preferably moist and sweet, with thick cream-cheese frosting

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a common belief in our culture is that people can change for the better; this notion has served as the foundation for countless stories, books, songs, plays and movies that have nourished our collective psyche over the millennia.

me?  i believe the idea that people can change is mostly bullshit--and understand, i haven't come to this belief because i'm a cynic (although god knows that's true), but because, having been a steadfast, careful observer of human nature for most of my life, most everything and everybody i've observed in the course of said life has served to reinforce this belief.

for instance, i believe that if you're a go-getter early in life, chances are you'll achieve your goals later in life; on the contrary, if you're lazy early in life, then--unless some major external influence comes into play before it's too late--you'll probably be a loser when you grow up.

and to take it a step further, if you're also emotionally stunted, then chances are no matter how much "success" you achieve later in life you'll always be unhappy, no matter how hard you try to be otherwise.

basically what i'm trying to say here is, i believe that your cake is baked relatively early, and if as an adult you turn out as, say, a chocolate cake, then trying to transform yourself into a carrot cake is probably gonna be an exercise in futility.

nevertheless, and even having said all that, i periodically throughout my life engage in an epic, exhausting struggle to transform myself into the carrot cake i've always wanted to be.

i now find myself in the midst of one of those struggles--and who knows, maybe this one'll be the last before i give up and once and for all and surrender to my dark, solitary nature.

in any event, that's why i'm not posting much (or doing much of anything else) these days--i'm preoccupied with other things.

wish me luck.

i couldn't make this stuff up, folks

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so last night i'm in an apartment in silverlake.  there's a knock at the door and since i'm closest i open it and i can't believe my eyes, because standing there is the last person i expect to see.

i probably shouldn't be that surprised, though--we always seem to run into each other in weird places, but it had been awhile.  and besides, the timing....i mean, talk about uncanny.

he hasn't changed at all since last we met--sleek, darked-eyed, handsome as ever--hell, he's barely changed since the first time i laid eyes on him almost fifteen years ago.  unlike me, he evinces no surprise, merely flashing that knowing grin and saying, "big mike--long time; how are ya?"

after i get over the initial shock, i pull him into the apartment, give him a hug, tell him, "you're not gonna believe this," and launch into my tale.  he laughs, remembering along with me, filling in details i'd forgotten.

as i leave, i tell him to make sure to pay a visit to my blog to read the story i'd written about him just the night before--and, of course, to give my best to mario.

because the statute of limitations has expired

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[this one's from shortly after i came out, which is the point i want you to remember as you read the following.]


hot august night, after-bar and we're all out back in the parking lot, when who should approach me but two of the cutest lil' buzzed-headed cholos you or i have ever seen, decked out in identical blindingly-white wifebeaters tucked into identical, impeccably-pressed khaki work-pants complete with identical fat leather belts, chain-wallets and highly-polished doc martens.

picking out the one i want is tough, but i finally settle on mario, only to be told that they only come as a pair; i.e., if i want mario, i gotta take cousin luis as well.

this throws me for a minute, because what the fuck am i supposed do with two of 'em? [again, sorry--i was new]

we walk back to my place, where we commence to get naked and those two sweet-faced boys teach me tricks i never knew.

later, i'm laying in bed, trying to recover. mario's getting dressed while luis showers.

realizing i'd like nothing more than to fall asleep between 'em, i ask him if they wanna stay the night.

"nah," he says, "school tomorrow."

"oh yeah--you in college?"

he snorts as he pulls on his socks and says, "college--are you serious? high school."

high school. jesus fucking christ almighty.

"um, can i ask how old you are?"

casually, without even looking up: "sixteen."

"sixteen?! i thought--i mean, if you're sixteen how the fuck did you get in the bar?"

he laughs, ties his laces. "dude, we weren't in the bar--we met you in the parking lot, remember?"

i grope for some lifeline that'll redeem me from hellfire and prosecution. all i can come up with is his cousin, who's presently in my shower.

"luis--please tell me he's not sixteen, too."

mario finally looks up, flashes that smile. "nah."

i relax a little.

"he's fifteen."

i don't know about you

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but nothing pisses me off more than to get invested in some blog and then have the motherfucker drop off the radar for no other reason than because its author suddenly finds better things to do than post regularly.

that's not the the case here; the truth is far different (and far less interesting, trust me).

i'll get back to you soon, i promise.