Big Fat Hairy Living

I had a fun time at the Toolbox last night wit da boiiiiiiz. It was interesting running into Eric and Christian there.

The highlight (and lowlight) was getting cruised by a hot, butch, muscular paramedic from Dundas who unfortunately lost interest once he learned that I wasn’t single. He was reasonably nice about it, and at least I got to see his cock.

Earlier in the day, I mentioned to my music teacher that I was interested in working towards my RCM Voice Exams. She said that by June of next year, I’d probably be ready for my Grade 6, or possibly even Grade 8 exams. I was shocked, but in a good way. I didn’t realize that I was that good.

Mark on the Carlton car. Photo by Claude.

I’m in a such a bad mood today that I just got really close to telling the people here what I really think of them.

I’m thinking of dropping out of the choir.

I’m not sure why, but I just don’t leave practice any more feeling as though I’ve enjoyed it. I don’t look forward to the music and I haven’t practiced. I feel as though I’m distant from the people there and that I’m invisible, not part of the “in group.”

I feel like I’ve been looking at practice as something I have to get through rather than something I enjoy. I’m not sure why I’ve had this change in feeling, but perhaps part of it is the new artistic director, whose style I don’t like quite as much as the old one. I’m pretty sure that’s not it entirely, though.

My arms are sore. That’s good.

Today while lifting heavy things, I looked in the mirror and thought, “Wow, I’m kinda hot!” Not that I’d have sex with me or anything. Ew.

I like self-confidence.

I don’t know whether christians should make me laugh or cry.

I just read someone’s argument that fundamentalist christians aren’t real christians because they don’t love their “gay and lesbian neighbours” as they love themselves. Even if one ignores the fact that this is a perfect example of the No True Scotsman fallacy, it’s sort of like arguing whether the invisible pink unicorn in the sky is a light pink or really magenta.

But regardless of whether one accepts that claptrap called christianity, it’s still completely the wrong strategy to take when arguing for gay rights. Who the “real christians” are doesn’t matter at all, because which interpretation of the bible should be viewed as correct should have no bearing whatsoever on the recognition of basic human rights, at least until our form of government is changed to a theocracy.

The workout was good, although I stupidly left my Health card at the front desk of the gym. (They required some form of ID since I was a guest.) I’ll have to get it the next time I go. If I have to ask them for my Health card back, I probably won’t be able to scam them out of another free visit. That sucks.

Despite that, I really enjoyed the workout. Working out with Dave made the time go quickly, and he was able to help me out with my rusty technique. I’ll have to do some reading up on technique and dig up my old work out routine.

The gym was at Yonge and Sheppard, so it was very straight. There was a very different feel from the Central Y, which is where I used to work out. At the Y, there was open cruising in the showers and there were plenty of guys doing more chit-chat than working out. This gym wasn’t hard core, but the people there seemed more interested in working out. There were also fewer women here than at the Y, which surprises me given the proximity of the Y to the gay village.

I enjoyed getting sweaty and smelly and feeling all worked out. I’m going to make this a regular thing again.

I’m going to try working out again. I’m meeting my straight friend Dave and his girlfriend after work, and we’re going to work out at his gym. I hope to make this a regular thing.

Last time I tried to work out regularly, I got frustrated and stopped after a few months. The fact that I was tired after work didn’t help either. I hope that having someone to go with will make it easier to stick to it.

I just saw the most incredible guy in the cafeteria. He must have been at least 6′9″ and couldn’t have weighed less than 330 pounds. He had a shaved head, a bushy, pointy blond goatee, and broad shoulders. I had a hard-on all through lunch.