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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Boys and Boyish Demons
Rich-ahd, Totally Gay Richard, or Just Richard? Rich-ahd was my professor for the molecular methods lab and eukaryotic transcription classes I took for the bio part of the bio degree. He is a slight, boyish Brit with the most charming accent. He became Rich-ahd to distinguish him from: Totally Gay Richard. Totally Gay Richard was my microbiology lab T.A. and he worked in a lab with Sophistica. Totally Gay Richard was the kind of guy that you just looked at and knew. I mean, you look up the word "flaming," and there's a little picture of Totally Gay Richard. Totally Gay Richard, however, turned out not to be gay. According, that is, to the woman he surprised everyone by marrying. (But that could be a feint--and I speak from experience.) Anyway, this one is about Just Richard. (And from now on, I will just call him Richard, okay?) I met Richard when I first started at the studio, something like 3 years ago. He was single, cute, hyperkinetic. He has a degree in theater arts--which is normally quite a useless thing to have, but he's actually put his degree to use, having done tech work for Disney and for various lighting companies in and around town. He's a potter. He's a really nice guy with a very sarcastic sense of humor that he has managed to learn how to keep under control. I like him quite a bit, for quite a few reasons, not the least of which is that he doesn't feel the need to be some version of Macho Jerk. Shortly before Max and I were married, Richard got engaged to Karla. They moved in together. And then the trouble began. Richard had to quit the studio in part because Karla wanted him to spend more time with her. (And, man, if someone thinks you should give up your art for them, run. Run fast like a bunny.) But this is already threatening to get all short story long, so let me long story short some of it: Richard and Karla were supposed to get married. Richard bought a house in anticipation. Karla had a meltdown. Now they're not together. Richard came by the studio a couple of weeks ago, and, just by chance, I happened to be there. We sat and talked for a couple of hours. (And it was one of those conversations where we both kept saying, "I should go--" but then you keep talking.) He told me about the whole thing with Karla and mentioned in passing some rebound girl (so that part's taken care of). I told him about having divorced Max. And, after a while, he really did have to go home to feed his dogs, so he left after issuing the usual, "Let's get together sometime!" And this afternoon? Richard called. I was on my way to the gym, so I invited him. (He almost agreed, but then declined because he was worried about the dogs--which have become a sticking spot between him and Karla.) Instead, he invited me bike riding. I was on my way to lift, and was going to forego cardio as I'm running a fever. And just to long story short the supposedly short story: We're going bike riding tomorrow evening. (He's going to lend me one of his bikes.) On It Goes, The Search I suppose we'll see what happens with the Richard. Did You Actually Go To They Gym, Sick As You Are, Sublingua? Yep. I went. And for once, I'm going to write about some of the guys at the gym. Some of my all-time favorites (both good and bad) were there tonight, and I'm going to write about some of them using the names that I have, over time, come up with: Honolulu Fire Department: This guy is one of my personal favorites. He is a few inches shorter than me and has this perfect physique. He is focused but observant and has managed to avoid that "Leave me the hell alone. I'm an asshole" look that focused guys often have. I call him Honolulu Fire Dept. because he often works out in a H.F.D t-shirt, which made me love him. I'm all about fire dept. guys and the love of fire dept. guys. Like a lot of post-9/11 Americans, I think fire fighters are heroes. Mr. Kissy-Kiss: Just to swing the other way on the scale, I despise this guy. Mr. Kissy-Kiss is the little guy in every gym who lifts too heavy and has atrocious form and technique. Max once saw him nearly crush his own skull trying to do chest presses with too much weight and no spotter. This guy is a Darwin Award waiting to happen. I call him Mr. Kissy-Kiss because I once saw him kiss his own bicep. Mini-Kiss: Mini-Kiss is the Mini-Me version of Mr. Kissy-Kiss. This guy is...hard to explain. I first noticed him because his eyebrows are waxed into these perfect arches. I seriously think that he must be doing drag shows on the weekend. I don't know how he came to be known as Mini-Kiss (except that they are alike in build--Mini-Kiss being somewhat smaller than Mr. Kissy-Kiss.) Unlike Mr. Kissy-Kiss, Mini-Kiss is a relatively serious lifter and takes care with his form and technique. Red Power: Red Power hasn't been around in a while. I miss him. He is this Native American guy who always wears a t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan "Red Power 2000" to the gym. Other than that, he's pretty nondescript. He is one of the few guys I've ever considered talking to. I think a "Hey, Red Power!" greeting might be in order one day. The Dynamic Duo: This is a relatively new to the gym pair of foreign exchange students who go about their workout while chatting happily away in Japanese. When I'm working out near them, I keep my headphones on but with the music off so that I can try to listen in on some of their conversation. It's a lot of idle chatter. One of them has the most fetching topknot. One day they were joined by the most beautiful Japanese woman I have ever seen in my life. She didn't seem all that interested in the gym or in either of the guys really, but I certainly enjoyed her visit. The Boy's Friend: The Boy's Friend is just that. He's a friend of The Boy. I have never been introduced to him, and he works out with the focused intensity that I aspire to. He's at the gym almost every time I am. He does that thing with his eyes that I often try to do when I'm around people I don't know and don't care to know. You know that eye thing I'm talking about, right? That thing where you make your eyes as dead as you possibly can? That thing. I still like him though, and recently he has begun to make eye-contact with me. So those are a few of the memorable boys. (Not that too many memorable boys happen along, but I will keep you updated on those who do manage to distinguish themselves.)
More lies:
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