Budget be damned, I went to Puerto Rico this weekend. PR was crazy. I knew that a lot of people were supposed to fly in for Memorial Day, but I had no idea. I don't know how, I don't know why, but PR is the spot for the brothers on Memorial Day. I have never seen that many fine, gay black men in one place. And when I say fine, I mean the type of goodlooking that you fear might cuase your head to tilt and your tounge to involuntarily roll out of your mouth. I'm in my mid-twenties, so I knew they existed, I've just never witnessed them in masse. When I was a growing up, it seemed that there were only two gay black men on the island, a drag queen named Champagne, and Rickii, a pre-op transexual hairdresser who held the dubious honor of introducing the hair extension to Caribbean women. Everytime I'd pass them in the street I'd hold in my breath and do my best to observe as much as possible without being noticed. As far as I could tell, they were the only ones, and therefore I figured it would only be matter of time before I picked up a bottle of relaxer and began to spend my afternoons figuring out ways to catch up on One Life to Live. I saw my future as confined to either a hair salon or a clothing boutique. It feels horrible to write this, but it's basically the way I thought untill I was about seventeen. I never realized that you could be body-checking someone on the basketball court, and still have a hankering to suck cock. The two seemed to be polarized against each other. This isn't even to say that I'm that kind of straight -acting guy, becuase I've realized that's a kind of bullshit stereotype too. It was just really nice to have a couple of conversations with some beautiful, intelligent stable black gay men and realize yet again that you really do define your own reality. That, and a threesome with an Egyptian chap and his Puerto Rican host, were the highlights of the trip.

Oh, and just for clarification, Ex means exclude that motherf*cker from all aspects of your life.

oh yeah... I saw Spider-Man last night. WTF ??? How did this movie make such a stupendous amount of money. I like Tobey Maguire's ass as much as the next guy, but 114 million in three days ? There were rumblings on the net to suggest that it wasn't going to be as good as I hoped, but I tried to ignore them. I like to think of myself as a movie buff, and one day I'm going to make my living off of films, but I can't for the life of me understand the Spider-man phenomenon. It was poorly written, the acting was mediocre, and honestly, though it's a convenient way to get around, web-slingling looks like it would induce endless muscle aches, and at the very least, motion sickness. Overall, it was ok, but I wish I understood how it broke all those records.

Three day weekend coming up. I'm itching to get off this rock, but there are some things to consider. I'm planning a move in the Fall, and in order to finance it was going to start a very strict budget in June. All purchases (food, movies, socializing, etc...) will be limited to $100 per paycheck, in order that all other funds will be devoted to the Moving fund. However, the best thing about a self-induced cash drought, is the spending bonanza that precedes it. One last hurrah, if you will. Originally, before plans changed, I was going to go to Puerto Rico with Lex and spend the weekend whoring. However, Lex decided against the trip (which sucks in nine different ways, only one of them connected with the trip) and I can't afford to do it alone. The dilemma (for the next eight hours at least) is should I go on the trip and risk being behind on my bills, (but sexually and socially sated) or, should I stay home and suspend the trip for another couple months... or just cancel it all together. Staying home feels like the textbook answer.

Yet again, I'm facing one of the central debates in my life ; fun or responsibility. I need a little break (that's my story and I'm sticking to it), but is this the right way to do it ? This is one of theareas where maturity comes in. I'm getting older, and I don't think I get trapped in some of the bullshit that held me up in my late teens and early twenties. In some respects, I actually do know better. But what's the point of knowing better if you pretend that you don't ? Deep down, I know the correct choice to make, but it stinks. Maturity stinks. Lex stinks. Staying home while only miles away there are thousands of gorgeous, easy latin boys on the make.... stinks. [sigh]

OK... pretty eventful eight days. Though I just heard a story that has makes last week seem tame, despite the very empowering feelings it produced, and kind of skews the point of this blog. In fact, the weight of this story and the characters involved have completely taken me away from any previous desire I had to actually do work (though, to be honest, it doesn't take much). It's just the kind of surprising tale that makes one chainsmoke, if only to give your brain time to process it. But first... (and more importantly), a little bit about Lauryn Hill (God bless her).

Last week I saw (or more appropriately witnessed) the Lauryn Hill MTV Unplugged special. I love Lauryn. Despite the fact that she said a couple of stupid thoughtless things when she was younger, the good by far outweighs the bad, and I think she's a star. I don't mean Star in the Tom Cruise/Mariah Carey variety of stardom, I mean that she's a beam of hot light that brightens what can be a overcast and cloudy journey. A beacon if you will. The special was mainly just Lauryn sitting with a guitar and trying to clue us all into what's going on with her. There are so many things I could say about her performance, but suffice it to say that I was humbled and inspired by her honesty and bravery. I aspire to be that open in my dealings, even if it means potentially being misconstrued as an ass, or worse yet (by American standards at least) weak. She bawled for a love that wasn't working out, she railed against a corrupt and overwrought judicial system, and most of all, she allowed us to look straight through her ribcage and observe her heart, beat by beat. Naked and raw, she imparted the simple wisdoms that we all tend to forget. It's sad that's it's so easy to get so wrapped up in the going-on's of your own life that you forget that you're just one person out of about seven or eight billion. We're all going through the same shit, just separated by time and space ;the same insecurities, the same struggle for balance and truth, the same daily anchoring of mind and soul. Some of us just handle it better than others.

I saw the special last Saturday, and I just remember feeling so lucky to have witnessed it. This is what f_cking role modes should be; people who are brave enough to chart the scary more winding routes for you, so you don't have to flail around alone. Basically, ain't nothing wrong with being confused and afraid, so long as you answer the challenge it offers. Face those f_cking fears. Who are we to not re-define ourselves ? Who are we to not evolve ? Even if the process is unsettling to those who think they know us best, it's a necessary part of life. Anything that doesn't change, is dead. Take a moment and wrap your head around it... if you don't change, you're dead. I wish I could bring it through to you, and clearly as it came to me. The very nature of life is change. So... with this knowledge in hand, I embarked upon my week. And though there are some things I wish had gone differently, I don't regret a minute.

Over the course of the week, I wrote my first song, came out to some long-time (though still peripheral) friends, made a date with a long standing crush, rekindled an old flame, had a potentially friendship ending (though much needed) argument with my first bonafide boyfriend, and realized that I'm not the center of the universe (ain't it great).

Now as for that aforementioned story..., it involves an orgy with some of the best looking, surprisingly bisexual (didn't have a clue), eligible bachelors on island. It all went down about two hours AFTER I left the party. This might be the sex addict speaking, but I can't help feeling like I missed out. On the one hand, I'm not really up for a lot of the regret that comes with insecure straight boys (they always end up blaming you, and really, who has the time ?). But, DAMN!!! there was like six of em', and trust me they've run through my fantasies enough to guest star in my reality at least once. We'll see what the future brings on this.