(WARNING, this blog entry contains a lot of NSFW references to homosexual sex and my desire for it)

New horizons made of cock!

But first, other news.

I have had my second one-on-one about the movie script I am writing, and it went just as well as the first. Boffo for me. Both instructors have been very interested in the plot and both have found the funny bits funny. They have had very little to say about improvements and overall seemed fairly impressed by it.

Plus, I now have evidence that other students are not getting the same pump-you-up rah-rah message as I am, and so bang goes the theory that they are that nice to everyone. I overheard a friend of mine say how the instructor had practically told her that she had to rewrite the whole thing, which is pretty freaking harsh.

So either I am a truly amazing writer, or I just haven’t had that particular instructor for my one on one yet.

I might just be good at this whole writing thing. In fact, there is a chance I might be EXCEPTIONALLY good at it. Which would be awesome, because I have always wanted to be a wild talent who fetches the big big bucks for my talents and, to be honest, on some level I have always felt I deserved it.

I mean, when your early childhood is filled with people telling you how brilliant you are, and then you’re a straight A student without even trying, you get the hint that you might just be special. And not “we are all special little snowflakes” special. Real world special.

Still, I don’t want to get cocky. This specialness is still something in progress, and I truly believe that too much belief in your own amazingness, as opposed to the amazingness of your output, is what kills artists and turns them into parodies of themselves with their best years behind them.

Have the biggest ego in the world, but base it on the quality of work and nothing else. And fight the idea that you are somehow better than others because of your higher status and income as hard as you can. If I ever lose my basic egalitarian humanism, I will be truly lost.

Might still happen though. Ya never know.

Today’s classes were fun. I had The Second Act, where for most of the class all we did was watch The Iron Giant from beginning to end. There was very little justification for this, but I don’t care. I got class credit for watching an amazing film that I love. Boffo THAT.

I actually hadn’t seen the movie from beginning to end since I watched it on DVD back in the early 2000’s, so it was a treat to see it projected up on the big screen in the Writing Theater. It’s a visually rich movie that really rewards the eyes at that size of projection. And what do you know, it’s one of my instructor’s favorite movies of all time.

How does THAT keep happening?

A lot of my fellow students cried at the super sad ending. I did not. Maybe that’s because I have seen it before, but then again, so had many of them. So I feel like it’s less of a “I’ve seen it before” thing as it is a “I am old and jaded and dead inside” thing.

It’s hard to be sad when you are so aware of how it turns out at the very end. I suppose age robs you of your ability to experience media in the moment like a young person does.

Then I had a nice little Subway + Purebread lunch, and talk with my fellow Acadian Ainsley for a while. It was only when talking with her alone that I realized how much I missed having a conversation at Acadian Speed. Nobody else talks quite as fast as we do, regardless of language.

Then I had TV History class, the bulk of which was taken up by watching a great documentary about Sid Caeser and his heyday as having the funniest, sharpest show on television in the 50’s. What made it so funny? Check out the writer’s room : Carl Reiner. Woody Allen. Norman Lear. Mel Brooks. Larry Gelbart, creator of M*A*S*H*. All writing an hour and a half of brilliant sketch comedy every week for 38 weeks of the year. Together. In the same room. With Sid. The mind boggles.

All of them learned to write comedy working for Sid, and all of them have gone on to have a HUGE impact on the world.

After that, I came home and started blogging.

But it’s tomorrow that I am going to talk about, because tomorrow is the day I make my first foray into a gay bath house, and I am very excited over it. And, of course, terrified. My social anxiety has a lot of say about going into this new strange environment full of strangers, and it’s doing its best to say it.

But I ain’t listening. I have a gay bath house literally around the block from my school, and I am going to take advantage of it. I am going to jumpstart my sex life and maybe even get to see what life is like when I am not chronically undersexed.

Just the thought of all that cock just waiting for me to suck on or be fucked by makes me feel like a prime bull in his stall, restless because he can smell cow cunt. But it sure as hell ain’t cunt I am after. It’s cocks, men’s asses, and mouths. I am hoping that I will get extra attention for being “fresh meat”, but I am not counting on it because I know gay men can be pretty lookist and sizeist.

But surely there won’t be a lack of dudes looking to get their cocks sucked. Especially because this place has GLORY HOLES, which neatly gets around certain prejudices.

I’m getting horny just thinking about that. Plus they have a red cedar sauna, and I love dry saunas. Very good for my skin. And of course, there’s the gym.

Basically, my plan is to go there, sign up (your have to get a membership to make things all legal), ask the boy at the desk what I need to know about local etiquette, and then get a Standard Room ($20) to use as a home base, then…. explore.

Wish me fuck, er, luck.

I will maybe see you nice folks tomorrow.

I might be…. too busy (!!).