Should I stay or should I go?

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That is the question. A glimmer of light brims the horizon of my house hunting ventures. I finally connected with a room for let and, as of this evening, the fellow and I have agreed to meet and shake hands on it. (I tell you, it's so much simpler dealing with men.) Still, am holding my breath and crossing my fingers. Who knows, right? Maybe he disapproves of my writings, too.

For now, at least, yesterday's plans of bidding auf wiedersehen to Berlin next week are...pushed down the list a bit. But just a bit.

Freaky masturbatory stalker

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I was walking home late last night. Very late. No one else was out, the streets were blotched with shadows and blanketed with silence, and all but a disparate few windows were blacked out.

A rustle soon caught my ear and I became aware of a strange man literally lurking in the bushes. He looked scary. Not evil scary but, rather, so out of place that his very presence ranked suspiciously unkind and alarming. He wore a jacket fastened up to the collar, was calm and uttered not a word or a nod in the way of "Guten nacht" but only quietly watched me pass by. After several steps of hearing nothing but the smacking of my

leather soled footsteps I wondered -- worried -- if he mightn't be in pursuit with quiet sneakers and dared to look behind. No, he was not following me per se; but there stood he still, camouflaged by shadow, watching me. Had I seen something I wasn't supposed to? Was he a fag, a rapist, a thug, a psycho, a murderer?!


The avenue suddenly was too empty and dark. So unforgivably unpeopled.

After some moments the stranger appeared on the other side of the street peddling his bicycle one-handed en pace with me. (I took some comfort in knowing that at least he was across the street.) His other hand was tucked away in his front pocket and the stranger made it obvious he was watching me. Then it became obvious what he was doing with his other hand. Goddamn pervert was masturbating. Masturbating, stalking, and riding a bike...even sick motherfuckers can multitask!

He pursued this kick for a while. When I glanced over again he was out of sight. Just then I came to a major road and gave up the night stroll and quickly hailed a cab

Birds of a feather prefer to flock together

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The apartment saga continues. I know that birds of a feather flocking together is more than a rhyming truism but I ever wonder that people think themselves above such "simplistic" old-fashioned facts. Everyone likes to think he is an Individual, impervious to advertisements and peer pressure as he marches to the beat of his own drummer confident of his ability to freely express himself to whomever he pleases however he pleases. Well, if that were so I'd have a ton more friends than non-friends because I believe in my beliefs no matter the crowd, and know something about my allure of advertisements and disdain for peer pressure.

 I went in search of a furnished room for a week; they were in search of a like-minded friend. A clone.

If birds of a feather didn't need to flock together I mightn't keep losing out short-term lodgings (weekly) to "a friend of a friend." There is a lot of group-think going on in Berlin...where everyone is supposedly an Individual or artist of one degree or another. Or I would still have the room I agreed to rent yesterday (for 1 week) if the girl -- once again, a female -- hadn't read my web log with a collectivist mind. See, my freely and articulated writings do not agree with those of hers and her lot who are of the homosexual militancy. I pegged the lot in under a minute of viewing the apartment. I knew what they were. I guessed how they rolled. So? What did it matter to me? Nothing.

But that's the folly of my individuality. I went in search of a clean, furnished, wi-fi capable room for a week; they were in search of a friend, a like-minded friend. A clone. Once again, the non-conservative person-- young liberal-minded people are so above labels --ha!-- they dismiss 'liberal' along with anything in the affirmative. They cannot say what they are, only what they are not and they definitely are not conservative so I can safely identify these clueless rebels as non-conservative -- showed her inability to be open-minded, to think outside of the box, to engage outside of the familiar, to live with differences. 

Everyone likes to think he is an Individual. Well if that were so I'd have a ton more friends than non-friends.

But maybe I paint the picture too dramatic. After all I didn't enter the apartment espousing this and that (she read my web log); there was no time or need for sharing politics and moral philosophies. They were of a different cut and I didn't care. I have experienced and slept in far more uncomfortable, unfavorable and dire elements than a flat full of eco-friendly, dyed lesbians with a pseudo relativistic philosophy of life. But there I go again being dramatic: they likely haven't a philosophy of life...and probably couldn't parse together the above sentence. Moreover, the girl and roommates wouldn't even be in the flat. So...the week long rent would not have  amounted to a test of anything. 


And here I thought the Dodo bird was extinct.

 

Liberal bullshit in Puerto Vallarta

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vallartascene.com

JOURNAL: OCTOBER 1, 2009

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Oct 1

   Finally attended a show: Qi; at the Friedrichstadt Palast was so fantastic. I was smiling and in awe through most of the show. The numbers did not do much for the male dancers except to show why they preferred theatre to, say, sports or the military. One number in particular was too homoerotic to be taken seriously. The players were supposed to be fighting but battling men do not caress each other. Outside of that I was blown away by the acrobats, comedic duo, and musical numbers. Very glad to have gone to the show.

JOURNAL: AUGUST 6, 2009

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On this day I had just emailed a grappling friend in NYC, complaining about the futility in finding a non-fetish/homo wrestling club. (Germans get into some kinky shit). My friend must have been at his computer for I received a quick reply offering urgent words of encouragement. No sooner than I finished reading his email my search turned up a credible-looking listing. I promptly sent a text query to the advertised number and was thrilled to get a near immediate reply, telling me to show up that evening. 

I then tried ranting about not having a million euros but, wouldn't ya know it, still nothing has come of it:

 

el jueves, Aug 6

   Found a local wrestling club this afternoon on the Internet! They meet Thursdays and Saturdays so I made a point of showing up tonight. Didn't comprehend a word of the training but got along all right; my conditioning is not so out of shape although my reflexes are. Wished I had located them much sooner, but it's my own fault; wish I had made the point of finding a wrestling club upon arrival. I didn't and so I didn't find them...I must admit that I have not used my time here to the best of my abilities. I offer myself no excuse for this lethargy and procrastination.

   Funny thing that: I just, on a whim, bought a couple of old pictures of wrestling yesterday from a used bookstore.

****

Ringen Einsteiger Berlin (website)

Coconut water...not just for Robinson Crusoe

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Coconut water is pretty damn good. 

Drank it for the first time yesterday. I love coconut (shredded coconut, toasted coconut!, dark chocolate covered coconut, coconut cake, German chocolate cake, coconut gelato, coconut cooking oil, coconut body oil, even coconut incense) but always avoided the water for fear that it would taste like coconut. I am a complicated man of simple tastes: I like my socks white, sky blue, and my water to taste like water and nothing else. The thought of actually drinking coconut makes me wince.


But it does taste like water! Aside from a subtle trace of flavor which is more olfactory than taste the liquid is plain and, to my wonderment, refreshingly cool almost cold straight from the nut. 

I am a complicated man of simple tastes: I like my water to taste like water and nothing else

I was finally intrigued to give it a try after reading a blip in, of all places, the latest issue of Details magazine (a pity the publication has evolved into such a fag rag), which I pilfered from the book exchange last week. Here is the tip in its entirety:

"Coconut water is what Gatorade wishes it was," says Oz Garcia, New York nutritionist. It has the potassium and the sugar you need to feel restored after a workout but none of the artificial ingredients or the food coloring

Hmmm. Cheaper and just as beneficial a sports drink as what's on the market? Okay.... It just so happens the gym owner's father sits outside with his makeshift coconut water stand. So I paid him $15pesos and gave it a shot. The old man calmly sat aside his book, pulled out the machete (these fruits are hard ass nuts to crack), and bore a whole in the top. Then he popped a straw into it and handed me the green, slightly pointed bowling ball. It takes two hands to hold it. Inside was more water than I

imagined. Afterwards, if you like, he'll hack up the green outer shell to get to the more familiar looking brown nut and then cut out the white meat for one to nibble on later. I tried the coconut but it wasn't sweet to the taste so I passed on it. Maybe next time.  


You might be able to find the following products in a market near your neck of the woods.

Zico Pure Premium Coconut Water

Antropology Bar is not classy or fun (Puerto Vallarta)

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Antropology sucks.

By virtue of no competition it is thee go-to nude male strip bar in Puerto Vallarta. But would tourists still go to it if they knew they were supporting a sonofabitch who essentially operates along the lines of a sweat-shop? That rich sonofabitch would be owner Jose. There's just something about this country which is sluggish to respect the self-evidence of human worth and dignity. Some travellers understand the folly in expecting foreign lands to proceed like their native society. I wager, however, that no one expects serfdom or indentured servitude to exist in North America in this day and age! Times do not always keep pace with years. Just look at Cuba. Or Mexico. Or Estonia.

The strippers are too afraid to speak up because no one wants to be unemployed

My beef with Antropology is uncomplicated and sincere: slavery is wrong. Anything akin or tantamount to slavery is equally wrong. The bar touts itself as a place "where classy meets fun" but there is nothing classy about how it is run. The strippers are treated like shit and given as much thought as one gives to the crap he just dumped in the toilet---zero save for flushing it away. 

Strippers are not paid any wages yet are required to work nightly AND forbidden to ever dance in any other venue. By any other venue I mean private affairs (bachelorette parties or house parties) and social galas (parades, fundraisers, store openings) as well as in other bars. Preventing a man from taking a second job to make ends meet or from making an honest living is inexcusable, ridiculous, wrong. Exclusive rights to something means that thing is paid for or in the case of a human worker is compensated for. 

Antropology demands exclusive labor and gives nothing in return. By nothing I mean nothing. No pay, no perks, no support, not even free drinks of water or juice; hell, even slave masters fed their slaves and chain-gangs earn cents to the dollar. Would it really impoverish the queer bastard to comp the dancers a beer or bottle of water?! Plus, he takes a share of the tips (private dances). What part of this is okay to any right thinking customer?

My beef with Antropology is uncomplicated: slavery is wrong. The strippers are treated like shit. They are not paid any wages yet are required to work nightly AND forbidden to ever dance in any other venue

One wouldn't knowingly patronize a sweat-shop or child labor or de facto forced labor; nor would one be okay if the scenario involved female dancers so why justify an exception for this? The strippers are too afraid to speak up because no one wants to be unemployed (failing to realize work without pay doesn't actually constitute actual employment anyway). Since Right counts for nada with Jose the man sees no reason to change his business practices.

Therefore it is up to customers, or perhaps the absence thereof, to motivate change. The expat gringos (and homosexual community) are always going on about acceptance and fair treatment so I want to see if they can convince the owner of Antropology to accept that his policy is not fair by, at minimum, North American standards. Jose needs to get with it. 


Until then, I do hope tourists boycott Antropology because Antropology sucks. Adult entertainment need not come at such a cost.
(Hmmm, wonder if the business association knows about this....)

I welcome feedback; Or click here to send your comments straight to Antropology (pun.so.intended).

My thoughts on marriage

Canada flys the homosexual flag

...why am I really not all that much surprised?
(click title to read my other post)

Hostelling International Toronto (Canada)

During my two recent trips to Toronto I stayed at Hostel International Toronto. The hostel, like the city, is super clean. The lobby, commons areas, hallways and bathrooms are all very clean and nice smelling. H.I. Toronto has about three commons: the first floor contains book exchange, billiards, juke box, and public computers; in the cellar is the big tv room (along with the open kitchen and groovy restaurant); the fourth or fifth floor holds the outdoor patio.

Each of the rooms in which I slept were fine. Some of the bedsprings squeaked but not by a great deal and I found the mattresses, complete with crisp linens, comfortable.

There is a fee for everything, though, and it is not always worthwhile. For one, the available computers are unreliable. The Internet disconnects seemingly every four minutes sans known reason and have to be continually restarted. At $3/hr the only nice thing is that the time can be used throughout your stay as opposed to being used in one sitting. Since there are several outside Internet cafes which charge the same rate, and many of which stay open 24hrs, it is hardly worth wasting one's time using the ones in the hostel. The hostel doesn't offer free breakfast---or coffee!---local calls (some pay phones are on the first floor), towels or luggage storage. Jesus, throw a backpacker a bone, why don't ya!

There is a fee for everything. Jesus, throw a backpacker a bone, why don't ya!

One other very queer thing about H.I. Toronto is the big homo flag that hangs in reception, front and center of several smaller country flags. Homosexuality is not a country so the rainbow banner is terribly anachronous among State flags and since the hostel does not bill itself as a "gay hotel" it's even more bemusing to see it there. The only thing that increases the oddity of the situation is the noticeable absence of the Canadian flag (and I couldn't help but notice there was no American flag either). Huh?! Damn, even Canucks are ashamed to fly the Canadian flag.

And they wonder why Americans know so little about them.

HI Toronto

76 Church Street

1.877.848.8737

website

toronto@hihostels.ca