Johnny is pretty much over his performance at Worlds. He tried hard and he could have done a lot worse, and I'm still proud of him. No regrets. Oh yeah, and we're down in Mexico right now. Cozumel, to be exact. Ha. We had to pretend we didn't know each other on the trip over, but it's all right now because nobody knows who he is. We're here with some of his skating comrades from Champions on Ice. They're all very kind and I'm glad I can be myself around them.
Unfortunately, my poor baby is sick and can't smell or taste, which sucks, but I finally convinced him to go swimming in the ocean. He's fucking terrified of sharks and whales and fish and barracuda and...seaweed...so this was a big step. And making out in the waves under the sun was unbelievably hot.
I am watching the sun set right now from our hotel room and it is breathtaking. The sky has turned completely pink and the clouds are gold. This country is beautiful. The beach is beautiful. The sky is beautiful. The rhythm is beautiful. It's slower.
So Johnny is at the bar with his friends and he'll probably come back totally blitzed, but then there's always good, drunk sex. I look forward to it.
Only three days until Johnny and crew leave for California and head home. Boo.
It is Saturday night and I am drunk. Johnny is not here. I miss him dearly, but I have grown used to the loneliness. He is a skating champion, after all. I never expected to be with him all the time. I am actually updating from his computer right now, and in a little while I am going to sleep in his bed. I can't stand my apartment anymore; it is too cold and too unfamiliar. I sleep over at Johnny's at least three nights a week. Why do I even bother paying rent?
There is no music playing. There are no cars passing on the street below. I can't even hear my own breath. The silence is both frightening and beautiful at the same time.
There is a silence where hath been no sound There is a silence where no sound may be In the cold grave, under the deep deep sea.
Life without Johnny is going okay. On Friday I drove to New York and partied with some of my friends. It was fun. I am also falling in love with the song "Miss Misery" by Elliott Smith. I've got a paper due in 21 hours...better get to it.
Johnny decided to make amends this morning by making us breakfast in bed. It was really bloody good. The best part? Watching him actually eat French toast. Then I skipped class, he skipped pilates (!) and we spent the entire morning wandering the city. I had to go to my last class of the day (fucking paper due), so we split for the afternoon.
...For those of you that don't know your literature, it is a bastardization of Shakespeare's King Lear.
This week. Sucked A fat one. I'll sum it up.
Monday: Got my grades. While I'm not doing nearly as badly as I thought I was, I'm still sinking. Fucking film school.
Tuesday: Getting out of a taxi, I slipped and spilled my coffee on my new Banana Republic jeans. Later, Johnny screamed and threw a coffee mug across the living room. It shattered and left a mark on the wall.
Wednesday: Sex. Lots of sex. And I stubbed my toe. Okay, so maybe Wednesday wasn't that bad ;)
Thursday: Johnny's toast landed margarine-side down. Murphy's law. We toasted Murphy with many, many fine Irish beers, and Johnny ended up throwing up for two hours.
Friday: Spilled coco on my leather jacket and Johnny ate ice during skating practice. He now has a bruise the size of a baseball on his hip.
Saturday: Both of us too tired for sex. Downtown a hick called me a fucking AIDS queer. After a moment he added "and you too!", meaning Johnny. I tried to hit him, but Johnny stopped me. Fuckers.
Sunday: I made deviled eggs for lunch today. It took me about an hour. Johnny wouldn't eat one. Felt like slapping him. Nearly did. Then I remembered that he is literally pure muscle and therefore his retaliation slap would send me sprawling. Besides, we don't hit each other...but I don't doubt he'd fight back if I pasted him one. So I ate my lunch on the balcony.
And then there's the problem of vices...every other day, Johnny begs me to lay off the cigarettes, I try to force-feed him, nobody wins. Stalemate.
About an hour ago: We had a post-fight fight. About his excessive exercising. Again. Two Irish Car Bombs later (recipe to follow) and he's totally pissed, giggling and rolling around on the shag carpet. He says he likes the way it feels against his arms.
A good friend of mine reminded me, whilst we were sitting in a bus shelter at 11:00 at night, that you can't properly care for someone else until you've got yer own shit figured out. That's why I have to get back up. We've got to pull ourselves out before we're too far under and we're fucked. I'll do everything I can to make this coming week better. And I know he'll try too.
Add the Bailey's and Jameson to a shot glass, layering the Bailey's on the bottom. Pour the Guinness into a pint glass or beer mug 3/4 of the way full and let settle. Drop the shot glass into the Guinness and chug. If you don't drink it fast enough it will curdle and increasingly taste worse.
"Ever since Johnny placed 8th at the World Figure Skating Championships, he's been going through one of his blue periods. He dropped the Head And Shoulders in the shower today and freaked out something awful."
Just imagine it with a softer, more feminine voice, and you'll know what Johnny sounded like yesterday morning.
Today kind-of sucked. Ever since Johnny placed 8th at the World Figure Skating Championships, he's been going through one of his blue periods. He dropped the Head And Shoulders in the shower today and freaked out something awful. He's difficult to deal with right now, but he'll pick up again soon and we'll drive across the country or something. We need a fucking break.
But school's going well (final on Monday, FUCK!) and I'm living more at Johnny's apartment than mine.
I...I always thought that I knew I'd always have the right to be living in the kingdom of the good and true and so on But now I think I was wrong and you were laughing along And now I look a fool for thinking you were on...
My side Is it any wonder I'm tired? Is it any wonder that I feel uptight? Is it any wonder I don't know what's right?
Sometimes it's hard to know where I stand It's hard to know where I am Well maybe it's a puzzle I don't understand Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm Stranded in the wrong time Where love is just a lyric in a children's rhyme, a soundbite
Is it any wonder I'm tired? Is it any wonder that I feel uptight? Is it any wonder I don't know what's right? Oh, these days, after all the misery made Is it any wonder that I feel afraid? Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?
Nothing left inside this old cathedral Just the sad, lonely spires How do you make it right?
Oh, but you try Is it any wonder I'm tired? Is it any wonder that I feel uptight? Is it any wonder I don't know what's right? Oh, these days, after all the misery made Is it any wonder that I feel afraid? Is it any wonder that I feel betrayed?</i>
A/N: Kudos if you find the Sin City and My Big Fat Greek Wedding references and post them. Tune in next time for chapter two of my gay adventures with Johnny Weir...my favorite queer.
Imagine there's no heaven It's easy if you try No hell below us Above us only sky Imagine all the people Living for today...
Imagine there's no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion too Imagine all the people Living life in peace...
You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions I wonder if you can No need for greed or hunger A brotherhood of man Imagine all the people Sharing all the world...
You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will live as one
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