In which FHC justifies himself

My blog entries have historically been nurtured with prescription drugs and the overall desperation of being a middle aged gay man. Since I started my little punitive expedition I feel that I have very little constructive material for the blog and logically I contribute very little. My readership needs to understand that my trip through the unnamed destination, as eventful and exotic as it actually is, is a non-moment defined as a period where everything that happens is of no consequence for my life. When I’ll return to DC, it’ll be as if time had been suspended for a little more than a month besides the fact that I missed Kenneth d.’s historical party . At best it is a transition period, where everything is actually so discreetly meaningful that I can’t find the time to let myself be egotistic enough to write an entry. It’s not so much that I am happy but more that, as usual, I don’t have the time to think of how scared I am. Back in the US I successively lost my relationship with someone who eventually would become a major US lawyer, my house, my roommate and, to some extent, my social life (I still score e-mails from LL, Fagat and solicited ones from Kevin W.) so I really feel that I have been floating in the unnamed destination like Major Tom. Today I laughed only once when LL recommended that I take my mother to a show about “gay, HIV-positive, muppets”… we eventually decided that she’ll see the Drowsy Chaperone while in NYC. I run in the morning on desert beaches surrounded by extreme poverty and I go to bed late in the evening, exhausted, with nothing to dream about (I eventually end up masturbating of course) besides perhaps the December visit of my mother and the new place on Kalorama road.

Of course, I could tell you that I had breakfast next to Venus Williams the last two mornings and that I had dinner with a cute and somewhat peculiar, at least unconsciously poetic (or maybe just very good looking), Georgetown student – courtesy of friendster - last night but it would wrongly induce you into thinking that the unnamed destination is very similar to DC (please forgive the picture, I couldn’t resist)….ok maybe I have to admit that the kid wasn’t really interested… It is not, it is more like a time off when I get to do some cheap meditation without the intellectual effort. In that sense, it is exactly the opposite of what Fagat is experiencing in Spain right now (ô I am not jealous….oh no).

Comments

[LL]

Dear FHC: Can you please return with an autograph? I'll bring you gifts.

[New Fagat]

Don't worry FHC - there are going to be so many more democratic congressional aides in D.C. when you get back and they tend to actually be out of the closet and i hear they like nice european boys.

[LL]

New Fagat, this blog is not a place to pimp out my ex-boyfriend.

Smooch smooch.

[Old Fagat (outed!)]

We would object to our likeness being used in such a wanton manner, if it that photo was not the perfect emblem of our trip abroad.

We think, by the way, that we have another such picture from our stay in Lisbon. Except the boy in underpants in the background is quite a bit shorter, and a slightly more bald...