the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Tag: bucket list

13.04.2011

Blind date #1: Double-dipper.

And we’re off. Wednesday April 6th, 2011 was my first official blind date of the “process”, and in fact, ever.

It was set up by a friend of mine from work. A week prior to the date, at about 5 in the morning, I had just woken up for some reason, and I headed to the toilet, sat, and logged on to facebook. He IM’d me saying he had a date for me, and in my half sleep mental state I said: “yes! send him my way”. I went back to bed.

The next day I checked my inbox and I had a name and a number. That was basically all I knew about this guy, and all I would know until I met him. I replied asking what I was supposed to do, surely I wasn’t just going to text a complete stranger and say: “hey! you don’t know me, but wanna go on a blind date?” My friend then asked for my schedule and set the date up.

On that fateful Wednesday, I woke up, met a friend to get our nails done, walked around soho for a bit, and then headed to work. I was at the gallery obsessive-compulsively hanging some art work when I realized the time, I was running late! I rushed to the bathroom, changed into my carefully predetermined outfit (black pants, black Sperry’s, a black Neil Barrett sleeveless tee, and a grey Band of Outsiders blazer), downed a mini bottle of liquid balls (a.k.a. J & B) I had purchased earlier, opened my umbrella (to bring in the good luck), and with the blessing of my peers, headed out the door. Then I received a text from my date saying he was running a bit late. No biggie. I arrived at the spot we agreed on, a somewhat cute thai restaurant in soho with a witty name, and waited outside. Another text came. He was running even more late.

I went inside and sat at the bar. The bartender, a beautiful, model-esque (like most people who work at restaurants in trendy New York neighborhoods), black girl with a sultry accent, and an alluring personality, asked me what I wanted. I asked for her suggestion. I ended up with a tamarind martini. As I sipped on the deliciously tangy concoction, we made small talk. I was slightly nervous for my date to arrive and introduce himself in a cliche: “Hi are you my (insert my name here)?” manner. I didn’t want her to know I was on a blind date. Sure enough, he walked through the door and did as I had prophesied.

First impression: if there was a romantic comedy where two guys meet for a blind date, he would’ve been exactly what I’d expect to see in such film. A couple inches taller than me, blond hair, blue (maybe green) eyes, wearing brown shoes, dark jeans, a Ralph Lauren sweater over a polo shirt, and a puff jacket, all in “safe” colors (navy, green, brown). I’d say he was moderately handsome, yes. Read the rest of this entry »

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12.04.2011

Sleep No More… or… The Cure to Your Common Insomnia?

Ok maybe I’m being a bit harsh. I am feeling slightly more noncomformist than usual this morning, but still, I have to say I wasn’t sold.

A few weeks ago, my friend asked me if I wanted to go with him to this “thing” he had heard about that was supposed to be amazing. I asked him for the link, read through the webpage which wasn’t very descriptive, and agreed to join him. I am always up for new experiences.

We bought tickets. As the day approached, I read a few reviews here and there. It sounded weird, but possibly fun. It was described as “an interactive performance experience where Shakespeare’s MacBeth meets Hitchcock”. Hmm… this could either bet painstakingly cheesy, or remarkably clever.

Monday April 4th came, and I headed to Chelsea to meet Tiny Narcissus (the alias to this specific friend) along with his friends for the performance. We had our hands stamped and were told to leave our bags and jackets at the coat check. We checked in and were given a playing card, then we proceeded to a 1920’s-esque lobby with bar, a stage, and small tables. I ordered a drink. At the risk of sounding like I have a problem, events like this are usually better enjoyed with a slight buzz.

A lady with a sparkly dress and a bad accent approached us and asked for people who had the “10” card to follow her. Half the group left. I waited for my card to be called, but after a bit I got anxious and asked a man, who I assumed worked there due to his attire, if my card had been called. He advised me to just walk into this other room and ignore the card. Me, Tiny Narcissus, and his friend walked into this cramped space where we were given masks and told not to take them off or speak during the whole experience. Then, an elevator door opened and we were ushered in.  Read the rest of this entry »

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10.04.2011

vraiment VERMONT!

Part of what I enjoy about my job is the random things I have to do sometimes. Case in point, my visit to Vermont. When my boss emailed asking who would want to do it, I was a bit hesitant. As I said, I had been ill for a week and really needed to rest and take care of myself, not to mention the fact that I was going to the LCD sound system show the night before and I was sure I wasn’t going to get much sleep before the 4 hour drive up the I-87 N… but then again, I enjoy getting shit done (and I was quite certain no one else would), and I figured that other than this, why else would I go to Vermont?! Surely not to take advantage of gay marriage.

So I woke my ass up, managed to put some pants on, leashed my dog, and stumbled my way to the local coffee/smoothie shop for a hang over friendly liquid concoction and a bagel. Then I met up with my road trip buddy (btw I’m avoiding names in all of my posts on purpose) who was waiting outside my building, and we cabbed it to the U-Haul place by the navy yard.

I have to admit, my stomach was killing me. I wanted to puke. The smoothie wanted to creep out of me any way possible (and it did at the U-Haul center bathroom… guilty). We hopped on the van and started our way. Me and my road trip buddy, who we shall call Titi, didn’t really know each other, but I’m quite confident in my easy goingness so after a few minutes we were chit chatting about this, and about that, freaking out about the road (we weren’t legally allowed to be on anything labeled “parkway”), singing along to bad music (mostly 90’s bad exercise tunes), and just having a jolly good time (like road trips should be!).

We made a couple of pit stops delighting ourselves in pure, uninhibited Americana. I ate some chain fast food fried grossness (not the best for my ailing intestines), drank about enough redbull to kill a small ferret, and chewed on enough pepto bismol tablets to permanently lacquer my duodenum in pink. The road was beautiful. Quite different from California (where I’ve partaken in plenty a road trips). Read the rest of this entry »

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10.04.2011

Oh Land. Cut/Copy. LCD soundsystem.

So it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. Been very busy, been sort of ill, been sleeping little, been writing nothing… but that changes today… or at least today I decided to take a break, sleep some more, let my stomach rest, and update the blog. Tomorrow we can go back to “normal”.

Also, I’ve been thinking about the blog, and the direction I want to take with it. Let’s just say I’m making it more cohesive. But enough about this… let’s get on to the actual content.

It all started the night of March 29th, the first of 4 intimately beautiful evenings with Danish talent juggernaut couple Nana Øland Fabricius and Eske Kath during their residency at Charles Bank Gallery (or what I like to call work). The previously dark and quiet white cube was now turned into an equally dark, yet radiantly colorful pays des rêves, where industry people, as well as elated fans gathered to listen to Oh Land’s 30 minute “picnic setup” (as she dubbed it) music sets. Oh Land, accompanied by a string quartet, played 6 to 7 of her debut album’s songs, in a more toned down manner that made it feel more personal and cozy.

At first I thought of writing about a specific night, but since I figured plenty of bloggers would take that approach, I decided to take my own approach, and write about the experience as a whole. Each evening was essentially the same, but the slight differences made each night feel fresh, and equally intimate. I truly enjoyed listening to Oh Land’s captivating hymns slowed down and sang in a way that, to me, it felt one-on-one. Melodies like “White Nights” and “Rainbow” have been gleefully stuck in my head since. However, her latest single, “son of a gun”, was especially memorable, since it was the one song that was the most different from it’s original version.

The entire experience came together flawlessly. The welcoming music, along with the cheery art installations (courtesy of Kath), and Oh Land’s incredible stage persona and forward outfits, brought an all together positive feel-good feeling to my slightly ill self (the weekend prior, I had indulged myself in oysters and ended up with a severe case of unsexy food poisoning). to tommelfingre op!!

Read the rest of this entry »

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05.04.2011

The 50 Blind Dates Process

I’ve decided to embark on a journey of self discovery and inspirational writing. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked me if I’d want to go on a blind date because his friend was trying to set up her gay friend. At first I immediately thought: “no! pointless! I don’t even want to date as it is, much less a bunch of failed blind dates!”

But then I stepped back and thought: “hey! this might be a great idea!” And for some reason, at that precise moment, I randomly (or… I suppose in my case it’s not that random anymore, since my brain comes across too many random thoughts to the point where they’ve become predictable) thought about that Adam Sandler movie 50 First Dates.

Again, this is how my brain works: blind date + Adam Sandler movie + new blog + lots of potentially terrible scenarios that will definitely fuel my writing = jackpot!

And thus, the “50 Blind Dates Process” was born.

The premise is simple. I plan on going on 50 blind dates with men regardless of their age, race, profession, economical status, mental status, “gay stereotype”, penis size, preferred sexual role, health, political views, religion, ethics code, dress style, family background, long term goals, short term goals, IQ, diet, and love or hate for dogs, among other things.

After each date, of course an entry into this blog will register the experience.

I am going at this with no expectations whatsoever and open to anything and everything. I’m not looking for love, but if I find it, so be it. I’m not looking for sex, but if I’m hard and drunk enough, then maybe. I’m not looking for friends, but if one of them ends up being my best man when/if I get married, then I guess I’ll consider myself very lucky man.

Finally, I will definitely need help, so if you have any single (or not) gay friends, enemies, family members, acquaintances, neighbors, classmates, coworkers, or whatever, send em my way. I promise I’ll be nice, but honest. I will never reveal their name. At the end of the day, we’ll all have something good to read about.

Cheers, and bring on the whiskey shots (which I’ll probably be taking prior to meeting the first few eager souls).

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23.03.2011

The Black Party

Slightly intrigued and wanting to check something else off my imaginary bucket list, I decided to look into attending the legendary Black Party, a yearly gathering of NYC’s gay men at the Roseland Ballroom for a night of techno music, dark rooms, and little to no clothes.

I talked to a friend about it, and he was equally, if not more excited than I was. We convinced two more to venture on our adventure. We had our minds set. Come the night of Saturday, March 19th, 2011 we would march our way to West 52nd Street and see what the whole hoopla was about. As the day approached, I heard and read more and more about the event. It was as if I kept getting turned off and on simultaneously. “anonymous sex everywhere”, “people peeing on people”, “ecstasy”, “aggressive groping”, where they for real? I had to check it out.

As soon as I left work, and with the blessing of my coworkers, I rushed home to figure what I was going to wear. Originally, we had planned on wearing nice tuxedos and masks, but with the possibility of getting peed on in the horizon, I decided to ditch the tuxedo and go for something perhaps more “appropriate”. I pointlessly packed a bunch of clothes in my duffle bag, since I already resolved what I was going to wear, and headed to my friend’s apartment.

Earlier that night, I had decided I wasn’t going to get terribly drunk. Instead I would opt for beer here and there and keep it chill. I wanted to both remember the night, and have a fair judgment.

Upon arriving at my friend’s. I had a drink and we got dressed. I wore faux leather pants (as a side note, I had bought these pants a while ago in Paris, and had never worn them but I knew they would come in handy), combat boots, and black suspenders. As a final touch, I chose to wear a white t-shirt with a Robert Mapplethorpe-esque image of a bullwhip. Always better to overdress than underdress right?

At about midnight we headed to the venue. It was only a few blocks away. There was a long line of significantly older men lots of who were dressed in leather gear. I have to admit, I’m a sucker for a mature guy who’s rough around the edges. My eye wondered. The line moved steadily and quickly. We were inside in about 15 minutes. We were instructed to drop off our cellphones, and go downstairs if we needed to check in our garments. Indeed I was overdressed. A leather harness and a jockstrap would’ve sufficed.

We headed straight to the bar, picked up a beer each, and proceeded to explore. It was not very crowded. I had heard the party didn’t really get going till about 2 a.m. There was some contortionist show on one stage, then some slightly unimpressive aerial acrobats, and hideous techno music, which I’m sure I would’ve enjoyed had I not been sober unlike the rest of the attendees.

Earlier that day I had talked to a friend who mentioned he was going to DJ a side room. Since I was getting antsy and needed to pee, I went to relief my bladder and try and find him. Indeed it was a side room, right next to the dark room, through which I had to walk to get to where he was. I said hi, chit chatted for a bit, and told him I’d go find my friends and come back. He was playing way better music anyway.

I journeyed back through the dark room, which was getting more crowded, and loud with moans and grunts, and into the main room. One of my friends decided to leave. The rest of us walked back to where my friend was djing.

From there on, we pretty much stayed in that room, taking quick trips to buy more beer or water. I danced for about 4 hours. Saw men having sex with men having sex with men, porn stars, familiar faces, drugs (both legal and illegal), more sex, buckets and buckets of condoms and lube, even more sex, a light show, people into all kinds of fetishes, and even a room where you could get tested for STDs (because if we’re going to fuck senselessly we have to be responsible, right?).

Towards 4:30 a.m. I was getting tired. I hadn’t slept much the night before, and again, I wasn’t on drugs, or drunk for that matter, and I hadn’t nor was planning on participating in any of the “activities” there. Another one of my friends had already left, and the two of us who were still there decided that maybe it was time for bed. We stayed for about another hour, and then proceeded to pick up our jackets and cellphones. We were asked if we wanted a wristband to come back, as the event kept going till, and I quote the flyer, “Sunday afternoon”. No thank you. I need a few hours of sleep, and maybe some yoga to feel clean again.

I left the place with mixed feelings. Warm yet bitter, much like the alleged urine I was promised to have splashed on my pant leg. Will I be back? It’s not something that I’ll be waiting for next year, but if there are ulterior motives or a specific incentive, why not?

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