This Above All:

Mexico= Kick. Ass.

Thu, 17 May 2007 03:30:05 GMT

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.

P.S. Johnny's beginning to design costumes! Yay!

While I was swimming in the ocean, I thought about the movie The Piano, particularly the ending. Suddenly, I decided to hold my breath and let myself sink for a bit. Nobody was swimming nearby, so it was totally silent. I felt truly at peace for the first time since...I don't know when.
When I am lying awake at two in the morning, I will remember this feeling. It's weird...when I was down there, I forgot what I was doing, who I was with, and the fact that a shark might sink its teeth into me at any second. What I remembered was this:

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
-Thomas Hood

I am drunk

Sun, 06 May 2007 09:22:22 GMT

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.

-Thomas Hood

Careful the things you say...children will listen.

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 19:28:24 GMT

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.

A Good Day

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 04:26:39 GMT

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.

So after my class finishes at around three, I find Johnny outside waiting for me. I get into the car, he kisses me, then he turns up the music and begins driving.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Twenty minutes later, we end up at a playground. A real playground with swings, monkeybars, jungle gym, the whole bit. And suddenly the world turns bright Crayola colors and I'm racing him to the slide and we're laughing like kids, pulling each other down, hanging upside down from the grubby metal bars.
It goes on and on until we find ourselves on the swings, swinging so high that the structure rattles as we plummet back to the earth. Finally, we both let go. For a moment, it feels like flying.

And then I realize that the ground is coming at me hard and fast. The impact jars my bones. We hit at nearly the same time and roll into on the sand, gasping for breath and laughing at our stunt. I lie spread out like an angel with my eyes closed. I can hear Johnny inching towards me. He rests his head on my chest. I feel my heart hammering against his face. Very slowly, I bring one hand up to touch his hair. It feels a little like puppy fur. We don't talk; we just lie there.

I wish I could've photographed us from above.

A half-hour later we got into the car and headed back home. We went out to dinner and then back to his place, I put on a show for him (leather attire, knee-high boots, etc.) and an hour later I'm lying in bed and he's packing for the rest of the Champions On Ice tour.

Now he's gone until the end of the tour and I won't see him for a month at least. But that's okay. It's funny...after we left the park, we went about the rest of the day like nothing happened. But something happened at that playground that I can't explain. We're all right now.

A while ago, Johnny skated to "All In Love Is Fair" by Stevie Wonder. I say: yes indeed.

Now I finally understand...

Sun, 22 Apr 2007 22:25:04 GMT

Why some of his fangirls call him King Weir.

...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.

I love him. I love him.

Irish Car Bomb

3/4 pint Guinness stout
1/2 shot Bailey's Irish cream
1/2 shot Irish whiskey

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.

This one's for you

Tue, 17 Apr 2007 04:05:20 GMT

The Only Difference Between Heaven and Here Is Altitude

Dizzy days and one-act plays, caught in a haze
Of your grand and Candid life, I will admit
It’s nice, skating on thin ice, never look back twice
You just learn from your mistakes and move on

My shameless king of sex appeal
But day by day, you have to deal
You uphold the truth, how rare
How real, you never hide what you really feel

But after all the shit you’ve dragged us through
When it’s over, I’ll still miss you
Miss my sweet Valkyrie
My source of joy, of misery

Through our times apart, and our times Together
We’ve battled screaming crowds and stormy weather
And no matter how hard I try to deny
I must confess, I…

Chorus:
But after all the shit you’ve dragged us through
I must admit, I will miss you
Miss my sweet Valkyrie
My source of joy, of misery

So here’s to all the times you’ve cried
Despite how hard you always tried
And when you fall, you still rely
On standing up to face tomorrow

And here’s to all the days you’ve screamed
When you didn’t win what you dreamed
So let the sun affix its beam
On the vase your threw across the room

I raise my glass to us

Chorus

Bottles of Gray Goose and a few laughs later,
You’ve dried your tears and you’re okay again
Wrapped in furs, spread out on the floor
Reading a magazine you’ve read before

You look at me, turn down the radio
“You don’t have to stay, you know”
I smile, affix my beam: “If I wanted lo leave,
I’d have gone a long time ago”

Chorus

Every morning I wake next to you
Remember all the shit you’ve dragged us through
Remember: we are okay, just as we are
A candle and a shining star
We’ll both burn out in the end

So we’ll ride this speedboat hard and fast
When the chips are down and the die is cast
What we have may be too fragile to last
Still, we’ll give it one hell of a try

But after all this shit you’ve dragged us through
When it’s all over, I will miss you
Miss my sweet reverie
My daily dose of destiny

In the end, we’ll crash hard and fast
But until then, I raise my glass

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 00:08:38 GMT

"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.

"Head And Shoulders my ASS!"

Is it any wonder?

Thu, 12 Apr 2007 00:03:09 GMT

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.

Story time!

I woke up alone. He was not asleep beside me, stretched out on his side with his head tucked into his arm and shadows fluttering on his eyelids like ghosts, his skin bathed in the gray sunlight streaming in though the window…I could go on forever.

I reached for the shirt hanging on the bedpost and pulled it over my head. I could tell without looking that it was Johnny’s; it smelled faintly of Nars Masque D'argile and Teen Spirit. I found my slippers under the bed and crept into the living room.

The apartment was cold and quiet- the sort of quiet than can frighten you if you’re not careful. I knew that Johnny was gone; he never would allow such an oppressive silence. I turned the radio on…I turned the radio up. Keane’s Is It Any Wonder? flooded through the room as I cranked up the thermostat and headed into the kitchen. Even with the music to comfort me, I still felt deserted.

I noticed that Johnny’s shoes, messenger bag, and coat were all missing, along with a couple of his CDs. His Christina Aguilera CDs. A chill slid down my spine.

I set the coffee maker to work and reached into the cabinet for my coffee cup, the one with the small gold heart painted just below its rim. My fingertips brushed against a piece of paper. I took my cup out of the cabinet and removed the neatly folded note tucked inside it. Elegant cursive graced the paper. Johnny’s cursive, of course. I began to read.

CUT TO SHOT OF JOHNNY SITTING IN FIRST CLASS ON AN AIRPLANE.

*Enter emotional voiceover*

I’m going to New York for the weekend. I just need to get away from
everything. I can’t why explain right now, but when I come home, I swear
I’ll try. I’m sorry I didn’t wake you before I left. I know that I’ve been a
pretty poor excuse for a boyfriend over the past few months, but I’ll
make it up to you. I really want to be with you. Thank you for being so
patient with me. I’ll call tonight. I love you.

-Johnny

FADE INTO SHOT OF ME READING THE NOTE.

I folded the note up, left it on the counter, and fought the overwhelming urge to rip the telephone handset from the wall, dial Johnny’s cell, and leave a long, sappy message about how I understood completely, how he’d had a difficult season and he deserved some downtime, how I loved him so much.

Instead, I poured a cup of coffee and allowed the steam to fill me until I was warm again. Coffee always made everything better. I sauntered into the living room and leaned against the bay window. The sky was pale with gray light.

I wished I could tell Johnny that I saw him as an angel. I saw him as all the things I wish I were, as two thousand dead-of-nights, each one fighting the break of dawn.

Ladies and gentlemen...Johnny Weir.

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>

-"Is It Any Wonder?"- Keane

How it began

Wed, 11 Apr 2007 03:31:44 GMT

It all started when I was lucky enough to attend the 2007 U.S. Figure skating Championships. After the Men's Long Program, I fought my way down four of people to the front row during the men's victory lap and Johnny Weir touched my hand as he skated by, and then I said something so romantic that he looked back at me, confused, before disappearing inside the magical room where the skaters go.

For two weeks, I moped around lamenting the loss of my true love whilst searching for something as beautiful as Johnny's skating- a painting, a song, a play, anything, but nothing lifted my sorrow.

And suddenly, out of the blue, Johnny's agent telephoned and asked me to fly over to meet Johnny at some exotic upscale restaurant. I set off at once

I met Johnny over a sappy candlelight dinner, and after an hour I fell even more hopelessly in love with him. We realized that we were meant for each other, and he snatched me up from the miserable little farming town and took me away with him. He paid for the film school education I always dreamed of. I became like the starving artists in RENT without the starving bit, because Johnny currently makes 6 figures a year.

I got a job and moved into an upscale apartment three blocks down the street from Johnny's, though I usually spent more time at his place than at mine.

However, being Johnny's true love is not without obstacles. For one, the press constantly hounds him, attempting to discover his true sexual orientation. Therefore, we can rarely be seen in public together, and I can only attend his skating competitions as a spectator.

*Unexplainable jump backwards in time*

Unfortunately, due to the nature of the town and the hounding of the press, I was not able to attend the 2007 U.S. Figure skating Championships. I watched every second of it on television from the safety of Johnny's fabulous apartment in Delaware. My heart broke when he fell on his ass during "Child of Nazareth", and I cried with him when he realized that Evan had stolen his crown.

That night I talked to Johnny on the phone for hours, drinking myself into oblivion just like he was doing in his hotel room. I told him that his fag hags still loved him, that I would always love him, that he tried as hard as he could and that's what really matters.

The next day, I watched from the sofa as Johnny skated to "Imagine" by John Lennon at the exhibition, and sappy tears of joy crept down my face as he finished flawlessly and the crowd leapt to its feet, applauding like nobody's business.

I slept restlessly that night, counting down the hours until he returned.

At long last, Johnny Weir my favorite queer opened the door to his apartment, looking like he'd been hit by a bus. He moved slowly as he unlaced his boots, giving the impression that he was in pain.

"You're back early."

"Yeah."

"I wanted to meet you at the airport."

"You know you can't do that; the fucking press would have a field day."

"The press was at the airport?"

"They always are."

A moment of silence.

"I tried really hard."

"I know."

"But I fucked it all up."

"Don't say that."

Johnny burst into tears, and I guided him to his ten thousand dollar sofa and cuddled him and supplied tissues until he calmed down.

"I'm sorry." *sniffles* "I'm being an idiot."

"No you're not."

"Three years...I had that medal for three fucking years."

"You'll get it back. I know you will."

*Pause*

"I missed you."

"Likewise."

*Passionate makeout interlude*

"I'll get you a Starbucks, okay? Would that help?"

"Thank you."

"Back in five."

I grabbed my coat, raced down the hall to the elevator, and tapped my foot impatiently as it traveled ten floors down. (Fucking slow elevator.) I dashed to the Starbucks across the street, risking life and limb, burst through the doors and order Johnny's favorite drink.

("I don't care if you were in line first; this is an emergency, dammit!")

Exactly five minutes later, I re-entered the apartment slightly damper than before, brushing the snowflakes from my hair.

"Cold out there."

"You didn't have to do this."

"What are you talking about? It was no trouble."

For a moment, I framed Johnny's face in a halo of the steam rising from the coffee cup.

"Grande double-shot skinny vanilla latte with Splenda."

"You're an angel." *sip* "You're a saint."

By the time Johnny finished his latte, the sky had darkened to a navy blue. He sighed and leaned back, eyes closed, like the weight of the world rested on his thin shoulders.

"God, I'm tired."

"You should be. First Mono, then your back, then your hip...all in one year. You need to rest. Take some time off."

"I can't. I need to work."

"We should to Spain. Or Fiji, you want to go to Fiji?"

"Maybe." Johnny would smile, settle back into the sofa. "It's a bit late for it tonight, though."

I turned on the CD player across the room, put in the CD featuring all of Johnny's favorite slow Christina Aguilera songs, and returned to the sofa for more snuggling and discussing of his adventures in Spokane and occasional kissing. I noticed how tense Johnny's shoulders were and gave him a thorough sensual massage.

"God, that feels good."

By the last song, Johnny was nearly asleep.

"Time for bed."

"Hm?"

I got one arm under Johnny's knees and the other around his back and lifted him. He was unbelievably light.

"You're Mother Theresa," Johnny mumbled.

I carried him across the living room (Kate and Leopold style) and his delicate arms hung limply, giving him the look of a fallen angel. We arrived as his bedroom (red walls, a red carpet, a white queen-sized bed, and black accents) and I lay him on the bed and tucked him in.

"I'm gonna go home." I kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight."

"No. Stay."

"All right." I kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned my shirt (to reveal my beautiful man-boy body), and crawled under the silky and wonderfully expensive sheets.

"You're Elvis. You're God."

"And you're beautiful." I draped my arm across him and reached for his hand.

"M-hm." Johnny tucked his head under my chin. His hair smelled like Paul Mitchell hair gel and lavender. "Love you..."

"I love you."

I realized at that moment just how lucky I was. I was beyond lucky. And I realized, lying there, that I was so close to Johnny Weir that I could feel his heart beating against my chest. So close that when he closed his eyes...I fell asleep.

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

-"Imagine"- John Lennon

Johnny Weir

Wed, 11 Apr 2007 03:01:19 GMT

I love that man. I want to undress him and conver him in peanut butter.