Justin's Life... May 9th - 18th, 1998

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May 9, 1998 - Saturday


I'm free!!!

School is finally over... finished... completed... done... well, at least until it starts again. But, at least for the moment, I can finally breathe again and think about something other than schoolwork and impending deadlines. I mean, this past semester, and more specifically this past month, have been the most intensive of my "academic career" ever.

After finishing up my Jerry Lewis/Smorgasbord film editing project and showing it Monday night, I studied for my COMM 301 final on Tuesday morning. When I turned it in at around 12:30PM, I got back my "group" paper... a "B+". For some reason, that pissed me off... I guess I was really expecting the whole fact that I had such a hard time with my group to impact my grade... as in make it an "A". Not that I thought my paper was bad... I've never written a 22 page paper before, and considering it didn't have a specific length requirement (just a content requirement) that was pretty darn remarkable.

Anyway, I got it back, got a "B+", and pretty much locked in a grade of a "B" for the semester with my performance on the final. It could have been better, but a "B" will do.

Immediately getting home from the final, I began the hardcore work on the Scream project. I'd already storyboarded, digitized, captured, and searched online for pieces over the weekend, but Tuesday afternoon I really got down to creating full screens and graphics. Wednesday, I went to the lab at 2PM and stayed there until 11:30PM assembling the materials in Director. The next morning, I was back up at 7AM, went back to campus, remembered I'd forgotten the files I'd created at the house that morning before going to school, rushed back home, copied the files to a ZIP disk, then drove back to campus. I worked in the lab about another three and a half hours before finally resolving myself to a near-impossible-to-work-around bug in Director and turned in the project. I got in the car, drove home, and collapsed on the bed... falling asleep almost immediately.

Thursday night, I really just wanted to keep on sleeping, but I forced myself to adhere to my "Friday's Thoughts..." newsletter deadline. In the newsletter, perhaps because of lack of sleep or perhaps just because I was giddy from having finally finished school, I included a pretty raunchy joke. I mean, it related to what I was talking about: it wasn't just some totally random raunchy joke, but I think it offended a few people as I got about four unsubscribe requests Friday morning. That bothered me a little... but I forced myself to shrug it off. I mean it's impossible to please everyone all the time, but like, say with this "e-journal" I don't really know if you're pissed off at something unless you write. If you decide to not come back, I can't really tell that. With the newsletter, I can see that someone unsubscribes... as in "I don't want to read what you write anymore." Anyway, that did bother me, but I've since realized it's part of the deal.

Otherwise, I've been unbelievably perky. I've been "bouncing off the walls" perky. I'm just so psyched to be out of school and to not have to deal with all that crap... creating stuff that will never see the light of day... stuff that disappears into some academic file folder never to be seen again. Even my Scream project, which I thought we were each going to present to one another during the last class, didn't get shown. Instead, only the professor will see it. As it's a HUGE copyright violation, I can't even put it here... not that you'd want to download 200 megs anyway

Anyway, that's it for me now. Helen, a friend from my Boston University days, should be arriving shortly in LA. She's staying here with me for the weekend while she looks for apartments in the area. She's a tad homophobic, so it's always fun to harass her.


May 12, 1998 - Tuesday


Helen didn't arrive as expected, but first I should probably backtrack a little.

And so, I figured she'd arrive on the later flight at around 7:30PM or 8PM, give me a call, and I'd give her directions to the house. Instead, when I still hadn't heard from her by 9PM, I called Aaron. This Aaron is the "short guy with a goatee who had mono" who I thought I was meeting when I met Eric The Mormon. He'd e-mailed earlier that day saying again that we should meet.

So, anyway, I gave him a call and he said he could meet Larry, Katie, and I for a late dinner in Pasadena.

And so we met, or rather, just before he arrived at the restaurant, Helen called the cell phone. Long story short, she said that since she didn't talk to me the night before, she was staying at the Holiday Inn in Culver City. It would seem to me that since I told her that staying with us would be fine that she could count on me to be here when she got here... even if I didn't talk to her Friday night. I mean, what kind of friend says, "You can stay with me for the weekend." then leaves town without telling you?

So, anyway, I told her that I "guessed" I understood about that but that I didn't know why she didn't call during the day and that Larry was a tad pissed (as he'd had to come back from La Jolla for no reason). Of course, I was a tad offput too, but I used the good cop/bad cop thing so that she wouldn't feel too bad. We agreed that she'd spend the night there as it was around 10PM and the room was paid for and that she'd check out in the morning to come stay at the house. We finished the call with her saying she'd call me sometime in the morning -- I suggested around noon -- and with the idea that I'd go with her to look at the apartments (at her suggestion).

And so, I hung up the phone and had dinner with Aaron... trying to get myself into the space to be a good conversationalist, but instead mostly focusing on Helen and how she'd not made any sense all day.

Anyway, we had dinner, talked about various things, and got to know Aaron a little better. Larry came away from the whole thing saying that he thought Aaron was really cool. I, on the other hand, came away not really having an opinion about Aaron: my mind had been that caught up in the whole Helen deal.

Needless to say, the next day came and noon passed. Helen didn't call.

I went about my day as normal... almost expecting it to happen that way... until finally Larry suggested I page her around 5PM. I did and she called back a little later. We met at the Planet Hollywood in Beverly Hills and had dinner. I tried to be jovial, but I still felt like I'd been "done wrong" in the whole deal and didn't mask it very effectively. I mean, I wasn't moping and didn't say, "What the hell were you doing/thinking?" but I wasn't able to be too perky. The whole deal Saturday was enough. For her to say she was checking out and that she'd call me the next morning then doing neither was too much. I mean, she said something about how her boyfriend had already paid for the entire hotel stay, but I know she could have gotten out after the first day... if she wanted.


Continuing the fun, my computer died Sunday night as well. It had been slowly coming apart... a random error message here, a reboot for no reason there, and then Sunday, it wouldn't load Windows 95 at all. It had been saying "Windows Protection Error" off and on during boot up for several weeks, but Sunday was that Windows 95 incarnation's last day. Even in safe mode, nothing worked.

And so, yesterday morning, I headed to Fry's Electronics, bought a new hard drive and installed Windows on it. Ever since then, I've been reinstalling programs and copying data from the old drive... only finishing, I hope, this morning.

But wait, the fun doesn't stop there... also during this whole deal, I get e-mail from someone (sorry, can't say who) who tells me about this wonderful guy and then another guy who's a skank. In the e-mail, he tells me how he really wants the wonderful guy but that he let the skanky guy give him a blow job twice. There's nothing quicker to make you feel like crap than to know that someone you're interested in and who you think is interested in you (a) has eyes for someone else wonderful and (b) has done stuff with guys who are yucky... especially when he admits that they're yucky. I mean, it's one of those damned if you do/damned if ya don't type of deals. If say, for example, your ex- gets a knockout, you lose because, well, he's a knockout and if your ex- gets a dog, you lose because you think "uh... if he'd do me and he'd do a dog, I must therefore be a dog." Granted, this wasn't an ex-, I'm just using that as an example, but still, it's disconcerting to know that that "special" time you shared with someone was also shared with someone who the other someone thought was skanky.

And so, yesterday, while installing Windows 95, I listened to "Somewhere That's Green" from The Little Shop Of Horrors soundtrack in repeat mode. Ironically, I didn't realize why I was listening to that song until several times through... I mean, I usually play it a few times every time the Little Shop Of Horrors CD gets played in the rotation, but it wasn't until yesterday that I really realized why that song is any different than the others. It's an idealized "Some Day My Prince Will Come" song. She's singing out how she wants to have a simple yet perfect life "somewhere that's green". And crazy as it sounds, there's still a part of me that's waiting for that knight to come.

And what's even crazier is that while I was listening to the CD and thinking about everything, Larry called to see how I was doing, knowing that re-installing all the programs would take its toll on me. He asked what I wanted for dinner and said he would go anywhere to pick it up. Can I not see the forest for the trees? Why do I get upset that someone, who I'm not dating but with whom I have flirted and gotten in the hot tub, has done stuff with someone skanky? Why did I grow up in Kentucky with such morals? I mean, why the hell aren't I doing every guy in LA? Why am I still, under most people's definitions, a virgin? Why can't I just go to town... on the town? Why do I want to make my vanilla sex (the hot tub) mean something more than a one time quick fun deal? Why do I seem like a fish out of water? I thought everyone wanted the perfect marriage... with the knight in shining armour. But as time goes on, it seems I'm more and more within the minority of the minority. Whether it's a fucked up guy from Utah or a fucked up guy from LA, it seems they're all fucked up... wanting sex... with anyone... but not wanting the stuff that's what I thought everyone really wanted, the best friend relationship.


AND I went to the sadistic dentist today.


May 13, 1998 - Wednesday


Nothing too noteworthy happened today, but I'm in a much better space than yesterday. Tonight, Aaron and Jeff are coming over for a final-episode-of-Ellen "party." To tell the truth, I'm still sorta craving doing nothing as I haven't really done nothing since school let out last week. Oh well, tomorrow will be my official "Do Nothing With No One Day"... except that I have to write the newsletter and Larry & I are probably heading to Vegas tomorrow night.

For now, as it's not yet the official "Do Nothing With No One Day", I think it's probably time to do a "Where Are They Now?" and so, in no particular order:

MattMatt was the guy who Larry moved out from New Hampshire for the "houseboy" position early last year. Long story short, he ran away. In e-mail I sent to USC Erik on July 30, 1997, I wrote:
Guess what. Matt left... without a trace. He picked us up at the airport on Sunday (I flew to KY to be in a wedding) and when we got home there was a letter saying that things just weren't working out. Apparently, though, they were pretty darn bad and now he's hiding. He cancelled his more than a year old AOL account and left us no way to get ahold of him. He even threw out his sports trophies, which is weird in itself. Shawn, his live-in boyfriend, apparently quit the airport, too, as he didn't show at work on Saturday. I mean, he didn't even call to lie and say he was sick or anything. He just didn't show and no one's heard from either of them since.
For nearly half a year we didn't hear anything then Shawn or Matt (I don't know) sent a letter to Larry asking for their tax information. No further explanation. No nothing. How's that for unusual. -- Relatedly, I saw a guy who reminded me of Matt two weeks ago when I was buying the Scream script for my multimedia school project. I actually really liked him and valued his friendship. That made his leaving and cutting ties (as though to escape) all the more painful. But bygones are bygones and I now wish he'd drop a line or something. He was a koool guy.
ChuckChuck was the guy going to Harvard who was also from Kentucky who I met back in my Boston days. The last I heard from him, he wrote on July 20, 1997 to say: "I'll probably be living somewhere in Boston this year while I try to establish myself as an independent student so I can afford to pay for college again." His web page doesn't work at Harvard, so I really have to wonder if he's... Wait, this just in: While writing this, I decided I'd try Chuck's phone number in Kentucky. I searched my e-mail archives for all occurences of his last name and eventually found an e-mail where he'd given me his Kentucky number... and so I dialed.

When the phone rang, I figured they'd ask, "Chuck?" but instead, the guy answering the phone said, "Hold on" and Chuck came to the phone. My heart was racing at the idea of talking to him again. How koool... and get this... I said, "Is this Charles [MiddleName] [LastName]?" and he said "Yes" and then I said something like, "This is a voice from your past, do you have any idea who it is?" and he said, "Yes, Justin." Color me shocked. How koool. I hadn't talked to him via e-mail in nearly a year and I hadn't talked to him on the phone even longer and he still remembers my voice. That it too koool. So, we talk for a while, he just got home for the summer. He was back at Harvard, but is taking the summer and fall semesters off just to take a break. Before the conversation ended, about thirty minutes after it started, I told him that if he wanted to come to LA, it wouldn't be a problem. It would be really koool to see him again... and I know it would go nothing like Sean's weekend-to-LA trip. Oh, get this, Chuck even said that he hadn't checked out the diary in a while and I said, "What's a while?" He responded, "Like a month" Of course, I chastized him for reading the diary and not writing in such a long time, but the fact that he's still keeping up with my life is pretty darn koool, too.

So, needless to say, the "Where Are They Now?" deal, which I thought would be a he's here/he's there "chore" to write, has instead turned out to be koool.


Jeff and Aaron are here: I'll have to finish up the "Where Are They Now?" deal later.


May 18, 1998 - Monday


After Jeff, Aaron, Larry and I ate dinner, we sat down to watch the show. I'd gotten over my "I'd rather be alone" mindset and instead was having a semi-fun time exchanging barbs with Jeff. "Semi-fun" because, well, inside, I was really rather longing for those times when Jeff liked me. As it is now, he's sorta switched teams. No, not boy-girl teams, but rather Justin-Larry teams. He and Larry have more in common and get along better than he and I do, and it always seems like there's a wall between Jeff and I now. There's a major story behind all that, which I'm pretty sure I didn't write online at the time and I'm not going to write now, but suffice it to say that it's a slight twist of the knife that Jeff's now "Larry's friend" and really just puts up with me because I'm here. I mean, I know that Jeff would make no effort to hang out with me myself. I also know some of the "why's" behind the switch... but... well, let's let sleeping dogs lie for now.

So, anyway, I was sorta torn by that but still having a better-than-ok time when someone knocked at the door. Having no idea who it could have been, I was pleasantly surprised to see Frank The Flake through the peephole. Apparently, Larry had called him earlier in the day to invite him over but didn't tell me about it.

Frank came in and started talking at around 300 words per minute, like he always does, and I started paying him all the attention. I thought and still think Frank is totally cute, and so I was getting him bottled water when he asked for something to drink, hanging on his every word, etcetera.

When Ellen was over, Frank said he needed to be on his way and got up to leave. He shook Jeff and Aaron's hands then gave Larry a hug and a kiss. I stood up to walk him to the door and he waved at me. No hand shake, no hug, no kiss on the neck. A wave. And we all know, a wave means, "You're ok, but I don't really want to touch you." Stunned, I stood there as he was walking out the door when I think (sorry, too long to remember specifically) Larry got to the door at that same time and influenced Frank to hug me. Color me special.

Aaron left a little later, then Jeff showed us a videotape that he and some friends had made in high school.

Needless to say, my self-esteem wasn't doing too wonderfully by the end of the night. I mean, I thought I knew why Jeff had "switched teams" but I was and am completely clueless as to why Frank would be so "disinterested." He has a boyfriend, but still I wasn't asking him to do anything. I was just expecting a "You're a friend" hug... and I didn't get it. Back before Larry and were together, Frank and I slept in the same bed, played in the hot tub, even took a shower together. -- Of course, looking back now to find the entry for that last hyperlink, I see (and remember) why Frank got his appositive. Maybe he was just "flaking" with the goodbye at the door.

All I do know is that I am now re-evaluating how I come off. I mean, I know I can be cocky at times, but now I'm really thinking about whether I come off cocky a little too often. Being gay... all your childhood life, you're told that gays are worthless. All your adulthood life, you make up for it. I guess, though, that maybe I've been making up for it a little too much. Combating low self-esteem too vehemently or something.

While I do know that LA's a hard city in which to make friends, I've also gotta start looking "closer to home" to see why the number of friends I have is so few. As Larry says, "You're always on." and I think there's some truth to that. I always want to have the upper hand, to make it known that I've got something on you. And what person wants to hear that?


Larry and I did go to Vegas Thursday night, just as planned. We drove the nearly 300 miles, so by the time we got into the city and checked into the hotel, it was already around 11PM. We ate a late dinner at Binion's Horseshoe downstairs then Larry headed back to the hotel room. I, however, at least wanted to gamble for a few minutes and so, went to the casino portion of our hotel, The Plaza downtown. After loosing $40 at Roulette, I moved over to a blackjack table. I started with $20 and began my $2 minimum play.

Being the only person at the table, the hands went pretty quickly and I was thinking about how I was tired and ready to go upstairs to bed... then I noticed a scruffy but cute guy standing behind me. I looked over in his direction and one of us started talking (again, too long to remember). When he sat down at the table next to me, I saw his blue eyes, scruffy face, and sideburns in better detail. I would guess that he'd turned 21, if that, only recently, but he was one of those guys with chest hair coming out the top of his shirt.

He introduced himself as Tommy and I said I was Justin. As he put $10 out on the table to get change, he explained that he knew how to play blackjack but had never been to Las Vegas before and therefore wasn't too certain of the blackjack protocol. I was more than happy to show him and so, he played a couple hands as I talked him through. I asked where he was from, and made various chit chat, wondering how I could possibly prolong my interaction with him past the time I was seated at the table. I mean, the dealer was majorly unfriendly, even to my jokes, and I was losing. I got out another $20, really wanting to quit, but still unsure how I could quit and hang out with Tommy.

We kept on talking and I found out he was leaving at 9AM that morning. There was no possibility for drinks or anything... not that I thought he was gay, but still, I thought he was cute, my age, and the total opposite of me, drinking and smoking at the table. He was bad boy attractive, and while there was no real possibility of anything happening, there was still that .01% chance... even if it just existed in my mind.

That .01% chance wasn't enough to keep me losing at blackjack, though, and so, when I lost that second $20, I wished him luck and went back to the room. I mean, he was cute, but he wasn't $20 per ten minutes with his clothes on cute .


The next day, Friday, Larry and I woke and started gambling after eating breakfast. This time, we played at Fitzgerald's, where the dealers were way friendlier and we won. Needless to say, that made it a more pleasurable experience.

After winning and losing for a couple of hours, we each left the table to go back to the hotel around $150 ahead. A few minutes after getting back to the hotel room, we were back on the move, looking for slot machines... to buy. Larry'd wanted to get one the last time we were in Las Vegas for his company to keep the clients entertained but just didn't get around to actually buying it. This time, we found the appropriate yellow pages and began our trip around Vegas.

Our first stop was a huge store with machines all running around $4000 - $5000. That seemed higher than we'd remembered and nothing struck our eyes as wonderful either, and so, on we went.

A traffic jam later, we found the store where we'd looked the last time. We went inside and began looking around when one of the guys asked us where we were from. As I knew from the last time that each state has different laws about slot machines, I said I was from Kentucky, knowing that Kentucky is a state where all slot machines are legal and knowing that California is a state where only those 25 years are older are legal.

One of the two sales guys said that the previous owners were from Kentucky and I remembered having had the "You're from Kentucky, too." conversation the last time we were in there. I chit chatted for a few more seconds, not really paying any of them much attention, just talking out of not being rude, then walked over to where Larry was looking at the machines.

He said, "You think they're girls?"

I knew that was code for "You think they're gay?" (It had no relevance to their femininity.) I really hadn't paid much attention, so I looked and said I didn't know... then the shorter, pale white guy with glasses came up and started talking... and talking... and talking.

The thing is, he wasn't talking about slot machines, but about where we were staying in town, what we'd been doing, who we were... and most importantly, when we were leaving. He literally asked that question three times. It was obvious that he was wanting to hang out... and when he introduced us to Jeffery, a Calvin Klein Asian waif model type in shiny pants and a shirt that barely reached his belt buckle, the answer to that "Girls?" question was answered without a doubt.

Maybe thirty minutes or so later, we'd all been introduced to one another and the cats were fully out of the bag. There was Angelo, the shorter, pale white, glasses wearing dopey (in a good way) type; Jeffery, the Calvin Klein Asian waif model West Hollywood type; and Scott, the stockier, butch, I-kick-asses-for-a-living bouncer type.

Much to Angelo's insistence, we exchanged phone numbers and agreed to go to dinner and a movie that night. Don't get me wrong, we wanted to go, but Angelo was very much encouraging of us going... like a kid asking, "Pretty, pretty, pretty please with sugar on top." (though he didn't actually say that.) It was both cute and funny.

So, anyway, we agreed then went back to the hotel to get ready. Before we'd gotten to the car in the parking lot, though, Larry was already raving about how wonderful Scott was. He couldn't get over how "undetectable" he was and I disagreed. I mean, he was the butchest of the three, but there were still telltale signs that he was gay. Angelo was much more to my "tastes" anyway, so we "argued" about that for about three minutes then drove on to the Fashion Show Mall to buy Larry a pair of sunglasses.

After Larry picked out a pair of $200 sunglasses, he went on to The Gap where he tried on a couple of shirts. Having only packed T-shirts for the trip and being in Vegas, where money isn't money because it can be lost quicker than you'd imagine, I figured I'd spend about $100 on a complete outfit... thereby looking good for the night and not leaving my money in the hands of chance. So, with my wonderful fashion sense, I cloned a mannequin. I bought item for item exactly what the dummy was wearing and in Larry's words, made two dummies.

When we got back to the hotel a little later, I took a shower and as I finished and was putting on my boxers and t-shirt in the bathroom, I heard a bunch of laughing coming from the bedroom. I went out to say hello.

OK, OK, I confess: I enjoyed walking around in my boxers and t-shirt. Angelo was 41, Scott was 28, and Jeffery was 25: I was the youngest there, and Angelo and I had a little flirting thing going on by then anyway. I knew (a) there was no hot tub, (b) Jeffery was Angelo's boyfriend, and (c) I was not attracted to Jeffery at all, so my hardcore flirt/teasing with Angelo was somewhat limited.

So, anyway, I got dressed and the five us sat in the room talking for a bit then headed out to dinner at a brewhouse. During the course of the meal, Larry was busy flirting/talking to Scott and I was busy flirting/talking to Angelo. I tried to include Jeffery in the conversation as well, but it was a tad difficult. Let's just be nice and say "For amusement purposes only." You figure it out.

Once dinner was done, we bought a newspaper and found that Deep Impact was playing at The Orleans at 11:15PM. We went there, Angelo bought the tickets -- Larry paid for dinner. -- and we went inside. Wondering how we were going to sit but having no influence on the order, I found myself sitting between Angelo and Larry and with Larry sitting between me and Scott.

When the movie was over, around 1:30AM, we went back to the hotel and agreed to meet the next day.


Saturday morning came and Larry and I once again gambled at Fitzgerald's. This time, I lost $100 at the blackjack table. I'd won overall, but losing $100 in about an hour isn't a great feeling, so I quit blackjack and moved to the Roulette table. There, I turned $60 into $206. That more than made up for that yucky "I've lost" feeling .

So, anyway, we gambled some more then ended up going out to the slot machine shop where we met the three of them again. We'd already said we'd do something Saturday night before we said good-bye on Friday, but we hadn't determined what. Long story short, we decided to repeat the night before, dinner and a movie.

This time, though, my ending up not fully dressed when they arrived at the hotel was... well, there's no way to say it besides "calculated". When we left the store, Angelo made some little comment about me not being dressed when they got there. Larry'd made some comment about me going back to the room and undressing, and well, considering this was the last possible time for any sort of flesh showing flirting, I figured why not.

So, while Larry was gone gambling, I took off my clothes and slipped into something a little more comfortable... a pair of extra large boxers. I figured the way they were barely held up would be erotic, but then I figured my "love handles" would be too noticeable. Like I've said before, I don't go shirtless. I mean, I can go naked when the time calls for it, but shirtlessness emphasizes a gut that's just a little too big whereas going naked takes the emphasis to other things.

Anyway, I thought for a while and realized, along with the love handle thing, me standing around in a pair of boxers was a little too blatant. I mean, I needed an excuse as to why I was only in my boxers, and so, after a little thinking, I figured I'd get in the shower and be only in a towel when they arrived.

So, I showered and showered and showered... and they never came. I finally got out, put on the boxers, and tried to stay as wet as possible, figuring I could drop the boxers for a towel when I heard the door knock and would still look believably "just showered."

Time went on, and well, I started drying completely, like it or not. I wet my hair even, but it was useless: I was completely dry. So I got back in the shower, this time just to wet myself down, then got back out, back in my boxers, waiting... still trying to figure out the best "plan of action."

Someone was at the door!

And then it opened! It was Larry!

I couldn't very well explain how I was sophomorically trying to look wet, and instead, I said nothing about it. I just walked around in my boxers, talking to him about nothing in particular, waiting for them to arrive.

Five minutes or so later, another knock; it was them. I was dry, had no real excuse as to why I was near naked, but nevertheless opened the door in my boxers. Angelo and Jeffery made it inside when Larry jerked my underwear down. I quickly pulled them back up then got dressed starting about 45 seconds later. My erotic flirting didn't quite go as I'd planned, but I'm sure it was appreciated nonetheless.


We had dinner that night then returned to the hotel as we were all too tired to see another movie. The next day, yesterday, Larry and I gambled a bit more then headed back towards LA. On the way, we stopped at the store where we caught Angelo, Jeffery, and Scott. As we were expecting only Scott, we only brought him lunch from Wendy's. Rather, Larry only brought him lunch. It was cute flirting on Larry's part; in fact, I can't remember seeing Larry more ga ga over someone in recent history.

Anyway, we said good-bye and saw Angelo and Jeffery out to their car. A few minutes later, we said good-bye to Scott and were on our way. As Larry'd said earlier during the weekend, it would have been a lot more fun if Jeffery hadn't been there. I mean, it wasn't anything against him per se, but rather he added nothing and instead impeded. Had he not been there, who knows how things would have gone. Being there, he stopped things from going certain ways. Even beyond Angelo having to do Jeffery's homework and therefore being able to hang out less, Jeffery's presence just didn't fit in. He was, like I said, a Calvin Klein Asian waif model West Hollywood type, in the middle of four normal guys who happened to be gay.

Oh well, it was still the most fun trip to Vegas ever... and Larry did buy a slot machine. Hopefully, Angelo and Scott will come out to LA for a weekend before too long... then I can knock some sense (and self-worth) into Angelo.

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© 1998 Justin Clouse


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