

The title is my secret code for: The Divinci Code sucked ass. Mario and I went yesturday afternoon to see it and quite literally spent the entire afternoon watching it. It was so long that I was worried we would exit the theatre to see that the four horsemen had already came and went, worried that we had been "left behind".

Something good did come from this movie. As with many relationships you sometimes find yourself wondering things like: is this the man for me, did I make the right choice, did I leave the iron on at the hotel? Well in the movie there is a scene where the main female character (I don't want to give to much away but... well fuck it, Amélie is Jesus's great grand baby and Gandolph is the secret bad guy, you don't find out all of this until the very end... so try and act surprised.) sneaks home from boarding school and catches her grandfather engaging in creepy pagan rituals which involve old men all wearing cloaks and silver masks, standing in a circle watching a couple go at it. Mario turns to me in the theatre and says "Fidelio". I am not going to explain this joke, those of you who get it will understand why I am still laughing the next day... as my mother would say: He's a keeper.

So I am currently sitting in a hotel in Calgary, keeping with the whole Divinci Code theme of the weekend, we have decided to make my presence in the hotel a secret. I lurk in the back stairwells and only use the back door to enter and exit, perhaps Dan Brown will help to uncover this secret and make us pay for two guest's instead of one.

If there was ever a question about my sexual preference….

Its 330am… and I am awake, I haven’t been feeling all that well lately and I just woke up and can not get back to sleep. I am watching the Golden Girls. Watching the Golden Girls reminds me of a funny story.

I was at a party at my brother’s apartment about 5 years ago and I decided to go out on the balcony for a cigarette. Next to me smoking was this guy who was about 30 years old or so, we started talking about the Golden Girls (I don’t know how we started talking about the Golden Girls). Well, I made some kind of offensive comment about Estelle Ghetty, who is the actress that played the family matriarch “Sophia”. His face turned purple with anger. It turns out he was the president of an Estelle Ghetty fan club or something like that. It was so bizarre… He started talking about how they met once at an airport and that they still write letters back and forth. Anyway I left the party a few minutes later feeling like a big asshole because I hurt his feelings.

The moral of this story: who cares about the Golden Girls.

The erotic awakening of Billy

I can't believe that it has been almost a year since I have posted anything on here... from looking at the entries it would appear that I went to Toronto and then just disappeared. As my legions of devoted fans will tell you, this is not the case (In San Juan I am known as "Billy de un poco Dios" and on my birthday they carry a flower effigy of me through the streets). I just got lazy and lost all will to update this thing. I promise you this: I am back, and I will not stop until the world is rid of crime. Sorry about that crime stuff, I was just watching Batman Begins on cable... I guess it got me excited. I don't know if you have ever seen it but Liam Niesen doesn't play a very good villain, he should stick to playing a sex doctor or chasing Jodi Foster around in the woods.

Not too much has changed since last I put anything down on this cyber journal of sorts. I quit my job for a much better one. Mario and I are still together and going strong.

I really don’t have a whole lot to say today, so I will leave the masses to ponder this thought: Did anybody else start laughing when Jake came back from Mexico with a “dirty scanchez” in the movie Brokeback Mountain?