Lazy, lazy weekend. Went out with Catherine on Friday; saw Turtle, et al, at the comedy club. Good comics, bad comics. Pretty much what I expected. Turtle did okay, but they Michael Moore'd him off the stage when he went way past his time. Once he gets over his nervousness, he's going to be pretty good at this.

Trying to decide what to do about the "guy who likes me." I just can't help thinking about the old Groucho Marx line, "I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member." I would never date anyone who would consider going out with someone like me. A little peek into the dark and twisted psyche of your host.

Still, when we said goodbye (he was at the comedy club, too) he did this whole tongue on my neck thing that, had he not been doing it in public, would have been really, really hot.

Then Catherine and I went out to dinner at a little Mexican place near me. I had such a good time. Hanging out with her is like hanging out with Mike used to be. Naturally, she's moving in a month. This is going to blow. She won't be around. Mike won't be around. Now all I need is for Steve to get a boyfriend and I won't have anyone to hang out with regularly. Luckily I've got the rest of my rugby boys, but I only go out with them every once in a while. Most of them either live in places that make it difficult for them to stay late in the city or they just run in different circles than I do.

Ah, well, this will force me to run in different circles, too.

Made it to the gym both days this weekend. Love that bike and Precor. Now, all I have to do is workout about two more hours a day and quit eating between now and September and I'll be in fighting shape for the fall season. Or dead. Tom-a-to . . . tom-ah-to.

Went over to Mike's on Saturday for a while. Watched The Browning Version which I had never seen all the way through. I think I'll eventually wind up like Albert Finney in that movie. And, my God, Julian Sands looked good. Not as hot as in A Room With a View (that was the ultimate hot skinny-dipping scene), but hot in that tweedy Oxford don sort of way.

Today was a nothing day. Was supposed to get together with Mike but that fell through. Did a little packing. Some reading. The usual.

I'm juggling a few books right now. Jean Cocteau's White Book; not in French, mind you. It's been too long since I've studied French to be able to pull that off. Ed McBain's Ice. So far a pretty good crime novel. Rainbow Mars, a horrible little piece of crap shit out by Larry Niven. As you can tell, I'm not really enjoying that one. I'm going to try to choke down one more chapter. If I can't, it's off to the gym's "library" with it. I'm also rereading Ripley Under Water by Patricia Highsmith. Not as good as The Talented Mr. Ripley, but still pretty amusing. In that dark, amoral sort of way.

I'm also doing a little research in Greek myths for the play I mentioned earlier and am doing some light reading about opera librettos. Or would it be libretti? Yeah, I'm betting it's libretti, too.

Anyway, I'm off to bed. The Puerto Ricans in my neighborhood finally seem to have stopped celebrating Puerto Rico Day or whatever it was; either that or they've been driven away by the garbage trucks that have been rumbling through. Got to hand it to the Puerto Ricans, they are a giving people. They are willing to share their music, their car horns, their screams of "Bouricano" with their neighbors, no matter what time of day or night. God bless each and every little one of them.