Hasham was a young, handsome black man with masculine Neanderthal-ish features and hard muscles that bulged out of his form hugging white t-shirts. My attention was always focused on his manly chest and nipples that hardened when our art studio got cold. I was strangely attracted to him. I was barely twenty years old attending Queens College. I wore long curly black hair which I exaggerated by dyeing midnight blue. My skin was bronzed that winter to look even more exotic. I loved to be questioned about my ethnicity. I wore ass hugging tight jeans and cute little printed t-shirts showing off my new hard body that I had been working so hard on. Hasham was the loud, obnoxiously charming, sweet guy in painting class. Everybody loved him. He craved to be the center of attention in class, always asking stupid questions that were simply common sense about the mixing of paints and colors. We were painting in oils one day and he mistakingly rinsed his brushes in water and soap. He would later ask me with a sweet charm why his brushes were ruined. That is how we met.
One night Hasham invited me to a gallery opening at an NYU gallery. I was really excited because it wasn't very often that I did any grown up art observing. I met him somewhere in the West Village and we got in a bus that would take us near the gallery. We sat next to each other and his face lit up and I got a wave of anxiety.
"Didn't you tell me that your parents are Egyptian?" he asked loudly over the sounds of traffic.
"Uh, yeah my dad is. My mother is Dominican, remember?" I said.
"Did I tell you that my neighbors are Egyptian too? They are so fucking crazy." He said looking into my eyes giving me a huge smile, exposing all big 32 [plus] pearly whites and getting more excited. He was practically jumping off of the grimy bus seat.
"Yeah? I don't really know many other Egyptians. I agree, they are fucking weird." I said now looking forward to changing the conversation to something else. Really, who cares?
"The other day I was walking into my house and I noticed all these birds flying up on my neighbor's roof. Like a hundred pigeons! I tried to see what they where doing so I went to one of the windows upstairs to look out of my window. Angie, there was a fat sock tied to their satellite and the birds and the pigeons where attacking it. I was afraid that it was a body part, like a foot, or a small animal or something in there" he said.
"What the fuck was in it?" I asked. My eyed now widened too in excitment, thinking that maybe his Egyptian neighbor dismembered his entire family and hung them off the antennas on the roof. I was really excited now.
"So I went next door to ask them what was going on. The man came out and I asked him what was in the sock on the roof? Birds were attacking it, whatever it was. The man yelled (Hasham putting on a terrible Egyptian accent) 'Oh, shit! Muy pastrumi! I furgut!' Ha! Ha! Ha! Can you believe that shit. Oh, my God! Fucking pastrami, Angie!" Hasham almost fell off his chair telling me. Everyone on the bus looked at him with annoyed expressions on his face. I told you he's loud and obnoxious, but sweet.
"Holy shit, that's nuts! Why on earth would he keep pastrami on roof? On an antenna?" I said crying hysterically with laughter. My abdominal muscles contracting and tightening with pain at each chuckle. This too funny for me to think about how embarrassed I should feel as a fellow (half) Egyptian.
"He was fucking drying the pastrami on the roof! Apparently it wasn't dried enough for his taste so he hung it from a dirty old sock and let it hang in the sun. He's also got like four cars that he keeps in his driveway and garage. The cars are just junk but he just keeps on insisting that I buy one from him. I feel bad telling him that they are garbage , so I just tell him that I don't really need one now. Oh, and he's not the only crazy one. His kids are crazy too! I don't know what shit they got those kids on but they are always jumping over my fence into my yard and destroying my mother's garden . Everyday I find one of them in the yard eating our flowers and I, being the man of the house have to take them back home. His poor wife, Shereen, I think she is the only normal one in that house. I really feel sorry for her."
My heart sunk heavily into my stomach and my smile slowly faded. I realized that Shereen is the name of my father's new wife, and they too lived in Far Rockaway where Hasham lived. It would be impossible that this was the Shereen he was talking about. There must be a million Egyptian Shereens in Far Rockaway, right? "Her name is Shereen? {a long nervous pause} What are their kid's names?"
"Um, they have weird Egyptian names that I can't remember, but one of the boys goes by Bibo."
"Oh, fuck! No. No. No…this can't be." I just wanted to cry, laugh, then cry again, louder this time with embarrassment and shame of what was my so-called family and how it represented my nationality. "Shit. That's my father, Ezzat."
"Ieew! You are Ezzat's daughter? No!" Hasham screamed.
Hasham's big black dread-head whipped backwards and a strange high pitched noise came from deep within the grounds of his belly. It took a minute before I realized that this was his extreme form of hard laughter. He caught a gulp of air and let out the loudest, hardest, throatiest laugh I had ever heard in my life. The other passengers where silenced by his laugh and they turned to look at us with even dirtier looks. I had never been laughed at like this before. I was sort of amazed and quite jealous, since I am usually the one that laughs at others. How could this be, that such coincidences in life like this always happen to me. At this point I really should not be surprised anymore. Tears began to roll down my cold cheeks. So I laughed so that Hasham would not notice these tears of pathetic sadness. I laughed myself so hard that I began to believe that is was not embarrassing but a fucking hilarious coincidence.
9.13.2007
7.31.2007
You Snooze You Lose
for Gavin.
Thursday Morning, August 2007
5:45am (buzzzzzz) {barely opening my eyes my sleepy hand reaches over to my cell phone and press snooze. rest right cheek on pillow}
6:30am (buzzzzzz) {hit snooze, rest left cheek on pillow} "Oh I should get up and pee"
7:00am (buzzzzzz) "Fucking shit, I should call in sick." {snooze again}
7:45am (buzzzzzz) "Shit, i am gonna be late!" 'I need to pee" {snooze again}
8:15am (silence) "Damn it, why do i always do this?" "Fuck, I gotta pee!"
One heavy leg at a time I slug out of my comfy queen size in my dark cool bedroom and open the bedroom door into my hot, sticky, humid hallway. I zombie walk quietly into the bathroom and turn on NPR on my alarm clock/radio which is now only used solely for its radio. I pee................................................................ Meticulously, I begin plucking newly emerging eyebrow hairs from my almost symetrical eyebrows and then make my way to the secret hairs above my lip. In the background, another announcement about the War in Iraq. More soldiers killed. "Blood...Oil...Hilary...Obama...Genocide...Poisonous Chinese products...Hamas..."
"Fuck" says I.
I hop in to the shower.
9:15am - I walk out the door.
9:16am - I walk back in the door, realizing I forgot my sun glasses. It was very sunny outside and my eyes are sensitive.
9:17am - Walk back out the door.
I decide to walk over the Polaski bridge into Queens to get to the 7 train and take it one stop to Grand Central Station, which is my train stop for work.
As I begin to walk up the side of the Polaski Bridge, I pull out my paperback signed copy of Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk and continue where I had left off last night.
This character, Victor Mancini, is so hot. All he does is fuck. I was up to Chapter (X), where he is fucking his old mother's doctor, Dr. Paige Marshall. Very interesting how much he admires the tunnels of her ears, and how he refers to them as open and exposed holes. And how he calls her hair the black brain on her head. I guess it must be curly or something. Weird. I wonder if people ever think of my hair as a black brain on my head? Well anyway, this doctor is pressuring him to have sex with her and the whole hospital knows it! I was so consumed into this chapter that I became Dr. Paige Marshall. There I was was Victor Mancini, just letting him have me.
A big dark shape slowly grew before me. It stole my attention away from Victor and brought me back outside onto the dirty old bridge. My little black brained head slowly gazed up from above my book. A cold, prickly feeling shot threw the back of my legs and up to touch my lips.
My legs froze beneath me. My breath stood still. I had been carelessly walking towards traffic and now by body was covered by the shadow of a brand new shiny black and silver MACK truck. A taste of hot metal surprised my mouth, probably my blood.
I felt the bones of my face, first the tip of my nose and then my chin fold in like an acordion into my skull, then pressed into the back of my neck. My body was swept away like an insignificant dirty little city pigeon smashed against a winshield. I am sure that my little breasts and nipples where pressed into my spine too. The sound of my bones shattering against the front of the truck was quick. A short deafening loudness like static on an AM radio when you turn the dial, was the last thing I heard.
Thursday Morning, August 2007
5:45am (buzzzzzz) {barely opening my eyes my sleepy hand reaches over to my cell phone and press snooze. rest right cheek on pillow}
6:30am (buzzzzzz) {hit snooze, rest left cheek on pillow} "Oh I should get up and pee"
7:00am (buzzzzzz) "Fucking shit, I should call in sick." {snooze again}
7:45am (buzzzzzz) "Shit, i am gonna be late!" 'I need to pee" {snooze again}
8:15am (silence) "Damn it, why do i always do this?" "Fuck, I gotta pee!"
One heavy leg at a time I slug out of my comfy queen size in my dark cool bedroom and open the bedroom door into my hot, sticky, humid hallway. I zombie walk quietly into the bathroom and turn on NPR on my alarm clock/radio which is now only used solely for its radio. I pee................................................................ Meticulously, I begin plucking newly emerging eyebrow hairs from my almost symetrical eyebrows and then make my way to the secret hairs above my lip. In the background, another announcement about the War in Iraq. More soldiers killed. "Blood...Oil...Hilary...Obama...Genocide...Poisonous Chinese products...Hamas..."
"Fuck" says I.
I hop in to the shower.
9:15am - I walk out the door.
9:16am - I walk back in the door, realizing I forgot my sun glasses. It was very sunny outside and my eyes are sensitive.
9:17am - Walk back out the door.
I decide to walk over the Polaski bridge into Queens to get to the 7 train and take it one stop to Grand Central Station, which is my train stop for work.
As I begin to walk up the side of the Polaski Bridge, I pull out my paperback signed copy of Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk and continue where I had left off last night.
This character, Victor Mancini, is so hot. All he does is fuck. I was up to Chapter (X), where he is fucking his old mother's doctor, Dr. Paige Marshall. Very interesting how much he admires the tunnels of her ears, and how he refers to them as open and exposed holes. And how he calls her hair the black brain on her head. I guess it must be curly or something. Weird. I wonder if people ever think of my hair as a black brain on my head? Well anyway, this doctor is pressuring him to have sex with her and the whole hospital knows it! I was so consumed into this chapter that I became Dr. Paige Marshall. There I was was Victor Mancini, just letting him have me.
A big dark shape slowly grew before me. It stole my attention away from Victor and brought me back outside onto the dirty old bridge. My little black brained head slowly gazed up from above my book. A cold, prickly feeling shot threw the back of my legs and up to touch my lips.
My legs froze beneath me. My breath stood still. I had been carelessly walking towards traffic and now by body was covered by the shadow of a brand new shiny black and silver MACK truck. A taste of hot metal surprised my mouth, probably my blood.
I felt the bones of my face, first the tip of my nose and then my chin fold in like an acordion into my skull, then pressed into the back of my neck. My body was swept away like an insignificant dirty little city pigeon smashed against a winshield. I am sure that my little breasts and nipples where pressed into my spine too. The sound of my bones shattering against the front of the truck was quick. A short deafening loudness like static on an AM radio when you turn the dial, was the last thing I heard.
6.20.2007
6.09.2007
2 for 1 Fuckin' Fridays
P808
31 M/ 5'8''/ Quest Software Accounts Manager/ Salt n' Pepper Hair/ Caucasian & Mexican/ San Antonio, TX.
I contacted this guy through Nerve.com. He only had one cute picture of himself dancing. He really said nothing about himself on his profile. I think that is what drew me to him. I was looking for someone "unpretentious" I guess.
I told him to choose a place other than midtown to meet, so he chose a gross dive bar called Tom & Jerry's on the corner of Houston and Elizabeth St. I arrived early so I went in to use the restroom. I caught a pungent whiff of urine, shit and beer as I made my way to the back of the bar. Ofcourse the toilet was not flushing. I stared at brown water with strange floating particals and thought this was an absolute shitty, inconsiderate fucking place for an initial meeting. Only an alcoholic would bring someone here ona beautiful sunny afternoon. I was already annoyed and realized that now I was going to associate this guy with the smell of shit and beer. I walked outside to call him and tell him that I would just meet him somewhere else instead of this dump. As I reached for my phone, a short, unattractive, chubby man with a swollen face walked over to me and made eye contact. I didn't really pay attention to him until I noticed the his plastered looking, silvery hair glisten in the sun. I systematicaly put on a great smile "Hi, Patrick? Nice to meet you" and gave him an awkward cold hug. "The bathrooms are disgusting in here, let's go somewhere else". He lead the way across Houston, towards Little Italy.
On our walk insearch of a more appropriate place, he nearly talked my ear off about his job. We made it to a cozy little Brazilian restaurant and sat at the bar near the open windows. In front of me was a small stack of the restaurant's business cards. I would normally take one as a souvenir, but today I decided that there was no need to remember this night. Over a delicious chocolately cold Guiness, his conversation about his love for his job, continuously faded in and out. I nodded my head in agreement once in a while and it seemed liked I was participating. He didn't even notice my lack of interest. I found his pale fat tongue disgustingly intriguing. It matched his swollen pale looking face. It seemed as if his mouth had no room for him to roll his "r's" or pronounced his "l's". The fat tongue protruded between the rows of maize yellow teeth like raw hamburger meat going through a meat grinder. My brain now associating the foul smell of Tom & Jerry's and placing it in his mouth.
I was hungry so decided to order some food. "I like to share" he said. The thought of his saliva on my food was a bit nauseating. "I do too, just not today. Let's get our own things" I answered with an easy smile. We ordered a tomato and basil bruscetta to "share" and I ordered a cilantro lime salad for myself.
I frequently looked at my phone awaiting a text message or a missed phone call that would get me out of here. At 7pm, another nerve.com guy, Joey Park calls me to confirm a time to meet and also to tell me that he is purchasing a fancy new hat. Here was my chance to politely put an end to the evening with Mr. Fat Tongue Chatterbox.
I excuse myself to the bathroom and when I get back we go dutch on the check and leave. I was in the mood for some ice cream so I insisted that we walk over to Ciao Bella for a balled scoop of pistacio heaven on a crunchy brown sugar cone.
To Be Continued...
31 M/ 5'8''/ Quest Software Accounts Manager/ Salt n' Pepper Hair/ Caucasian & Mexican/ San Antonio, TX.
I contacted this guy through Nerve.com. He only had one cute picture of himself dancing. He really said nothing about himself on his profile. I think that is what drew me to him. I was looking for someone "unpretentious" I guess.
I told him to choose a place other than midtown to meet, so he chose a gross dive bar called Tom & Jerry's on the corner of Houston and Elizabeth St. I arrived early so I went in to use the restroom. I caught a pungent whiff of urine, shit and beer as I made my way to the back of the bar. Ofcourse the toilet was not flushing. I stared at brown water with strange floating particals and thought this was an absolute shitty, inconsiderate fucking place for an initial meeting. Only an alcoholic would bring someone here ona beautiful sunny afternoon. I was already annoyed and realized that now I was going to associate this guy with the smell of shit and beer. I walked outside to call him and tell him that I would just meet him somewhere else instead of this dump. As I reached for my phone, a short, unattractive, chubby man with a swollen face walked over to me and made eye contact. I didn't really pay attention to him until I noticed the his plastered looking, silvery hair glisten in the sun. I systematicaly put on a great smile "Hi, Patrick? Nice to meet you" and gave him an awkward cold hug. "The bathrooms are disgusting in here, let's go somewhere else". He lead the way across Houston, towards Little Italy.
On our walk insearch of a more appropriate place, he nearly talked my ear off about his job. We made it to a cozy little Brazilian restaurant and sat at the bar near the open windows. In front of me was a small stack of the restaurant's business cards. I would normally take one as a souvenir, but today I decided that there was no need to remember this night. Over a delicious chocolately cold Guiness, his conversation about his love for his job, continuously faded in and out. I nodded my head in agreement once in a while and it seemed liked I was participating. He didn't even notice my lack of interest. I found his pale fat tongue disgustingly intriguing. It matched his swollen pale looking face. It seemed as if his mouth had no room for him to roll his "r's" or pronounced his "l's". The fat tongue protruded between the rows of maize yellow teeth like raw hamburger meat going through a meat grinder. My brain now associating the foul smell of Tom & Jerry's and placing it in his mouth.
I was hungry so decided to order some food. "I like to share" he said. The thought of his saliva on my food was a bit nauseating. "I do too, just not today. Let's get our own things" I answered with an easy smile. We ordered a tomato and basil bruscetta to "share" and I ordered a cilantro lime salad for myself.
I frequently looked at my phone awaiting a text message or a missed phone call that would get me out of here. At 7pm, another nerve.com guy, Joey Park calls me to confirm a time to meet and also to tell me that he is purchasing a fancy new hat. Here was my chance to politely put an end to the evening with Mr. Fat Tongue Chatterbox.
I excuse myself to the bathroom and when I get back we go dutch on the check and leave. I was in the mood for some ice cream so I insisted that we walk over to Ciao Bella for a balled scoop of pistacio heaven on a crunchy brown sugar cone.
To Be Continued...
6.05.2007
Diet & Weight Training
6.05.07
Breakfast: (8:30am)
1 cup Yerba Mate Chai w/ rice milk
1 cup of water w/ 1 oz. Apple Cider Vinegar
1 buckwheat waffle w/ 2 teaspoons of Apple Sauce
Lunch 1: (11:30am)
1 buckwheat waffle
¼ cup plain non fat yogurt w/ 1 tablespoon honey
1 small hard boiled organic egg
1 cup of cranberry water
Snack: (1:20pm)
1 rice cake
1 hand full cereal
Lunch 2: (2pm)
1 avocado
2 cups of coffee with whole milk
1 cup of seafood soup
Treat:
1 Perugina chocolate
Snack:
1 Power Gel pouch
Dinner:
1 Pear (made my tummy ache)
1 buckwheat waffle with apple butter and peanut butter
1 cup of Oolong tea w/rice milk
Gym: Current Weight 137.8lbs
• CARDIO:
o 30 minutes walk total
o 10 minutes on elliptical machine
• UPPER BODY WEIGHT TRAINING:
o Bicep Curls 3x 15 @7.5lbs
o Triceps 3x15 @ 7.5lbs
o Shoulder Pull Down 3x15 @ 40lbs
o Shoulder Cable Side Pull 3x10
o Deadlift (Lower Back) 3x17 @ 27.5lbs x2=55lbs
o Chest Cable Pull 3x15 @17.5lbs x2=35lbs
• ABS
o Cable twists for oblique muscles 6x 20 @12.5lbs
o Pilates 20 minute videos
Notes: Felt very sleepy, depressed and tired all day. After the gym I felt a lot better. Had enough energy to even do Pilates.
Breakfast: (8:30am)
1 cup Yerba Mate Chai w/ rice milk
1 cup of water w/ 1 oz. Apple Cider Vinegar
1 buckwheat waffle w/ 2 teaspoons of Apple Sauce
Lunch 1: (11:30am)
1 buckwheat waffle
¼ cup plain non fat yogurt w/ 1 tablespoon honey
1 small hard boiled organic egg
1 cup of cranberry water
Snack: (1:20pm)
1 rice cake
1 hand full cereal
Lunch 2: (2pm)
1 avocado
2 cups of coffee with whole milk
1 cup of seafood soup
Treat:
1 Perugina chocolate
Snack:
1 Power Gel pouch
Dinner:
1 Pear (made my tummy ache)
1 buckwheat waffle with apple butter and peanut butter
1 cup of Oolong tea w/rice milk
Gym: Current Weight 137.8lbs
• CARDIO:
o 30 minutes walk total
o 10 minutes on elliptical machine
• UPPER BODY WEIGHT TRAINING:
o Bicep Curls 3x 15 @7.5lbs
o Triceps 3x15 @ 7.5lbs
o Shoulder Pull Down 3x15 @ 40lbs
o Shoulder Cable Side Pull 3x10
o Deadlift (Lower Back) 3x17 @ 27.5lbs x2=55lbs
o Chest Cable Pull 3x15 @17.5lbs x2=35lbs
• ABS
o Cable twists for oblique muscles 6x 20 @12.5lbs
o Pilates 20 minute videos
Notes: Felt very sleepy, depressed and tired all day. After the gym I felt a lot better. Had enough energy to even do Pilates.
5.30.2007
Bull Fighting Bearded Spaniard
At work...
So tired...
So sleepy...
All I want to do is see Christian.
He makes me smile.
I was dreaming of you and woke up an hour late for work. I was dreaming that you were at my house and we were talking about bull fighting in Spain. You had a soft beard. When I woke up I asked you when we where going to fight the bulls, then I realized I was delirious and only dreaming.
So tired...
So sleepy...
All I want to do is see Christian.
He makes me smile.
I was dreaming of you and woke up an hour late for work. I was dreaming that you were at my house and we were talking about bull fighting in Spain. You had a soft beard. When I woke up I asked you when we where going to fight the bulls, then I realized I was delirious and only dreaming.
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