"You are pierced."

Such the eventful weekend.

Saturday morning I was up bright and early (6 frickin' 45 am) for a double header softball game. We won handily both of the teams that we played, Cafe Sha Sha and uh... I forget. And I played really well. We're talking 4 base hits, one score, and one rbi. I struck out once. And, just as Game Two was getting started, I looked over towards ouir dugout from my position in center field and there was the Special Guy. He showed up to watch me play softball. And apparently brought me a great deal of luck. I've never played so well. Thus began the Odessey of Self Discovery portion of the weekend. After the game we headed back to Ty's for beer and pizza. Special Guy and I cut out after pizza. We went to the leatherman to get Special Guy a vest, and then we went over to Venus Body Art on 4th Street between Aves A and B and I got my nips pierced. Everything that brought me to lying down on that table is sort of a blur. I decided I wanted to do it, and just didn't think about it after that. The folks at Venus were great. Two ten gauge posts are now lodged in my nipples.

It hurt a lot. If he hadn't done the right one first, I probably would have called it quits at that point. But I couldn't be permanently flagging bottom with my nipple. The second time it hurt more. I was pretty noisy "HOOAAAAAH-EEEE!!!" was the noise I made if I recall correctly. Twice. I didn't hold back. After ramming that needle through my flesh, the piercing guy would announce, "You are pierced." Appropriately ceremonial I thought. Special Guy was great. Held my ankle while it was being done. Then it started to get weird. I mean, I was fine. I was totally okay. The pain after the piercing itself was negligible. But after both the posts were in, I'm looking in the mirror, and all of a sudden a trickle of blood descends from my right nipple down my rib cage. A trickle? It was a big trickle. Call it a stream. Very Dracula movie. So then I felt dizzy. I had to sit down again. I started to feel faint. They gave me the run down of what I'll need to do to take care of it. Doesn't sound too complicated. I went out and sat on the sofa, trying to banish from my mind the sight of my own blood. Replace it with the thought of how hot it's going to be to walk around at the Lure with no shirt on and both tits pierced. Didn't have much luck at that. There were two women sitting across from me and the Special Guy. One of the women was getting her belly button pierced. My howls of pain didn't do a lot to steady the piercee's nerves. So both of them disappeared into The Room. I was listening for something blood curdling, all I heard was a little "eep..." and then the piercing guy said, "You are pierced." I comfort myself with the thought that women have a higher threshold of pain than we do. And, they have to deal with their own blood every 28 days or so. (I am soooo glad I'm a man. I'm soooo thrilled about that. Not only do I get a penis, but I don't have to gave a period or endure pregnancy, saddleblocks, and birthing. thank you, God.)

Then Special Guy and I went to the movies. We saw 'Y Tu Mama Tambien,' a Mexican film with subtitles about two boys, Tenoch and Julio, who take an older woman, Luisa, on a sort of Kerouackian jaunt to a deserted beach called 'Heaven's Gate.' It was really wonderful. Then we stopped at the drug store to pick up bactine and Q-tips, got dinner stuff at Jefferson Market, and headed across the river. I made dinner, Indian Summer Fish Stew.

Here's the recipe:

Preheat oven to 500.

Dice one large yam. Toss with walnut oil, salt and pepper. Deposit it in a large, flat skillet with a lid. Then, dice one spanish onion and one red pepper. Add to the skillet. Cut up kale frisee to make about two cups. Add to the pan. When all the vegetables are soft, transfer to the top of the stove. Add fish stock and fat free sour cream. Scrape all the stuff off the bottom into the liquid. Add 2 bay leaves and a liberal dose of marjoram. Slice up about a pound of Talapia filet. Add the fish. Don't stir it around too much as once the fish is cooked, it will break up and you don't want that. Give it a few shakes of Tabasco sauce. Serve immediately.

I also added 2 cups of frozen corn that my mother and I put up last summer. Hearty, healthy, and delicious. Special Guy was pretty bowled over.

Then we had sex. Y'know, I hate condoms. I really, really do. I find them all but intolerable at this point. We tried Inspiral condoms and even the female condom, and both of them are... well... condoms. And they bite.

The next morning, more athletic sex, and then I drove the Special Guy back into Manhattan. I went to St. Luke's for the first time since October 1st. It was fine, and event that loomed much larger in my mind than in the minds of my fellow parishoners. Roger Ferlo preached a good sermon. Then brunch, then back to Jersey City, then I went to the Gay and Lesbian Community Center for this Erotic Art auction thing. I was volunteering. My volunteer job was to be 'Artist Relief,' I would watch an artists booth while he went to the can or headed out to Starbucks or whatever. Since most of the artist there had assistants on hand to do that, I basically wandered around for three hours. Some of the art I liked, but most of it I found pretty mediocre. But here's the thing. The first time an artist said to me, "I would really like to have you model for me. Please give me a call sometime," I was pretty flattered. By the fourteenth time, I decided that for most of these artists, being an erotic artsit is sort of a scam to meet guys.

Wound down the day with Sunday Beer Blast at the Dugout. Very cool weekend.