Computers are weird

I'm back. Singletails has returned.

Although let's be clear. I didn't go anywhere.

I'm having internet problems. One night (June 19th, the date of my last post, in fact), I dialed in, but an odd thing happened. I was connected to the internet, but it was like Internet Explorer couldn't find its way to the internet. So I called Earthlink's tech support. The guy talked me through trashing my internet preferences folder and reconfiguring things, and Voila!, I could connect. And so I blogged. The next night, I ran into the same problem. Alas, my calls to Earthlink tech support were to no avail. They said that my problem was with my trusty laptop, and I should contact either Apple or Microsoft.

Uh huh.

And so, I relied on my AOL account for internet access, but alas, that decrepit thing that AOL calls a browser was incompatible with blogger. Blogger tech support, by the way, is none existant. They have an email support thingy, but my emails--still there after a year when I signed on and had a few getting started questions--remain unopened.

So this morning, I was girding up my loins to call Earthlink tech support and be very very very Firm with them. (It is inadvisable to be mean to tech support folks, because they have a screen open before them where they can take notes about you, and if they type "Total asshole," then that's the last kind helpful thing you'll ever get from them.) But I was going to refuse to get off the line until someone was able to get me re-connected the way that the first guy that I talked to was able to do. And, the fact that crappy ol' AOL was able to get me connected indicated (strongly) that the problem was neither with Apple nor with Microsoft but with Earthlink.

And I messed around with configurations, and did a test, and whaddyaknow, here I am.

No kidnapping. No auctioning on the block at some secret underground slave market. Just dial up problems. No hospital admission. No nervous breakdown.

So what's been happening to me? Obviously I could go on and on recounting the past two weeks, but I think this would make grizzly reading. A graphic designer of my acquaintance once explained to me that the Great Satan in her life was huge blocks of text. So I'll do my best for wee little bite size chunks for you to all work your way through.

I will say that not being able to blog has been making me batty. All these ideas I have, so much I want to communicate, that have just been going onto paper into the notebook I've been carrying around with me. Journaling not for public disemination (another 's' in that word?) seems suddenly like such a dead end.

I've missed you, too.

What happened with basanos?

basanos didn't show at Folsom Street East. I was kinda a wreck, but held it together. Wreck-ness took the form of, "I was so sure he was for real! I can't believe this happened to me again, so soon after the severus debacle! That's it! The internet sucks! No more WorldLeathermen or Leather Navigator ever!" But then I ran into basanos on AOL. He explained. I decided to relax my suspicions. basanos and I have been off to the races. We've talked on the phone. We've IMed for hours. Although I would have him chained up and immobile at my feet before I finish this cup of tea if I had my druthers, I'm taking it really really slow. No rush. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. But if it happens, it will be great. We're incredibly compatible. It's uncanny. I continue to wear around my neck on a silver chain the key to the padlock that will hopefully one day secure the large steel chain around his neck.

How's your Mom and Dad?

Just yesterday, I went to Bucks County and planted tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, and eggplant in a bed in the middle of the front yard. Felt great. My step mother continues to be doing pretty well, as in no oxygen. But she's in the three-questions-over-and-over loop. This makes my Dad crazy and tests his patience mightily. But visiting them is still great. Bucks County looks gorgeous. Henry James said that the two most beautiful words in the English language are 'Summer Afternoon,' and that was in evidence yesterday.

How's the new whip you got at Leather Pride Night?

Omigod it's perfect. It's a little too long to practice with in my apartment. But Monday, on my way down to Bucks County, I stopped in for a visit to the Baron von Philadelphia in Chestnut Hill where he's house sitting. We took a walk with my dog down to the Wissahickon Creek, and I couldn't resist doing some throws on the lush vegetation. My aim with the new whip is just about flawless.

So when do you move to Bucks County?

Sore subject. My deceased sister's ex-husband's cousin is having immigration problems. It's kind of a Catch-22. He wants to resolve his immigration issues so he can move down to Florida to join his wife. But his marriage is the lynchpin of his quest for citizenship, and the fact that they live on opposite ends of the Atlantic seabord is raising some eyebrows with immigration. It alarms me how often the thought crosses my head that as he is Algerian, I could probably solve the problem with a phone call to John Ashcroft's minions, but doing so would be too much like Germany in 1939. So I won't. I think though that if we get to October and he's still living there, I'm just gonna look for some place to rent.

How is the money situation since you're not working?

Oooooh. Call me Scarlet O'Hara. I'll worry about that tomorrow. I have a wad of cash in the bank, and also a wad of bills. Today I get my final paycheck from New York State, including compensation for unused vacation. I think that Unemployment should allow me to cover my basic expenses, and I can use the wad of cash to pay the big ticket items such as rent. And, I've decided to sell my place in Fort Lauderdale. That should give me an even bigger wad of cash. This should allow me to take a shot at establishing myself as a freelance writer.

Speaking of the writing, how's it going?

I'm slowly slowly getting into a routine of writing The Book. Conversations with basanos have been incredibly helpful in getting the creative juices flowing. I think it's gonna be good.

I also had this idea. I'm thinking of putting in a phone call to the editor of one of the two LGBT (pronounced "LugButt") newspapers in town and proposing a features column. I've known the guy for almost ten years. I think my column--each week looking at a different segment of the LGBT community in NYC--would be pretty cool. What's riding against me? The publication in question focuses on in-depth reporting on politics, and then towards the back has movie, theater, and book reviews. I suspect that the political reportage is what they view as their raison d'etre, and the reviews are just to sell ads. I'd be neither of those. So my column would be a departure for them.

How about that Supreme Court decision?

I know! Isn't that thrilling? Not only did they square with the issue over privacy rights, but Sandy O'Connor had to chime in on the equal protection front, too. Far out! Privacy, of course, is my preferred approach, since it's right in line with my brand of conservatism ('get the government off my back... and out of my bedroom'). And I want to enlist your aid in a campaign of misinformation. Listening to a call in show on WNYC (Brial Lehrer is on vacation, replaced by Nora Vincent, whom I love... she was shakey at first, but is now handling it like a pro), and a caller asked, "Now, does this just apply to gay sex in private, or in public, too?" Imagine the possibilities... Just let your mind wander down that road for a while... Six members of the Supreme Court lining up to say, "Sure, let them bugger away in public parks! Faaaaabulous!" So the misinformation I'm seeking to put out there is that what the Supreme Court said was "Gay Sex: Anytime. Anywhere." So the stockboy at the local supermarket catches your eye? Well then it's your constitutional right to get it on right there in the Coffee-Tea-Spices-Condiments aisle.

How was Pride for you?

Great. Marched with GMSMA. Had dinner with b'bill and slave neil. Caught Gay Pride Evensong at St. Luke's with b'bill. Ran into cubby j. sherwood there, found out she lives around the corner from me and she would be available for regular bootblacking service (Wo Hooo!). Hit the Dugout. Watched the fireworks from 10th and West Streets.

Gettin' any?

Whilst watching the fireworks, I played eye hockey with this hot Boricua. We got to talkin'. Turns out he lives in Jersey City. Drove him back across the river. Invited him up. I got my kitten punched. Drove him home. He was really really good. Beautiful dick, and he knew how to wield that tool. Very sweet.

How'd the punching program go?

Uh... It didn't. Both PunchPig and Brawler were unavailable. Program Chairman thought that rather than cobble together something at the last minute, we should scrap it and do it (with lots of advance notice) next season. "Cobbled together" would have been me improvising. Much drama as I rushed around looking for a demo bottom. Brawler loaned me a bag full of boxing gloves and some wrestling mats that I need to return. I'm still very keen to meet up with PunchPig and get a black eye and a fat lip, but right now, he is literally holding the hand of his dying mother.

How fare the Ballbreakers?

We're 8-2. No longer undefeated. I had to miss a game due to work on Leather Pride Night, and subsequently found out we lost. I feel so responsible for that. Here's an interesting thing. Everybody hates the Ballbreakers. We're kinda like the Yankees of the Big Apple Softball League. All the other teams hate us. Both because we win, and, I think, because we care, and, I think, because we have a great time doing it. It's been almost three weeks since I got into my cleats (no games over Pride weekend; well, there was one, but since most of the team was unavailable, we couldn't do a makeup game we were scheduled to play; we had told them that in advance, but they scheduled it anyway. See? Everybody hates the Ballbreakers.) This coming weekend we're in the Playing for Life Tournement here in NYC. Unfortunately, so reminiscent of Inferno cutting short my participation in the Montreal tournement, I'll have to cut out on Saturday to go attend a play party in Pennsylvania sponsored by DogTopper and Zapper, who comprise the fantasy committee of Inferno. Should be good. basanos is unavailable. Alas. So I'm going stag. That could be a recipe for disaster, but I'm setting my mind on Not Playing, but just going. So if I end up playing, I'll be pleasantly surprised. Taking the SAP gloves and the whips and floggers nonetheless.

What's new and interesting?

Get this. I met this guy. He's from London. He's a gay Orthodox rabbi into S/M. We'll call him Rabbi Leatherman. I told him about MP Uniforms and Supply in Allentown, and we made a trip out there last Tuesday. He was a great traveling companion. We talked non-stop (except when he stopped to say his prayers) about S/M, about reconciling faith and S/M, about God. (Make that, "G-d"). He invited me to come to London with him. His treat. I didn't end up going, as I couldn't front the money for a plane ticket when Rabbi Leatherman was having credit card problems, but Europe is not out of the question. The Rabbi just emerged from a seven year relationship, and wants to spend the summer having some fun and traveling, and thinks that I would be an ideal traveling companion. I'm up for that, and given my penurious state, not in a position to say no.

Whatchya thinkin about?

Conviction. I've never been able to articulate a type of man I'm attracted too. All shapes, sizes, descriptions have caught my eye over the years. But I think that the one sure fire thing is evidence of Conviction. That this is a man who lives his life on his own terms. Often evidenced by a sort of extreme look of some kind, but not always. I might get a second tattoo. Some design involving the word Conviction. I think that's a good value to uphold.

Still dealing with pus?

Yeah, but I got some Hibaclense, and it's going away. Weirdly, Hibaclense looks like cherry syrup. After I dab it on with a Q-tip and work it in with my fingers, I have to fight down the temptation to lick it off my fingers. Hopefully, my tits will be ready for action in the near future.

Still a hot man?

Well, I've been too busy to date, and I'm down to 185 lbs, but I think I'm doing alright. When I made the trip out to MP Uniform and Supplies, I ended up getting a bee-yoo-ti-ful cop uniform. Gray pants with a french blue (would that be 'Freedom blue?') stripe down the side, french blue shirt, Sam Brown belt, and Harley Davidson riding boots that are just beautiful. Tragically, when the temperature is 90 degrees outside, it's not quite what I wanna be wearing right now, but when I do spring it on an unsuspecting world, I think it will be a hit.

Enjoying life?

Oh yeah. A few days ago, I bought a cigar (there are no cigar stores left in the parts of Manhattan I frequent; it's nuts) and went and smoked it on the piers at the end of Christopher Street watching the sun set. it was pretty sublime. it would have been nice to have basanos collared and sitting at my feet enjoying the moment with me, but that will hopefully come to pass soon enough.

After I (iit is to be hoped) post and publish this, I'll throw up on this site the text of the scema I'm proposing for owning a slave. It's not quite a contract, but more just setting out policies and procedures. I'm pretty proud of it.

Life is good.

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