It's only fair that my host, Michael V, have the chance to recall his memories of my trip...
LIST OF 10 THINGS I CAN'T FORGET
(or WHY I WOULD KILL MYSELF IF GARY COMES BACK TO AUSTRALIA )
1. Gary's towel falling down to my friends' horror in their first meeting
within an hour after his arrival in Sydney. I had specifically asked him
not to embarrass me.*
2. Taking the photo of my ass at The Harbor Party, once again
embarrassing me in the glamour set.
3. Gary falling asleep (passing out) at the most inappropriate times,
causing me more embarrassment.
4. Gary fucking all my friends, or at least asking them to
show their asses, almost causing me social ruin.
5. Not getting even one of the "supposed" fancy dinners he promised me.**
6. Overcooking a piece of some kind of white fish with freezer burn and serving it over clumpy white rice. A colorless smorgesbord of blandness that looked and tasted like dirty snow.
7. Gary's ever present ability to turn any situation into "his" situation.
The discussions, the analysis, the coversations...the exhaustion!
8. Gary 'watching me', correction, I meant to write 'stalking me', in my own apartment.
9. He leaving more crumbs on my carpeting than Hansel and Gretal.
10. Making my week wonderful & full of fun and love. Michael V
xxxxoooo
* To clarify number 1, Michael's friends had arrived early and I had just gotten out of the shower. I quickly put on a jock and wrapped a towel around myself so I could come out and say hi.
When Michael saw me, he yelled " Gary! I told you never to have a towel on
in front of my guests!"
"I'm sorry, I forgot. No towel, " I said, ripping off my towel and standing in front of his friends only wearing my jock. "I'll never wear a towel in front of guests again."
** To clarify number 5, Michael was on his conference calls almost every weeknight, and on both The Harbor Party and Mardi Gras weekends, we forgot what 'dinner' even meant. Anyway, Michael eats as healthy and regimented as an Astronaut. He takes all the fun out of eating. The only thing he has at night is compressed tofu patties. He keeps no food at home so I had to do food shopping everyday at the Duffy's, the most expensive and gayest supermarket in the world, where mixed salad greens were $16 per pound.
I'll be happy to take him out for a fancy meal when he comes here on a business trip two weeks from now. Deal?
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
gary glassMANLY --- Australia part 3
Unfortunately, I was too busy moving washing machines, making calls, waiting for phones and computers to re-charge, writing my blog and having sex with Michael's friends to possibly do any sightseeing. I was having a great time without venturing out much, but everyone seemed to be worried that I wasn't seeing enough of Sydney. Personally, indoor sightseeing is just as interesting to me. Eating out of someone's refrigerator, food shopping at the local Supermarket, having sex with someone's friends and neighbors and seeing their apartments, hearing someone's conversations with family and with people from work, meeting shopkeepers, having conversations with cab drivers, reading a newspaper or two and listening to the radio a little can tell you plenty about a country and it's culture.
I have known Michael V for 16 years but this is the first time we are actually boyfriend-free at the same time. I am witnessing Michael Untethered, alone for the first time in 14 years, able to do whatever he wants, and live wherever and however he wants. Lucky for me that the 'wherever' is in a very modern two bedroom apartment complete with a furnished guest bedroom at gay ground zero in Surry Hills. This trip to Australia gave me the chance to see Michael at all different times of the day and learn his habits and routines. It was my version of bird watching, only I didn't have to go to the Australian bush. I could just hang around the apartment and watch Michael, who was louder and fancier than the Cockatoo or any other bird in the wild.
One of the most fascinating and foreign things to me that I witnessed a few times was the nightly ritual of the conference call. Very few people ever witnessed Michael on one of these calls, so I felt privileged to experience it. I would sit across the dining room table from him writing my blog on one of his laptops as he sat facing my direction with his other laptop he used for work. The calls didn't include a web cam hook-up so he could wear his gym shorts and tank top as he talked into his cellphone on the table switched to 'speaker phone' mode. Michael led each call, orchestrating with perfect ease whichever three or four HR employees he wanted to talk to. He asked questions and then listened to thei responses, chiming in when he felt it necessary.
I always tried to stay very quiet when he switched on his speaker to comment to the group. I didn't want to ruffle any of his feathers when he was busy like this, or do anything else during these calls that would cause him to peck my eyes out. Occasionally, he would look at me and smile, and other times he would pass me notes that said things like 'if you don't stop watching me I'm going to bash your head against that marble countertop.'
Ever since I met Michael, I've wondered how a man who behaves like a high school girl is able to climb so high up the corporate ladder. Hearing him so skillfully juggle several employees as he comes up with answers or solutions on the spot to every question or problem thrown at him, I see why he's paid so well. He speaks in a way that commands respect but still manages to be playful and even bitchy when he wants to.
This is what makes Michael V such a unique person. He is in touch with his goodness and with his badness, and is happy to unleash both of these parts of himself out into the world without hardly any restrictions. He doesn't favor one part over the other, and never apologizes for the behavior of either of the two. He is not embarrassed to let both show, and really doesn't care if anyone is offended by them. He brilliantly blends the confident, assertive, shrewd business man he needs to be with that silly, sexy, stupidly generous and shamelessly shallow high school girl he wants to be. This cocktail of charecteristics makes him into what can only be described as a cross between Rupert Murdoch and Marilyn Monroe.
Getting the opportunity to witness Michael V in his natural habitat was a rare treat. I really didn't have to do anything else in Australia to consider it a successful trip. Michael thought otherwise.
" I didn't spend all that money flying you here and on that expensive camera for your birthday so you could take a picture of my ass blocking The Opera House at the Harbor Party", he said as he turned and walked into my bedroom and came back with the camera he bought me. "Here," he said, putting the camera in my hand. "You've got one day left before all the Mardi Gras parties start. Go and see Sydney. And I want proof. Bring me back a photo of The Opera House and of Manly Beach and of three other interesting things." He held up my keys to his apartment that he must have grabbed when he got the camera off the dresser in my room. " I leave here for work in 25 minutes. That's the amount of time you have to get yourself ready to spend the entire day out seeing the city. The door locks behind us at 9 A.M. and doesn't open again until I got home at 6 P.M." He dangled my keys in front of me then put them in his pocket. "Better start getting ready, darling."
As an extra punishment for starting my sightseeing so late in the trip, God sent down rain just to make my task more challenging. Luckily my friend Michael P gave me simple directions to get me from Michael V's building to Sydney Harbor. The wet trek was basically in a straight line, which meant it was almost impossible for me to get lost. I walked through Hyde Park and onto the beginning of Macquarie Street, where the original prison stands that was used for the British convicts shipped off to Australia, called the Hyde Park Barracks. A lot of historical sites are on Macquarie Street making it perfect for my high speed whirlwind tour as I headed towards the Harbor. Along the way, I saw the first Mint building and went into Sydney Hospital that looks more like a museum. Then I went into the Royal Botanical Gardens where I stood in the rain and took pictures as proof that I was actually there.
The Royal (And Wet) Botanic Gardens
I continued my pilgrimage until I saw the top of The Opera House. It reminded me of when my ex Alex and I walked 5 kilometers at 3:00 AM in Paris to reach The Eiffel Tower, and how exciting it was to first spot it in the distance. I was proud that I found The Opera House by myself, though in all honesty, the route is so simple that Helen Keller could have tracked it down.
What surprised me immediately is that The Opera House is actually three separate buildings right next to each other, which isn't overly obvious in many of the pictures I've seen. They actually look like a mother dinosaur and her two children sleeping on their stomachs sunning themselves.
Michael didn't say which part of the Opera House I should take a picture of, so I went inside to the lower level and took these shots of the mens bathroom. I liked how the the curves of the stalls and of the long singular sink play off the shapes of the huge curved domes of the buildings.
I did take one shot of the Opera House from the deck of the ferry as we pulled away from the dock ( I tend to be drawn to the backsides of things).
It was pouring 20 minutes later when I reached Manly Wharf. There was no beach in sight, so I had to ask for directions. Already looking crazy walking around in the pouring rain, I frightened two separate people by stuttering on the word 'Manly', as I do quite often with m's. One of them got so scared that she just pointed in the direction as she hurried away. I had to ask a third time in a gas station before I finally knew where to go.
The beach was on the other side of the island from where Manly Wharf was. I started walking with my hat and headphones on and didn't stop until I found it an hour later. I crossed the last street and climbed down the wet sand covered steps onto the beach. I couldn't believe I was the only one there! What happened to the famous Manly Beach with all it's manly men? If they were really manly, they would be at the beach in the rain. That's what a manly man like me does. I mean a manly retarded man, which was what I must have looked like to anyone passing in their cars watching me taking pictures of myself on the beach in the rain.
MANLESS BEACH
I have known Michael V for 16 years but this is the first time we are actually boyfriend-free at the same time. I am witnessing Michael Untethered, alone for the first time in 14 years, able to do whatever he wants, and live wherever and however he wants. Lucky for me that the 'wherever' is in a very modern two bedroom apartment complete with a furnished guest bedroom at gay ground zero in Surry Hills. This trip to Australia gave me the chance to see Michael at all different times of the day and learn his habits and routines. It was my version of bird watching, only I didn't have to go to the Australian bush. I could just hang around the apartment and watch Michael, who was louder and fancier than the Cockatoo or any other bird in the wild.
One of the most fascinating and foreign things to me that I witnessed a few times was the nightly ritual of the conference call. Very few people ever witnessed Michael on one of these calls, so I felt privileged to experience it. I would sit across the dining room table from him writing my blog on one of his laptops as he sat facing my direction with his other laptop he used for work. The calls didn't include a web cam hook-up so he could wear his gym shorts and tank top as he talked into his cellphone on the table switched to 'speaker phone' mode. Michael led each call, orchestrating with perfect ease whichever three or four HR employees he wanted to talk to. He asked questions and then listened to thei responses, chiming in when he felt it necessary.
I always tried to stay very quiet when he switched on his speaker to comment to the group. I didn't want to ruffle any of his feathers when he was busy like this, or do anything else during these calls that would cause him to peck my eyes out. Occasionally, he would look at me and smile, and other times he would pass me notes that said things like 'if you don't stop watching me I'm going to bash your head against that marble countertop.'
Ever since I met Michael, I've wondered how a man who behaves like a high school girl is able to climb so high up the corporate ladder. Hearing him so skillfully juggle several employees as he comes up with answers or solutions on the spot to every question or problem thrown at him, I see why he's paid so well. He speaks in a way that commands respect but still manages to be playful and even bitchy when he wants to.
This is what makes Michael V such a unique person. He is in touch with his goodness and with his badness, and is happy to unleash both of these parts of himself out into the world without hardly any restrictions. He doesn't favor one part over the other, and never apologizes for the behavior of either of the two. He is not embarrassed to let both show, and really doesn't care if anyone is offended by them. He brilliantly blends the confident, assertive, shrewd business man he needs to be with that silly, sexy, stupidly generous and shamelessly shallow high school girl he wants to be. This cocktail of charecteristics makes him into what can only be described as a cross between Rupert Murdoch and Marilyn Monroe.
Getting the opportunity to witness Michael V in his natural habitat was a rare treat. I really didn't have to do anything else in Australia to consider it a successful trip. Michael thought otherwise.
" I didn't spend all that money flying you here and on that expensive camera for your birthday so you could take a picture of my ass blocking The Opera House at the Harbor Party", he said as he turned and walked into my bedroom and came back with the camera he bought me. "Here," he said, putting the camera in my hand. "You've got one day left before all the Mardi Gras parties start. Go and see Sydney. And I want proof. Bring me back a photo of The Opera House and of Manly Beach and of three other interesting things." He held up my keys to his apartment that he must have grabbed when he got the camera off the dresser in my room. " I leave here for work in 25 minutes. That's the amount of time you have to get yourself ready to spend the entire day out seeing the city. The door locks behind us at 9 A.M. and doesn't open again until I got home at 6 P.M." He dangled my keys in front of me then put them in his pocket. "Better start getting ready, darling."
As an extra punishment for starting my sightseeing so late in the trip, God sent down rain just to make my task more challenging. Luckily my friend Michael P gave me simple directions to get me from Michael V's building to Sydney Harbor. The wet trek was basically in a straight line, which meant it was almost impossible for me to get lost. I walked through Hyde Park and onto the beginning of Macquarie Street, where the original prison stands that was used for the British convicts shipped off to Australia, called the Hyde Park Barracks. A lot of historical sites are on Macquarie Street making it perfect for my high speed whirlwind tour as I headed towards the Harbor. Along the way, I saw the first Mint building and went into Sydney Hospital that looks more like a museum. Then I went into the Royal Botanical Gardens where I stood in the rain and took pictures as proof that I was actually there.
 |
| Sydney Hospital dates back to late 1800's. |
The Royal (And Wet) Botanic Gardens
 | |||||
| I considered this fabulous woman in her eighties named Trish to be one of the most interesting sights of the day. |
What surprised me immediately is that The Opera House is actually three separate buildings right next to each other, which isn't overly obvious in many of the pictures I've seen. They actually look like a mother dinosaur and her two children sleeping on their stomachs sunning themselves.
Michael didn't say which part of the Opera House I should take a picture of, so I went inside to the lower level and took these shots of the mens bathroom. I liked how the the curves of the stalls and of the long singular sink play off the shapes of the huge curved domes of the buildings.
 |
| I made sure no feet were showing |
 |
| I waited until no one needed it |
I did take one shot of the Opera House from the deck of the ferry as we pulled away from the dock ( I tend to be drawn to the backsides of things).
. | |
 | |
| These bonnets were the inspiration for the design of the Opera House roofs. |
It was pouring 20 minutes later when I reached Manly Wharf. There was no beach in sight, so I had to ask for directions. Already looking crazy walking around in the pouring rain, I frightened two separate people by stuttering on the word 'Manly', as I do quite often with m's. One of them got so scared that she just pointed in the direction as she hurried away. I had to ask a third time in a gas station before I finally knew where to go.
The beach was on the other side of the island from where Manly Wharf was. I started walking with my hat and headphones on and didn't stop until I found it an hour later. I crossed the last street and climbed down the wet sand covered steps onto the beach. I couldn't believe I was the only one there! What happened to the famous Manly Beach with all it's manly men? If they were really manly, they would be at the beach in the rain. That's what a manly man like me does. I mean a manly retarded man, which was what I must have looked like to anyone passing in their cars watching me taking pictures of myself on the beach in the rain.
 |
| I took a shot of my arm just to show how wet I was |
Sunday, March 4, 2012
THE RETARDED TOURIST ----- Australia part 2 of 3
When I told my ex Grant that I was traveling to Australia he immediately asked if I was going to The Great Barrier Reef. He assumed I was planning on it because, as I realized after ten other people asked me the same question, a person would have to be retarded to fly half way around the world and not see the world's biggest and most beautiful coral reef. Even the woman from Bank of America who I spoke with over the phone to verify I would be using my debit in Australia told me she snorkeled in the Great Barrier Reef and that it was 'must-do for anyone who lives on this planet'. Grant couldn't believe I was not going to try to take in as much of Australia's natural beauty as possible, something he and his boyfriend Mark, being consummate outdoors men, would naturally do.
Even in the most urban environments, Grant and Mark search for pockets of natural beauty.When they went to New York last year they rented bicycles and for two weeks rode around every part of the city, even on the bridges. In 14 days Grant learned more about New York than I ever did in the 35 years I lived there. No doubt they would do the same Down Under, driving and pedaling and rowing and climbing and backpacking and swimming all over Australia. This rugged country is the perfect place for people with adventurous spirits like them, where staying inside on a vacation is a punishment.
I felt as if I had already failed as a tourist even before my plane landed in Sydney. In all honesty, I am embarrassed of my apathy about all the outdoor sight-seeing that is such an integral part of visiting Australia. Have I gone half way around the world just to see Sydney's gay version of Mardi Gras? Michael V better take some of the blame for this. Did he mention the Great Barrier Reef to me one time? No, the closest thing he's mentioned is the Great Bare-ass Briefs he bought for an Underwear Party.
The first thing I did after unpacking my suitcase at Michael's was to ask him what bus or ferry I would take to get to The Great Barrier Reef. " Maybe I could go to it for an afternoon while you're at work."
"Have you even looked at a map of Australia before coming here? It might be an island but it's also a continent. You just can't pop! over to the Great Barrier Reef, he explained, gesturing his arms like Endora. " It's four hours away and takes two planes to get there. It's like being in New York and saying 'I think I'll drop by Disneyworld'."
"Really?" I said almost joyfully. " That means at this point even if I wanted to go, it would be almost impossible to plan out everything it would take to get there. I would say that falls under the category of circumstances out of my control. Now I have the perfect excuse for not seeing it." I fell back onto his bed and let out a big sigh of relief. "You won't believe how many people made me promise to see it before I left here. Of course no one seemed to care if I get eaten by a Great White after I cut myself on the coral. I haven't felt such pressure to do outdoors activity since I was ten in sleep-away camp when they forced me to play baseball."
" If you want to impress everyone with your athleticism you can try the Sydney Harbor Bridge climb. It's the new thing to do. But let's get one thing clear right now--if you fall into the harbor you're staying there. It will be a burial at sea. I'll tell everyone in San Fran that's how you wanted it," he nodded somberly with a mournful face and his hand on his chest.
" Climbing a bridge actually sounds like something I would enjoy."
" Of course you would, darling. All apes love to climb. That reminds me," he added, pointing a shoe tree at me. " We need bananas for breakfast. We're going to need some healthy food for our recovery after the Harbor Dance tonight."
The bananas we bought turned out to be the only nourishment, along with yogurt and Gatorade, that I put into my body for an entire day after the Harbor Dance. I was pretty wiped-out for the next day also, suffering from jet lag plus Gay Circuit Party lag
which can be more exhausting than a 14 hour airplane flight.
By Tuesday though, I was ready to face Sydney again. The first thing I did was, of course, go to the gym that Michael bought me a week's membership. Going to the gym on your vacation might seem like a strange concept to some people but it is something I've always done. It's essentially going to a completely different place but doing exactly the same thing, only around people with an accent.
It has always been my way of rebooting myself emotionally and to get things moving again. It's also something I do that is highly active and good for my body. For myself, I define activity in terms of what I do indoors, not what I do out of the gym. Doing cardio on a machine with my headphones as I'm looking out the window is my way of engaging with the environment. The closest thing to outdoor activity I get is walking stroke, spinal and brain injured patients around the hospital sidewalks during the community reintegration part of their rehab program. Taking into account the amount of time I do spend exercising inside, you can even say I'm much more active than most people. The only difference is that my activity doesn't involve fresh air or catching any kind of ball. The only thing I can catch is the occasional STD from someone I meet at the gym.
With all of this said, I still knew I had to start doing something outdoorsy that Australia was known for. I kept hearing Grant's voice repeating 'Great Barrier Reef, Great Barrier Reef...' over and over in my head. If I wasn't going to swim in the reef at least I would climb a bridge. But then I found out it cost three hundred dollars and took a whole day of training, and according to Michael's newly ex-boyfriend, Lee, who did it, the actual climb was painfully slow and boring because of out of shape people in the climbing group he got stuck with, and that it needed to be booked weeks in advance, especially right before Mardi Gras.
With my bridge plan thwarted, I was back to square one on my desperate search to prove that my trip to Australia was not just one big gay Circuit Party event. I was determined to swim in or hike to or climb up something in Sydney. So far, the only thing that comes close is helping my dear friends Ron T and Michael P who live here carry an old washing machine down their warm staircase to the sidewalk and carry up a new one. At least I can say I was somewhere that made me sweat and take my shirt off with Australians besides a dance floor.
Even in the most urban environments, Grant and Mark search for pockets of natural beauty.When they went to New York last year they rented bicycles and for two weeks rode around every part of the city, even on the bridges. In 14 days Grant learned more about New York than I ever did in the 35 years I lived there. No doubt they would do the same Down Under, driving and pedaling and rowing and climbing and backpacking and swimming all over Australia. This rugged country is the perfect place for people with adventurous spirits like them, where staying inside on a vacation is a punishment.
I felt as if I had already failed as a tourist even before my plane landed in Sydney. In all honesty, I am embarrassed of my apathy about all the outdoor sight-seeing that is such an integral part of visiting Australia. Have I gone half way around the world just to see Sydney's gay version of Mardi Gras? Michael V better take some of the blame for this. Did he mention the Great Barrier Reef to me one time? No, the closest thing he's mentioned is the Great Bare-ass Briefs he bought for an Underwear Party.
The first thing I did after unpacking my suitcase at Michael's was to ask him what bus or ferry I would take to get to The Great Barrier Reef. " Maybe I could go to it for an afternoon while you're at work."
"Have you even looked at a map of Australia before coming here? It might be an island but it's also a continent. You just can't pop! over to the Great Barrier Reef, he explained, gesturing his arms like Endora. " It's four hours away and takes two planes to get there. It's like being in New York and saying 'I think I'll drop by Disneyworld'."
"Really?" I said almost joyfully. " That means at this point even if I wanted to go, it would be almost impossible to plan out everything it would take to get there. I would say that falls under the category of circumstances out of my control. Now I have the perfect excuse for not seeing it." I fell back onto his bed and let out a big sigh of relief. "You won't believe how many people made me promise to see it before I left here. Of course no one seemed to care if I get eaten by a Great White after I cut myself on the coral. I haven't felt such pressure to do outdoors activity since I was ten in sleep-away camp when they forced me to play baseball."
" If you want to impress everyone with your athleticism you can try the Sydney Harbor Bridge climb. It's the new thing to do. But let's get one thing clear right now--if you fall into the harbor you're staying there. It will be a burial at sea. I'll tell everyone in San Fran that's how you wanted it," he nodded somberly with a mournful face and his hand on his chest.
" Climbing a bridge actually sounds like something I would enjoy."
" Of course you would, darling. All apes love to climb. That reminds me," he added, pointing a shoe tree at me. " We need bananas for breakfast. We're going to need some healthy food for our recovery after the Harbor Dance tonight."
The bananas we bought turned out to be the only nourishment, along with yogurt and Gatorade, that I put into my body for an entire day after the Harbor Dance. I was pretty wiped-out for the next day also, suffering from jet lag plus Gay Circuit Party lag
which can be more exhausting than a 14 hour airplane flight.
By Tuesday though, I was ready to face Sydney again. The first thing I did was, of course, go to the gym that Michael bought me a week's membership. Going to the gym on your vacation might seem like a strange concept to some people but it is something I've always done. It's essentially going to a completely different place but doing exactly the same thing, only around people with an accent.
It has always been my way of rebooting myself emotionally and to get things moving again. It's also something I do that is highly active and good for my body. For myself, I define activity in terms of what I do indoors, not what I do out of the gym. Doing cardio on a machine with my headphones as I'm looking out the window is my way of engaging with the environment. The closest thing to outdoor activity I get is walking stroke, spinal and brain injured patients around the hospital sidewalks during the community reintegration part of their rehab program. Taking into account the amount of time I do spend exercising inside, you can even say I'm much more active than most people. The only difference is that my activity doesn't involve fresh air or catching any kind of ball. The only thing I can catch is the occasional STD from someone I meet at the gym.
With all of this said, I still knew I had to start doing something outdoorsy that Australia was known for. I kept hearing Grant's voice repeating 'Great Barrier Reef, Great Barrier Reef...' over and over in my head. If I wasn't going to swim in the reef at least I would climb a bridge. But then I found out it cost three hundred dollars and took a whole day of training, and according to Michael's newly ex-boyfriend, Lee, who did it, the actual climb was painfully slow and boring because of out of shape people in the climbing group he got stuck with, and that it needed to be booked weeks in advance, especially right before Mardi Gras.
With my bridge plan thwarted, I was back to square one on my desperate search to prove that my trip to Australia was not just one big gay Circuit Party event. I was determined to swim in or hike to or climb up something in Sydney. So far, the only thing that comes close is helping my dear friends Ron T and Michael P who live here carry an old washing machine down their warm staircase to the sidewalk and carry up a new one. At least I can say I was somewhere that made me sweat and take my shirt off with Australians besides a dance floor.
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