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.