thin line between a deception and a white lie

Me and Eddie woke up half past noon, and we had been sleeping for nine hours. It is nice to have our own schedule since we like to sleep and wake up late. Such a comfortable routine for us, although I worry sometimes that we get too much sleep (nine to ten hours).

We read together The Course In Miracles while we ate our breakfast. As usual, I had a bowl of Trix cereal and Eddie had two toasted breads incorporated with butter, peanut butter and jellies. The reading went well, and took us only ten minutes to finish the chapter about sacrifice (it was under the teacher's manual this time).

I spent the next two hours reading the book, Perfume: A Story of a Murder, which I find enthralling. Patrick Suskind, the author, is a captivating storyteller creating successfully a dark fairy tale and a frenzy fable for the grown-ups. I am only on page 100 since it is my "gym book". It was only this afternoon that I had spent so much time reading the book. Perfume: A Story of a Murder, has some deep vocabularies in it so I had my hard-binded American Heritage Dictionary next to me.

Eddie went to work at his restaurant at 5pm, and I played Mario Kart Wii for two hours. I have been addicted to the game since last summer, and I have become disgustingly good- appearing first place almost every time even against players at 9000+ VR. I slowed down on Mario Kart lately, playing only two hours on every other day basis compared to my old playing time habit which was four to eight hours every day.

I cleaned the house again and set up the air fresheners Eddie had bought earlier when he had grocery shopping. It is a wax air-freshener kind, three of them, with an odor of apple and cinnamon. I placed one in the bathroom downstairs, one in the kitchen and the other one in the TV room. Then I nuked the leftover from my cooking last night, the beef steak, for dinner.

Then I brought forth a deceitful lie to Eddie about the speeding ticket I obtained yesterday. First, I texted him, "Hi?". A few minutes later he called, and I answered a solemn "hello" that denoted something was wrong.

"Why do you sound like this? What's up? Is it a bad news?"
"Yes. And... I just want to get it out of my chest, but I'm not sure if it's the right time."
"...I am working, I don't know either if it's a time for bad news."
"Mmmm okay. I'll just tell you later then."
"Well if it's that important tell me now... Okay, go ahead, tell me."
"I got a speeding ticket".

I have lied to Eddie the day before. I told him that I have dinner plans with my girl friends today. The cunning dishonesty had been executed perfectly. Eddie, after having thought that he would throw a temper tantrum on me regarding the matter, handled the situation rather calmly. The best of it all, I covered my lie too from yesterday's. I am unsure if I truly feel bad about my deception, or not at all. I had lied to him numerous times, and had been disloyal dozens of times. But I am not sure (and it worries me that sometimes I think I'm really apathetic) if it bother me.

I met up with Eddie at his restaurant in North Park at 11pm and he was in a good spirit telling me to ease off and lighten up about the speeding ticket. We went to Bourbon Street at University Heights. I had Amaretto Sour, and Eddie had two draft beers. The crowd was decent and had a crowd of few good looking guys. I remember a lad in particular that kept staring at me every minute. I am a boon for guys who are into petite boys. I stand 5-7 tall yet I weigh roughly 105 lbs. I showcase my skinny legs through tight black jeans. We stayed at the bar/club for about an hour before we left. We ran into Arcie, Tony, Jimmy and Doug, and they still are exactly the same people from last year (we used to always meet up with them on Friday nights at Top of the Park last summer for drinks).

yet again, a speeding ticket

I woke up yesterday only to find out the weather had gone gloomier, more damp, and radiated a somewhat languid, somnolent state. Eddie mentioned that days like these could be perfect for fishing, and I was suddenly robbed with a feeling of being on a tiny wooden boat, tossing a fishing rod at Lake Hodges, where we went fishing two years before.

Abby came over that last night to watch our favorite shows recorded on TiVo (Make Me A Supermodel, and Real Housewives Of New York City). He had been feeling sick for the last couple of days now, and Eddie and I made a huge fuss about it insisting him to not touch anything, that he should not have showed up in our front door in the first place, and just giving him constant tirade about his petty colds. I could have felt sorry for our actions later, but that was the way how things normally work in the spirit of our company. And we all are used to it by now-- the incessant throwing of insults to one another, the foolish, moronic actions, and conversations we make-- all implies as simply as having a good humorous time. After all, we were buzzed, like we always are.

Early in the afternoon, my taste buds were longing for a certain childhood dish called beef steak. The strong urge took me to the grocery store to buy its ingredients for me to cook for dinner. The meal came out well, and Eddie liked it enough, although I was uncertain at first on how long should I pan fry a 1/4 inch steak cut into bite pieces. I even called my mother regarding the situation but to no avail. In the end, the dinner was perfect and had quelled my craving for its certain taste- a bit salty with a tinge of lemon pepper flavor.

That night, I embarked on a commotion spree. I drove my car, a triple white Volkswagen beetle, to La Jolla to meet David at his ocean view home. I was somewhat possessed with a superiority and affluent mode, that made my driving rather rude, speeding recklessly amidst the traffic. I went down the hill really fast, thirteen miles past the speed limit, passing all the cars, and fleeing away from their presence. Then there it went, before I knew it, a cop was behind me flashing its blue and red lights, denoting its authority. I pulled over to the side of the road. I was neither nervous nor dismayed, well maybe a little. As the cops approached, I managed to cling on to my superior attitude replying only single words such as "yes" and "no". I showed no signs of emotions, just a complete brickwall void of expressions, almost apathetic to the situation. I talked, gestured, and signed the ticket in a thoroughly robotic manner. In the end, when the cops (there were two of them) said their goodbyes, and wished me good driving, I more or less coldly and blankly ignored them. I went on with my driving as if it was all an illusion.

David's place was spectacular. The narrow driveway was paved with thriving bougainvillas. The house itself emanates an Italian-like feel, prosperous and bountiful of its own kind. Inside was meticulously neat, smelled of florals and bergamots... I couldn't say anymore of the night. I locked inside my true self, leaving me with a stone heart, unable to feel or express anything. I went on with the night in a different self, oblivious to life's circumstances. I neither dread nor feel resentments to what has happened, but the speeding ticket I obtained last night was, ugh, unforgivable.

first day of blogging

...today was uneventful. I woke up at almost noon only to find the weather had been acting strange. It had been damp and gloomy since this morning. The gray, somber clouds blanketed the skies shooing away the golden sun. Such occurrence reminds me of those winter days- a dominating shadow casts itself over the earth leaving us a blue-gray atmosphere. And since spring had arrived about a few months ago (it had been sunny all this time), a day like this could be a boon for dreamers like me. Hence, the weather called forth a long walk in the beach with my dog, Troopy.

After a nice, lengthy walk, I dropped off Troopy at the groomer's and met up with Eddie at Pizza Nova. I ate scantily the garden salad, and just had one out of the four small sliced pizzas. I took the left over home.

I was in the mood for cleaning the house despite the lazy weather. I bought incense and air fresheners, and they might have been the precursor for my "tidying-up" mood- I wanted the house to be squeaky clean before employing the aromas I purchased at the store (VONS this time). And upon writing this blog, my sense of smell had been drenched with wild berries, and lemon grass scents that I find myself sneezing every so often.

I booked a Southwest flight to San Francisco on June 26, and reserved a room at The Westin St. Francis for SF gay pride. I am more than excited for the weekend getaway for I expect the occassion to be wild, fun and riotous. It is after all, a perfect weekend for binge drinking, and letting go of inhibitions.