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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805</id><updated>2012-04-15T23:07:27.284-04:00</updated><title type="text">Lucien Lucien</title><subtitle type="html">A young man's erotic journey from jejunity to maturity.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/LucienLucien" /><feedburner:info uri="lucienlucien" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/" /><logo>http://creativecommons.org/images/public/somerights20.gif</logo><feedburner:browserFriendly>This is an XML content feed. It is intended to be viewed in a newsreader or syndicated to another site, subject to copyright and fair use.</feedburner:browserFriendly><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-114153920196500136</id><published>2006-03-05T00:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T01:13:22.660-05:00</updated><title type="text">Why, what's this?  A blog?  How queer.</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://static.flickr.com/31/96138242_97cb72ee44_b.jpg" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.flickr.com/31/96138242_97cb72ee44_m.jpg" width="240" height="180" align="right" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Life can change ever so much over the time that one forgets to blog.  I suppose I'll go point by point, to patch over the odd points between then and now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am no longer close to being in love with Ren.  I talked to him, found him incredibly kind and understanding, and now he and I are incredibly dear friends.  I am exceddingly thankful.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hardy and I haven't spoken since I broke up with him.  Now that I've had a considerable time away from him I wish I hadn't ended it on such bad terms, as he is a great person and I would be glad to have him as a friend someday.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My 17-year-old friend in California is now dating the incredible man she's in love with, and their parents are getting used to it.  I think they figured "hey, at least she's/he's not a lesbo/fag."  The two of them are planning to come visit New York soon, and I'll be thrilled to see them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My mother is quietly becoming more accepting of my homo-ness, and "the gays" in general.  I told her about my idea for a play which is similar to the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Shepard"&gt;Matthew Shepard&lt;/a&gt; story, and she said that she loved the idea.  I've played two gay characters in plays in the past few months, and she has supported me.  I don't think she would be ready for me to bring home a man, but with hope she will eventually.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bella and David are not dating, though they remain friends.  Bella has been seeing someone else for a while and it is quite serious.  David is still single, but is going to a new college where there may be new prospects for him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I think that pretty much ties it up.  I am still very single, and have been on two dates since breaking up with Hardy last September.  They both were horrible, the latest worse than the one before.  My hope is beginning to wane...  not that I ever had much faith in men.  Blergh.  I'm obviously a tad moody/sad, which is not a mood to write entertaining non-fiction in.  I shall leave you now, but with all intents on returning and divulging more juicy details of this single faggot's college life in Brooklyn.&lt;br /&gt;Adieu, and thanks for reading!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-114153920196500136?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/114153920196500136/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=114153920196500136&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/114153920196500136" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/114153920196500136" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2006/03/why-whats-this-blog-how-queer.html" title="Why, what's this?  A blog?  How queer." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112806009977097597</id><published>2005-09-30T01:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T02:01:39.783-04:00</updated><title type="text">All Hell Breaks Loose In 5... 4... 3...</title><content type="html">At this point, I could write the script for a soap opera using only events from my and my friend's lives.  I finally got it into my thick head that it would never work with Hardy and broke up with him.  He was somewhat devastated as he "didn't see it coming".  He's an idiot, really.  Over the past week I've also been spending time with Ren.  I am embarrassingly in love with him, and I don't use the L word lightly.  Ren may know that I like him, but he has no idea just how much I feel for him.  I have cried over him so many lonely nights.  Sometimes tears come out if I just see his picture.  Only one other person knows just how deeply I feel for Ren.  This person is Jorge, and he has informed me that if I don't tell Ren my feelings for him, Jorge will tell him for me.  Jorge is pretty smart because he realizes, unlike my blind self, that I can't go on much longer without knowing if there's even a possibility that Ren may like me back.  The next time Jorge sees Ren, he will tell him.  Depending on the answer I get, I will either have a nervous breakdown, or a nervous breakdown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, my 17 year-old friend in California is in love with a boy who loves her back immensely, yet their parents disapprove of them being within poking distance of each other.  He's a hunk.  She's gorgeous.  He's wonderful.  She's amazing.  He's crazy in love.  She's crazy in love.  Their parents are just crazy.  I'm trying to give her moral support and advice the best I can, but it's kinda hard to hug someone who lives 2,700 miles away.  Soon they're going to decide what to do, and I'm not expecting that they'll choose to do what their parents tell them to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend, who quite conveniently lives in the same city I do, is dating a man she's beginning to despise immensly, and in love with a man who, well, I'll explain.  Bella, my best friend; and this guy, David, have some history.  They've been dancing around each other for a long while now.  The pattern generally goes as such: they'll kiss, they'll not talk for days, then they'll do a little more that just kiss, then they'll get scared and just exist around each other as friends, until they kiss again.  Apparently at one point they talked and decided not to pursue a relationship.  I would just say they're idiots for not allowing themselves to do what they both want to, but I don't know the reasons why they made that decision so I'll stay out of the way.  I do know that Bella's getting more and more lovesick for him; and David is feeling the same for her.  But for some reason, the more they want to love each other, the more they convince themselves they can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now since it's MY blog, I'm going to talk about MY life now.  I auditioned for a play going on at my college.  I got a small part in their rendition of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_Town"&gt;Our Town&lt;/a&gt;.  There were quite a few students from the school's directing class present at the auditions for the show, and one of them came up to me after my audition and asked if I would like to audition for her show.  Her show is her final project for class and she is putting on &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Exit"&gt;No Exit&lt;/a&gt;.  I auditioned, and later got an email saying she cast me in the LEAD role.  This will be my first lead role, and the first time I've ever had to memorize more than two pages of lines - this show is 50 pages of lines.  I'm thrilled and terrified all at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So shows and love is basically all the major events in my life, and it's all building up in intensity quite hastily.  Hence the title of this post.  And now my inner drama queen is all tuckered out, and I must go snuggle up to my stuffed creature (named Ba-Ba) down under my warm covers on this chilly night.  I'm wishing that I could snuggle up to Ren, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112806009977097597?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112806009977097597/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112806009977097597&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112806009977097597" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112806009977097597" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/09/all-hell-breaks-loose-in-5-4-3.html" title="All Hell Breaks Loose In 5... 4... 3..." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112754275850578775</id><published>2005-09-24T01:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-24T02:20:27.333-04:00</updated><title type="text">Eating too much and thoughts of God.</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P5029516_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P5029516_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I am just a total slacker ladies.  I was supposed to do homework, buy my galpal a birthday present, breakup with my boyfriend, bake some brownies... so many plans and I did NONE of them.  What did I do?  I sat around and &lt;i&gt;ate&lt;/i&gt; like the fatty I am.  I just ate, watched some TV while I ate, and listened to a podcast while I ate.  If Lucien here ain't careful, she's gonna turn into a massive lump of chocolate lard, you know like the ones you see in the tabloids.  Oy vey, what I am doing talking about myself in the third person.  Well, I did nothing of interest today, so we'll just pretend it's yesterday since stuff happened then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P5029507_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P5029507_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So &lt;i&gt;today&lt;/i&gt; (wink wink) I had my wonderfully interesting ancient history class.  We talked about the Egyptians and all their smarts, the building of the Pyramids, and how they figured that the dead need to have their fun too.  Then I had my break which consisted of eating, chain smoking, and hanging out with my friend in the office of the school's newspaper.  Next was my art class, from which I got a project that I have to have done by Monday... easy shit, it's just a matter of doing it.  After that I had biology lab... ew ew ew ew EW!  I love biology, but this class is hell... it's two and a half hours long with no break.  They try to cram so much into you all at once, it just makes my head hurt.  And there's a test at the beginning and the end every day...  ew ew ew.  Enough about the grossness.&lt;br /&gt;My boyfriend - Hardy, the one I'm supposed to break up with as soon as it's convenient - came to pick me up after I was done with classes.  I chose to have us eat and hang out with my loud Puerto Rican friends just to irritate him.  I love my Rican friends to death but I know that they can irritate the hell out of some people, so I use them to my full advantage.  I'm evil, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P5171791_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P5171791_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been thinking a lot about the concept of God lately, and my ancient history class is just fueling that thought.  I was born in Oregon to a Jewish mother, raised by a far-right conservative Christian father until I was 14 when the parents finally divorced and my mother took me to New York and back to Judaism.  I thus have a rather skewed view of God, having seen so many different versions that were all said to be the only right one.  Over the past year I've been distancing myself from religion in an attempt to find some grounding.  In the past few months I've been weeding out the truth from the lies and beginning to piece together a picture of just what this higher power called "god" is.  All I've really figured out is that it's there.  I know for me that there is someone out there who could be called God.  Now you may say that there's not and that's fine.  &lt;br /&gt;This god probably isn't the same one that George Bush refers to, but if he is then God is horribly misrepresented.  I really don't know anything, but I am a truth-seeker.  I'm at a point where I want to hear everything I can about what everyone thinks about the concept of "god".  I want to hear everything that anyone has to say about their belief because I know that anyone who truly believes in something must have valid, thought-out reasons for believing what they do.  So if you're a thinking person and you believe that aliens are in some form "God", I want to hear why.  I just have a thirst to know everything.  Despite how I may have allowed myself to be misled earlier on in life, I've always had an inherent sense for truth.  I can pick out and recognize truth when I'm exposed to it, if I allow myself to see things for what they really are.  I want to hear everything because every so often something rings true for me.  Above all else I'm seeking the truth, and I have a steady assurance that I will find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anywhozenhowzen, this is already far too long, and I should go sleep.  Good night everyone, please &lt;a href="mailto&amp;#58;lucienlucien&amp;#64;gmail&amp;#46;com"&gt;email me&lt;/a&gt; with your thoughts, say hi, whatever - just don't be a stranger.  I love you all very much!  Toodles!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112754275850578775?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112754275850578775/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112754275850578775&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112754275850578775" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112754275850578775" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/09/eating-too-much-and-thoughts-of-god.html" title="Eating too much and thoughts of God." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112711036744405089</id><published>2005-09-19T01:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T02:12:47.450-04:00</updated><title type="text">College is no duh.</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/_9046203_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/_9046203_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I started school.  I'm a journalism major at a college that has a &lt;i&gt;private beach&lt;/i&gt;.  How awesome is that?  But the recent immersion in my collegiate studies is the reason I haven't been posting nearly often enough.  For anyone interested, the drama with Ren and Hardy continues on.  I'm still terribly in love with Ren, and Hardy is getting more and more attached to me.  I'm planning a nervous breakdown sometime soon.  Probably after mid-terms.  Anyway darlings, I must go now.  I have to sleep to get up early tomorrow for school.  I'll leave you with some of my mind's pondering.  'Till I see you again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;when nothing satisfies you&lt;br /&gt;loneliness fades every hue&lt;br /&gt;sun sets, subdued&lt;br /&gt;disappear, conclude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;liberate burdens borne&lt;br /&gt;arise and freely mourn&lt;br /&gt;sun sets, adorned&lt;br /&gt;unloved, scorned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enveloped by unsullied mist&lt;br /&gt;nearer by infidelity kissed&lt;br /&gt;sun sets, resisted&lt;br /&gt;entranced, existed &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;through time and space pale&lt;br /&gt;see foundations frail&lt;br /&gt;sun sets, veiled&lt;br /&gt;diminish, exhaled&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112711036744405089?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112711036744405089/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112711036744405089&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112711036744405089" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112711036744405089" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/09/college-is-no-duh.html" title="College is no duh." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112588178964811913</id><published>2005-09-04T19:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T21:05:26.390-04:00</updated><title type="text">White sheets and Latin lovers.  Ok, lover.</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/15.AL1205W.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/15.AL1205W.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It makes my head spin that there are thousands of American refugees trying to live wherever they can in the wake of a storm that devastated thousands of square miles which this government shamefully neglected to prepare for and still has yet to adequately respond to.  There are people opening up their houses to total strangers who now have no homes or jobs for the foreseeable future.  I am for the first time &lt;i&gt;unexpectedly&lt;/i&gt; disappointed in this administration.  This failure has nothing to do with political party, only the sheer incompetence of these elected officials.  But enough about that, I'm sure you all know everything I could say already.  Suffice to say that my heart goes out to all the victims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/_90462111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/_90462111.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I spent the night at Hardy's flat for the first time last night. For any new readers, Hardy is the boyfriend and Ren is the secret love.  But we're not getting in to Ren in this post.  At least I don't think we will be.  Anywho, yes I spent the night with Hardy and the dog he's keeping for his neighbour until she comes back from vacation.  It was pretty much exactly what I expected it to be.  Then again I rarely have improbable expectations.  I won't bore or gross you out with the details.  I'll just say that it was lovely, despite being at times awkward.  &lt;br /&gt;Though I will say is that I actually slept there.  I never fall asleep if I'm in my own bed, or alone.  For instance, my trip to Washington D.C. with my family last year.  The only time I slept out of the entire week was the day I chose to do my own thing.  I slept in the hotel room while they were all out, then made up a fantastic story about where I went all day.  See, I think it's an issue of safety.  I don't feel safe with anyone else around, thus I don't sleep and make myself vulnerable.&lt;br /&gt;But I slept in Hardy's arms.  I've known him for a week and a half, and I apparently feel safer around him than I do anyone else.  I've only ever slept at one other person's house, guess who - Ren, the secret love.  (New reader: Ren doesn't know that he's the secret love, we're just friends.)  So I slept peacefully in the arms of my boyfriend for the first time, with a small dog named Amy lying on top of my leg, while trying not to think of the secret love.  For godsakes, I can't make this shit up.  He woke up up in the morning, insisted on kissing me despite that I had morning breath (aww), and we went to get some breakfast.  I walked with him to his job, went home, ran errands, came back home, and here I am this evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well guys and gals, it's been lovely.  Thanks for reading, come back soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112588178964811913?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112588178964811913/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112588178964811913&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112588178964811913" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112588178964811913" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/09/white-sheets-and-latin-lovers-ok-lover.html" title="White sheets and Latin lovers.  Ok, lover." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112564359939791046</id><published>2005-09-02T01:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-03T03:55:03.626-04:00</updated><title type="text">The Secret Drama</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P5302447%20copy%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P5302447%20copy%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tonight I got a cold taste of the gay monoculture.  I went to a bar/club in the city (Manhattan, which us new yorkers just call "the city", because it is, of course, the only city) and there I got fairly uncomfortable.  I was there with my shall-we-say &lt;i&gt;boyfriend&lt;/i&gt; Hardy (see previous posts) and despite that I was there with him, I felt underdressed in my cargo pants and t-shirt.  I felt conspicuous with my black nail polish, sub-par with my unruly haircut, and dirty with my... well... &lt;i&gt;dirty&lt;/i&gt; yet comfortable shoes.  The looks I got from various people said that I didn't fit in there, and no, I didn't.  I don't fit into that scene and I hope I never do.  Nevertheless while I was there trying to enjoy being with my &lt;i&gt;boyfriend&lt;/i&gt; and getting some drinks, I was all too conspicuous and uncomfortable.  It seemed as if people were thinking "What is a trashy boy like him (me) doing with a hottie like him (Hardy)?"  After a drink or two I warmed up to the place, some of Hardy's friends came in and I stopped feeling like the odd one out.  But I won't forget how I felt there, almost like I wasn't truly "gay" enough for the scene.  And as I said before, I hope I never am "gay" enough for that scene.  I'm perfectly happy being my own kind of black-fingernail-polish unruly-hair scruffy-clothes gay guy.  Even though the black fingernail polish isn't really me, I'm enjoying it for the temporary thing it is.  And what's endearing me about Hardy is that he (the hottie that he is) likes me as I am, whomever I choose to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P5302553%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P5302553%20copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, speaking of the Hardy drama.  He doesn't know it's a drama, only I do.  Think of it as one of those reality television shows.  He asked me the other day to be his boyfriend.  Normally I wouldn't agree to such a "status" only having been dating him for a week, but it felt like there was a general understanding: We're both love starved, let's cut the crap and get to it.  I do not mean sex, just lovin.  We haven't had sex yet, thankfully.  All the dates that I have sex with in the first two weeks always go to shit.  For example, I've never dated anyone for more than two weeks because I always have sex with them in the first week and we always end it in the second week.  I would really like this thing with Hardy to last because he is a truly nice guy, on top of all his other good qualities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet to my dismay, when I kissed Hardy tonight, Ren's face flashed into my head for a brief second.  Ren's face came into my head again when a mutual friend asked if it's alright for her to introduce myself and Hardy as boyfriends.  In short this boy is haunting me.  I don't know what to do with him.  I guess all I really can do is find the best way to resolve it for myself.  Enough rambling.  Goodnight, much love to you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112564359939791046?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112564359939791046/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112564359939791046&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112564359939791046" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112564359939791046" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/09/secret-drama.html" title="The Secret Drama" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112547980210307698</id><published>2005-08-31T04:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-31T05:17:33.850-04:00</updated><title type="text">This mortal coil</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/_8175534.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/_8175534.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;All my life I've had an appreciation for those things that you can't describe with your physical senses.  It's been distilled into me by so many life events, traumatic and joyful.  I look for what I can't see, I listen for what I can't hear, I reach out and touch that which isn't physical.  I always have this conscious knowledge that there's something just beyond everything I can see, but I don't know what it is.  I suspect that I only experience it in dreams, which is why it lingers so vaguely in my head while I am awake.  In all my spiritual explorations I've come close, touched a part of it, but never the whole thing.  In the pursuit of God I got a part, but not enough.  In mediation I got a different part, but still not enough.  I only seem to be satisfied in dreams.  Shakespeare &lt;a href="http://www.rhymezone.com/r/gwic.cgi?Path=shakespeare/tragedies/hamlet/iii_i//&amp;Word=for+in+that+sleep+of+death+what+dreams+may+come#w"&gt;knew&lt;/a&gt; of it, his Hamlet spoke of it shortly after declaring the question of "To be, or not to be".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;To die, to sleep;&lt;br /&gt;To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;&lt;br /&gt;For in that sleep of death what dreams may come&lt;br /&gt;When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,&lt;br /&gt;Must give us pause.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm chasing after what is only seen in dreams, and I can only be satisfied when I have had it known in my conscious state.  That kind of searching is what could make someone go mad, I guess.  But like the lines in a play I saw recently, &lt;i&gt;"Speak to the mad, for they see what we cannot."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112547980210307698?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112547980210307698/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112547980210307698&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112547980210307698" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112547980210307698" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/this-mortal-coil.html" title="This mortal coil" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112538919643197996</id><published>2005-08-30T03:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-02T01:12:53.183-04:00</updated><title type="text">This Storm</title><content type="html">My heart goes out to all those affected by &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/4195796.stm"&gt;Hurricane Katrina&lt;/a&gt;.  Seeing pictures of the damage makes me cringe.  I can only hope that the victim's friends and families can be given comfort in the midst of this needless loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/philanthropy/red-cross.html/002-6682509-9984862"&gt;Donations to the Red Cross&lt;/a&gt; are now accepted through Amazon.com.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112538919643197996?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="related" href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/4196188.stm" title="This Storm" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112538919643197996/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112538919643197996&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112538919643197996" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112538919643197996" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/this-storm.html" title="This Storm" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112538500516475667</id><published>2005-08-30T02:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T02:56:45.883-04:00</updated><title type="text">Life is beautiful again.</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P4299271.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P4299271.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I think Aladdin made me gay.  The big brown eyes, dark hair, defined chest, smooth moves and cool mannerisms - I have always been attracted to middle eastern dudes.  It's my earliest childhood memory of a movie, and the strongest.  I still will catch myself humming "a whole new world" despite that I haven't seen it in years.  You gotta admit, Aladdin is one of the sexiest disney dudes.  I think that's why when I memorized the song as a little kid I always sang the princess's part.  Not to mention that he has the "magic carpet".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P4147866.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P4147866.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Life is beautiful again.  Yea I have my problems, but they're luxury problems.  Every once in a while I start getting bad depressed (yes there is a good depressed, at least for me) and I need a swift kick in the ass to remind me just how beautiful and unique everything really is.  I was getting bad depressed over the past few days.  The whole thing with these two dudes and getting into college was just stressing me out, making my already surly disposition worse.  So a few hours ago I went for a walk to the corner store and got some chocolate.  I walked around, wallowing in my sadness, and ended up sitting on the steps of a church eating chocolate cupcakes and chain smoking.  I didn't really think about much, just watched the people and cars go by, few as they were late at night.  I walked home and started watching a movie (&lt;a target="blank" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0332375/"&gt;Saved!&lt;/a&gt;) that always tends to help me out of my moods.  It identifies with a lot of me, and it has a nice happy ending.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/_6213679.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/_6213679.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;See, I was raised protestant Christian, turned Jewish with my mother at about 14 when my father divorced her, then turned to non-denominational Christianity at 16, and got excommunicated from the church two weeks before Christmas for various reasons.  Yes, I somehow managed to find a nondenominational church that excommunicates people.  Over the past year I've been in the process of finding my own way.  I actually had a much more active sex life while in that church than after I got kicked out.  After getting forced out of church under false accusations &lt;i&gt;(yes the three things they kicked me out over refusing to admit to were things I didn't do, the pastors had no idea about all the horrible sins I was really committing)&lt;/i&gt; I lost my entire support system.  I relied so much on other people to keep me and my identity grounded that once they were removed I was reduced to having no choice but to rely on myself.  It was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P3013194.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P3013194.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I started doing some freelance photography work.  My first job was covering a revival production of "Guys and Dolls" at a local college.  I made friends there, including the director, who encouraged me to come on an audition for one of his off-broadway shows.  I somehow landed the audition wonderfully and just finished up the show's run last saturday.  I've made so many wonderful friends, met so many beautiful people, and been exposed to so many different ideas that when I think about it I'm just overwhelmed at how beautiful the world really is.  Church culture had me believing the world was a horrible dark place, now I see it's just the opposite.  Yes there are dark things in the world, but the good far outweighs the bad.  I still haven't found my way, but I know I'm headed somewhere good.  It's a whole new world and the possibilities are endless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112538500516475667?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112538500516475667/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112538500516475667&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112538500516475667" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112538500516475667" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/life-is-beautiful-again.html" title="Life is beautiful again." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112530772125955832</id><published>2005-08-29T04:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T05:42:30.113-04:00</updated><title type="text">"Ren" and "Hardy"</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P2190524_21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P2190524_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Remember how in my previous post I was talking about this guy ("Ren") that I really-really like but I was too afraid of ruining the friendship to tell him?  Guess what happened in a bar when we both got horridly drunk.  I made out with another boy - in front of "Ren", the guy I really like.  Now I'm just about ready to tear out my heart.  My make-out session at the bar with the boy we will refer to as "Hardy" was last Saturday.  Tonight I went out on a first date with Hardy.  He works at a large toy store and I met him there and waited for him to get out of work.  We then went to a movie (The Brothers Grimm) (which wasn't too bad) and snuggled during the movie, which is always my favorite thing to do during movies.  Now here's my problem.  I kept thinking about Ren while I was snuggled up to Hardy.  Instead of paying attention to the movie, my mind was racing to figure out what was going on with these boys in my life.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, Ren is the one I really really like - notice how I avoid the "L" word.  Ren is virtually unattainable, as I discovered from his drunken talk: he doesn't like boys or sex with boys, for various and valid reasons that he listed.  Those reasons included "Dumb-ass-stupid", "Hairy", "Smelly", and "Awkward"; all words that accurately describe most men.  Ren likes women because they're smart, smooth, don't stink, and are easier to get along with.  My being a man, thus being stupid-hairy-smelly-awkward, brings my chances of ever being with Ren down to near zero.  I only say near zero because Ren hasn't said that he flat out won't be with a man, just that he despises certain qualities of men and much prefers women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/1600/P32754671.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5150/1397/200/P3275467.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then there's the newcomer, Hardy.  He is flat-out gay.  He kisses me.  In short, he's attainable.  There's no masochistic unrequited love thing going on with him.  He's cute, really sweet, and a good kisser.  He held me tighter through the scary parts of the movie - which I only pretended to be scared by so that he would hold me closer.  Then after the movie we walked for a bit in the direction of my train station.  At some point we ended up quite passionately making out against a wall.  I was sure someone was going to yell at us to get a room.  There was a whole lot of neck kissing and crotch grabbing going on, and I can safely say that it was very hot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But guess who kept popping into my head.  I really want to be able to pursue a relationship with Hardy, but I'll have a hella of a hard time doing that if Ren is the man who unknowingly has my heart in his hands.  I guess that I really have to talk to Ren about my feelings for him.  But I'm honestly terrified.  Terrified that he'll react adversely and become distant, and equally terrified that he might be willing to pursue something with me.  A few months ago I was bemoaning my lack of love.  Now there's too many skewed versions of it flying around for me to handle.  I wish I wasn't so shy that anonymously on the internet is the only place I can talk about this.  I wish I wasn't so fearful of how the people I love may react to the things that are in my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112530772125955832?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112530772125955832/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112530772125955832&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112530772125955832" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112530772125955832" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/ren-and-hardy.html" title="&quot;Ren&quot; and &quot;Hardy&quot;" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112485122654197143</id><published>2005-08-23T22:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-23T22:52:02.846-04:00</updated><title type="text">love, sex, and lies.  (sans sex)</title><content type="html">&lt;img align="left" src="http://photos25.flickr.com/36698355_b0c41057cf_m.jpg" /&gt;So I know this boy.  We'll call him Ren, for anonymity's sake.  I've always been attracted to him, ever since the first day I saw him.  We became good friends.  A few months ago I started to really get a crush on him.  Recently I've been feeling something a lot stronger than a crush.  Not quite love, but a step towards it.  I've been trying to convince myself out of it, since, well, I'm a boy and he doesn't like boys.  I'm almost finished convincing myself that I'm going to just be good friends with him and that's it.  ...  Today I'm talking to his best friend.  In the course of talking about him behind his back, I casually mention that I'm trying to get over a huge crush on him.  She tells me: "Well you know he's liked a few boys before but none of them ever liked him back. [...]  But you certainly fit what his type is."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the fuck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just about over him - inches away from just having a solid friendship with the dude - and I find out that there's a chance, however miniscule, that he might like me too?  How am I supposed to deal with that?  I'm right back where I was, not knowing whether he likes me or not but thinking that there's a possibility.  I sat on the subway train riding back to my house tonight and I just started crying.  I can't handle all those emotions being brought out again when I had just about locked them away.  The worst part is that although he has liked boys like me in the past, that doesn't mean he likes me.  There's also the possibility that he likes me just as much as I do him, and here we are just hiding it from each other.  No, I'm the one hiding it.  I should say something.  Even if it jeopardizes the friendship I value more.  I can't let this just sit inside me and burn.  If I just let him know how I feel, I'll find out the answer to my question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112485122654197143?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112485122654197143/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112485122654197143&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112485122654197143" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112485122654197143" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/love-sex-and-lies-sans-sex.html" title="love, sex, and lies.  (sans sex)" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112443830794625764</id><published>2005-08-19T03:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-30T02:58:11.860-04:00</updated><title type="text">OMFG</title><content type="html">I MADE A EFFIN PODCAST.  Who woulda thunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://rizzn.net/scripts/podcast/podcasts/hansepoo.xeuqac.mp3"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img366.imageshack.us/img366/6052/podcastlogo16qm.gif" border="0" width="70" alt="Image Hosted by ImageShack.us" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And look what else I got:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="callto://hansepoo"&gt;&lt;img src="http://goodies.skype.com/graphics/skypeme_btn_red.gif" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112443830794625764?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="related" href="http://rizzn.net/scripts/podcast/podcasts/hansepoo.xeuqac.mp3" title="OMFG" /><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112443830794625764/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112443830794625764&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112443830794625764" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112443830794625764" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/omfg.html" title="OMFG" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112425773145502697</id><published>2005-08-16T22:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-17T01:49:21.306-04:00</updated><title type="text">Honest love</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pictural/11669256/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img align="left" src="http://photos6.flickr.com/11669256_b392e20fd7_m.jpg" width="240" height="180" alt="i like them." /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;To be honest with you, the longest I've ever been dated one person is two weeks.  I have a made-up ex-boyfriend who I say I was with for two months just to make me feel a little less pathetic.  But then knowing that I do that makes me feel more pathetic.  I want to have a relationship with someone that I can grow in, get to know him, see a few seasons pass with him.  I don't need it to be too serious, I just need someone to give my love to.  Love on a different level than that you love your friends on.  I just want to fall in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112425773145502697?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112425773145502697/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112425773145502697&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112425773145502697" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112425773145502697" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/honest-love.html" title="Honest love" /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112399489384655978</id><published>2005-08-13T23:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-14T01:37:26.586-04:00</updated><title type="text">Curtains, wanks, and lonely hearts.</title><content type="html">&lt;img align="right" src="http://photos23.flickr.com/29857820_2cb10f78d4_m.jpg"&gt;I'm doing a show in the fringe festival and opening night is tomorrow!  It's a farce about hell and a guy who gets sent there accidentally.  Satan's gotten fat.  It's a wonderful show.  Farce is such a glorious thing, I tell you.  Along with playing a tormented soul, in two scenes I play a table.  I literally have a large board with cap screwed to the underside which rests on my head and makes me the table.  Now, since there's very little chance that any of you readers will be from New York and read this before my show closes, I can tell you my little joke.  In the second scene I play the table in a dominatrix's bedroom.  At one point there's a table cloth over me for a few minutes.  Then the table cloth is ripped off the table suddenly, and what do you think I'm doing under there?  Jacking off, naturally.  It's a fun show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, this site got its first hit.  Hello, whomever you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else can I tell you...  I'm still lonely, searching for the love of my life - or a good slow fuck, whichever comes first.  Lately I find myself much more interested in the love than the fucking.  I start getting sad when I see other couples holding hands, kissing, and all that gross stuff.  Inside I want to be doing all that mushy stuff too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough depressing myself.  I must go sleep so that I can get up early to be on stage tomorrow afternoon.  Goodnight my lovelies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112399489384655978?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112399489384655978/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112399489384655978&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112399489384655978" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112399489384655978" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/curtains-wanks-and-lonely-hearts.html" title="Curtains, wanks, and lonely hearts." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112375060223307835</id><published>2005-08-11T04:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-11T04:56:42.236-04:00</updated><title type="text">sorry.</title><content type="html">I would write a wonderfully enthralling post but I need to go trim my nails and get drunk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112375060223307835?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112375060223307835/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112375060223307835&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112375060223307835" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112375060223307835" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/sorry.html" title="sorry." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112345794029970499</id><published>2005-08-07T19:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-07T19:39:00.306-04:00</updated><title type="text">Church, cigarettes, and sodapop.</title><content type="html">&lt;img align="right" src="http://photos15.flickr.com/22071120_36498c4075_m.jpg" /&gt;Yay for the second post!  You'll never guess what I did today.  I went to &lt;i&gt;church&lt;/i&gt;!  Incredible, no?  I went with a friend to see a documentary that was playing there which my friend said was quite good.  And it was good, however steeped in religion.  The documentary was on the role of fathers in early childhood development, and the cultural absence of fathers in so many families in this day.  Interesting, but hit home a tad too much for my comfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left from there, smoked a few ciggys and headed over to my favorite egyptian food place.  I go there for two reasons:  good falafel and the really really cute guy who works there.  It's more about the guy.  He always smiles at me and I can never figure if he's flirting or just nice.  I hope he's flirting, because I certainly am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have work to do.  I am going to go do it, after I go to the store and get some horrid soda to pump myself full of carbonation.  Always a pleasing experience.  It really can't be much worse than all the booze and cigarettes.  I shall chat you up later, my darlings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112345794029970499?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112345794029970499/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112345794029970499&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112345794029970499" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112345794029970499" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/church-cigarettes-and-sodapop.html" title="Church, cigarettes, and sodapop." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15182805.post-112339587384087413</id><published>2005-08-07T00:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-08-07T02:57:07.003-04:00</updated><title type="text">Hello, World.</title><content type="html">&lt;img align="right" src="http://photos17.flickr.com/22026390_0e96f0b4d9_m.jpg"&gt;Let's play "Getting to know you".  Or more accurately, "Getting to know &lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;".  I am smack in the middle of being 18 years old, and no, I do not have a webcam where you can see me and my friends play.  I live in fabulous Brooklyn New York with my also fabulous mother.  Living with my mother has been an obstacle to my romantic life...  aw screw the nice talk.  Living with my mother prevents me from having lots of hot, rough, sweaty sex in my apartment.  But that really hasn't affected my romantic life much, as me and my lover could just fuck in the park.  Not that I advocate for fucking in the park.  Moving on, I am rather eclectic when it comes to what I do.  I'm doing a play in the fringe festival, as well as doing some of the advertising for that play.  I also do a reasonable amount of photography, and I am starting my collegiate studies in the fall.  That's the gist of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I'm avoiding work that I should be doing by messing around here.  I really should be working on designing my friend's business cards, but I'm just a tad too lazy.  For now let me feel that I'm productively avoiding work by exercising my literacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img align="left" src="http://photos13.flickr.com/19284772_123f2091fa_m.jpg"&gt;I've been thinking a lot about my own identity lately.  This is the age when one usually gets that sort of thing in front of himself, and I am no exception.  I've recently had the rather obvious realization that I can be whoever the fuck I want to be.  However it is rather bothersome striving &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; to conform, because that really can be easier than being yourself.  That task is made more difficult for me because I really don't know quite who I am.  I suppose my little dramedy of life is where I'm to figure myself out, slowly.  All I really know about myself is that I have male genitals.  Everything else is just either unknown or undecided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So read and follow my coming-of-age story.  Unlike my previous attempts at blogging (except two) I endeavor to actually update this regularly.  We shall see.  Please, come back, check up on me.  Send me an email, an IM, never fear because I love everyone.  Including you, you little queen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/15182805-112339587384087413?l=lucienlucien.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/feeds/112339587384087413/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=15182805&amp;postID=112339587384087413&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112339587384087413" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/15182805/posts/default/112339587384087413" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://lucienlucien.blogspot.com/2005/08/hello-world.html" title="Hello, World." /><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>

