Back Again. Geeez… I haven’t written in so long. I figure I must be getting back into it because I started reading again. I started reading again partly out of curiosity and partly out of boredom.
The city I’m is so big, loud, and crowded. I feel like I can never relax. There’s no where to be alone—where its just you.
A few weeks ago, I bought three books. The Nutrient Timing System, No Excuses, and Helen of
The last one—was a total impulse purchase, at least I like to tell myself so.
I’m mostly done with No Excuses—total guy, jock book. It’s incredible, inspirational, and like the best battle you could ever fight and come out with a victory hanging by its teeth—all while never leaving your seat.
NTS—well, that shits just practical, and really it did help my workouts out. I saw the Accelerade commercials just after beginning to read it. It made me a believer. But now I’ve started the Cut Diet, which builds off of NTS. My lower abs are getting tighter—I’m psyched.
Helen of Troy—fuck. What a dumb stupid book and read. Seriously. Who the fuck in his right mind buys such a book? It was on sale.
The first couple times I picked it up I couldn’t get past the first page. The writing style stank. I hate this introverted, self-obsessed, OVERLY aware, Sex in the Fucken City-esque femme narrative. Though I write according to it, I don’t necessarily tolerate it.
But the boredom dug its claws in deep. And after a disappointing and somewhat depressing afternoon, I just thought—WTF, maybe the second page is better?
Whoa… there was so much about my life in some stupid fantasy book. I ignored the style, skimmed through the bull, and just stuck to the basic plot and important scenarios.
I really love the dysfunctionality in ancient tales. I hate Western religion with its Leave it to Beaver mantra. I hate thinking of a God who is always serious and looking to smote. I love the Greco-Roman cosmic outlook that accepts a divine sense of humor, irony, pain, and suffering without necessarily betraying itself. Its nonsense—like everything else. It’s more comfortable with not knowing.
Helen is overly self-aware from the moment she’s born. The fact that she’s uberly hot didn’t help. She is precocious and at her core a good-natured girl.
She grows up in a large family by today’s standards with three siblings. They kept from her the secret that she was only their half sister. My parents did this to us too. Their secret exploded in their faces because it emphasized the shame behind the cheating.
Helen, though supposedly born of a god, was still a love child. Her mother was married when she fornicated with Zeus.
Clytemnestra, Helen’s eldest sister, always wants the truth, no matter the price—for its own fucken sake (who the hell would think of such a thing??? I mean today). In this way, Clytemnestra totally reminds me of me and my favorite sister. My sis used to yell at my parents—CONDOM… CONDOM—whenever they would wine about certain family troubles.
Leda and Tyndareus, Helen’s parents, place many more restrictions on Helen than on her other siblings. 1—She can’t use mirrors, and everyone hides or covers them when she comes into a room. 2—She can never leave without a party large enough to totally cover her visually. 3—No one can talk about her birth.
As a result, neither she, nor anyone outside her family’s estate had ever seen her face. They only heard rumors. The most prevalent story about her was that she was born from an egg. Zeus had supposedly fucked her mother having taken the form of a swan. So, both she and the townspeople wondered whether the whole charade was because she was totally hot or somehow a grotesquely deformed half bird, half human hybrid. When people did finally see her, the reactions were so unusual, that for a while she didn’t even know how to interpret them. The stunned faces that met her glare might just as well have been for a hideous person or for one whose beauty immediately inspired insecurity. I could totally relate. The book is such fucken therapy.
Her father offended Aphrodite somehow back in the day. So Aphro gets back at him by cursing Helen, making her romantically passionless. In addition, during Helen’s coming of age ceremony, a prophetess pronounced over Helen’s head that she would be the downfall of
When Helen must choose her husband as a young adolescent, she’s mostly heartbroken because none of the suitors impress her, despite the fact that no woman had ever been formally pursued by so many in either recent history or myth. She describes the hills near
The rich, the athletic, the pedigreed, and even the brilliant pursued her. From nine-year olds to sixty-year olds, everyone took their shot as if they were trying their hand at some enormous lottery prize. Still, no one who she considered to be really hot, approached her. All the hotties were from
But every night she would go back to her room depressed because she began to realize that none would ever make her happy.
Helen was intelligent, athletic, and gorgeous. Though spirited, a bright nature and go-lucky demeanor eluded her. She was depressed, because of the lore, secrecy, threat, and shame surrounding her birth. She hated her sheltered life, and despised her inability to grow as a person by exploring the world. Her blessing seemed to really be a curse.
In the end, she chose the suitor who would most likely have been her best friend had she met him under different circumstances. He adored her, and would provide a home not far from her family.
The marriage quickly devolves into a passionless union in which all the actions—especially sex—are perfunctory.
She has a little girl, and her kingdom is doing well, but of course, she’s bored to tears, and only her daughter brings her any sort of joy. Oh yea, except for her cool super-intelligent tutor/servant. He’s an old guy who satisfies her intellectual appetite.
One night, she dreams of a pasture on which she sees a young herdsman. He’s gorgeous. She knows something is up with her dream, but she can’t really put her finger on it. I skimmed very quickly through this part.
Several years back, a Trojan had chosen to live in
Holy fuck—at this point in the book, I’m freaking out, because back in HS, I translated the Aeneid. I had been indoctrinated by the weight of the meaning of the events that were to follow.
Aeneas—the father of the Roman people, and the Trojans—the mortals most closely descended from the gods were the links serving as the mythological and popular justification of the imperial Roman expansion. The ensuing events also came to underlie the Greco-Roman rivalry.
When Helen first meets them, its crush at first sight. Butterflies, sticky eyes, excitement, joy, and the excruciating fear when you lose control. From there on out, the book is pretty predictable.
I’ll recap more of it later.
***********************************************Last night I went to the gym, in my new locale. It’s one of the few branches that my home gym has. While its very posh, last night I realized that its also very geriatric. I hate being the most in shape person at a gym, or even just one of the more in-shape people. I get no extra-motivation from the crowd in these cases. This morning, the crowd was a little better. While the crowd was uber-corporate, there were a couple of hotties around. One of them was an older guy with a large frame, big bones, and chiseled muscles. His muscles weren’t
outrageous in size, but that didn’t matter because his frame more than made up for it. His square jaw, determined look, and all-gray hair, made him oh so daddy-like. He was talking to this other out-of-shape older guy. He didn’t look at me at all.
After my run in the locker room, I noticed this very tall, moderately muscled guy, whose ass and thighs stole the show. He walked passed me and was only holding a towel with one hand over his crotch, giving me a full view of his backside. The large muscles that made up his cheeks jutted out from his thick and powerful thunderous legs.
He was completely hairless, and his skin looked smoother than a baby’s. He opened his locker and began to turn around, so I looked away. After a couple seconds, I looked back. He was bent over, and staring right at me, with an odd expression on his face, that didn’t look negative, but was nonetheless still un-interpretable to me, likely because I was too mesmerized that those thighs and cheeks were connected to a sexy pair of deep brows and big eyes that seemed to be very widely open. He was fucken cute. I looked away again.
Still, these were just warm ups, to my ‘holy shit!’ first day at my new job, which has been pretty fucken cool.
I’m working for a consulting group and my first assignment is a gay firm. Today, I had to go to their headquarters which is of course in a super-gay neighborhood. I got a little lost trying to find the place this morning. As I was wandering around trying to make sure that I was at the right address, a car slows down near me, and then abruptly halts just in front of me. Startled, I turned to look thinking, what have I done wrong, or what’s going on? Perhaps this was someone I knew. The driver turns back to look at me as he honks. I didn’t know who he was, but the look on his face made me realize what was going on. After he smiled at me, he zoomed off. Too fucken outrageous. Holy bejeeezus… Do gay guys like to be so loud about their moods or reactions?
I got in and got shown around. Everyone was super-nice. As I was waiting in the lobby, the FedEx guy walks by. Boing. WTF? Who the hell was this guy? Sex on legs. Chiseled cheeks, deep dark eyes, slick jet black hair and a razor sharp sexy smile made this guy a smoldering combination. He didn’t look at me at all. Drats.
My group hadn’t yet arrived, so I walked down the street to go get some water. The shops were all rather empty as it was very early in the morning. At that point, I realized that this neighborhood was gay to the bone.
On a break, I went out again, and while waiting for a light to change at the corner, I noticed this big guy walking up. He was wearing khaki shorts, a wife beater, and aviator sunglasses. Then I noticed his build—oh god, he was fucken hot. Very light tan skin covered his deeply separated muscles. His calves were ungodly, and on the side of one of them, he wore a lightly-etched sun tattoo near his knee. He was so big and his muscles so separated. He was smiling as he looked up and around at the street signs. I was trying really hard not to stare. Then, he walked past me, and I saw his glorious ass. His glutes were huge and oh so round. His khakis while not meant to be tight but were obviously strained in trying to contain the massive globes. From behind, his waist and hips were ultra-tight, making his ass look even more incredible. Uuuuuuugh…. I could’ve just broken down right there and then, and given him quite an experience.
I went into a grocery shop to look around, and twice, I was asked if I needed help, and offered to personally be shown around. I didn’t know grocery stores were so big on customer service. What’s going on?
I got my stuff, and as I was walking out, I notice this tall, very skinny, and small-boned guy walking my way. He was on his phone and looked slightly troubled. His hair hung down over his face. His eyes were gorgeous, and his skin perfectly matched the light blue shirt he was wearing. His glasses couldn’t hide the fact that his face was just so fucken cute.
Damn—I made a crazy transition from an ambiguously gay environment to one that was just straight up fagalicious.
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