ease on up
August 11

San Francisco

I last left off months ago pondering on-line personals, at the time a new phenomenon to me. Now I'm so jaded I don't trust anything I see on-line, and gave up notifying aol everytime I got junk mail begging me to "check out this crazy shit!" and oogle as "these college guys get oral exams!"

For a while I toyed with the idea of being a kind of on-line profile make-over consultant, saying things like "I think a san-serif font is more butch" and "unless you're trying to get on Jerry Springer, not that photo." But when I realized the whole world is not an escort ad, I remembered a saying of Grandma Kyler's that "too much polish rubs off the charm".

What makes me think that someone who hates the billboard invasion as much as I do wouldn't one day scream in horror after realizing everyone's had a professional make-over? Speaking of, don't get me started on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, straight men have it easy enough as it is. If you don't challenge yourself and your sense of entitlement, you deserve your banal existence. I'd rather see Queer Mentors for the Newly Out. Or Kyan on his hands and knees.

But back to e-lating, I'm not so over it that I can't get sucked into the silliness of Friendster, with profiles by numerous celebrities ('Chaka Khan' sent me a message- and lyrics!) and entities not able to type, like Giant Squid, Gay Tendencies (and Straight Guy). It's junior high for those of us who were too busy hating ourselves to have fun. I warn you though, don't go to Friendster if you're the type who can't pull himself away from the television or slot machine. Sure, it's free, we're only counting money as the measure of cost. Friendster is a freaking black hole! Back away from the edge!!

It's a sure sign of my personal economic recovery when I can wax fauxsophical about things we can't even smell. The combination of a full-time day job, the rare night consultaion, a couple 'art films' (Art Films, now on Friendster!) and most importantly, some modeling assignements, have caused my money grubbing planets to align in a big dollar sign.

Not that I'm out of the hole yet, but there's light at the end of the sphincter, soon the only one holding his hand out will be Uncle Sam, and I'm trying to postpone him until the DRC (Domestic Regime Change). Definitely has to wait in line behind replacement truck (I'm tending towards a used Toyota, got one?) and contact lenses. And bicycle.

I've learned that when I find support, in whatever form, that if I treat the source well, be grateful and pass on my good fortune, then I've become an attractive, solid investment. Now it's time to invest in a good night's sleep.

what I'm listening to: my computer's fan.
what I'm reading: What to Listen for in Music, by Aaron Copeland



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