I am having an email nightmare. YAHOO (why did I ever start with THEM?) has, somehow, made my email account go away on its own. Along with it all of my saved emails and the saved addresses in my address book. This is especially devastating because I have lost contact with my epal, Dave and of course didn't write down his e-dress on a piece of paper, being digital lately. Along with that, the address and thread of contact with my good, smart, funny epal, Steve, has also gone the way of the wicked... not to mention all the others. So guys, if any of you read this blog = and WHY SHOULD YOU I'VE BEEN SO BAD AT KEEPING IT CURRENT... please email me at: buzz.nelson@gmail.com.

I'm OVER yahoo.

Happy New Year.

Where DOES the time go? I have been to Paris, Brussles, Berlin, Strasbourg, Amsterdam, London, Seattle, SanFrancisco and (get this) MONTANA since I last blogged. Jesus Mary and Joseph! No wonder I'm jet lagged.

Luke is gone. Gone gone. He moved to New York. He went there to be with his NEW LOVE. Having survived dumping the fish king's wife he got out of town. Good thing too.

Sinead has gone into hiding. She and Mick are moving around town in a dream-like state and always cordial but sort of in their own space right now. I understand it just fine because that happens to all of us. I hope it's okay for them right now and look forward to seeing them sometime later. Maybe next year.

Brad is mincing about at work, all atwitter for the holidays. He got to me first with a Christmas dinner invitation so I will join him and his bitter greek friend for dinner. The greek friend is actually fun, she's just SO bitter. It oozes out of her like ouzo. It's fun for a couple hours and then it's tedious but I'll only be with her a couple hours. Brad is a good cook so dinner will be good.

Earth Mother and her einsteinian husband invited me but too late so maybe I'll have Christmas EVE dinner with them which is more appropriate anyway that household being all about eve.

I remember when I used to call my brother's wife "the dog faced girl" when talking about her to my boyfriend. I don't know what happened but when I saw her recently I really LIKED her. She seems to have mellowed out or maybe I have but we had a wonderful time together. Maybe it's a trick.

The mighty U.S. DOLLAR is taking a beating. The runt president has ruined our currency. Those of us being paid in dollars and living in Europe are suffering for sure. It's hideous. Yesterday I had a date with a Mongolian. We went dutch treat. Talk about an international date!

He's cute as hell, about thirty and built like the proverbial brick shithouse. I was never sure what that phrase meant but suffice it to say he is WELL built. Buff, handsome, not too tall not too short and nice manner. Also good in bed. A bonus. As it were.

In my trend of only meeting unavailable men I have learned that he (alas) has a "partner." What is it with me? I only meet "partnered" men or military men who are doomed to transfer or be sent to Iraq.

Yes, mighty Joe (god bless him AND his well hung good looks) is STILL fighting the runt bush's war while the cryptkeeper (Rumsfeld) schemes away.

I don't hear a lot from Joe these days. He's a Marine Corps officer in a front line unit. It doesn't give one much of an opportunity to pop into the internet cafe and send off a few emails.

The runt bush is (along with his cabal) ruining the country formerly known as the United States of America. While blowing up Iraq civilians, women, children and the occasional insurgent he is simultaneously crushing the middle class and forcing the poor into even greater desperation back in the U.S. of A. God Bless America though and our potentate. Jesus Mary and Joseph.

Speaking of those three, I am having the best Christmas this side of being born in a stable. Friends have been coming and going (and never too soon) and I have been drinking gluhwien al fresco and shopping and dating some and attending the baths. It's all been very festive.

We had an office party that was lame but that's the usual result of that type of thing. At least that repugnant major didn't try to sit on my lap this year (no santa references please - I am thin and fit). He is a frustrated homosexual but I'm not the chairman of the "married military man coming out program" so he needs to stay away from ME.

And to all a good night.

The tricky thing about blogging is that in order to keep it interesting, you have to keep doing it. I failed. So here we go again.

My last entry maintained that I survived gay day at Oktober fest but apparently not. Not only did I quit blogging (until now), I quit keeping up with my friends, I quit doing very well at work, I quit emailing my mother as often as I should. I quit doing a lot of things.

I think I quit doing a lot of things because I'm not having sex. Gay men don't function well in almost all areas when they are not having sex. You can ask Sinead about this. She will tell you that I am a mess these days but wouldn't be able to tell you exactly why. Mick, on the other hand could tell you exactly why. There is only one thing Mick likes more than fast cars and that's his... well, let's just say he would make a great gay man. He can be an honorary member of the tribe.

Mick and Sinead have been busy. Work. Conferences. Company. None of us have spent much time doing anything much fun lately. We are all busy trying to help John Kerry get elected. Jesus. I can't bear to think what would happen if he doesn't. I'm already a damned mess.

Joe is in Iraq, I work for the Army in Germany, a bunch of my friends work for the Army all over the damned place and Bush is crazy. It doesn't get much worse than that. Short of dumping Joe, finding a rich man in gaylandia to marry and leaving it all behind, it looks like it will be pretty grim if Bush gets another four. What the hell will we... I ... do?

In the meantime, Brad has been a pal to end all pals. He keeps me laughing in the office and is at least as horny as I am. The benefit of that, of course, is that I always have a pal to go to the sauna with. It's more fun going together. A certain law of the universe seems to stipulate that gay men in groups attract more attention (the right KIND of attention) than gay men alone. It also works for gay men out in public with their mom and dad (mine are not cock blocks) and gay men out in public with high maintenance auntie (huge cock block) or out in public with favorite auntie (not only is she NOT a cock block but she's always trying to hook me up).

I've been out to sea on a real U.S. Navy ship since the Oktoberfest demise of my GAY AMERICAN BLOG. I went to Norway and then got on the ship there. First of all, Norweigian men are beautiful. Second of all, more than half of all the sailors on board were beautiful. I had a lot of fun out at sea. All those hatches and knee knockers and bells and whistles. Then there was the bridge and the CIC and the goodlooking guy from DC who wanted to do me. I didn't let him though. I told him to come visit me in Germany but I was NOT going to get laid on a U.S. Navy ship. It was too damned COLD for one thing. You'd think the Navy would figure out how to shut off the airconditioning in the fall in the NORTH sea above Norway but no. Well, it's not the gay navy. I did not get sea sick once and I did kiss DC boy goodbye with tounges.

Luke is as big a mess as I've ever seen him. He's in love all over again, this time in the states and he's going to leave. I'm going to miss Luke in a big way, although he is straight and we do not kiss. Not even a friendly gay / straight kiss in a non threatening way which I do with some of my straight friends. (Don't worry Mick, I'm not going to try to kiss you - a. you are not my type and b. it would freak you out and c. i'd rather kiss your pretty wife)

My epal Dave is keeping me in stitches with his smart emails. I wish Dave was close. I'd marry his cranky ass. He's the most honest person there is and those are in short supply these days. I also find myself thinking a lot of another DC pal, Kenny who I stayed with a couple days and we fell in love with each other really fast and then I left because I was only visiting and it was over. We still email. He is handsome and smart and dedicated to his job (like me) and that is why we are both single, my own best efforts with Joe notwithstanding.

Earth Mother has been in a funk lately. I did'nt help when I got back from Strasbourg and told her I "smoked some really good shit" with my guitar player friend. I didn't but I know it's the kind of thing earthmother and the absent minded professor like to do so I said it. The other guys were smoking but I wasn't. I'm reducing and I eat too much when I get high.

Today I was walking to the grocery store and I got cruised three times. That makes it a good day.

This blogging thing is pretty easy once you get going at it again. Nice.

WELL, I managed to survive GAY DAY at Oktoberfest without getting tied up and spanked by the big, good looking guy in nothing but black leather chaps. He was hot on my trail though. There's nothing quite like 9 or 10 thousand gay men partying in a Munich Beerhall on opening weekend of Oktoberfest. It's surreal. I got kissed so much I had to borrow my friend's chapstick. (shut up Luke)

Sinead and Mick are back from their cruise. He loved it, she re-caught a cold. I hear the food was good.

Earth Mother is nesting and the absentminded professor isn't noticing.

The politics war continues in full hale. I wish American GAYS would support Kerry the way these Munich boys greeted their mayor when he came to give a speech. What a speech it was, too. All about community and belonging and inclusiveness and promises to keep reforms coming. What a strange thing to hear such rhetoric from the Mayor of Munich while the Bushites continue to bring a totalitarian regime closer and closer to reality in Amerika. Ironical.

This week my big boss told me the Army is investigating me but wouldn't tell me why. I haven't done anything wrong except put a penis or two in places where straight men wouldn't. And that sure as hell isn't wrong, it's oh so right. I'll just have to wait and see. It could get ugly.

I wonder where Joe is?

Where does the time go? Things seem to happen so fast. I was buying an orange candle last week and Sinead saw me go into the store out her window. I didn't know it at the time. She didn't come out because her hair was wet.

She called me on the phone. She's been ill and I haven't seen her. Now she's back at work and I still haven't seen her except from afar and pretty soon she'll be on vacation and I won't see her for awhile.

Luke is the happiest I have ever seen him. Love can do that.

Brad is perenially cheerful. We are going to spend a good deal of time together this weekend hanging out and doing nothing. We'll probably watch some movies and cook some food and do some shopping. I am still wondering about a new tattoo so I might take him to the shop with me.

This has been a good email week. Lots of interesting news from afar. LOTS.

This has also been a good week in the office. I hired a new woman to work on my team. She's just GREAT. And I mean GREAT. The bonus of it is, she's a lesbian. Her partner and she are raising a son together. A nicer family, you never did see. They are wonderful, happy, mature people.

Ironically enough, the OTHER team in my division also just hired a lesbian. That means that in our little army operation here there are four gay people that we know of. I suspect at least one more but he's as fucked up as a soup sandwich. Way too "American Beauty" for me. He needs to stay down at his end of the hallway.

Working for the army sucks but it's a lot easier with a decent sized queer contingent.

Today the phone rang in my office. It was Sascha (which is a Russian nickname for Alexander) asking me to do some contract translation work. It has to be done by Friday. I'm sorry he is under the gun but it's already Wednesday and the week is full. I can't take on any extra work this week. Too bad becuase the money would be nice.

Once when I was broke I said "I'm broke" to my friend. He asked "What do you need?" And I said "I need some money." He looked at me for awhile and said "Then go out and get some." At the time I thought he was being stupid and that he was worried I was trying to borrow from him (I wasn't). Now I have money and I didn't die of being broke. I hope that in the future, if I'm broke again, I'll remember his advice. It seems to have worked out this time. It's worked for him too. He was a piss poor artist at the time. Now he's selling paintings of Verona for thousands of dollars each and driving a new Porsche.

Luke is not broke and not going to be broke but he is done with his current job. He has a lot of exciting stuff going on. As a friend, I would say to him "Even if it costs a lot, it's only money. Just go and get some more. Have fun. Try new things. Life's too short not to." I wouldn't just be saying it, I live according to it. It's a good way to live. Luke's great. He's charming, talented, literate, literary, musical, good looking, fun, compassionate, and wise. Those are just some of his attributes. I hate seeing him go but I would hate more for him to stay. I love my friends and I want the best for them. One doesn't run into friends like Luke often. His mom's hot too (and nice and smart).

Today a U.S. Army MAJOR walked into my office and said "You don't know shit about fashion. Look at you! Your belt and your shoes don't even match!" This from a man squeezed into light green polyester. [If you want to see good uniforms look at Marines and Sailors]

The MAJOR is wrong about my fashion sense on several counts. First he is wrong because he is a TANK COMMANDER in the U.S. ARMY. Secondly he is wrong because matching belts and shoes are for pentacostals, baptists and golfers. Thirdly he is wrong because my shoes are FABULOUS.

I bought them in Firenza. They are Italian. They are comfortable and well made. Excellent design elements. I look great in them.

My belt came from the same shop. It's understated. My suit is from a tailor in Georgetown. Unconstructed, elegant, dark blue. Midnight blue. Not Italian but a superb garment. It's exactly right for tea, a matinee at the opera, or lunch in a tony restaurant with Luke (note: Luke is not queer, nor do we go on dates. Lunch with Luke really IS lunch with Luke).

Tonight I have a date with Brad. He's cooking dinner in and I'm bringing wine and season one of "Queer as Folk" on DvD. I'm looking forward to it because Brad is an excellent cook and a lot of fun. It's a platonic date. Doing anything with Brad would be creepy like doing something with one's brother.

I'm not going to wear my dark suit and Italian shoes to Brads'. I am going to wear my dark blue cargo shorts and a black Italian T shirt and my leather sandals. It's a good look. I have great legs. Cargo shorts are Universal. Just ask Dave or Steve, they'll tell you. Don't ask any Army Majors though. They don't know shit about fashion.

Yesterday was a good day. It started off right when I saw five red cars in a row. One of them was a Ferrari which made it especially good. The Italians know design and style.

Yesterday also prominently featured 3 Buddhist monks travelling from Nepal and one man so drunk that he could not control his neck or his speech.

The monks are on their way from Dharamsala via Nepal to the United States with stops in Munich, Paris, and London along the way. They're trading places with 3 Jesuit priests for 6 months. In Munich they will visit with some Jesuits for a few days. They chose Munich because it represents a conservative catholic approach, Paris because of a liberal catholic approach and London because the church of England is neither fish nor fowl but they are intrigued by the conservative vs. liberal debate that goes on now, especially with regards to the ordination of gays and women. (These particular three didn't see what all the fuss was about).

They liked my height, my hair, my blue eyes and my friendliness and invited me to sit with them. So I sat with them. We drank tea. We talked. And talked. Then we talked some more.

One thing I learned from them is that one of the names of the Dalai Lama is "Yeshin Norbu." It means "The Wishful Gem." I like that name. Another one of his names is "Kundun" which means "The Presence." I had heard that one before.

All of them wore safron robes and sandals. All of them had shaved heads. One of them wore glasses. One of them had a gold front upper tooth. One of them had a beautiful tattoo in a Tibetan script on his inside forearm. It meant "Wisdom." He did it himself. I wish he would do one on me.

I showed them my Japanese tattoo on my upper leg and one of them said "that means the firebird that rises from the ashes and the other one means courage." He was right on the money. He speaks and reads Japanese. He said the calligraphy was good. I found that encouraging since I had it done at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina. Not exactly a center of literacy. I also showed them my two lizard tattoos. They said lizards were sacred and I was lucky to have them. I said "I chose them" and the one who spoke Japanese said "maybe they chose you."

We talked a long time. We talked about religion and politics. I learned more about Buddhism from these three than I knew before. I have a feeling that if people REALLY did everything the way Jesus said to in the sermon on the mount, what you would have is about like Buddhism.

I asked them why they thought the fuss in the church of England was silly. "Because we are all man, woman, gay, straight" was the answer. I thought about that for a minute. I didn't reply. After a suitable silence, the same fellow said "Who were you? Who are you? Who will you be?"
I took this to mean he was referring to reincarnation. (I was right) He said "Maybe you are a homosexual in this life but you weren't in your last life. Will you judge yourself so harshly or enjoy your new life?" I told him that I AM a homosexual and it feels wonderful and natural to me. I told him that I had TRIED to be straight and it made me feel sick and wrong. "You are in balance" he said. Then he said "Isn't it funny that when you are in balance there are so many forces and people who want to ruin that balance? I do not just mean about homosexuality here, I mean about peace, balance, and happiness."

After we were done sitting, I got on the S-Bahn which people SAY means "Strassen Bahn" but in fact means "Schnell Bahn" and headed for another part of town. A man who was so drunk that he couldn't hold his head up or say any real words sat next to me. He smelled bad. All the Germans around were looking daggers at him and recoiling. He leaned against me. He smelled BAD. Then he started talking. Or what passed for talking. It was complete gibberish except for pauses where periods and commas would have been. I nodded once or twice. He put his hand on my arm. I said "please don't touch me" and he removed his hand right away. Then he started up his gibberish again. I responded to the pauses with "oh my" and "yes" and "is that so?" and "I see" all chosen as judiciously as possible. At one point when I looked at him to respond, he put his hand on my cheek, very gently, and turned my head so I was looking straight at the window. In the only intellible words from him the whole time, he said "don't talk to me, talk to him" and pointed at his reflection in the window. Then he went back to gibberish. He got off the train at Marienplatz stop but then came back on because he had more to tell me. After unburdening himself further, he got off at Karls Tor-Stachus. Once the train pulled away I got the bottle of hand disinfectant out of my back pack and cleaned my hands and face. One can be compassionate and at the same time practical. A man said "Why did you talk to that trash?" I silently thought to myself that it was the trash that just asked the question.

I enjoyed my visit with the drunk as much as my visit with the monks. He probably understood as much of what I was saying to him as I understood the philosophy of the monks. That is to say, the deeper philosophy. Of course I understood the surface content.

Life presents strange symmetry sometimes.

Earth Mother and the Absent Minded Professor (her husband) are WEARING ME OUT. Their son (stoney) and his girlfriend (stonier) are here visiting. Earth Mother and the Professor won't give them a minute alone so they keep asking me if they can go to my place to do the obvious while I'm at work. "Okay" I said.

The results are not good. First off, they aren't tidy. A fault in the extreme. Secondly, I told them NO SMOKING which they mistakenly thought meant SMOKING ONLY ON THE BALCONY. When I got home from work last night my landlord said "Are you smoking pot up there?" I said "no." Thirdly, my office phone rings every five minutes with either Earth Mother or the Absent Minded Professor saying "the kids went out for a walk five hours ago and didn't come home for lunch, do you know where they are?"

Tomorrow I'll know where they AREN'T. I got my key back from them today. No more pot smoking on my balcony or fucking in my guest room. My cleaning lady came by for a special session this afternoon to evict the kids, grab the key and sanitize the house, top to bottom. If you ever want anything done that requires precision, skill, sanitization and a bit of ruthlessness, call a german cleaning lady.

My cleaning lady is even madder at George Bush now than before. She hates it that "That horrible president of yours made your boy friend go away." She always did like Joe better than me but is insanely protective of both of us. She's practical though. This week when she made a nice batch of potato salad she only gave me a small container of the stuff. Before I could protest she said "Joe isn't here to eat the rest and besides he works out a lot more than you so you can't afford to eat as much as he could." She always did like Joe best.

Tonight I'm going to a barbeque with a couple faculty members and the stunning Sinead and her hubby Mick. It's the social event of the season but we might get rained upon. I'm anxious to see what Sinead looks like if the rain comes. I've never seen her all wet before. This is not a wierd sex thing. I'm a dedicated homo. It's just a curiosity thing like seeing a cat wet. She's so good natured that I can't imagine anything flapping her but a good dousing might be just the thing. It would be fun to see what might happen. (She gives her cats shots every day with bird needles to control the diabetes. That's Sinead all over.)

Luke. Jesus. What can I say about LUKE today. First, he's REALLY done with the fishking's ex. WHEW. I'm glad of that. Secondly, he's quitting Germany for elsewhere. I'm doing the "I told you so dance." Joe and I argued about this once. He was convinced that Luke was a confirmed expat once and for all. My thesis was that anyone who defended German social behavior as vigorously as Luke was only one step away from complete loathing of it and on the way out the door. I win.

I'll miss the hell out him but we have what I consider to be a "good start" so I won't really miss him at all. One does not dispose of one's friends.

Way to go Luke. I'm all for it.

Today brought news from friends Elizabeth and Dave in the form of email. Both of them have been going through harrowing job searches, both of them have just been offered positions. What great news! I find it encouraging in the midst of my own job search.

Luke showed up at my office today! I was glad to see him. Last night he broke up with the fishking's ex. It was ugly. She put all his stuff out on the lawn and made a big scene. Jeff looks GREAT this morning. He looks happy. I'm sorry for the drama and the pain of it all but I'm glad for his happiness.

Sinead looks great today too. Rather like a cat that has just eaten a canary. Of course this is a poor analogy as Sinead is a cat lover, a canary lover and a vegetarian.

I saw Rodrigo today for the first time in several days. He has lost 1 kilogram.

I've got this great E-pal. DAVE. I haven't met him in person but we've talked on the phone and emailed. He's an aggro stud. He's built, aggressive, honest, and has great tattoos. By all accounts he knows his way around the bedroom too.

There exists between us a strange nexus. It seems like we are in best communication when we are both in periods of transition. I had gone along for almost two years without keeping up emails and then, somehow we got a kick start and are communicating again.

I value his emails and jibes so much that I wonder how I let it fall off the first time around? Overcome by events, I guess. He's a complete smart ass. In a good way. He's a film head. He KNOWS film. He's forgotten more about film than I will ever know. He has a lot of other stuff going for him too.

It occurs to me that Dave is typical of a lot of homos, myself included. Flexible career approach, fluid approach to location... unique stressors, living between the lines of scripted straight society. He's a make it up as you go along kind of guy. He's honest and brave and daring. I like all of that.

It's strange but with Joe leaving and me looking for other work and all the crap that's come along with that, I've had a greater sense of support and encouragement from Dave than I have from my (very) encouraging local friends. I don't know how that works but I'm sure as hell grateful.

Dave's a stud.

Luke finally sent me an email. I'm glad he came up for air. Jesus. I worry about that boy when I don't see him. I'm not kidding about the fish king. Those sonsabitches are serious. You don't mess with Russian millionaires wives without consequence. Or exwives. Keep your head down Luke!

Last night I was watching the olympics on German TV. There was a cell phone commercial with three guys hanging out. One of the guys looked so much like Luke it made my heart stop. I thought he was off making TV commercials! Upon closer inspection I realized it wasn't Luke, just a euro copy. I guess Luke's still in New York. Oops. I meant Los Angeles (take that, fish king... I don't KNOW where Luke is).

I like the olympic coverage on the Euro Sport channel. Jeez. It's great. None of the CRAP you get on the American coverage. Just the sports. And plenty of em. Some of those swimmers aren't too hard to look at. The women martial artists don't do anything for me though. Thank god.

Sinead got her hair fixed yet again. I think the product from the pink dildo bottle only took things to a certain point and then they had to call in the professionals. She is not, in any sense, a fashion victim but the striped hair was a bit much. Now her wild irish tresses are back to their glossy black. The universe seems better for it. Skinny, beautiful Sinead. An Irish rose. If you saw here, you'd know what the term "wild irish rose" means. Mick is one lucky guy.

I slept GREAT last night. The stress of Joe leaving had been building up but now that it's done things seem, at least, peaceful. I think the stresses in his environment are only just beginning and will build from here on. Iraq is not exactly a garden spot. He loves being a Marine though. It was and is within his power to not be one and he's doing what he believes to be the right thing. I like that kind of principle. The cost of it sucks. Still, I'd rather have principle than lack thereof.

Work is keeping me diffused. The weekend might be tough. We'll see. Brad wants me to go to the baths with him. That will be good for a few laughs. Brad in the context of these severe queer Germans is really something to watch. He suggested we both go for Brazilian waxes toghether and then go to the baths. I don't even know what the hell a Brazilian wax IS.

Now it's raining again. I'd rather be in Italy today.

I'm not going to talk about my weekend. It was great. It wasn't morose. Joe and I both knew it was our last weekend together for a LONG time. We made it count.

This morning I woke up early. I guess I did it so I could just enjoy laying there next to him. The look and feel and smell of him have become so much a part of my life that I can't imagine what it will be like when he's not there.

After he was done throwing things in his suitcase this morning, I took out a few of his white T shirts and a few of his black ones. While I was doing that I noticed he had put IN several pairs of my boxers. What a stud. I left them there.

We were quiet at breakfast and then took a shower together and then got ready. I took him to the train. I couldn't bear the thought of the airport vigil and neither could he. It's better this way.
He got out of the car and we hugged and then kissed long. He went in, I got in the car and drove away. I never looked back.

It already felt empty walking in. Two sets of breakfast dishes and OUR bed, all messed up. OUR towels on the bathroom floor. Damn. It's over. For now anyway. I looked around, left it all just like it was and did what I do every other morning. I went to work.

I miss him already.

Sinead is a godsend. Of course, if you talk to certain people, homos don't deserve, merit, or receive godsends. Maybe she's a goddess-send. Besides being svelte and beautiful and having the good sense to wear widow's rags to her government job (though FAR from a widow she is married to one of the nicest fellows...) she is also about the best person I know for checking in on her friends, regardless of what's going on in her own sphere.

She pays attention. That counts for alot.

Joe and I were talking in bed this morning. He was telling me that when he goes not to worry because he'll be back and we have so many friends here. He's right about the friends. We have great friends here. (But I wonder where Luke went? He went to the states three weeks ago and not a word from him. Something about Brighton Beach. Jesus. I hope the fish king hasn't gotten to him.)

Joe has no idea about the coming back part and neither do I. The army heirarchy hates the marine corps and subsequently sends them to the worst assignments. Competence has a part to play there too. Those marines are tough and know their business as opposed to the majority of the army, a lumbering bureacracy run by lumbering fools.

Joe. What the hell was I thinking? Ah well, I never was one to avoid risk.

Summer has finally come to Germany. My mountain bike is getting a good workout and so am I. The sun that we have been enjoying in France and Italy all summer is finally here. The rain's gone.

Today I'm taking the day off. Joe and I are doing ordinary things and not talking about THE thing. We're going to get haircuts and eat at our favorite restaruant and hang out and nap and have cocktails and hang out some more.

I feel like all those women who fall in love with sailors. How Joan Crawford is THAT? Jesus.

Luke, if you're out there, send me a goddamned email to let me know you're ok!

IT's OVER. Jesus. It seems like it got here so fast. Joe has to leave Monday. We've been back from Venice a week, before that we were in France. We talked around and around the whole issue but he is a Marine, damnit and that is that. They didn't issue wives, much less HUSBANDS so there it is.

Of course we love each other and of course we didn't fight. Oh we argued. Damn. We ARGUED. And then we made up and had sex and made up some more and had sex.

He hates bush and the homophobes and all the rest as much as I do but he LOVES the marine corps and separates it from the rest. Joe. So freaking NOBLE.

Me, I'm not going to tank out on this one. Oh I hate it and yes I am going to miss the hell out of the handsome lug but like so many homos before me and so many after me I'm going to watch the boy pack and leave.

One of my good friends just broke up with his guy. They had bought several houses together. Not to mention the golden retriever and the black lab. Doctor. Mortgage Broker. Marriage made in heaven. Apparently not.

My Swiss Jewish Intellectual friend called me to see how things were. "Sucks" I told him. He told me it could be worse. He said "you could be a Swiss Jewish Intellectual. Who would date you then?"

"It's not about that" I said. "It's not about who would date me. That's never been a problem."
I stayed quiet far a minute or two and he didn't say anything. I said "It's about Joe leaving. No more Joe in bed next to me. No more weekend mornings. No more coffee and showers together. No more looking at his muscled neck and buzzed head while I hold him."

In his best Swiss Jewish Intellectual way he said "You'll still have weekends. They come whether you want them to or not."

I think he was trying to help. It didn't help. I hate the neocons and their goddamned war.

I'm so tired of working for the army. it's just stupid. now i am looking for work but it will probably take awhile.

I sure as hell hope john kerry and john edwards get elected. then i hope they start balancing the budget by taking every damn person and piece of equipment we own out of Iraq.

Joe has to go to Iraq but they probably won't get around to mobilizing his unit for at least a couple more months. We will enjoy the time we have before the hammer drops. I expect I'll be walking bowlegged by the time he leaves... and totally in a good way.

Last night I was so stressed out with work and all the changes that we decided to go to the baths. They've put in a dungeon. It's very cool. I'd never tried a sling before but man was it fun.

Dungeon. HAHAHAH. That is SO not me.

I have not blogged lately. I've been depressed. Joe's leaving for Iraq. His entire career field is being mobilized. I hate it. Later, I'll say just how MUCH I hate it but for now, "I hate it" will have to do.

It's been awhile since I've blogged but I have an excuse. I was in Paris. Paris, France.

There is nothing much better than being in Paris, France for a week without a care in the world. The only thing you have to do is wake up in the arms of your lover and wonder where you are going to get your coffee and baguette that morning when you are done being lazy and in bed. And what a place to wake up in a lover's arms. Paris.

Joe knew about this place on the left bank with big rooms, high ceilings, french doors that opened onto the Seine and a bathroom that looks like it's out of "Architectural Digest." I loved the suite the minute we opened the doors.

It's been a week of walks, late breakfasts in cafes, reading, a couple museums and lots of good music. We haven't been spoken to rudely, abused by a single waiter or criticized for being Americans.

It was a gracious and well timed week. I am reminded again that the scale of the city is superb.

After Paris, we drove back through the Alsace and Lorraine (not in that order). French country houses, big farms, champagne vineyards, spectacular gardens. Quite a drive. Big change crossing the border into Germany.

Joe and I decided to go to Paris on the spur of the moment. We're living on borrowed time because he is probably going to be sent to Iraq. I won't hang around in Europe waiting, I'm looking for work in the states.

I wish Joey would get out of the Marine Corps and take his chances with me, but he won't. He's not ready and I won't push him to it. No way.

We'll see. In the meantime, we are living for the day. On Friday we'll head for Venice in the car. We want to be FAR away from anything American for the fourth of July. The jingoism is too disgusting.

Paris. What a place.

It's been awhile since I've blogged but I have an excuse. I was in Paris. Paris, France.

There is nothing much better than being in Paris, France for a week without a care in the world. The only thing you have to do is wake up in the arms of your lover and wonder where you are going to get your coffee and baguette that morning when you are done being lazy and in bed. And what a place to wake up in a lover's arms. Paris.

Joe knew about this place on the left bank with big rooms, high ceilings, french doors that opened onto the Seine and a bathroom that looks like it's out of "Architectural Digest." I loved the suite the minute we opened the doors.

It's been a week of walks, late breakfasts in cafes, reading, a couple museums and lots of good music. We haven't been spoken to rudely, abused by a single waiter or criticized for being Americans.

It was a gracious and well timed week. I am reminded again that the scale of the city is superb.

After Paris, we drove back through the Alsace and Lorraine (not in that order). French country houses, big farms, champagne vineyards, spectacular gardens. Quite a drive. Big change crossing the border into Germany.

Joe and I decided to go to Paris on the spur of the moment. We're living on borrowed time because he is probably going to be sent to Iraq. I won't hang around in Europe waiting, I'm looking for work in the states.

I wish Joey would get out of the Marine Corps and take his chances with me, but he won't. He's not ready and I won't push him to it. No way.

We'll see. In the meantime, we are living for the day. On Friday we'll head for Venice in the car. We want to be FAR away from anything American for the fourth of July. The jingoism is too disgusting.

Paris. What a place.

WHAT a week.

My U.S. Army Major ("Rush Limbaugh is the only honest and unbiased media personality out there") stalker won't leave me alone. I swear he has a crush on me. He sent his dog faced wife and two wierd kids to northern Germany (???) for the summer. Now he wants to be my new best friend. He's as screwed up as a soup sandwich. I told him to get out of my office and not come back. Joe thinks he's a creep too.

Joe and I are heading for Paris. Time for some love in the city of love.

Issue girl is back from vacation with more issues than ever. She seems to be talking to Brad about them more than me. That's a good thing. When Brad gets fed up he tells her to "talk to the hand."

Last night Brad went to the bath house and met the "biggest" guy he's ever been with. He is going back for more tonight. I wish him well and I hope nothing rips.

Luke's love life is in melt down just now.

There but for the grace of god go I. Nonetheless... Joe and I are off for Paris. I hope nothing rips.

Joe and I went to the baths with Brad last night. It's always more fun to go when it's raining because the place is packed. Last night was no different. We hung out in the bar for awhile, watching people go up and down the stairs. That tells a lot. How a guy goes up and down stairs while wearing only a towel is indicative of a lot of other things.

The sauna was so freaking dark you couldn't see. I hate it when it's that dark in there. All that bumping, and not in a good way.

We saw several people we knew. Mostly we sat around in the chairs watching the parade and joking with each other. When all the bears got out of the hot tub, we took it over and sat there for awhile.

This sauna is CLEAN with a vengeance. These Germans understand cleanliness. It makes for a nice time because you are not worried about getting foot rot or some other awful thing just from having been there. The towels are good too.

The staff always wants to know if you "had a good time" when you leave. We had a GREAT time.

There was some new construction going on downstairs for the last few weeks. We discovered that they have put in another video room (a nice one) and a dungeon! There was even a sling. I've never BEEN in a sling but it looked like it could be kind of interesting.
Joe said he had and it was fun. Brad said "no way" which I thought was funny because if anyone in our group of friends was apt to sign up for sling time, I would have thought it would be Brad.

Brad, by the way, still describes himself as "republican" but has agreed not to vote for Bush. Maybe that's why the no sling thing. Republicans probably don't get a lot of sling time.

I'm a democrat though. Bring it on.

Joe and I were visiting my family. He can't believe how much I look like my dad. People have told me that I look like my mom but I can't see it. Besides, at 6 feet, 3 inches tall and two hundred fifteen pounds, I'd look pretty stupid with big tits and big hair.

After mom and dad left, Joe and I had a romantical trip along the Cinque Terra, Monaco and the French Riviera. A guy could get awfully tired of working if he did too much of this kind of thing.

Getting back to Germany was stupid. Rainy, cold, nasty. German summer. I fancy the weather must be like this all the time in Rumsfeld's office only colder.

We're starting to get a real bad feeling about the whole election / Iraq thing. More and more troops are being sent and we are starting to see the first departures from here. I'm looking for work back in the states but so far haven't found anything.

Joe says he's staying in long enough to retire so the writing's on the wall. I wish he'd get out but Marines are stubborn. Even the gay ones. Maybe the gay ones are MORE stubborn than the other ones.

I got a fund raising letter from Kerry today... well, from two of my friends who are working for Kerry (Ben and Ben). I sent 2000 dollars. I'll just pay my damn property taxes next month.

I hope it helps.

I dropped off film to be developed today and saw a guy so good looking that if he walked down the street in New Orleans, he'd turn heads in Algiers. He was working at the film counter. I can't remember whether I just flirted or actually dropped off any film as well. I don't care.

I'm going to send Joe back to pick up the photos to see if he has a similar reaction or if it's just me.

Father Mike is visiting. We just call him "Mike" but he's Father Mike. He's a Jesuit Priest. He's a university professor. He's a musician. He's an art historian. He's smart as hell. I have feelings of inadequacy when I'm around him.

Last night, we met Sinead and Mick for a late supper at the Italian pizza joint. Luca the waiter was just back from France looking tanned and as beautiful as ever. When we commented on how brown he was he looked at me with a smirk. I answered his tanned, self-satisfied look with the doleful phrase "Sono un pesche bianco!" It's true too. I am as white as a mackerel. We have had no spring here. Sinead loves it but she's not right anyway. I hate it. (I haven't sat out on my balcony even one time yet this season).

Dinner was great. The food's not as good as at my favorite Italian joint here but it was GOOD. Mike had a calzone that could have eaten Manhattan. I've never seen such a big thing. Whatever Mick had looked good. Some sort of pepper steak. Sinead, who is already so skinny she can play her ribs like a xylophone, ate three leaves of spinach and one slice of hard boiled egg. She didn't go hungry though, she filled up on San Pelligrino. I had lasagna. I didn't go hungry either.

We drank Grapa but not enough although by the time we left at 1130 it was beginning to dawn on us that the next day was a workday so all's well that ends well.

Luke is back from traipsing through the south of France with the fish king's ex. He missed an opportunity. He should have gone for the sexy Euro buzz upon leaving. It's easier to come back to work with a radical hairstyle change after a vacation.

Sinead is putting something in her hair that comes out of a bottle that looks like a pink dildo. It almost makes me wish I had long hair. She got it off the internet from a miracle worker who specializes in hair emergencies.

Gunther the gay hairdresser (overstatement? I think NOT) put platinum zebra stripes in her tawny tresses. When the crying was over, she turned to the internet. Voila! Pink dildo gel to the rescue.

Last night at dinner, Sinead showed me Mick's passport photo. Jesus! If I dated someone that baby-faced they'd call me a chicken hawk! He looks older now but he's still pretty fresh looking. Give him a week with us alone, he won't look so fresh (cheers Mick!).

"Your mouth is hanging open."

"No it's not, Joe!"

"Yes it was."

"Was not."

That's how it went as I was reading the latest letter from the DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY.

"I don't believe this shit" I said.

"What?"

I handed Joe the letter. It was a follow-up letter to the last one I got. This one "established the legal authority for recalls." "You know Joe," I said, "With things getting ready to wind down in Iraq, why the big push now?"

Joe looked at me and said "duh."

"What?"

"Wind DOWN? Are you KIDDING?"

That's when it hit me. This crowd in power wants things to completely blow up in Iraq after the handover of power. In fact we will probably find a reason to jump ugly with Syria while we're at it.

"I'm not going back on active duty, Joe. I'm not."

"What will you do?"

"I'll declare my homosexuality. I won't go back on active duty."

"It might cost you your current job too."

"So what." I said. " don't care. I don't know what the hell I'll do to pay the bills but I don't care."

The thing about being a "gay american wandering the world" is that it's a little pretentious sounding in a blog description. Face it, it's pretentious in any context. Imagine, a gay man being pretentious.

I don't want to be associated with the NASCAR crowd though, or the baptists, or their ilk. I hate ilk. I like being a GAY american because at least we get a sort of sympathy vote for being (perceived) liberal in a country where we are roundly despised.

These Europeans are much better to their gays than we are. We hate ours. Russia hates theirs too. Zhirinovsky is calling for camps and death penalties. Bush probably would too, if he thought he could get away with it. In the meantime he'll leave that sort of opining to Wolfowitz.

When these Italians we were talking to in Milano started in on us (with our square jawed military looks) about the crap going on in Iraq we told them "hey, we're against it too."

"How can you be against it too?" they asked.

"We're gay." We answered.

That stopped 'em cold. The kind of stop you get when the words and music completely don't match. They couldn't believe it. So we kissed and told them we were lovers. Then they believed it. Italians are passionate about their passion.

One of them said "so good looking, both of you! What a loss to zee women!"

Their loss, our gain.

The other gain to be made was the shift in tide. All of a sudden we had (our shorn, military looks notwithstanding) credibility as LIBERALS. It was a refreshing shift. Then the fun talk really began. We got to hear real opinions and share some.

There are a few more Italians now who know that not all americans are like madge and bob from dubuque.

This morning I woke up hearing the Italian delivery boys talking to the hotel owner on the street below. We had slept with the window open. Warm night in Venice. What great sounds. Beyond the street I could hear the grand canal.

I nestled into Joe wondering if he would have to go to Iraq and if I would be able to bear coming back to Venice again any time soon if he had to go. Let Bush go to Iraq and fight his own war.

I fell back asleep and the next thing I heard was the shower. I went in and got in it with Joe. Then we went down and had some turbo coffee. I love Italy. We ordered omlettes so we had an excuse to drink more coffee.

We'll drive back today, over Brenner pass, down into Innsbruck and then on to Munich. Germany always seems a bit of a let down after Italy but the scenery is so beautiful on the way back. The alps are still snowy this time of year and the flowers are starting on the lower slopes. Joe likes to drive so I'll relax and watch the scenery and take a turn if he gets tired. He won't get tired.

Luke and Natasha are in France. They called on the cell phone to tell us to forget about using condoms because now they cause cancer. I'll take my chances with cancer before I'll take my chances with aids. Besides, I don't think condoms really cause cancer.

I assume from the tenor of Luke's call that Natasha is on the pill. Not an issue for us.

Work tomorrow. Ugh. Not so bad though because I have another break coming up in three weeks. We'll head for France.

Joe and I decided that if I get my recall notice I will officially come out to the military. I won't be recalled. Period. Coming out will likely cost me my civil service job too, since I work for the army. Let the chips fall where they may.

By week's end we hadn't heard any more about his situation. We're holding our breaths and trying to pretend like it's no big deal. I can't believe we are so at the mercy of unknown forces. We could have our entire lives blown apart by these bastards and we have nothing to say about it.

I hope Kerry gets elected. I wonder though, if it will make a difference?

Joe and I are enjoying Italy. We started with a day in Vernoa. One of the things I like best about Verona is that it is not on the main drag for tourism. I don't mind tourism or tourists but it's fun to hang in a city that's a little more laid back. The roman ruins are as spectacular as ever and so are the roman men. Plenty of FINE looking men in this country. Joe and I attract our share of attention too.

Now we're in Venice and we've met a nice couple. Angelo and Mike. Angelo is a gondolier and Mike is an ex fullback from Texas A&M. They met in Milano and fell in love (a year ago). Mike hasn't found his way back to Texas yet.

We are meeting them for dinner later. I love the late Italian dinners, especially this time of year when it is so warm and beautiful and clear in Venice. Mike and Angelo live near our hotel. We're going to meet at Trattoria Al Cugnai for crabs, something with nero sauce and probably some beautifully done sole. We'll wash it down with a good Veneto white. Hopefully a soave. Then we'll go for a ride in Angelo's gondola. It doesn't get any better than that.

The buildings are so beautiful from the water. These last two days have been romantic and fun.

Luke is on the road too. He and the fish king's ex wife are headed for the south of France for a week. 'Tis the week for love in the latin places, I guess.

France is in a couple weeks for us. We're headed to a big jazz festival at Samois sur Seine and then on to Paris before we go home.

Joe's getting out of the shower so I'm going to shut off the computer and go do something better before dinner.

Luke is a good cook. Today he cooked swami food at the office. It was yellow and probably didn't have any meat in it. Joe would have hated it. He'd rather eat a plate of cat.

Sinead is invisible today. I guess I won't see her until next week since I'm taking tomorrow off and Joe and I are heading to Italy for the next four days. It's going to be nice.

American money should have the face of the current president and vice president as well as other cabinet officers on it. People would scrutinze their job performance more closely if they had to look at these people every time they pulled some moolah out of their wallet.

Of course it wouldn't help the international monetary excange rates to our favor. The dollar is weak enough already! Putting the current american president on, say, a 20 dollar bill and the veep on a sawbuck wouldn't necessarily do much to help the French or the Germans cozy up to us. The Saudis would probably be okay with it though.

Luke thinks my idea is stupid. I thought of it while we were getting a mid-morning breakfast at the coffee shop across the river. Rodrigo pulled one of the new 20 dollar bills out of his wallet. Luke said "now I know where Michael Jackson got the picture he showed his plastic surgeon!" Wait. Rodrigo said that.

That's when I got my idea. If we implemented my plan, we wouldn't have to worry about term limits anymore. And think of the engraving options! Do we put Bush with his bicycle fall induced road rash or with is toothy "mission accomplished" smile? Do we put Cheney on there with his "I don't care if my daughter IS a lesbian" jaw set or his "liberals are evil" grimace? What bill do we put Rumsfeld on? Probably a 5. I hear they use a lot of 5 dollar bills in prisons.

Regardless of Luke's misgivings, it's a good idea.

Last night Earth Mother cooked chinese food while her sassy husband and I watched one of the funniest movies ("the peculiarities of the national hunt") I have seen in a long time. It's a Russian movie from the early '90's. Several misfits with too much vodka on hand end up going on a hunt. One is from Finland. He can not speak Russian and none of the Russians can speak Finnish. He does manage to communicate in halting English (badly overdubbed by a crow-like woman). He also has a bizarre dialogue with one of the Russians in which he speaks Finnish and his counterpart answers in Russian.

There's a cow in the movie. I had never considered the comic quality of a cow but it's plain to me now. Cow's are funny. This particular cow (a black and white model) has several misadventures including a ride in a TU-95 bomber. The determined bossy managed to brace herself when they were trying to drop her out through the bombay doors. In the end she escaped, only to be shot at later. But she wasn't dead. She was only pretending. When one of the hunters went down to "cut a filet off of her." He was rewarded with a hard kick to the solar plexus. Then the cow ran away.

The film had a typical Russian ending. Not much of anything was resolved. It all pretty much stays the same. It's amazing how prodigiously Russians drink Vodka and how they miraculously escape maiming and injury given their advanced drunken states. Vodka flows and bullets fly throughout the entire movie and yet, no one ends up dead or with his ass shot off. Amazing. It's a FUNNY and well made film. Joe stayed in the kitchen flirting with Earth Mother and helping cook. He doesn't understand Russian.

My e-pal Dave in California has forgotten more about movies than I will ever know. He might find the film banal but I though it was GREAT. It beat the hell out of TROY but the men in it were grubby,skinny, and pale as opposed to Troy's bronzed and muscled beauties. Still, it was the better movie.

Rodrigo is after me and not in the good way. He wants me to accompany him on guitar while he blows his tenor saxophone. I stupidly said yes because I thought Luke was also saying yes but Luke has thrown me to the wolves and then made fun of me for it. Unlike the fish king, I am not bent on revenge. Karma will take care of Luke, it's not a job for me. That leaves me the luxury of still being a gracious friend. Luke was gracious too though. He said I could use his guitar so I don't have to go home and get mine. All the same, I'd rather be home doing laundry.

I had lunch with Rodrigo, the Martin-maton and Sinead yesterday. It was SUPPOSED to be lunch with Sinead but we attract people because we are fun. Sinead is sassy and political but in a good way.

Work is a complete hassle today but I'm doing my part to help the machine grind on.

First I got my bad letter. A bunch of my pals who retired when I did are being recalled to active duty. My letter was a "heads up" notice that I am "re-callable". They need people in the dessert and they need 'em now. Still reeling from "the letter," I found out yesterday that Joe got "the call."

Joe's detailer (that's military talk for the centralized personnel guy that makes assignments) called. He's in a combat arms specialty and is sitting in an academic job. His detailer told him that they need "boots on the ground" in Iraq and Afghanistan and not to get too comfortable.

I wonder if my new theme song will be "When your lover has gone?"

Joe and I went to see the new movie "Troy" and it was a hunkfest. It made me yearn for the days when kings took to the battlefield. I wonder what it would be like if Bush and Rumsfeld actually had to FIGHT their own wars? One can only wonder.

I liked the movie. It was visually stunning, moved along at a good clip, not hard to look at and full of testosterone. That's always good.

Today I am going to visit my favorite Turk and get my favorite haircut. I'm sure we'll talk politics. He's a lot of fun in a politics conversation. He knows his stuff. I always feel smarter after one of his excellent haircuts.

I couldn't help noticing that Luke is looking stunning today in his retro "do", euro glasses and oh so impeccable three button suit.

If the fish king were to rub him out today he wouldn't even have to be dressed for a funeral depending upon the method chosen. I hope Luke lasts a long time though. He's one of the good ones.

The phone rang at six o'clock this morning. Saturday morning. Ugh. Joe handed it to me and I "hulloed." It was the Military Police. Joe said "who is it, babe?" and the Military Police guy on the other end said "who was that?" "Nobody," I answered.

The call scared me. The nature of it was administrative, no big deal, something someone at work hadn't done and now I have to finish. The part that scared me was the "who was that?" question by the military cop.

Laying in bed at six in the morning with your boyfriend's head resting on your chest while you are talking on the phone is not necesarrily a scene the military police would cozy up to. It conjured up all kind's of bad images, especially in today's world of homeland security. Homeland INsecurity.

It's pathetic to have to go through life scared of a trained monkey military cop on the other end of the phone who invades your privacy with a trivial, non-related question. I'm going to talk to Joe. I got out of the military so I didn't have to live like this but now I'm right back in the middle of it by being a civil servant and dating a military guy.

We'll see. In the meantime, I'll head over to the MP station, drop off the requested documents, stop by the bakery on the way home for pastries, make coffee, slip back into bed and probably re-start my morning the proper way.

Maybe if these conservatives would get laid once in awhile they'd feel better about life.

Happy Saturday.

Bavaria is amazing in the spring time. The ALPS are still covered in snow, the wildflowers are blooming and the sky is so blue it hurts your eyes. Never mind the cars on the autobahn that pass you going 200 miles an hour. It's all over so fast you never really know they were ever there.

We're going to hike tomorrow. Last time I hiked I wore the wrong shoes and screwed up my foot but this time I'm prepared.

Today is not a good day to hike because it's a German Holiday. It's the day Jesus drove to heaven. A country so in love with it's cars and autobahn WOULD have a driving Jesus. Jesus didn't float, walk, or ride a wave. In Bavaria he DROVE to heaven. himmelFAHRT. It's just like AUSFAHRT or GUTEFAHRT. Jesus doesn't mess around in the land of the BMW.

Work is quiet. It's Thursday. Most of the Military guys have disappeared from our office today and tomorrow for a four day weekend. I'm going to disappear tomorrow. My plan is to just not come back after lunch. Joe's already off and we'll go hiking then. Maybe after that we'll go to Munich. The Lowen Club is having a prowl and we want to see what the really severe queers do for fun. Joe says it'll be "educational". I have my doubts.

Our company from home made all this noise about making trips while they were here but mostly they have laid around the house drinking all our wine and eating us out of house and home. They iron though, and do laundry and vacumn. That's not all bad. Saturday night we'll have dinner with them and Sinead and Mick at the General Patton and on Sunday Joe and I are going to leave them to their own devices and go somewhere alone. They leave Monday. Whew.

I like them but I'll be glad to have our place back. Next company comes in less than a month and will stay for a month. She's cool though - favorite aunt. (check with me when she's been there three weeks to see how cool she is)

Big fat bees are coming in my open windows at work today. They're hanging around up on the flourescent light fixtures. It's more like summer than spring. I hope it lasts.

The first words I heard this morning were "you're late." I opened my eyes to see Joe standing there, already dressed for work with a cup of coffee. I looked at the clock and groaned.

Unbelieveable. I never oversleep. It was already after seven. I sat up and got a kiss and my coffee (in that order)and thought about what to do. Deciding to follow the omens I chose khakis and a long sleeve pullover shirt and casual shoes. I didn't shave either. It seemed more important to me to have coffee with Joe than to present myself at work in my usual establishment rags. People haven't seemed to notice much. Maybe they are just too polite to say anything. Likely the former.

Sinead and I had a superficial discussion about men this morning. It was the social equivalent of two monkeys grooming each other but we weren't up to heady topics. We both agree that Tom Cruise is yucky but I do like him better with his hair buzzed than when it's long. Colin Farrell gets a big thumbs up from both of us and Keanu Reeves is more interesting to me than to her. I feigned indifference about Gregory Peck. It got the desired reaction. Sinead LOVES Gregory Peck. And intellectuals.

I finally caved and went to lunch with LUKE. It is his birthday, after all. The Martin-maton was pricelss. Rodrigo didn't disappoint either. The Martin-maton's apfelsaftschorle wasn't bubbly enough so he sent it back. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Knowing that we could all agree on "a plate of cat" we chose the chinese restaurant across the street. Our diminutive hostess (by now well familiar to us) was smiling as broadly as ever but today she had ice water in her veins. She tolerated no deviation from the "lunch menu" and wouldn't even consider mini spring rolls instead of the usual "pillow-o-grease." Vegitarian spring roll my ass! While the three of them had their burrito-esque "spring rolls" I had the hot and sour soup.

Martin kept lifting up his glass and sniffing it and then making a face. Finally, when our hostess came out, he said "This apfelsaftschorle doesn't have enough bubbles" and handed it to her. He made the sniffing face again for her. She took the thing, sniffed it and unceremoniously dumped it into the nearest plant before huffing away.

I started laughing so hard at the whole scene that I couldn't talk. Luke, laughing as hard as I was, looked over toward the plant just as a dwarf was coming around the corner. Timing is everything. At that moment, Rodrigo (who couldn't see the dwarf yet) started laughing. The Martin-maton sat there the whole time displaying his normal rictus.

Luke looked the other way so fast he probably got whiplash for a birthday present and the dwarf looked at us with malice. He likely thought we were laughing at him. We weren't. Everyone knows dwarves are no laughing matter. This one in particular. He was tattooed and pierced and had a ferocity that belied his stature. Fortunately he went inside. Had a fight broken out, I'm not sure how I would have explained to the Colonel that I was in a fight with a dwarf over a glass of juice that the chinese hostess had thrown in the juniper bush.

Sinead picked a hell of a day to go to the dentist.

Joe was snoring so loudly last night that I couldn't sleep. He doesn't do it often but it's allergy season and there are pollens in the air. I wasn't cranky about it but I'm tired today.

I love watching him sleep. We're both at that age where we are starting to look more mature. Dancing around the "40" number brings it out, I guess. When I was in my early thirties, no one ever guessed my age but now people in shops are starting to call me "sir." There's a wake up call for you. It all still looks good though and Joe looks great. He's getting grey though (even as closely cropped as he keeps his hair, it shows, but it's sexy as hell). I probably wouldn't have thought that five years ago but I do now.

His jaw line is still as firm as ever and he's a maniac about working out. He's a grown up man though, and looks the part. Nothing boy-ish about Joe. Except his sense of fun and good attitude. I have that too.

We're happy together but we face a hard future if it "goes the distance." He's a career Marine and I'm a civil servant, having left my uniform behind. If it's going to work it's going to work because I give up my job and follow him around.

The last time I checked, the Marine Corps didn't pay for gay husbands or spousal partners or whatever the hell we are supposed to call ourselves. And some of the places he could get stationed! Jesus. What if he gets sent to 29 palms? What the hell would I do for work and how the hell would we live with any quality of life there? They might even try to make him live in the BOQ somewhere. After all, he is "single." Ugh.

We have it rough when it comes to the basics. To make it really work, I guess he'd have to get out and we'd both have to land jobs where we both like living and then see. Even then, there are stresses for gay couples that will never exist for straight couples.

I was thinking about all that stuff and more as I was watching Joe sleep. It was depressing but then I remembered about living in the moment and things felt better. For now, things are good. When the challenges come, we'll deal with it. For now though, things are good.

I thought that guys who live in the same city and meet and couple up have it all over on us but they seem to face the same challenges and difficulties the rest of us do. Maybe, as the old saying goes, "fate is not in the stars but in ourselves"?

Work is quiet today. It's Luke's 35th birthday and he's bumming. First of all, he has to go to lunch with Rodrigo and the Martin-maton (if you've ever watched "sprockets" you'll get it about Martin). They invited me but I ran from it. Luke's on his own with this one.

Tomorrow Sinead and I will take Luke to lunch for his day after the birthday lunch. We'll probably go to the Thai restaurant although it's hard to get Sinead anywhere near cigarette smoking. These germans smoke like fiends. Sinead hates that. I tell her the only reason she hates it so much is because in a past life she was the Marlboro Man. Her common response involves something about being a northeastern liberal and having had several crushes on intellectuals of any stature and how would the Karmic cycle come around to THAT after having been the MARLBORO MAN??? It's all very confusing.

Tonight I am going to be interviewed by a 5th grader. It's for a school project. The questions are going to be things like "Who is the most important person in your life."

I wonder if I answered "The most important person in my life is the person who first helped me fully actualize as a homosexual" if that would be too much for Mrs. Hanson and her brood of 5th graders. John Ashcroft already thinks that we are "after America's children." I may as well not play into his hand. I guess I'll answer "my dad." That would be true anyway. I love my dad and it's great between us. Same with my mom.

Look out Mrs. Hanson, here I come.

What a weekend. Jesus. Two of my mom's friends are visiting from the states. They're cool enough with the gay thing but Joe and I aren't exactly quiet most of the time. And you don't necessarily want to leave the lube laying around in sight of sixty-something women. Especially your mom's friends. They're nice though and no trouble. They've laundered everything that's not nailed down and vacuumed and dusted the rest.

Joe freaked yesterday. We came home and one of them was ironing one of his uniforms. You don't touch Joe's uniforms. It's a Marine thing. He looked at me and looked at her and opened and closed his mouth a couple times but in the end, didn't say anything.

He went over and looked. He watched her iron. He just stood there watching and then got this big grin on his face. "Where the FUCK did you learn to do that?"

As I was wincing over the "fuck" I heard her telling my boyfriend "My husband was a carrer Marine for 30 years." I know more about this than YOU do. Her husband (now dead) retired as a colonel and was on the short list for his star but he wanted to retire more than he wanted to wear a star.

The rest of the afternoon, through cocktails and on into dinner and the evening were spent in Marine bonding. It was amaing to watch. They're best friends now and she's doing his uniforms! Unbelieveable. I still make better Martinis though.

As for Marine bonding. Well, I've bonded plenty so I enjoyed them having their fun.

Marines. They love their secret handshake bullshit more than anything. I wouldn't trade Joe though. He's the deal.

It rained like crazy all weekend but now it's nice. What a tease. Still, a weekend is a good thing in any kind of weather. I miss one thing about my old job though. I could blow off the office on a nice day like today and get out. Now I am chained to the desk(and they ain't bonds of love either.

Luke and I are talking about going on the road for awhile with the music. That could be interesting but it wouldn't do much to contribute to my current domestic bliss.

I wanted to meet Mick and Sinead at the Irish pub in Munich this weekend but Joe and I went to the baths instead. We hooked up with my pal Jens who is into some very adventuresome stuff. We were lounging in the Turkish bath section while he told us stories of his friday night. I don't know where that boy gets his nerve.

Meanwhile, my two lady guests were shopping in the big department stores around Marienplatz. We had made arrangments to meet later and then go to the Armani bar for cocktails before dinner. I was going to call Luke and Natasha to meet us but my phone was in the car. Typical.

We thought about taking them clubbing after but that's not for the faint of heart in Munich. As gay friendly as they are, it would be too much. One does not take one's mother's friends to BAU or the THE STUD. Maybe to NIL but even so, not such a good idea.

Sunday was as cultured as Saturday was hedonistic. Lunch and a concert at Schloss Elmau and a walk and then cocktails and dinner at home. All in all a nice weekend.

Now the grind is on. It's a bit better today though. I've had email from an old e-pal that has reminded me of different times and some valuable things. I like the hell out of this guy and wonder what it would have been like if we'd met...

One never knows.

Brad burst into my office with a "you won't believe this" look on his face and said "Those people over at the gym are offering Brazilian waxing now!"

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's when they wax everything from your navel to the top of your thighs. Everything. You'd look hot if you had it done before going to the baths. I've seen guys at the baths with it and it looks hot."

"How much?" I asked.

"20 dollars. I think it's a good value."

"You think?"

"Yeah. You couldn't pay a guy to shave you for that and think how clean it is. It's a good value."

"Who does it?"

"Linda."

"LINDA?! Jesus. Can you see running into her at the commisary after she's waxed you?"

"What." Brad said. "It's no different than running into the guy that gives you your enema."

Just then my phone rang. Thank god.

"Jake, you're a mess" were the first words of any significance that I heard Joe say this morning. It's not everyday a guy gets to wake up hearing his partner overstate the obvious.

He's just jealous because I knew who Hartmann Schedel was and he didn't. Like it matters. It all started at the beer hall. We were meeting these two boozy old liberal women for drinks last night. They're more intellectual than we are. i.e. "Hartmann Schedel" vs. "Celtic or Tribal Tattoo?"

Barb said that the difference between devout church people in days of yore (my words not hers) was that they were thoughtful. For example, Hartmann Schedel, a truly orthodox catholic who was, none the less, a humanist.

Joe said "Hartmann WHO?"

"Schedel," Barb said. "Hartmann Schedel."

"Yeah tough guy," I said, "Schedel. Hartmann. Humanist. Historian. Lived in Nuremburg. Studied humanism with Lider at Padua. His main six cycle work was published in Venice. You know, Hartmann Schedel. Medieval cat."

"You are SO full of CRAP." Joe said.

"No I'm not. Google it."

"When did he live and die then?"

"1440 - 1514."

"How could you KNOW that??!" Joe said, exasperated. "Jesus!"

"I read."

"Yeah. Vanity Fair. Gay Times. The Advocate. Spartacus. The Rules at the bathouse. No, wait, you don't read the rules at the bathouse."

"Never mind." I sulked.

The thing about Joe is, he's right. I'm a damned mess. I know stuff like Hartmann Schedel but do nothing with it. It's all about "Hey Joe, let's go out!" or "Leave me alone for awhile, I want to play my guitar." Or "Hey Joe, come to bed!" Or "Hey Joe! Let's take a shower and hit the clubs and then go to the baths!"

I learned all about Hartmann Schedel - and more - but it didn't do me one damned bit of good. I can sure as hell tell you the name, make and model of every dildo in the house though.

Oh well, we can't all be intellectuals.

Catholic School. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! My mom has a note sent home with me when I was in elementary school with the Christian Brothers. My teacher wrote "Jake doesn't do particularly well with English or Math but he takes beatings well." Mom recently sent it to Joe in his birthday card. He thought it was funny as hell.

It's ugly at work today. Administrivia everywhere and the inmates are still running the asylum. I'm expecting the flying monkeys to show up any day now.

Sinead was hilarious at lunch today. That is to say, before we started talking about the sad state of affairs in the american governement just now. That's not hilarious. The hilarious part was this story she told about being in catholic school.

During her elementary days, the nuns had the kids in the adjoining cemetary picking up leaves and trash to get it ready for all saint's day. That, of course means that they were out there on a blustery halloween afternoon. Cleaning the cemetary. Could you GET any more catholic?

Even back then Sinead was a smart and sensitive girl so she discreetly left. As she was walking home she became aware of someone behind her. She looked back to see a nun, black robes billowing, arms outstreched, her mouth contorted in a rictus of anger running after her. What a sight. Sinead ran. She ran fast.

The crow-like nun gave up the chase but Sinead knew she would be waiting to exact her revenge the next day at school.

One time Earth Mother told me a story about her husband's catholic school days. In first grade, on the first day of school, one of the boys had an accident in his pants. The nun in charge made all the boys line up in the front of the room and drop their pants. The offending child was yanked out of the room amidst a barrage of verbs from the nun. I bet he's not a confident grown up.

Catholic School. My friend Joe (not my boyfriend Joe) teaches at a good catholic university. He says now they are proposing that students and faculty sign statements saying they are not gay and that they espouse "catholic values." Sounds sort of like being a republican.

Working for Rumsfeld is kind of like being chased down the street by a nun. You might not get caught that day but the day of reckoning is "out there." You never know exactly what form it's going to take but one of these days this crowd will get us. One way or another.

Luke and Sinead and I and Rodrigo had lunch at Marcus' restaurant today but it was a mixed bag. Rodrigo was pissy from the start because he has a bad attitude about Markus and Doris was ineffectual at keeping orders straight and getting stuff out on time. It was long. The food was good though. Real good. Except I ate half of Luke's soup because Doris gave it to me but then I gave it to him. We're both guitar players. We can share soup.

Rodrigo was like a pissy old librarian, making faces and looking at his watch and shifting in his seat as if he had sand in his panties. It was damn funny. His wife keeps him on a short leash. He'll catch hell tonight for not going home at lunch. He wanted to have enough time to swing by the house, say hi and make it look like he was busy at work but now he's going to be caught at having been out to lunch and it will be bad for him.

Sinead said that her Irish language lessons are coming along just fine. She's learning a song.

We talked about america's recent human rights abuses in the Iraqi prison and what is to be done. The answer is clear but not simple. It's nice to know we are all equally disgusted. It's good to know thinking people.

Joe is furious. We're all furious. I would like to think this could cost the Bush bunch their administration but I'm a homo and thus used to disappointments and not being naive.

We'll see what happens next. In the meantime, I have the best friends ever and Joe! Well, Joe is just the best.

Today a whole lot of people in the news are calling for Rumsfeld to resign. Bush is defending him though. Loyalty. The problem with a possible Rumsfeld resignation is that whoever we get might be worse. I can't fathom Defense Secretary Wolfowitz. It's all bad but some of it is way bad.

The idiot Delay was defending Rumsfeld on T.V. this morning. Among his comments, he stated that calling for the man's resignation before he got a fair chance to tell his side of the story was "not the American way."

I suppose abusing prisoners and being so proud of it you want photographs and covering it up since January or longer IS the American way? What are these people thinking? Apparently their arrogance knows no boundries.

I didn't sleep again last night because of all of this. Joe's mad too. Any decent person who serves and wears a uniform past or present should be outraged. I hope this costs the current crowd and costs them big. We need to get out of Iraq all together and pay attention to the real war on terror. Problem is, now we've created a whole new one. We'll be reaping a bitter harvest for years to come. Thank you Mr. Bush and company.

My old boss (a retired three star) just came out in the American media with a statement that we should pull out of Iraq. If I were Bush, I'd listen to him. He's smart as hell. You don't have to be smart though, to know the obvious.

I'm going to a dinner party tonight. We all made a pact in advance to not talk politics. It's going to be tough to do but we're going to stick it out. We're all liberals but optimistic ones. Maybe things will continue to unravel and old "W" will see a popularity plummet like his father saw. Then we can have a second one term Bush and get on with things.

Michael Moore is at it again. It will be interesting to see where it goes. I hope that (due to his stridence) he hasn't compromised his effectiveness.

I have to take a nap this afternoon. I'll take the afternoon off from work and do laundry and nap. It's raining and work is a drag. Good afternoon to burn some time. Then the dinner party. Maybe before dinner I'll see if Luke wants to meet for cocktails at the Armani bar.

Beats working. Maybe I'll even iron Joe's shirts. He'd like that.

"The other girls are looking at shoes." That's what Elizabeth said when I asked her where everyone went. We were at a wine tasting that was being held in an upscale shopping area in Munich. We came for wine. They came for shoes. They said wine but they meant shoes.

It all started earlier this morning. I was out on the balcony off our bedroom. Joe was still snoozing. Somehow I managed to get out of his arms and out of bed without waking him up. I even had time to make the coffee while he snoozed (a rarity).

There's this great balcony that faces west off the upstairs bedroom that is our own. Downstairs there's an even bigger, wrap around balcony that faces three directions. Great for cocktail parties with the big glass doors open. Upstairs is the private balcony though.

The view is good in the morning because of its west exposure. As the sun comes up over the Alps, the light hits the mountains. They illuminate from the top down as the sun rises. I never get tired of watching it.

That's where I was, having my first cup of coffee, when I heard soft steps. I looked up just in time to get a scratchy kiss on the neck. Joe looks so good in the morning in his rumpled t-shirts and boxers. I love it when he doesn't shave for awhile but it never lasts long. Marines.

"What are you thinking about?"
"About all that crap going on with those prisons in Iraq. And all the rest of it."
"That's too much first thing in the morning."

Neither of us has ever seen anything like this. We've been avoiding the topic. It's hard enough to be a military professional and a homosexual and a liberal these days. Put on top of that all of this and it becomes unbearable. A guy could loose his bearings if he weren't careful.

So many of my gay friends say "Why would you work in such a place? Why would you support such things?" But that's just it. We don't support such things. We're both dedicated to service careers for all the altruistic reasons. Liberals should be able to serve too, right? Even homosexuals have public service careers.

Joe said "Let's get dressed, let's go get haircuts and then let's go to that wine tasting with Elizabeth and her friends. After that we can go to the Irish pub and see if Sinead and Mick are there and call Luke and Natasha. Luke needs new places to go so the fish king won't find him."

I agreed. "Let's invite Brad too." Joe agreed. We like Brad.

The barbershop was as fun as ever, all turks and patrons and when we left we decided to walk so we could see if the grape leaves on the arbor at the french restaurant were out and if the vines on Sendlinger Tor were blooming yet.

Halfway there, we met Elizabeth and her three girl friends so we went the rest of the way together. They were having a good time. They had probably already been wine tasting but you never know in the case of Elizabeth because that girl can hold her liquor. If Joe had been able to hold his liquor that well I would have likely never gotten to first base but the rest is (as they say) history.

Somehow, well into the wine tasting, we realized the girls were gone. "Looking at shoes" Elizabeth said. "And Brad?" I asked. "With the girls" Joe said. "Of course" I said.

Luke and Natasha showed up but didn't want wine so we went to the Irish pub in search of Mick and Sinead. When we got there, Mick was sitting in all his brittanic glory reading the London Times and Sinead was nowhere to be found. Mick was happy to see us though.

"Where's the wild Irish rose?" Joe asked. "Nice haircuts" Mick answered.

We all ordered Guiness except Natasha who wanted a slow gin fizz. Jesus. Russians. We talked her into a mineral water. She's so skinny that her diet must be two leaves of spinach and fortytwo cigarettes a day.

Sinead was at her class. She's studying the Irish language. We all agreed that it was better to drink our Irish Guiness rather than study the Irish language. When we all go to the emerald isle, Sinead will be our front man.

We made a pact not to talk politics but to elect a president with a good Irish name because the last one with an Irish name did pretty well. We finished the afternoon up at the pub and then went our separate ways.

Joe and I went to the sauna and then clubbing before we got home. After we went to bed and after, well, after; I turned on the T.V. while Joe was in the shower. They were still talking about Iraq and prisons and Falluja and all the rest of it. Perfect. "Hurry up in there Joey" I hollered.

When he came to bed I said "hold me."

Mike and I had lunch today. I ate three hotdogs and he had tofu. I'm the gay one. He's the straight one. Go figure.

At lunch he said "Where's that hot girl you eat with?"
"What?" I said.

"You know. Hot girl. The pretty one with the tight little body and that killer ass and the long black hair and the million dollar smile."

"Oh!" I said. "Sinead!" I laughed. "You can't go near that, Mike. She's married. Married married. And it's a good one."

"Who's she married to?"

"To a Brit."

"A BRIT?! What a waste. Brits don't know what to do with women."

"Neither do I Mike but between me and her husband I'll bet we have lunch with her more often that YOU ever will."

"No man, I'm SERIOUS. Introduce me. A Brit?"

"I'm not going to introduce you, Mike. Besides she's not a brit, just her husband. She's American."

"She looks Irish."

"She is Irish Mike, but American. You know, like the Kennedys."

"She's hot man."

That was my lunch with Mike.

Luke and Sinead are having lunch over at Marcus' restaurant and I'm sitting here in the office blogging while nobody is looking. I wanted to go to lunch but I'm the last guy standing and SOMEONE has to "cover the phones." I thought about going around turning off all the ringers to see how many days and weeks it would take some people to figure out why they are not getting any phone calls.

Email is the new phone anyway. Nobody here uses the phone. They send email. "Action passed is action completed." That's government service at its very best.

While Luke and Sinead sip San Pelligrino, I'm drinking Italian coffee and thinking about G.W. Bush's proclamation of May 1st as "Loyalty Day." Whew! It sure is reassuring. Just last night I said to Joe "People are so damned disloyal these days." Okay, I didn't say it. I'm just being sarcastic. Loyalty day for crying out loud! What are they THINKING in Washington?? I guess they're not.

GW is thinking up what to do on loyalty day and Big John (praise jesus) Ashcroft has declared an all out war on pornography. I guess Joe will have to burn his copy of "Bend Over Boyfriend." I wonder what we'll do if we are discovered with our DvD collection? War on pornography. War on terrorism. I really, really HATE terrorism but I can't get too worked up about pornography. Unless it's straight porn. ugh.

I wonder when the Komsomol meetings will start? Actually, they already have. This is rich. We have these "Director's Call" things. It's when the director mandates we all attend a plenary session to hear him preach. He's a regular Elmer Gantry that one. The only way to get out of them is to be sick or dead. It might work to be on leave but my boss wouldn't let my friend start leave until he attended. I called in sick so I don't know if he carried through with it.

Here's a new wrinkle too. This afternoon (why the HELL do they always make these things at 2 PM on a Friday?) There is TRAINING. The office zampolit came around asking me for the names of the people on my team who will be attending. I said "I don't know, why?" She said "Now we are taking attendance in advance." Jesus. What next (don't answer that)?!

I made two mistakes with Luke recently. One - the "what are you wearing" SMS joke. That was a mistake. The other, he showed me a picture of himself with his hair all buzzed off and I blurted out "Geez, you look CUTE with a buzz cut!" That was also a mistake. Luke's enlightened and an ascended being but I'm not so sure it's a good idea for raging homosexuals to go around telling their straight friends they are cute. Except the ladies. Saying to Sinead "Honey that is a CUTE streak job in your hair." or "Honey, that outfit is FIERCE is okay. If you're a queen. Which I'm not. Luke won't hold it against me though - he's the bomb. Damn. There I go again. I meant to say "he's a good guy."

If Luke does buzz his hair I hope he goes to my Turkish barbers in Pesatzolli Strasse. They have one hell of a good operation going on over there and they understand short hair. They also understand client relations, hospitality and just about every other barber fact you can think of. Turkish barbers are the best barbers. I also think in this day of big old american aggression it's not so bad having a guy who says "Sala'am Aleikum" holding that straight razor against your neck. It's a cosmic investment.

I am going to talk to Luke again about this issue. There are more good reasons for him to buzz his hair. For example, he needs to get his girl friend's attention in a new way and, having gotten it, any potential hit men won't recognize him as easily. It's tough dating a Russian Mafia princess but Luke is up to the challenge.

Sinead met my friend Kyle the other day. It was a meeting of the minds. Kyle is a liberal. He called me at home last night and said "That friend of yours, Sinead, is REALLY COOL." I want her to meet Kyle's wife too. Earth Mother. That's her name. Earth Mother. Okay, her name is Louise but I call her Earth Mother. Or your Goddess Majesty. Sinead is going to like the hell out of Earth Mother.

I've blogged enough for one day so in honor of John Ashcroft's war on pornography I'll just say in closing that Joe gave me one hell of a ride on the baloney pony last night.



B

Yesterday I sent Luke a message via SMS that said "what are you wearing?" He thought it was some sick, gay proposition but I told him it was a joke. Which it was. Luke's not my type anyway. Joe is my type. Lesson learned: some gay humor doesn't translate.

Today instead of having lunch with Luke and Sinead I had to have lunch with my boss who wanted to cheer me up. I'm not cheered up. I got the pep talk after not getting the job I tried for. The interview and hiring panel wanted me for it but the agency head vetoed it because by promoting me they would (in the words of my boss) "leave a critical hole in my current department." You're doing great so you're screwed but keep doing great. Unbelievable.

We ate cheap chicken for lunch. It was as greasy as the rhetoric. I would rather have been having lunch with Luke and Sinead but instead, I was getting the pep talk. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

I was in Venice for the last three days. It was warm and beautiful. The air was so clear you could see all the way to the Alps in the distance. There's still snow on them.

There's more restoration going on there than you can shake a stick at. The skyline is punctuated by huge cranes but not as many as in Berlin over the last few years. Nobody has that many. I'm glad they are restoring things though. Such a great old city.

Italians are beautiful. I like their looks, their attitude and their approach to life. We could learn from them. We could learn a lot.

While I was in Venice I shopped, visited with my family members who met me there, ate, drank, and lived la dolce vita. La dolce far niente a la Venezia. It was depressing coming back to Germany.

At the top of Brenner Pass I had to turn on the windshield wipers because of a sleety blizzard. Venice had been so warm and sunny that I was wearing my shorts and black t shirts and sandals. Joe said I looked hot. I think he meant the temperature though.

From the top of Brenner Pass all the way down into Innsbruck and on into Germany it was a descent into gloom. A metaphor, perhaps.

I can't wait to get back to Italy.

Sinead won't go anywhere to eat that there is cigarette smoke. It's a challenge in Germany (they love the evil weed here and not in an Amsterdam way). The problem becomes having lunch with her at the same place where all our colleagues end up. It's hard to have a really satisfying liberal rant when the thought police at the next table are straining so hard their neck muscles are corded, so they can overhear everything and then go back to the office and whisper about you to the christians.

I remember when the CHRISTIANS were the social liberals. Well, i don't REMEMBER it. After all, I was not alive during the time of Harriet Beacher Stowe. Now THOSE were some christians we could be proud of.

Joe and I were talking about it last night. It seems like everything has become political nowadays. You can't do anything without it being washed throught the filter of politics and it's frankly boring. Joe and I know a lot of good people who feel the same way. It becomes a dis-incentive after awhile. You just loose the energy for getting out there and trying to do good things.

I know some poor people in the states. They are really poor and they are pretty much without hope. They are good people but they don't stand a chance these days. The conservatives rule the roost and label people like these as being "without intiative" or "lazy." No such thing as being unlucky or a victim of circumstance these days. No way. Just like gay people are "without morals" or "debauched." It's all about the labels.

There is a major in my office who is the biggest idiot I have ever met and I don't mean his politics (which are, for the record, idiotic) I mean he's just a damned idiot. He has a beautiful wife and beautiful children and a great job in a great place and he's one of the most ungrateful, non-compassionate people I have ever met. He has a certain intelligence and a good education but it has fallen on fallow ground. The more STUFF he gets, the more he wants and he's so out of touch with humanity that he can't even determine what's real and what's false. Maybe part of the problem is that he gets all his news from Rupert Murdoch and his moral view from the Army. America is like that these days. He says "If I weren't in the army, I'd be a NASCAR pit boss." Really.

I don't know what we can do about this type of thing. You can do three good things and then when they say, "yeah, but he's GAY" it erases everything.

Joe and I go around and around about this. We are both in highly closeted career fields. We are both popular at work, enjoy influence, credibility and the fruits of good careers. In both our cases, if the gay card were played we'd be dead in the water. So how do you do good things and live non-politically and contribute? I guess that for now you don't. You have to be political on some level in order to validate your contributions. You have to try to get all your friends to vote responsibly and you have to be willing to engage in responsible rhetoric and stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves. Maybe that's not being political, maybe it's being CIVIL... like they used to teach about in CIVICS class. Participating in democracy and all of that (I've had it with the current komsomol approach).

After Joe fell asleep last night, I laid there looking at his muscular neck and at the back of his head, thinking how lucky I am to be not only liberal but gay because if I weren't I'd have to hang out with those christians and never get to know a guy like Joe. I also wouldn't get to have lunch with Sinaed and that would be a terrible loss indeed.

You just can't figure people out. You'd think I would "get it" by now but I'm always surprised. Always. I was sitting in the steamroom at the Sauna with Brad and Joe and Ian and Nick. The gay sauna. The big one in Munich. I say the "gay sauna" to establish constituency, nothing more. The sauna steamroom is a relaxing place to sit and chew the fat with your pals while the boys farther back (in the dark part of the room) chew something else. Then, out of nowhere, Brad said "so I hope Bush gets re-elected."

It's the most unlikely thing that I think I have ever heard anyone say in the big gay sauna.

Joe, the toughguy Marine, looked at Brad and said "you've got to be kidding!"
Then the whole thing degenerated into the surreal.

Brad said "No, I'm not kidding at all. I think he's done a great job and I think we're a lot safer than we were before."

"Who's a lot safer?" Ian said. "I don't FEEL safer. I'm not even American and I definitely don't feel safer."

Brad likes Ian but that didn't stop him from the grand retort "Maybe if you were an American you would feel safer."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Perhaps if you went downstairs and cruised the darkrooms for awhile and then came back you would feel a little better," I suggested. "That might relax you. Then we can just hang out and not talk politics."

"I'm not talking politics."
"Yes you are."
"No, I'm just being a loyal American."

"Jesus!" I said, "Take your loyal American routine to the Army, who's paying you, and tell them that you were sticking up for Bush down in Munich at the big gay sauna! See how loyal they are to you." I couldn't help myself.

Then he said "I'll just agree to disagree."

I'm stunned. Bush has declared open season on gays, lesbians, the poor, anybody Arab and Brad feels safer. Just when I thought I was starting to figure things out, this sort of thing crops up.

Joe said "let it go, Buzz" and gave me one of his famous kisses. That made me feel better.