Deep trouble

Oh my what a fuck up! Who thought it was a good idea to buy a whole litre of k.... I'm paying for it now, haven't been this sick in a long time. As rock bottoms come this one is pretty sore. My liver is screaming, my stomach is shot to bits and It's the best I can do to just lie here and sweat. When will I ever learn?

The Best News

May (the cute young doctor from the Outpatients department) just called. Apparently the CT scan and blood tests both came back completely negative. She speculated that the pain I have been having might be from scar tissue or an infection which is amazing news. Really amazing. I'm not sure quite how to take it although it's all good. Mum and Dad, P and D all got a text straight away telling them the good news and now I'm just not sure if I should have mentioned it in the first place before getting it checked out. The creeping sensation of creating a drama out of a mole hill is coming on..

The dull ache under my left arm (in the same spot that I had the lump which turned out to be my cancer last time) developed over the weekend. These things always happen at the weekend? It woke me up both Saturday and Sunday morning. Although I'm not sure if I can feel any lumps I thought it was best to get myself off down to the outpatients ward this morning to get it checked out. Funny thing was that when I did get there this morning the feeling was nearly all but gone. 

Being me I managed to get a full nights dancing in at DT before I went. My God I'm paying for it now. My knees are sore and my feet are throbbing. P got stuck into me last night for being irresponsible, probably rightly too. Still its nothing a good nights sleep and a decent meal wont sort out. It's ten to nine and I just had a bowl of Cous-Cous and a Tuna steak and I'm tucked up in my pit between about ten pillows. 

The results of the scan should be back by the end of the week.  Maybe there is nothing to worry about. The thought of going through all that Chemotherapy shit again just fills me with dread. Hopefully I'm being a bit of a hypochondriac but there is so much familiarity in the pain that it is scaring the hell out of me. 

R the young Spanish boy I met at the sauna he other day has been on at me to come over and stay. The creeping feeling that I should tell him about my HIV status is beginning to get to me. Its that same old thing, when do I say? One part of me thinks that the longer I leave it the worse the surprise is going to be. The other part of me thinks that so long as I'm safe it really isn't the end of the world if I keep quiet. I'm sure that I will sort it out in my own time. The fact that my night last night was like a slag-fest is quite another matter. DT and I had a little reunion in Vauxhall up on the hills. Made the acquaintance of a very charming little 19 year old called John K there too, and the club offered up a couple of sweaty G fueled encounters with various Brazilian hookers too. Feeling suitably dirty and sullied now. That is the sign of a good night out after all? 

Mum an Dad came up for lunch on Sunday. We went to the Formosa Street Dinning rooms in Maida Vale. The food was fantastic and really good value but my the service was sullen. It ended up being a bit of a struggle on account of the amount of K I had munched the night before and that morning walking round Primrose Hill with CG and D. Still it wasn't quite the car wreck it could have been..

Good news

Good news to impart.. The production company have asked me to do a second screen test. This time they want a longer piece to camera
scripted by me talking about the building material of my choice. I've got to meet up with the director next week and get it done. 

Im getting quite excited about the whole thing now, hope it works out?

Ready for my close up..

So I just got in from doing my first screen test ever. It was for a production company who have been approached by BBC2 to do a Grand Designs type high brow Interiors show. They wanted to show one of my current projects.. however as any cunt knows my rather tragic solo interior design career came a bit of a cropper at the end of last year due to my abject laziness and rather substantial drug habit so I took them round P's house. Although its a good six years since I finished the house it still stands up as a decent project with enough sparkle to impress. Four floors of bachelor pad sexy right in the middle of London's trendy Notting Hill.

H, the director who was the one doing the filming for the test was really nice and put me at my ease. It was a surprise how relaxed I was in front of the camera and he seemed totally pleased with the waffle I was issuing forth. They are going to present it to the BBC tomorrow so fingers crossed. It would be great to relaunch my Interiors career off the back of a bit of TV exposure.. Anyway work at EI is keeping me more than busy at the moment so whatever happens will be cool. Im looking after the devil dog C this weekend which will be fun. Mum and Dad are going to come up too so hopefully the weather will hold? Maybe we will go hang out in Regents Park

How easy am I?

So I'm at work today, it's been a pretty good week in as much as I didn't fuck anything up royally which at the moment counts as good or good enough at least. Facebook is chirping in the back ground on my laptop. RG messages me all flirty like the old whore he is.. Cut a long story short he asks;

"Wen we gonna hook up" (sic) and in a flash I'm sat with a hard-on saying yes whenever you want like some sex starved cunt. So my question to myself is how easy am I? I mean was there any call? It's like any old fucker that does not bother calling me from one month to the next knows that I am a good bet for a jump at a moments notice. No wonder everybody thinks I'm a slag, all my ex boyfriends included. Not great for my self esteem. Why the fuck do I bother. And the really daft thing is I bet it never comes off. Either I will fall asleep or he wont call and the whole thing will leave a nasty tang in my mouth, for all the wrong reasons. Maybe next time I might manage to play it a bit cool and be, like, ever so slightly stand offish? Chance would be a fine thing. 

So one thing clear to anyone bothering to notice (That's just me then?) that my libido has come back with a vengeance since the the chemotherapy made me dead from the waist down. My mojo has risen. Not quite to its full previous glory. I'm not bothered by the desperate urge to masturbate all the time like I used to be, rather the thought is there even if the flesh isn't quite up to speed yet. Don't get me wrong when push comes to shove the old fella is well up to the job in hand it just needs for there to be someone else in the room. This was never a problem before the cancer but seems to be taking a hell of a time to return to the way it was. Maybe it wont ever come back to normal, I could just be getting old. God forbid. I probably manage to come about once a week now rather than three times a day. Still I can't say its too much of a problem and at least I get a bit of head space to think about other things. 

This relative calm in the storm that was my old lust must be a good opportunity to focus my attention on finding a nice little boyfriend rather than chasing round after old ally cats like RG? Who wants to be with the biggest slag in town? Not Mr Right that's for sure. 

Gay cliche

Gay Cliche alert. Just got in from a few hours at one of London's finest (sic) saunas. Despite struggling home after a shitty day at work due to not getting a wink of sleep last night. 

D came over all in a tizzy about that thing he had to see the police about today. Bless him he was so hyped up and vitriolic after being thoroughly wound up by the Babylon. Still he has had a bad experience of them trying to fit him up for that other thing a couple of years back. Poor guy, and he isn't the sharpest tool. Sounds like he handled it OK. I just didn't want him to get all conspiratorial with me as that's the first step to it getting out to be honest. Last thing I need is a circle jerk about how cleaver the whole thing was (although undoubtedly it did have flair and was extremely effective by all accounts). My take on the whole thing was that I had absolutely nothing to do with it, neither did he and the less said the better. Sent him away with a little bit of a flea in his ear, then felt shitty for doing it. Still I'm just very mindful of this thing blowing up in my face and the less D is running about crowing about how he fought the law and won the better in my book. 

Any road up back to the self esteam slaughter that was my tragic troll round Waterloos premier men's health spa... Got hooked up with R a very sweet and unusually good looking (given my usual pull a pig predilection). Nice tidy little dancers body, being a real deal dancer. Sleepy siesta eyelids and a penis that whilst not exactly a 10/10  was charming and playful and crooked like mine. I do have a moment of brotherly affection when I find a sharp deviation in the shaft. Uncut and smelling lovely and Iberian like salty ham. Sadly he was a little bit inexperienced and I didn't have my corrupt the youth hat on. Really needs G to get filthy on some kids ass and eat it like a messy bowl of pasta. 

Lots of lingering kisses and hand holding in the corner of the TV room like some free to all floor show, interspersed with sweaty wanks and grunts and fingers up ass (my personal bette noir). Still he was sweet so I didn't spit the dumby right away and feigned interest with a stagy moan or two. Could I fucking cum though? No in a word. He did twice though so that's good. 

We traded numbers and I even fired off a text to his newly revealled number, but fuckity knows if he will get back.. Something however leads me to suspect he might pop up soon?

Must also remember to call K after answering the phone to her on a rather big bumpm of Ket last night, something tells me she revealled the babies sex a male.. But dont quote me. 

03.33.. That's what time the clock says. I've gone and done it again. Got wrecked on a school night. Fuck me its going to be a difficult day tomorrow trying to style this one out. Funny thing is a few years ago I would be really beating myself up right now. In the wee small hours in my dark flat panicking about how the fuck I was going to get to sleep and feeling shame at having got myself into this situation. Now apart from not looking forward to the physical feeling of dragging myself out of bed at silly o'clock I'm pretty ambivalent about the prospect of a day at work with very little sleep. 

Maybe this is a sign that I am incredibly irresponsible, I kind of suspect it is. Somehow the whole added value of risk in pulling off a walk of shame into the office fills me with a slight sense of anticipation. A little vicarious thrill to be gleaned. For Gods sake when will I grow up?

One mans tragic struggle with the inevitability of his own shortcomings.