Sep. 7th, 2003

aruan: (downtownman)


My love for this picture? Pretty damn unholy. The shirt's a fantastic color on him, he's going through that eclectic neck bling stage, he still looks boyish underneath the tuff face scruff, but let's be serious, the main event here is that peppermint candy. Those colors melt off so fast, he must've just popped it in his mouth. It's this teasing, coy little flash of color drawing attention to his lovely mouth as good for things other than singing.

Rentboy by Joie

JC falls asleep with Justin curled around him. He dreams that Justin comes for him, like he always does, but different. They fuck and Justin drops his head to JC's shoulder and whispers, "JC." He kisses JC's neck and he says, "Stay."

When JC wakes up, Justin is still curled around him, snoring slightly in his sleep. JC rolls onto his side and wonders when his dreams got so small.


Justin has a tendency to do that to people, doesn't he?
aruan: (renegades)
Saw Camp last night, and those of you who know my anti-violence streak will be properly surprised to know it made me want to hit something. There's nothing more soul-grating and teeth-gnashing than pointless teenage angst. The soundtrack and yummy-looking lead boy kept me in my seat until the end, but that's hardly praise. My dinner with [livejournal.com profile] xalxuffasch afterward, however, went a long way to putting me in a better mood, existential shower crisis or not.

While the rest of my drinking habits' assessment was neither here nor there, this line is absolutely true: They're fine with "normal" guzzles like apple martinis, but every Libra secretly just wants Champagne, and lots of it. The fizz goes straight to your brain, man, it's the giddiest, loveliest alcohol-high ever.

Dude. This is a most kickass tuna sandwich I just made. Sliced up red onions, green peppers, whole wheat bread, tuna with spicy mustard and just half a spoonful of mayonnaise with a liberal dash of lemon, all sprinkled with black pepper. Okay, maybe a little more on the doused side, but there are few things that season better than ground black pepper. Mmm, sustenance.

Caught the last five minutes of an episode of Smallville on the WB. It would seem that Lex's basement has been converted to serve as some high-tech shrine to his one and only, even going so far as to admit it as an "obsession" complete with secretive, coy smiles. I'm happy to see this is still the gayest show ever. He's this delightful, new century step away from doodling Clark's name in his notebooks. Bet he's got some downright salacious wallpapers on his hard drive. ;)

Susie! In my town! God only knows what I'll do with her and [livejournal.com profile] go4it, but October 27th, eee! So psyched to meet you, hon.

Quote of the Day:

He can think about Lance without wanting to put the gun to his head. It surprises him, but he figures he's simply starting to get used to disappointment. Chris always rags him about that. "How can you be so fucking surprised every time you get fucked over, man?" he said, even back in the camp, after Noop left, after Joey escaped, after Gi died. "How can you act like you didn't see it coming?"

He never sees them coming, he never used to. He doesn't want to. It would be like knowing his own death. He wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

-Underworld by Wax Jism

I know exactly what JC means. There's no living under the guilty until proven innocent philosophy. I'd rather get hurt than live in fear or bitterness and yeah, it sucks when it happens, but the alternative is simply utterly unfeasible.

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