FHC’s resurrected blog

In which FHC writes from rehab

Dear M.,

Thank you very much for your message. This is the first day we are allowed to read our e-mails and it was really a treat for me to read your kind message. Please thank everybody in DC for their continued support, prayers as well as of course their intense intervention last week. Our internet access is also very limited here and I probably won’t be able to thank them personally. The facility is very nice and people have been extremely courteous so far. They roughened me up a little at first because I had “spiraled out of control” but now I keep a really low profile. The first night I apparently tried to take the eyes out of the late night nurse like in Kill Bill. They also finally acknowledged that I really have a French accent and called my primary physician. I still had to get three stitches on the side of my head and it really looks awful. I guess I really wanted to go home but now I feel really fine. I am just glad I did not end up in jail for manslaughter. I also spotted some minor celebrities among the other patients… not anything like Cher but a local gay anchor, David B. and some Japanese artsy guy. I noticed also a few cute teenagers which apparently stay in a different unconnected pavilion across the Park. I did not talk to anybody besides the personnel (if you can call this talking!) yet because I was confined all week-end. Anyway try flirting with a straightjacket and a purple scar on your head! The nurses are telling me that I am making impressive progress in acknowledging my alcohol problem and might be able to be in home-therapy sooner than expected if I keep this positive attitude. I find the whole thing with the dozen steps and the non-alcoholic cocktails recipes really inspirational and fun (Ari would love it here, they are so creative), and this Betty was really a candid and courageous lady. I am not even talking about the Higher Power. Thanks for all of your financial and moral support. Please get in touch with LL to tell him how sorry I am that I beat on him like a piñata when we were together for not cleaning enough. Tell him I changed a lot in the last few hours. Be sure that I'll communicate you a progress report as soon as I have an opportunity. I have decided that when I am done here, I’ll also properly handle my LSD/mescaline/weed/ /blogging and even homosexuality issues. I am really motivated this time and feel this is a true spiritual journey. No kidding.

Your friend in Christ, FHC

PS: can you send me some music; I have been listening all day to “it’s not easy” by Helen Reddy.

In which FHC decides to be more proactive in his dating life

I decided to change the “About me” section of my myspace profile as my circumstances changed a little and I have the feeling that the whole “myspace is the only way to have casual sex these days” was not flying too well. Here is the endearing portrait I came up with:

I am a bitter hypochondriac middle-aged immoral European. Of my 13,5 ex-boyfriends, only two are still in speaking terms with me and on average they rate their relationship with me as “Moderately Unsatisfactory”. One referred to me as being “an unbearable egotist”. I only know a third of my myspace friends (the trashy third…the shirtless ones). I am clean now but have a long history of prescription (including painkillers and antibiotics), non-prescription and over-the-counter drug abuse. I still take propecia and about 6 Advil a week though. I also pour myself one cocktail when I return from the office to my dark basement apartment in the evening. I tried to read one book in 2006, the “fountainhead”: about 20 pages before the end, I placed it on my bedroom’s shelf (which was almost empty by then) and never re-opened it. I think this episode illustrates pretty well my entire character. I need a minimum of 9 hours of sleep or my eyes get really really puffy (do you think I might have a thyroid problem? I think that too). Financially I spent more money last year than I made and I am a renter. For a poor and mildly successful young man, I am oddly snobbish and contemptuous of others. My most common emotions are hatred, mockery and jealousy. Most of my social life consists in crashing parties I was purposely not invited to. I only learnt how to drive last year. I am a relatively active member of Results the gym. I approach my thirties (slowly, really slowly) but still had some acne on my face for New Year’s eve and on Christmas Eve some girl told me I looked 34. I am becoming increasingly effeminate every year. If there was a movie about my life, I’d like Parker Posey to get the main role. By the way, I only have one female friend and we don’t get on well at all. I am becoming increasingly promiscuous and some acquaintance recently accused me of relying “on cute mispronunciations and odd phraseologies to […] get laid”. Well he had written “phrasiologies” but I wikipediated it. My favorite dish is veal tongue. You get the picture. Please contact me only if you're SERIOUS about getting married. I'll call you within 30 minutes.

In which FHC starts drafting his new year's resolution but rushes out

As I am some kind of a second class blogger and each time I try to be original there is some f**er to tell me that my entry is “sad” (f***ing wimpy readership), I’ll just share with you my draft New Year’s 10 resolution list for 2007 (a list to a blogger is what a handjob is to a hooker). Don’t hesitate to bring corrections or amend it as I’d like to be as much of an interactive process as possible given how unsuccessful we were in implementing together my 2006 New Year’s resolution:

1. I’ll stop drinking coffee and diet sodas and will switch to decaffeinated tea and plain water. Additionally I won’t drink alcohol at home by myself or at least only during the week-ends;
2. I’ll buy less antique sports memorabilia and more Waldorf Astoria silverware as well as a coffee table and a new pair of jeans;
3. I’ll sleep with more people more often, including at least two threesomes, and watch less ethnic pornography;
4. I’ll do the yoga thing and perhaps even the mindful meditation or whatever that’s called;
5. I’ll make two female friends and won’t talk down to them;
6. I’ll eat more broccoli and less rollmops;
7. I’ll more homophobic and less hypocritical or vice-versa;
8. I won’t crash any boat in National Airport nor will I ever wake up in a poodle of vomit ever again;
9. I’ll volunteer more with Greenpeace and less with the Red Cross;’
10. I’ll celebrate Rosh Hashanah and do the apple thingy.

Ok this clearly needs a little refining particularly towards the end but I am amazed by the good intentions I have.

In which FHC is sad Xmas by himself ends

I had a post-Christmas depressed mood episode this morning which is really quite strange when you think that I actually did not celebrate Christmas and instead watched Melinda and Melinda with an awfully imaginative19 years old (maybe 17 pretending to be 19 ?) whom I basically found in the street. The movie was half bad; the kid’s stories were enchanting though (“I refrain from lying, it's uncouth”) and he liked Architecture in Helsinki which I apparently have in my music collection (he asked, suspicious,“who gave you that?” implying that I was way too old to like them by myself). Than there were Cubby Creatures and Deerhoof and I decided to have a mysterious smirk.

I finally decided to cook these stupid vegetables this evening but when I opened the fridge they were all rotten. The broccoli and carrots look particularly disheartened while the cucumbers had grown some grayish mold. I threw everybody in the garbage indistinctly of their origins and then I opened a tuna can which I covered in Mayonnaise before eating it in front of “I love Raymond”. This living by myself thingy is turning dangerous.

In the meantime I discovered that LL did not lie for once; there IS a denim specialist at Barney’s. I also noticed today that on friendster around the Holidays, the gays like to post pictures of themselves with kids. What happened to Diego S.? For strange reasons, I went to visit vividblurry’s archives today: sometimes I really feel I deserve a job where I’d be paid to through vividblurry’s archives (btw I overheard Toby is single now).

In which FHC is moving out

This time, I swear it is the real thing. We are bringing down the legendary Corcoran Retirement House: it is of course a little painful but it was bound to happen. We had been living there since June 2003 (more than 3 years and 30 generations of Kevin’s boyfriend not including the very missed…Trevor). The main reason is that Kevin D. was stung by the nest building ♥ bug which has been infesting the DC gay community in the last few years (but I’ll let him unveil the news himself as well as his plans regarding interior decoration) and our appliances are really tired. Therefore FHC gets to move out too and fire the new cleaning lady between now and December.

So that let us in the difficult position of having to decide where in the city I should rent next because buying is just impossible now that I have spent all of my savings on e-bay. It seems obvious that tweed jackets are happier outside of the fast-paced Dupont Circle, and I am tempted to look for a one bedroom in Adam’s Morgan for its bike messenger crowd or even worse Georgetown for its elitist snobs. And I’d like to get a f***ing rent control too please because everybody has one in this city besides the poor of course.

In other news, I’d like to say to my friend the publicist that I just got a T-shirt signed by Ronald "Winky" Wright and this is what I’ll use as casual wear in the years to come. Isn’t it sad that I had to wait for my parents to hear about MS13.

In which FHC calls himself a fat lazy bastard once again

One of the reason I have extreme difficulties blogging lately, besides a persistent lack of talent, is that I just do not spend enough time awake. My bulimic sleep habit is disruptive to my entries because it does not leave enough time to have stuff happen to me like getting laid, getting involved in a tragic car accident or being lucid about my personal circumstances and LL’s insolence. It does not even let me enough time to have racist or self-hating thoughts. Take today, I woke up at 12 just in time to grab lunch at Lauriol Plaza with the charming Frederico C. who was kindly visiting from Lisbon and went back to bed at 2 p.m. I plan to return to bed immediately after I am done not blogging. [maybe not immediately…a gorgeous guy just stepped in Java House...let’s suck in my cheeks…it usually works really well…oh…ok ….his girlfriend joined him.. fine fine…. I get the message].

Frederico C. is a charming friend of mine who managed to escape the United States last year. He lost so much weight that I wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for the fact that he was the slimmest thing I had seen on the block since skinny bitch self-consummated. In the meantime I haven’t stopped expanding since I checked in Ellis Island six years ago. I weighted 148.5 pounds at Results a few days ago which is only 1,5 pounds less than my taxi driver (who is straight, 40 and married) but 10 pounds less than Adam P. (who is gay, 40 and chronically dumped). I wouldn’t be mad about it if I hadn’t discovered that Frenchbenj managed to stay all slim and stuff while he must have been in this glorious nation of ours for at least three decades. Ok maybe I’ll go for a run now. So long kiddos anyway there is no internet connection at Java House and that sucks.

Oh and think about it: what are you doing to support our warriors ?

In which FHC returns to work albeit briefly

I had lunch with my dearest (actually one of the few, the proud if not the only - and certainly the only one who call me “buddy boy”) friend, Kevin W. Like usual our conversation turned around the amazing topics of our personal fulfillment at work, our Bourgeois lifestyle, my weight gain and our conclusion was that the only way to escape our partially work-related despair was to start a family and get babies (the kind which does not fall on table corners all the time)….oh…wait. Kevin W. mentioned once or twice his intention of moving out of Washington, DC and I acted as if I believed he could do it the same way I acted as if Rodolphe B. was able to move to London for years. Later on dearest Kevin W. sent me the solution by e-mail. Download ft_agony_aunt.pdf

Overall a pretty nice first day if you ignore the fact that the sassy secretary of my ophthalmologist interrupted me with a very rude: “can you hold one minute, I have one call ahead of you ?” and the fact that renting an automatic car in France for our summer Brittany trip is not only difficult but costly (particularly outside standard opening hours..a.k.a 10 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.). I also thought briefly that after all fishwatch is just a tanner and funnier LL.

Hard life of FHC

Strange things that every time I promise myself that I'll take it easy, I end up having a crazzy day at work. It is 8:11 pm and I did not blog. Also we can all forecast that the shitzus must have ransacked Champlain street. Stay still kiddos we are on our way back.

Mum, there is some white-blue-eyed catholic ivy league kids in the lounge !

As I had a little time before taking my plane to NYC and the theme of the week is most definitely “Pharmacy”, I decided to throw away my empty pill containers. I have been keeping them for two years in case I would need storage but I came to realize that the only thing they can easily store are pills, dead insects or cufflinks but then who would keep his cufflinks in an empty anti-anxiety container ? Of course, if I was a teenager and a drug user (which basically these days is more or less the same thing) living in my suburban home, I could use them as a cache container but I am a 27 recovering orphan. Anyway I decided that a little sculpture was of circumstance. It is pretty expensive particularly the “F”, as it contains 24 Propecia containers which cost a non-reimbursed $60/each. I am not like young Kevin W. who keeps his costs down by seeking drug samples from his doctors in exchange of “favors”. I am not that kind of guy. If you are a psychotrope connoisseur, you can notice some Mirtazapine, Wellbutrin XL (which PC people also call Buproprion), our friend Buspar as well as some antacid drugs to finish the heart (how ironic !). While you enjoy my beautiful artwork, I’d like to add to this post that I stole the neighbor’s “New Economist” and that LL ran into Jim S. and his once-poet, once gorgeous older brother in the lounge at Law School. Those asswipe ivy-league mother-fuckers are everywhere. Your homework for this WE ? watch the unrated version of "Storytelling" .

OH FHC You're So Pretentious

I always thought that Vanity Fair would eventually come around for their My Stuff feature. They did not, and yet I think virtual strangers feel concerned about my stuff, so to make it easier for everybody I drafted My Stuff. (Antagonistic FHC: it amuses nobody but yourself – Panicked FHC: what the f*ck do you know about amusement ?). By the way can you recognize FHC among the guests ? . Before we go any further, the picture on the left shows the first victim of avian Flu in Paris. Here we go:

Charming Tristan’s personality fits the definition of a dilettante. HE IS an amateur who engages in most activity without serious intentions and pretends to have a purpose, sexual drive and some knowledge but actually doesn’t. His work and lack of creativity spread from Paris to New York but mostly in Washington, DC and Moorfield, WV. Someone said "if FHC was a flower, he would be an hypo-allergenic flower". We are very glad we manage to reach him at his office as he is very difficult to get a hold of. Herewith, Tristan’s favorite things…OMG…this is going to be my gayest entry

GROOMING PRODUCTS: Do we really have to start with this ? it’s a touchy subject.

Shampoo: Kiehl’s Amino Acid Shampoo; acid is exactly what my hair needed.

Moisturizer: I don’t moisturize…I use ZIRH REFRESH (a non alcoholic astringent…you know)

Eye cream: Kiehl’s Abyssine cream….a lot of Abyssine cream. 

Hair Product: Propecia… if you continue, I don't do the interview…is that clear ?

Perfume/Cologne: Penhaligon’s English Fern (it’s an habit I got by sleeping with a young royal family prominent figure whose name starts with a W. but prefers to stay anonymous)

Panicked FHC: Please do not yell “This is BORING!", I am working here.

CLOTHES:

Jeans: Only one pair of 30/30 Diesel and a pair of Paper Denim I rarely wear anymore because they are too hip for me.

Boxers/briefs: Yes…very small stuff I have difficulties to fit in these days. My favorites are white or black drawstring briefs by RIPS

Sneakers: A pair of beige Diesel Proton.

Watch: A flat Lancel that belonged to FHC’s grandfather.

T-shirt: White Polo V-necks.

Shirts: Charles Tyrwith 15 – 42 – 33, Van Laack 38, Alain Figaret & Café Cotton

Accessory: A Boucheron médaille representing the crowned virgin Mary with my birthdate and name on it that American usually mistake for a dog tag with a picture of Britney Spears.

Sunglasses: Persol

Briefcase: A Commute Light Green-Silver-Light Green Timbuk2 messenger bag

Antogonistic FHC: is that HATE ME stamped on your forehead ?

BEVERAGES

Bottled water: Perrier… always in bed, never at restaurants, that’s nouveau riche.

Coffee/tea: Decaf Peppermint tea, my tummy is fragile, I am some kind of a luxury item.

Beer: Hoegaarden because of LL but sometimes I like a Guiness (at Half King for dinner).

Soda: Diet coke never after 3 pm.

Wine: I don’t know anything about wine, my trick is that I know a Saint Emilion 1978 is always a hit.

ELECTRONICS:

Cell phone: RAZR V3 but I cannot make it work yet I think it’s pretty.

I-pod: I don’t have an Ipod, I have a yellow Rio Cali MP3 player which value on ebay is now $10.

Computer: I am thinking to buy one this month, A Satellite Toshiba maybe ?

Stereo: Late Anders V.'s old stereo.

HOME:

Where do you live ? In Dupont with a oboe player.

Car: I don’t have a car but I ride a Jamis Coda Sport 2004.

Luggage: TravelPro platinum.

WHAT ARTISTS, DESIGNERS AND/OR ACHITECTS INSPIRE YOU

I don’t know any !

FAVORITE PLACE

A country house surely….in the South of France preferably…. In Lubéron while we are at it.

NECESSARY EXTRAVAGANCE

The shuttle once every two weeks to visit LL as well as losing all my savings little by little on Ameritrade.com.

If I can be so pretentious as to compare myself to Marc Newson of this month VF we share the same taste in sunglasses….ahhhh.

Antogonistic FHC: November is FHC is a fool month.