FJ!!'s Neglected Personal Blog

In a private home I found a displayed collection of rubber hoods, made from inner tubes, by hand, carefully sewn together to create archetypal mask shapes. These were from the time before thin sheets of rubber were readily available or a whole adult clothing industry had sprung up around them to give form to whatever totem as a rubber hood a client's needs required. No, these were cut from the thinnest rubber commonly available and stitched by hand with a thick needle that must have pricked and hurt being pushed in. We can't be sure what drove that hand, but the results show that the needs go way back.

Morning funny: following a link (still don't know why jpeace sent it) to what turns out to be the blog of a porn actor with the complaint that when he goes out, not to friends' places but out into the nightlife, he gets seen as a piece of meat. 1) Lucky you, shut up 2) Unintended consequences much?

Also, it turns out I can post a link to RMS dancingget my links to the ACLU supporting public sex wrong and get no comments on it.

And everyone is travelling this weekend: Fiesta, MAL, Arisia, Atlantis Cruise. (Edit: ) Sundance

...why are you not aware of 13thofnever's latest entry?^*


* Plz to ignore if actually already aware of entry.

I'll join in the Moral Panic over being attracted as an adult to 16-year-olds when our culture stops using male and female older teen models wholesale to sell products by putting them in sexually suggestive poses and situations. No culture that allows the current work of Bruce Weber for Abercrombie & Fitch to be plastered 10 feet high on storefront windows, as a minor example, gets to be indignant about adults following up on that attraction without me thinking about twisted values, hypocrisy, and the evil fruits of repression.

So not safe for work.

(Well, ok, maybe for henare during his freelance gig.)

And just when I need a connection the most, T-Mobil's GPRS network falls over and I can't get a single packet. Sorry if you IMed me, jered, it went lost.

Note to myself:

Growth doesn't only come from stress, from trying outside your boundaries. Sometimes growth happens when something intensly familiar takes you by the hand and tells you to come play, it is safe here. Must expand on this later.

Note to others:

Did not go to two events I had planned to go to get the full party-gay event experience -- well, I did make 30 mins of one. But instead, I spent time with very old and very new friends, and that was even better. Also, I like antelope meat I found out tonight.

Note to SF:

Walked your streets again, by night, by day. It's ok now, I can walk inside you without only remembering damage. Thanks for the new memories.

1) It's come up twice in conversation last week, so I might as well make an entry out of it. When I went down to NYC to present a creation to the editor of PopSci, we had lunch and chit-chatted about our lives. He mentioned that his wife was a magazine writer as well, she was a reviewer. For a Travel Magazine. Specializing in spa's. The woman got paid to go to spa's, get treatments and review them. I, like everyone else, immediatly said it sounded like a dream job. Then, before he could mention it, I realized and he echoed that even that gets old. "Another warm stone massage. Ugh. Another aromatherapy bath."

2) Yeah, I am a slut, and in numbers I have forgotten most of the people I have had sex with. One man stuck in my mind, because, in the afterglow, he mentioned what his job was: driving. Professional driving. Professional driving of brand-new gorgeous cars, many of them high-end luxury models. And make them do things like slips and turns most of you would only do when things are going desperatly wrong. In fact, many of you have seen his works hundreds of times. Ayup, he's the guy referred to when, in small print on the bottom of a screen during on a car commercial, it says "Professional driver on a closed course" to discourage us all from trying to make these beuatiful dangerous moves in the advertised cars.

Those are real people. And when they have to slip the car to hit their mark, just so, in front of the camera, for the fitieth time that day, at 6 AM to get the best light, in that damn California desert, again, they feel they should diversify too.

Was at a marvelous pancake brunch recently thrown Mr and Mrs zzbottom, where the topic of conversation briefly veered into having naked pictures of oneself being available on the Internet. Most of the people in my direct vincinity responded immediatly with "Yeah. I am so naked on the Internet. Totally."

I had to admit I am too. Except it isn't me.

Ok, so it seems I have one of those faces. Everywhere I have lived one or more of the local friends I have made reports to me having seen me somewhere at some time where I couldn't possibly have been. Usually they don't approach "me" because I looked so pissed off or was in a hurry. This has happened to me in Velp. In Amsterdam. In Boston.

I also get told by new people I meet I look just like... wait what was his name. It's on the tip of their tongue. No, nobody famous. I once had a dinner party of twenty young upper-middle class recent grad starting-out British people discuss in impeccable accents just who that person was, no they knew exactly who the other one meant, oh what was his name. I am pretty used to it.

It has spread, my dopplegangers are everywhere, at various levels of matchingness. It's like finding out there really are parallel universes but the other you-s all relocated to this planet and to live on their different choices and lives. The latest report (from drevilmoo) is of a doppelganger which is me as a Texas rancher. Really creepy was the one time I myself actually ran into one: I walked into the Grand Cafe De Jaren, scanned the room to find a table, and my heart skipped 7 beats when I spotted myself in the distance, ten years older than I myself was. Hair, facial shape, laugh, movements, chin-waddle. I kept staring in abject horrified fascination until Ingeborg came up and snapped me out of it. I pointed my future self out -- not much liking what I saw, he wasn't at all Leading Man material -- and she barely glanced and said "Lots of people look like you. Yeah, I vaguely see this one."

I am not exagerating any of this. I just wanted to mention that. It also means that there is a whole goup of us to whom this is constantly happening. The parallel people that all look like me and each-other are going through this in their own lives as well. It happens to me less so now I am dying my hair wildly and am no longer clean-shaven, so I kinda dropped out of the frat, I guess.

The same mal-adjusted overeducated steer mentioned above and his partner photoglh showed me, last time I visited, a picture from the Internet of me getting a blowjob. Except I would have remembered that couch. Or the guy. And the body was kinda me, but not quite -- I do not shave the hair on my body, and this guys was damn smooth -- and the face could very very well have been me, but was not unmistakeable.

I seem to have outsourced being a fleeting Internet sex-object.

I sent you my pic

What I Think: Gawd you're ugly.
(Wait. Judgemental. Bad FJ!! Maybe it is just unflattering. Beat yourself up now.)

What I Write: Thanks for sending, nice.