Road Trip!

I leave this morning for a road trip to Iowa to check on my father. Except in the winter, I always enjoy the drive with the beautiful scenery. My route cuts through the Appalachian Mountains of North Georgia and Tennessee, and the rolling hills and prairie of Missouri and Iowa. It's such a change from Atlanta scenery. Plus, I get to listen to music or practice a foreign language during the drive.

My dad lives in a small town of about 5000 people. It's a whole different world. People seem to have more time there, and you can't go anywhere without bumping into a friend or acquaintance. Even people who don't know you are friendly. Except for the winter weather, it's a great place. I didn't see it that way growing up there; isn't it strange how time changes your perspective?

Autumn in Georgia

With its rolling hills dotted with trees, Georgia is stunning in the autumn. The golds, reds, and greens are fun to see, like being inside a landscape painted by Monet.

Georgia is the first state where I've lived that I've enjoyed autumn. Florida had so few hardwood trees that it was not nearly as pretty, while autumn in Iowa only served to announce the upcoming winter, which was always long, cold, windy, and icy.

The Front Yard Garden

For the last several years, the rainfall in the Atlanta area has been undependable. My better half planted this drought resistant flower (the globe amaranth, also known as gomphrena) which has been flourishing. Here's a different view of the front yard flowers:


The bumblebees and butterflies enjoy the gomphrenas, and it's fun to stand outside and watch them.

Just in Time for Halloween!

Our spiders are doing their part to celebrate Halloween. Every autumn, spiders start weaving webs along the exterior walls of the homes in our Atlanta neighborhood. The one in the picture is just outside the back door, one of their favorite places. The webs appear suddenly, and never just one, usually at least three, four, or five appear simultaneously. Many a time, I've been surprised taking trash out the back door. My usual method of shutting the door, pivoting, and moving toward the trashcan almost always ensures that my face encounters any new web. LOL. This is the one proven method to wake me up without coffee!

By the way, one of my MySpace friends found a website where you can find your Halloween name. Click Here For Your Halloween Name. Mine is "Cobb Webbed Crotch," which makes me cringe because the name makes that area sound so unused. LOL.

The Underwear Issue

The models are the reason I enjoy the issue of Genre magazine devoted to men's underwear. Unless you're gay, you probably don't know the many different brands and styles of men's underwear that exist. The brand in the picture above is 2xist, a favorite among gay men. Indeed, Exodus ministry (the group that claims to change people's orientation from gay to straight) considers 2xist underwear too gay (whatever that is) and bans the brand from being worn by its victims attempting the orientation change.

Genre does contain articles and this issue has one looking back at the underwear revolution caused by Calvin Klein. Prior to Calvin Klein, underwear was not considered sexy, but a commodity. Thank you Calvin Klein!

BTW, Genre also has an annual issue on beachwear that is also eye pleasing. :-)

Internet Fakes

One of the problems created by the internet is the use of fake identities so that people can misrepresent themselves. I'm mystified by misrepresentations. Are they so dissatisfied with their life that they must lie about it? I'd like to be younger, but calling myself 25 won't make me twenty-five.

I also believe that truth always prevails, although there are times when it can be slow to do so. What are the people who misrepresent themselves going to do when the truth emerges?

There was an interesting story early this year about a man who invented a fake identity and fell in love over the internet with a woman who invented a fake identity. The man murdered a rival who was competing for the fake internet woman. (You can't make up stories like this!) In this case, the truth ruined several lives.

One of my MySpace friends sent a bulletin last week about an impostor. The impostor had posted about a dozen photos that belonged to my MySpace friend. What kind of fantasy do you have when you do that?

(Disclosure: Since I was an identity theft victim, I never provide internet sites with my real birth date. I choose a random date, and I do usually key in one that knocks off several years. But its not done with the intent of deceiving; it's done to avoid a hacker stealing that information and impersonating me.)

Sexual Identity

I used to think that people were either gay or straight, and that bisexuals were people who weren't ready to admit that they were gay. I now think that sexual orientation is more like a scale, with some people on the extreme ends of gay or straight, and others falling in the middle, truly bisexual.
My new view is the result of some conversations with one of my better half's friends, a psychologist, who mentioned the many patients she treated because they felt an sexual attraction that differed from their usual orientation. She concluded that everyone was bisexual, although to different degrees.

With so much societal pressure to be heterosexual, people like me who identify as gay are pretty much only attracted to the same sex; however, I suspect many straights are actually bisexual. Perhaps as being gay becomes increasingly accepted, more people will identify themselves as bisexual. I'm sure that this will complicate marriages and relationships (not that they need any more complexity!).

My Visit to the Gym

Monday is one of the days I visit the gym to perform my penance for the calories that I so enjoy. In walking from my car to the entrance, I found that I was walking behind another guy.

Being gay, I love the sight of a sexy guy just as a straight man loves the sight of a sexy lady. Because I'm in love, I don't do anything but look, but looking is fun.

Well, the guy in front of me was a sexy, twenty-something boy with muscular, hairy legs, which started to turn me on. (Of course, being in Atlanta with my better half in Philadelphia has something to do with my libido too). I don't usually begin my gym visits that way.

Entering the gym, I handed the employee (a girl that I usually chat with) my ID and asked her how her week-end was. "Great!" she exclaimed, telling me how she went to Miami and had a fun time at the beach. "See?" she said, leaning toward me and opening her shirt collar. The sunburn was apparent, and I told her "You must have had a wonderful time!"

As I walked to the locker room to stow my gym bag, a cute, Asian, twenty-something gay looks at my legs, then looks into my eyes, smiles, and nods. Can everybody tell I'm horny?

Rotating through all the exercise (torture?) machines that I use, I came to the shoulder press. Nobody was there but they left their drink. I read the label incredulously. Somebody had branded the sports drink "Muscle Milk." LOL.

The Philly Apartment

The Philadelphia apartment is sparsely furnished, since we already have a houseful of furniture in Atlanta. The apartment has lamps (from Ikea); a desk, PC and chair; TV stand and TV; bookcase; kitchen table and two chairs (also from Ikea); and a mattress and box spring. On my last trip there, we added a Papasan chair and a loveseat. Prior to furnishing the living room, the apartment reminded me of dormitory living, but my better half missed that experience. (He commuted from his parents house when he attended college). The cat loves the deep window ledges, since she can perch there and watch birds, people, and traffic. (Any moving object gets scrutinized).

The apartment is only a couple blocks from the main campus of Philadelphia University, so there are many students living in the building. Despite the number of students, noise has not been a problem.

Cut Those Gray Hairs!

At a recent haircut, I told the hair stylist to be sure and cut off all the gray hairs. (I'm starting to get some around the edges. And because I still feel like I'm in my twenties, I should look it, right?) She laughed.

The stylist suggested coloring the hair. It was my turn to laugh. LOL.

Philadelphia Undergraduates

One of the fun parts of visiting Philadelphia is that there are cute undergraduates (that is, the men) everywhere because of the more than 80 colleges and universities in the metro area. Can you say eye candy? LOL.

The gym also had its share of cute, fit guys which always inspires me to work harder during my workout.

Manhattan Skyline

As seen from the ferry to Ellis Island, the Manhattan skyline was magnificent. My spouse, who was familiar with the old skyline, lamented the missing World Trade Towers.

Statue of Liberty

We enjoyed seeing the Statue of Liberty, a gift of France, and climbed the 156 steps to the pedestal's observation deck. That deck is where this picture was taken. Since the World Trade Center attacks, it's as far up as visitors are allowed.

The base of the statue has this poem:

Give me your tired, your poor,
your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
- Emma Lazarus

Touring Ellis Island

On Monday, my spouse (above, hating his picture being taken) and I toured Ellis Island, the entry point for millions of immigrants to the United States. My spouse had grandparents on both sides of his family who immigrated through Ellis Island.

At Ellis Island, the immigrants were inspected for infectious diseases, for mental soundness, and for physical defects. Less than 2% were refused entry. The island had several hospital buildings where immigrants would stay if they arrived ill.

After being cleared for entry, the immigrants could exchange money into United States currency, and buy tickets to anywhere in the country. About one-third stayed in the New York area and two-thirds migrated elsewhere.

We spent several interesting hours there, and only left because we wanted to see the Statue of Liberty.

Evacuating the Apartment

The apartment's fire alarm started wailing around four-thirty Sunday morning. Such a piercing siren, it was impossible to ignore. Moving rather slowly (it was 4:30, after-all and we had been sleeping), my spouse and I dressed, grabbed the cat, and descended the stairs. We didn't know the apartment building had that many tenants, all looking disheveled (like us) in either the lobby or just outside the building. It looked like we were one of the last tenants to evacuate the twelve-story building. It was a cool morning (at least it wasn't raining!).

Samantha (the cat) was not happy, but she behaved. She doesn't like noise, she doesn't like strangers, and she doesn't like being carried, but she must have realized that something was wrong. As the other tenants noticed her, cradled in my better half's arms, she sure received lots of smiles.

The police and fire department arrived. Entering the building, they quickly determined that there was no fire. So we joined the long line of tenants ascending the stairs, climbed to our floor (thankfully, we're not in the top floors), and gave Samantha several treats for behaving so well.