Miscellaneous Uploads

I posted this on Youtube a month ago and its since generated more than fifty thousand hits and loads of email. I'll be uploading the full version in two weeks when I go back to Toronto, so for those people interested in this kind of thing, stay tuned. In the meantime, you can download the Brad and Evans clip if you haven't already.

Incidentally, I've just gotten my old hard-drive back up and running. It has to be more than 7 years old. Found some irreplaceable music... and I've uploaded it onto Megauploads to be transfered to my computer in Toronto for me personal listening pleasure. They're mainly soundtracks.

I've also re-discovered other relics from my recent past. Little games and programs... and my old stash of porn. ;) Back in the day, I was still in the denial stage of my porn-evolution, so most of it was straight, softcore stuff. Funny, they used to turn me on so much, but now they hardly do anything to me. There are a few exceptions, however...

I've bundled the mescellany of programs and short clips in another zip file, mainly for memories sake, but I suppose you're welcome to download if you wish.

Five-Hour Fantasy

So I'm back in Ottawa. Been going back and forth a lot this year because of Mother. I still haven't entirely gotten over how much she's aged since the operation. Oh, she still acts the same - driving me up the wall as usual, but her hair's gone white, she's lost weight, and there are so many wrinkles which I hadn't seen before.

I've generally enjoyed those five-hour bus trips between Ottawa and Toronto. They're opportunities to daydream and fantasize, often of the hot guy that I end up sitting behind. Last time, it had been the construction worker. He's had massive, rippling back muscles and a sexy country accent. The time before that, it had been the red-head with spiky hair dyed blond. But this time, Lady Luck must have been feeling particularly mischievous. For lo and behold, who was to get onto the bus but an old high-school jock?

I plopped right into the empty seat next time him. He didn't recognize me - Not surprising since most people who meet me for the first time don't think twice about it - so I knew the ball was in my court, despite not knowing his name. He was one cute Asian, that was for sure. We looked together at the darkening night and the rain that was coming down. I didn't say a word until we stopped at Scarborough Towncentre:

"Hey, you go to U of T?" This was usually a safe assumption. Except that this time it wasn't.
"No, I'm graduating this spring from Carleton in engineering."
"Oh." Pause. "What are you doing in Toronto, then?"
"I work for the Ontario government."
"In what, specifically?"
"I'm a project coordinator. It has to do with E-Government."
I'd heard that phrase before, but I didn't know where. I suspected we had little in common. Oh well. I decided to pull my wild card anyway.
"May I ask which part of Ottawa you're from?"
"The South." Green light.
"You didn't by any chance go to Merivale, did you?"
Shocked expression. Bingo.
"Yes... What's you're name?"
I told him. He could see him wrack his brain but come up empty. "I thought I recognized you. What's yours?"
"Colin Chan." A light bulb goes on in my head.
"Oh. You're a year a year older than me. I guess you're 22, no 23?"
"Yeah... I'm surprised you remember me."

We talk a bit more, with him politely asked what I was doing, but I could tell he wasn't the talkative type. Still, silence isn't always a bad thing, even amongst strangers. Because it was dark and I had nothing to do, I did the most logical thing: take a nap. Greyhound seats really aren't that comfortable, and I tossed and turned until I belatedly discovered something. If I positioned myself in a certain way, it would almost be impossible for his arm to avoid touching mine unless he did so deliberately. And if I positioned my face in a certain way, I'd be close enough to see him without him seeing me... in fact, I could even smell him. For the next hour I let myself enjoy the changing pressure on my shoulders...

About half-an-hour before we arrived in Ottawa, I made the motions of "waking up" from my "nap". While we didn't talk much afterwords, I felt as though something had changed. Though the ackwardness was still there, it was somehow less intense. It was as though, having slept together, we'd broken through some kind of barrier. As though we weren't quite strangers anymore.

It was raining freezing rain in Ottawa and some places glistened in the orange street light like sheet metal. As I said good bye to him at the bus terminal, I couldn't help wondering if, had we been in a different place and time, we might even have become friends.

Forever Blue

Coop: We got something here. And it ain't going away.

Jimmy: I got a family.
Coop: You think Eileen wants to be married to a stranger? You think if she knew she'd want to keep living a lie?
Jimmy: I ain't leaving my kids, Coop!
(pause)
Coop: I'm not asking for that.
Jimmy: What then.
Coop: Remember what you were talking about? Living a different kind of life? This is our shot!
Jimmy: That was just talk. We're cursed with this thing.(Pause)
Coop: My folks. Been married forever right? But whatever they had died years ago. Now I look around and I see everyone like that. Staying together because of the church. Because it's expected. Because they got nowhere else to go. Cursed?
Coop: We're the lucky ones, Jimmy.

From the "Forever Blue" episode of the Cold Case TV-series. The ending gets me every time.

I'm not usually a fan of cop/detective dramas. This is the only episode I've watched, but I knew I had to watch it after I saw that clip on Youtube. Its a romance remininscent of a certain Oscar-winning film, but told in an original way and while the acting I found to be mediocre, the cinemetography, script and music was superb. Actually, the acting was OK, though I thought the guy playing Jimmy could have been better. Then again, Heath Ledger set the bar pretty high. The flashbacks to black-and-white are exquisitely done and very profound. If you were crying "I wish I could quit you" after Brokeback, you'll be thinking "We're the lucky ones, Jimmy" by the end of this one.

I've uploading the full episode to megaupload for your viewing pleasure. You guys will love it:

DOWNLOAD (350 MB)

Zippers

I took a sip of loneliness tonight and decided to venture into The Village. I thought it might make things better. Last time I'd been there I'd been drunk. Even then I'd been too chicken to check out the bars.

How things have changed...

I dressed up. I fixed my hair, and put on tight pants, more or less trying to look sexy without looking as though I was trying. Sure, I was nervous. I hadn't done this before, baring a few sweaty nights half-way across the world... but that's another story.

It was a warm night for December, so I put on a button-up shirt and pretended I wasn't shivering. Taking the subway down to Wellesley, I saw men walking in groups, pairs, or alone in the dimly lit sidewalks. It was Queer as Folk brought to life. There's even a Woody's.

I had no clue where to go. I randomly ask two older guys (geeze they were gay), and they looked me over. "What are you looking for?" A smile. "Leather?" I said no thanks. They pointed me towards Cruise. I was somewhat disappointed. There was no DJs or go-go boys, only a drag queen singing Cher. A few of the guys looked at me as though I was fresh meet. I left, though not before the Long Island iced tea kicked in. One drink and I was buzzed... you know what they say about Asians.

Somehow I ended up in a place called Zippers. This was more like it, I thought: Men dancing in the dark to a thumbing rhythm, sexuality in the air. Still no go-go boys though. Next time I'll have to ask.

But something else was missing too. I was sitting on the subway musing about the two guys I'd seen making out at the bar, when that it hit me like a truck. I tasted a kind of bitterness in my mouth.

I'm still alone. Nothing is going to change that.

Gas and God

I don't know what the heck is going on right now. I'm generally not tolerant of people who feel the desire to describe their maladies in graphic detail to anyone who's willing to listen, but this being my personal blog and all I think I have the right to express my bewilderment.

Ok, so the day before yesterday I threw up four times and made over twenty pilgrimages to the washroom, once every hour. Big deal, I had stomach flu. My ass still feels like shit from shitting so much and I didn't even get the pleasure of being fucked. But that isn't the problem either. The problem is that instead of feeling slightly delerious and farting every five minutes, I now feel fine but bloated like a balloon. Until today my gas had somewhere to go. Now it seems to just keepbuilding up in a little cavity just below my rib cage. Not only do I feel as though I'm gonna burst like a cute little bubble at any moment, I've also been feeling this strange aching in my shoulders... I had trouble sleep last night, and when I did sleep, my dreams of watermelons been cleaved had me waking up in cold sweat in the middle of the night.

Dear God, I ask for your forgiveness. Return to me my power of anal or oral release and I will never underestimate Thy holy gift or use thy gift wantonly in Thy House on Sunday mornings ever again.

By the way, I did actually go to church this week. Its been a long time. Went with a friend on a whim, since it was right across the street from our apartment, and my friend was curious because being an international student from China he really didn't understand the whole Christian thing (Once, I asked him what he thought people did in church, he said, "um... they sing some songs, right?") United Church, however, is um... rather different from the Christian churches I've been to, I must say. Though in a good way. There was an hour of activism for left-wing causes (aboriginal rights, gay-marriage, social justice, etc, etc) with no attempts at political correctness (The pastor just about said everything short of calling Harper the Antichrist), followed by a sermon prophesizing environmental catastrophe from global warming unless people didn't wake up. Yes..... very good indeed. Now if God would just let me rediscover my inner farting abilities, I'm all ready to be a born-again Christian.

My friend, incidentally, thought the singing was awesome.

Dion: The Green Revolution Begins

I can't believe it. I can't fucking believe it. The underdog of underdogs, the long shot, the "nice guy" who SHOULD have finished last, the guy who ran his campagn with a shoestring budget, the boring, clumsy academic... beat them all at their own game. Stephane Dion, the man who's platform was all and nothing but environmental, stood amongst green signs and scarves in a party which had never before strayed from red. We have the makings of an incredible, sincere, architect, an achitect of Canada's Green Revolution and a Quebeker with integrity who will ensure that Canada stays united for the foreseable future.

And the way he won is political art that will studied by political scientists for decades to come. I was glued to my internet screen, scanning every new blog post for the latest update. For me, politics has always been my sport. Dion entered the convention 4th... the drums are rolling. He slides into 3rd and there's a shocked silence (just 2 votes!). A surprise endorsement from Martha Hall Findlay increases his lead on the second ballot, and the crowd goes wild! Then Kennedy jumps boat (a secret alliance!) and Dion leaps to first and all hell breaks loose. And so its the soft-spoken Dion who ends up facing off against Ignatieff, that pro-Iraq, evil architect of the "nation" fiasco, the guy who has lead for so long and whom everyone expects to win. But its Dion that wins.

I voted NDP in the last election, but no more. It'll be Liberal for me all the way from here on end as long as Dion stays at the helm.

You're the man, Dion.

PS: Since this is a gay blog, I can't help commenting on a certain traitorous gay candidate who systematically attempted to sabotage Dion throughout the convention. For those who don't know, I'm talking about Scott Brison, our
good-looking-married-with-a-husband-Conservative-turned-Liberal MP. When it came to making his speech, he suddenly turns green - all the political commentators on CPAC were like, "where did THAT come from?". Then he goes and saddles up with Bob Rae, clearly intent on becoming the next environmental minister in Bob Rae's cabinet. But when Rae's forced to drop, he goes and joins Ignatieff, clearly favouring anyone BUT Dion.

So to Scott Brison: Green just doesn't suit you, honey. I'd calling you a fag but that would probably be giving you way too much recognization.