FHC’s needs to come out of his special place now !

This morning, as I was attending one of the numerous meetings that constitute my professional life , I became extremely anxious over the fact that my grandparents invited me for a week to Cyprus in April to celebrate their 60^th wedding anniversary along with the gay-bashing clan that I am proud to call “my family” (I am consulting some psychic over the issue) . Is that a way to trick me into some sort of a preppy local version of a “love in action” camp to align my behavior with my lack of faith ? This trip is kind of impossible to decline for me but as a 27 single speedo wearing young man, these vacations could turn out to be terrible. As I was stressing out, I feverishly tried to visualize my special inner safe place as my hypnotherapist/spiritual counselor/red belt + 3 yellow tabs Yogi/ reiki healer-by-mail advises me to do in these situations and I found myself again at…. the Giant Foods Supermarket on Columbia Heights, this wonderful place of soothing consumerism and cleanliness in the middle of the Ghetto. Since I discovered Giant last week, the “center of my mind” became a supermarket… f**ck that... I have a supermarket inside myself. I have to admit that it is a peaceful, hygienic and safe inner special place. Myriads of cashiers in friendly uniforms in each check-out line, hunky baggers and motivated clerks are smiling at me. I can feel the breeze from the frozen food section. All anxious thoughts leave my mind as I drift in that immaculate temple of happiness. I move lazily and easily through the aisles. There are some looters in the flooded aisle two so I skip it. As I lay down in the smooth floor of aisle five, where shelves are filled with products labeled "organic” and "fat free", I spread fresh ground beef on my body. I start to feel very warm inside so I take all of my clothes off and now...I am butt naked at Giant. No grandparents 60^th anniversary bullshit travel can reach FHC there…oh no. My healer by mail says that with some practice, I will be able to go to Giant and get naked just by closing my eyes. Perhaps I could apply there so that I’ll always be in my special place and perhaps they’ll even let me lit candles if I ask politely. After all I once was a cashier at AU Eagle’s Nest (in 2000 exactly) as I was modestly contributing to the now infamous Paris trip of Ben Ladner’s chef through my tuition. I feel very relaxed.

In blogodujour, reading Matthew Henry's Bitchin' Blog always makes me feel bitter that bartenders such as Matt or Chord make much more money than I do…but anyway I never believed in salaries and even less in tips. I also visited Jason’s room and tottyland for the shirtless guys pictures only... is that rude ? And before leaving you, I love the fact that it is all about anonymous confessions these days: chez Trent, chez Group hug (find my anonymous confession of the day 259751399) and chez postsecret.

Ok I am off to my inner place again.

Comments

[LL]

Warm inside? At Giant?

[Tristan]

Couldn't you have written "Thanks again for sharing your special place FHC" ? If you are going to be the only commenter, you'll have to write nice things like that lou !

[LL]

Dear Tristan de Algiere y Veron,

I'm trying to attract other comments to this section. If I only wrote nice things, no one else would be encouraged to post.

LL

[Tristan]

Thanks for your pity-comment lou. We appreciate.

[FrenchBenj]

Come on, now boys..

You're missing the fact that clearly poor FHC is utterly demented. I don't consider myself necessarily that well-adjusted, but I don't day-dream of wrapping myself in meat.
Well, ground beef-meat (ha ha, gay humor, so fun)

[myke]

Being utterly demented is not necessarily a bad thing either ... it can make life interesting.

Nice to see you remained up & running while the 'other blog' died quite tragically of avian flu.