was it the booze or did the beer blast bartender at the Eagle tonight really, really like me? . . . could be, u know . . . how many guys ever have asked him if that was Golden Earring on the CD he burned for rock 'n roll happy hour . . . instant bonding material . . . first off, very few fags of a certain age would recognize both Grand Funk Railroad (were u a Mark Farner groupie? he asked when i reminded him that An American Band, recently remade by Kid Rock, was recorded on gold vinyl . . . two beers later i was singing along to Horses when the cute guy in the Havana t-shirt on the bar stool next to me turned and said excuse me, but did u just belch . . . nahh, i growled . . . u don't sing along to Patti Smith, u growl along . . . as i was leaving, Joe the bartender introduced himself and said hey i'm here Monday, Tuesdays and Wednesdays . . . i'll bet he says that to all the guys but hey, i'm naive enough to think we might have had a moment over great guitar solos, even if we're polar opposites, physically . . . i mean, he really looks like Mark Farner, albeit 30 years older and wearing a leather vest that laced up the sides.

GOIN' WITH THE FLOW

if somebody told me this morning when i got up that by noon a hunky graduate student would be pissing on me in the shower at
Columbia, i'd have said you must have me confused with a daddy in a water sports video at the Eagle, where D and I have been spending too much unproductive time lately . . . i got to the gym early to avoid the post-hangover rush and noticed a stocky guy in his late 20s with dark searching eyes at the bench press . . . he nodded at me a little later while i did my dumb bells, but i thought he was only being friendly and paid a lot more attention to some perfectly defined college kid wearing a #42 jersey with a lot more hair who looked like he had just gotten out of bed or an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog . . . please dear god let him be in the shower later so i can see the whole package and not only the smooth Popeye forearms that are driving me wild . . . but when i found the stocky guy in the sauna, i shifted to a bird-in-the hand strategy . . . i sat down next to him, in the only available space, and noticed that he kept glancing over at my crotch, which i keep covered with a towel unless i'm alone with someone i'm interested in . . . he absentmindedly pulled at the long foreskin between his tan, spreadeagle legs while i played with my navel ring . . . hmmmmmm . . . am i gonna be able to wait out the crowd in this 120 degree and climbing heat? . . . when his shoulder pressed firmly against mine, i didn't yield . . . the signal turned me on enough to pitch a tent in my towel, which i beat down with my hand before anybody but he noticed . . . there were at least two other friends of Dorothy in the sauna with us, but a couple of MBA types discussing Enron prevented the rapidly escalating tension from exploding into sex . . . when yet another man entered, my prey left, only to be pursued immediately by a sweaty homo with great abs who nevertheless clearly wasn't going to be much competition . . . i took my time and found the two of them across from one another in the shower . . . along with the college kid whose hairless body was blessed with an ass that could only be described with a cliche, so i won't bother . . . don't blow it . . . keep your eyes on the ball . . . WHICH BALL!?!?!? . . . fortunately, the kind of fringe benefit that keeps me renewing my alumni membership at an inconveniently located facility exited quickly . . . three semi-erections were probably three too many for him . . . and the only remaining obstacle to a rare opportunity for post work-out sex followed beauty boy out . . . my guy turned off the water . . . he can't be leaving! . . . and walked over to where i was showering . . . my cock throbbed . . . he probably can't even tell i'm uncircumsized too . . . he looked over his shoulder to make sure one was coming, lifted his smallish dick and turned on his own nozzle . . . i didn't realize at first that he was pissing because his stream was as warm as the water that instantly washed it off my body . . . he moaned as i tweaked his nipple hard and then he turned off the water again and walked to his towel which hung on a rack at the other end of the room . . . he nodded for me to follow but the outer area was much more crowded so we went our separate ways . . . i dressed dreamily, in absolute disbelief over what had just occurred, with a huge smile on my face . . . this is the locker room equivalent of clobbering D at Scrabble i thought, recalling my personal best score the night before (446 points, thanks to a double triple word score and a scrabble all during the same play) . . . suddenly, as i pulled on my Champion underwear, Urine Man walked toward me . . . i've got a meeting at 1:30 . . . it's 1:30 . . . i know . . . i will call u he said, lightly punching my still hard dick

Dear Tom:

Saw you on the cover of Vanity Fair. The big 4-0 is coming up quicker than a Vin Diesel movie, huh? Been there, done that. You posing without your shirt kinda reminded me of the pic I send out of me in my Speedo that I send out as AOL bait. Not that I look like a movie star or anything but the impulse behind our exhibitionism isn't all that different. I'm still attractive damn it! And it's true, but now you're entering new territory with all those humpy youngsters nipping at your heels. Jared Leto, Shane West, Josh Hartnett and Jason Van Der Beek . . . no member of the tattooed and pierced generation has had his Risky Business yet, but just you wait, one day soon one of them is bound to have his booty-shakin' breakthrough and then you're toast! Too bad your agent didn't get you a role in Ocean's 11 but hey everybody knows Brad Pitt is way cooler than you are, dude! Remember the scene when George Clooney rags him for teaching five card stud to "Teen Beat cover boys?" That kind of self awareness would have served you a whole lot better than Vanilla Sky. I mean, what was that all about, really? If you wanted to hook up with Penelope that bad couldn't you just have had one of your people call one of her people to invite her to that private screening room of yours? Did you think just because she can't speak the Queen's English so well she won't find out you're a . . . I'm sorry, Tom. Her accent just gets on my nerves outside of an Almodovar romp with subtitles. She's probably a perfectly nice beard. But I digress. I'm writing to you today to share a secret that applies to all 40somethings equally, whether they be movie stars or moviegoers: context is everything. From now on, there's always going to be somebody younger and cuter. It can destroy you. Or not. Aging gracefully is almost as hard as becoming a movie star when you're gay but you've already risen to that particular challenge, haven't you? And you don't need Scientology to do it. Pulling a Greta Garbo is always the safest option, of course, but if you can't face early retirement just use a little common sense: move into the "daddy" phase of your career. You proved you could act in Magnolia so try skipping the romantic leads and choose roles that showcase your talent. You might want to wait a little while before getting married again, too. Even come out. You might not land on the cover of Time like Ellen did but you would make Hollywood history. Plus it would silence all of those look-alike adult film stars who want to sell their stories to the tabloids once they've pinned you and you've found someone hotter to wrestle. I'll bet you'd even win an Oscar not long after becoming the first movie star to say "I'm gay" without being forced to. But wait a month or two. It's really all about Nic right now, isn't it?