Wow… Has it been that long?

Yes, it has.

It’s weird. I’ve just realize that it’s been a year since I posted on my blog. Last year, at this time I was having dinner with Tito, my putative son. We each got a sandwich and a salad. We, as most of the time, were talking and laughing. At that precise moment I learned how to post videos on my blog. It was a good night.


It’s been exactly a year from that moment


Today, after a grueling week at work (I changed jobs, but I will discuss this in another post) I went with some fellow workers to a sports bar. I had a beer. After that, I went with Randal to do some shopping and to buy something to eat for dinner. I arrived home at eight thirty, and got online.

The usual Friday evening. Visiting the same sites, reading the same articles, watching the same pictures. I was getting ready to go to bed, when I got the idea of checking out a blog that I used to visit before. From that blog, I went to another blog, Milena’s blog, one of my closest friends. I read some post of her and read that she loves me as much as I love her. From that, I went to my blog and started reading some of my post.


After a while, I checked the last post, review the date and realized that I haven’t posted for a whole year. I got two feelings from that. First, that in a sense, I’ve been stuck for this whole time. Second, and more important, I realized how different my life view and plans are from that point. Last year I was floundering and with no prospects. Today I’m focus and with a whole new life ahead of me.


So, by writing this small but important post, I want to announce my return to Blog Life.

Uno de mis musicales favoritos.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iLKi_8pnz8

Sweeney todd es uno de mis musicales favoritos.

my pic

SANTA DOES LOVE ME AFTER ALL...

NOOT!!! Yes, he got back at me with a vengeance. The fluffy bitch left something for me Christmas morning. A Muscle spasm and it has not gotten better. Yesterday I went to the doctor, and after berating me over the fact that I did not got back for a check up after my treatment after my accident back in July, he told me that I had a inflammation of a nerve on my upper back. SO much for that. I will be in treatment for 3 weeks, have to take some pills every day and go for a check up. I hope everything turns out fine and that I can get back to my Yoga classes without any problems.

Before letting go of the Santa subject, I’ll give you this address where it’s discussed why Santa must be gay:

http://www.thatscomedy.com/christmas/xmas004.htm

Well, Santa didn’t. And right now is already too late to ask the Three wise men for anything, so, I will follow doctor’s orders, et some rest and leave Santa alone. Well, not so, he still has my present.

NEW YEAR, NO SOLUTIONS.

At the end of each year, as many of us, I too start making resolutions for the New Year, and as most of us, I don’t keep up with them. After all, I’m only human. A flawed one for that matter, hence the need for resolutions each year to improve myself.

For the last four years, my resolutions have been the same: to lose weight, to exercise and to read more. How do I stand at the moment on these points? For starters, I’m still a lovable bear cub, and not the sexy chaser that I feel inside. Also, although my physical condition is better than other people, it could improve exponentially. That’s why my singing classes did not work as I wanted, I could hold the air for only 30 seconds, tops. Not a good time period, since I was trying to sing Opera. Reading? Let me say that my main source of info has been the internet and yes, not just for porn, even if the song says it so.

Last week I received a call from a friend who works at a newspaper asking me for an interview as a psychologist about New Year’s resolutions and why people don’t stick to them. I had to decline because I’m one semester away from finishing it but nevertheless it made me think about it.

Why do we put ourselves thru this ordeal every year? To begin with, we want to be better than we are right now. Why do we want to better ourselves? This is where the problem starts. Many of us try to improve ourselves in order to receive the acceptance from others that we believe we might get if we change this or that of us. Unfortunately, acceptance from others comes after there is acceptance within ourselves, period. Others will accept us anyway we are just as long as we accept who we are. So, trying to change to please others is the first step to fail.

Let’s go a step further. Ok, let’s say the change is coming from us, not from peer pressure. We have decided that it’s time to let go of bad habits and it’s time to be a better person. So we start doing the resolutions, but before we know it, we’re starting to hide to smoke that craved cigarette, or we find engulfing a whole chocolate bar. What happened there? Many habits and many bad habits are not just that, they are the consequence of things that we, one way or another, haven’t dealt with, and that we are sublimating by doing these things. Each time we get nervous, we smoke to lower the tension. Somebody got mad at us, we eat a chocolate. Somebody rejected us? There’s always retail therapy. No wonder I haven’t kept any of my resolutions.

I’m not saying that in order to keep a resolution, you have to visit your psychologist (although it would be a good thing to do and more business for me). What I’m saying is that many times we sabotage ourselves and feel frustrated because we don’t do want we set out to accomplish, so it’s necessary to take a different and more honest approach to do what we want to do.

It’s not easy to improve ourselves, but it’s not impossible to do so. This year I have decided to take a different approach. I made no resolutions to begin with; I will let each decision and change to arrive when it has to. I feel more comfortable this way and I think it takes a lot of the pressure I always have trying to keep up.

INSTEAD OF RESOLUTIONS, I WILL MAKE LISTS THIS YEAR.

January 5, 2007.
Since I have decided I will not try to make any resolutions, one thing I want to do is the following: I made a list of twelve things I want to start doing each day of this year. Little activities that, by adding them to my daily routine can improve my quality of life. The list goes as follows:

One. To pray. For what I have, what I don’t, for the people in my life, for the people that are not longer with me, for people that will arrive, for those who will go.
Two. To do Reiki.
Three. To do my brain gym exercises.
Four. Drink two liters of water.
Five. Drink a cup of green tea
Six. Exercise at least fifteen minutes.
Seven. Write something for this blog.
Eight. To throw something out or get rid of something.
Nine. Eat an apple.
Ten. Praise someone for a good thing they have done. Or even for an evil deed.
Eleven. Make my bed as soon as I get out of it.
Twelve. Stop worrying and love the bomb.

So far, I’ve been doing the things that I thought would have been the last thing I would start doing of this list. All I can say is that green tea tastes very good. Each month I will state how am I doing with this list.

IT’S GONNA BE A HAPPY NEW YEAR

January 4, 2007.

After only three hundred and sixty five days, 2006 is over and a brand new 2007 is here for us to enjoy.

I want to say thanks to my family, they been there for me, love me and accept me for who I am and what I do. The same thing I say to my friends. I might be stuck with my family, but friends I have had the privilege to choose them, and I feel proud to be called friend by each and every one of them. I want to give thanks to the people that have given themselves a bit of time to stop and visit my blog. This is a very important project for me and I appreciate every bit of attention it can receive. One thing I can say is that I would like to receive more comments, but nonetheless, I thank you all. And I want to give thanks to EVERYONE who crossed my path, for good or bad.

I wish all a great year and I hope all the things you set to make for the next three hundred and sixty days bring you happiness and satisfaction. My best wishes for all.

SANTA DOESN’T LOVE ME…

January 3, 2007.
Well, he stopped loving me a long time ago. This is a fact. The jolly fat man stopped caring for me the year I realized he was fake. To be honest, I don’t remember ever believing his existence. So I don’t know how true this last statement is if I never believed in him in the first place.

The first Christmas than I can barely recall was back in 1981. I was five years old. By that time I already knew my mom had divorced my biological father and why. The reasons are not for me to discuss, but the only thing I can say is that I admire my mom for that. She is a brave woman and I love her. That year I received the Millennium Falcon, the Tie-fighter and the Snowspeeder from Star Wars. My mom told me that Santa gave me this presents, but deep down inside I knew that she was the one that bought them for me. Why do I know this? Because of something that happened a few months back.

My mom at that time used to work in customs for a Company here in Juarez, and almost every weekend went to El Paso. One time she asked me if I wanted her to bring me something from there and I asked for some action figures, hoping to receive some Star Wars toys. When she came back, she approached me, (and I still can remember her initial triumphant face) to give me the bag of little green, plastic soldiers that she had brought me. I felt betrayed and made a fuss over the fact that she did not bought me what I wanted (I still remember her face of defeat when she realized she did not met my expectations). To this day I feel bad for that.

Two years latter I had the confirmation I needed to know that Santa was non existent. We spent Christmas Eve at my Aunt Pat’s home. I was worried that Santa was not going to leave my presents because I was not at home. My dad told me that Santa knew were I was going to be and not only that, that he will drop some presents at my aunt’s and some other at home. Yeah right. Besides, at the time I didn’t believe anything to the poor guy. Christmas morning I played with Skeletor’s Snake Mountain,and several He-Man figures but also with my cousin’s brand new Barbies. Strange, two of my favorite things combined that year, strong, rough men and ladies fashion.

Next year the last nail in Santa’s coffin was put into place. My Uncle Bart, my Grandma’s older brother died on Christmas Eve, just a few minutes before midnight. All the family was at my Nina’s place in El Paso. I came back home with my Uncle Vic to remove any Christmas trace before my grandma arrive to her home, as she order it. That year I received a red bike. Meme, my younger brother received an electric car. Weird, since he was 6 months old.

Next year I received various M.A.S.K. vehicles, the ones that were cars and transformed into something else. Like an airplane that turned into a helicopter, a trailer that turn into a communications and strategy center. The little figurines each had a mask. Those were the toys that I miss the most. I spent many times just putting them out of their boxes and admiring them. They were beautiful. By then I knew for sure that my parents bought them for me, and they didn’t say it otherwise nor did they tried to put the Santa Agenda down my throat.

When I got to Junior high, I met a guy who up until that year had believed in Santa. I tried to make fun of it, but wasn’t able. I was in awe to find someone with that kind of faith. I felt a little envious but I knew that I never could be that way.

By that time I started seeing Santa and fictional characters in a new light. I saw them thru my younger sibling’s eyes. The tooth fairy, the Passover bunny, you name it. I tried to make them believe in the things that I didn’t. At some level, it worked. I was their Santa. I ate the cookies and milk that they left for Santa. I got excited when thy opened the presents that Santa left for them. I played with them. I started to enjoy Christmas again. We enjoyed the T.M.N.T. action figures that both my brothers received, and also, I put the Fab in fabulous in my sister’s Barbie and Little Mermaid doll. But as the time went by, they grew up too, and they found out of all this. Up until this day, my sister remembers that fact, that I ate the cookies they left for the Jolly Fat Dude.

This past Christmas I decided to do something different. I decided to ask Santa for a present. It’s been a while since I ask something from Santa. I made a review of the year and came to the conclusion that I had been a good boy (Imagine all the fun that I missed because of it). I said I’m thirty, I was a good boy, I don’t have what I want to ask him for, I have nothing to lose, so I will ask Santa for the following: A husband. Not just any husband. My ideal husband.

First of all, and most importantly, he had to be very masculine, butch if he will. He had to be mid-thirties to forty (just a ten years difference with me at the most). 6 feet tall at least, white, brown short crew cut hair with a receding hairline, or even better if he was bald. Beard was a plus. Plush-like chest. Blue or green eyes and that he wear glasses. Not too fat, not too thin, strong built and big arms. Well endowment a must, also a high sex drive. He had to be sharp, Intelligent, witty, non judgmental, and with an excellent sense of humor. A great dancer was a must. Someone who likes to go to the movies but also is content with spending an evening at home. Someone who would throw dinner parties. An interesting conversationalist. Sartorial. He would have to be very sensitive, loving, caring and generous. He definitely had to be out to his family and have a strong bond with them. He must have had his own life and was looking for someone to share it with, his own activities and his own friends. And most importantly, He had to love me, accept me for who I am and find me the sexiest man in the world. And especially I had to be able to reciprocate the same feelings to him.

Early December I sent my wish to Santa, hoping it will reach the North Pole on time for Christmas delivery. Then, I waited patiently. On Christmas Eve I was excited because, come next morning, I will have my present delivered. A few hours past midnight I went to sleep so that Santa could do his deed, and I drifted away making plans for my new family. Next Morning , I woke up Christmas day empty handed but with a sore shoulder, a muscle spam that I’m sure is a direct result of the car accident I had back in July and freezing cold, all of this for sleeping on my parent’s couch. No way!!! How could this be happening, I had sent my wish on time, what happened?

Finally after all this time Santa got back on me for not believing in him for all those years. That’s what I get for trying to raise the dead. But then, it hit me. THE FLUFFY BITCH KEPT MY PRESENT FOR HIMSELF. I mean that hot package was not going to pass down Santa’s radar. It’s my fault for asking for such a hot property. You might argue that I’m wrong; Santa is a good man and gives toys to kids around the world. Only one thing to say about that: tax deductions. You might argue that Santa is not gay, but please, what heterosexual man would wear a red velvet suit with white plush and black leather knee high boots with a matching belt. Hello!!! Do you know any? I don’t think so. Continuing with this, what about the horde of Santa’s little helpers. That’s a gay bunch if I’ve ever seen one, and all in Santa’s service. Also, what dude would prefer a reindeer pulled red sleigh over a kick-ass monster truck? Only a burly romantic queen would. You might say what about Mrs. Claus? Classic case of the wife how serves as a social window to hide the secret life of her husband. How do I know this? Those big glasses of her are not just to accessorize, the lady is blind.

At the end, what did I learn from this experience? Besides outing Santa (not so much of a secret, let me tell you), first I learned NOT to sleep on my parent’s couch, even if I pass out. After a week the muscle spasm hasn’t faded. Also, I learn to be faithful to myself. I never believed in him, I never should have done otherwise. I was reminded to trust my instinct. Also, I was reminded that if you want something, you have to work for it and not wait for it to drop from the sky into your hands. So, I will have to work hard this year to find that husband of mine. I hope next Christmas I don’t have the urge to ask for a husband, since I will be in his arms.

I WANT A KISS…

I want a kiss that means something
An embrace that’s worth my faith
Tired of careless encounters
I need a love that’s worth the wait

I wrote these lines Sunday morning at three A.M., two weeks ago. I was at a party for an aunt. I thought that, because of the hour, the party would have been over. Think again, the party was in full motion. As I left half an hour later, people were arriving still, but I was in no mood for party. I was feeling blue. I was alone, as usual, as always.

TRADITIONS

On November 5th, I went to LFC’s home for our 13th Halloween Bash. As you can imagine, it’s a long story. I’ll try to be brief.

I met LFC in junior high. We both were in the same class and we have been friends ever since. When we got to High school, we ended up in different classes. He made some friends; I made others so at the end it was an interesting mix of people. More or less, most of us liked movies, so in 1994, the whole gang gather up at my house to see the Academy Awards ceremony that year. Pulp fiction lost that year. Forest Gump won the gold and little did we know we started a yearly tradition. Latter that year, for Halloween, we decided to do a Bash with a particular twist: Guys would dress up as Dolls and vice versa. It was a defining moment for some of us, but at the end, we picked up the annual gathering.

Ever since 1994, more or less, the same group of friends has reunited on these two occasions for these events. The organizers and the keepers of the tradition are LFC, El Vale and I. We have been on each and every one of these celebration, with the exception of Oscars 99. Instead of going to Our Gala, I went to the Timbiriche reunion Concert. Timbiriche was a big part of my history when I was young, so I had to choose. And I come clean with it; it was a very hard decision. Up to this day, every time I mention this, LFC and El Vale state this slip to me. However, For Halloween 2000 they got back at me. They changed the day of the date, from Saturday to Friday, without telling me. There are other three friends who, more or less have been in most of these reunions: Bergman, Criminal and Alfran. Besides these six, others have come and gone, but at the end, the basic group remains.

As everything, these two annual reunions have evolved. At The Oscars’ Gala we stopped betting on the winners. In Halloween, we changed it from a party to a Horror movie marathon, but the spirit remains there. Two times a year, that group of not so young fellas comes together to celebrate two things: Cinema and the fact that we found each other.

This year, the Halloween party was the least attended ever, but at the same time, one of the most intimate and rewarding for me. We had to do it after Halloween, because of LFC’s work. At the end, only El Vale, Bergman and I arrived. It seemed like we went to the basic, only the true film lovers were there. The three of them have shown interest in moviemaking. Me too, but that’s another story. There was a sense of untold camaraderie between us, a sense of shared experiences. Nothing of this was spoken, but I sure felt it, and, although I was the first to leave, I left uplifted for being part of it.

An interesting thing happened during dinner. The routine is and has been like this since the beginning: we always eat pizza. I call to order it, LFC pays for it and we all eat it. When we were eating, we started talking of the movies we have seen recently, the movies we missed, the movies we’re interested in. They started talking about all of this and when I hear them say “we have to choose what to see” it hit me. Time has past. We’re no longer the kids who asked their parents for permission and a ride to go to a friend’s house on school night or to host a party. We no longer have the time to see everything we want to see, even if it was bad. We no longer have the stamina or the time to see three movies on one day, every weekend, as we used to. We have work, friends and social responsibilities outside this circle, and more and more these keep us from this special place we made for us. Life has catch up with us.

This is in no way a sad thing, just an observation. I mean, I always kept this world in a very special place. By this I mean cinema and the special bond share with these two guys. So special for me that I always thought I wanted to do movies too, as LFC and EL Vale wants. Finally I realize that my path is in another field, but still, I keep this special place for this world.


I feel very proud of being part of this experience, I feel is bigger than us, and that’s wonderful. We have kept this going on for 13 years; we have made a history, something to look forward next year, for the rest of our life. Call me a romantic, a softie, but for me, it’s a big thing. I wonder for how longer we will do this. As we were leaving the theater after “Marie Antoinette” I saw El Vale and LFC walking towards the exit, and I wonder if, twenty years from now, when we are fifty, will we? Will we go to the movies on Sunday? I hope we do. Not every Sunday, of course, but the Sundays we do, I hope we do it in the same spirit.

PROCRASTINATION IS MY SIN

I’m sure that when I die, and that I’m at the gates of heaven, and when Saint Peter asks me of my sins I will answer this: “Only one: procrastination”. Ok, I know, I’m not a catholic, and because of that, this scenario for me is unlikely (at that moment I will say: “Two sins: procrastination and lack of faith” hehehe.)

I don’t know whether it is laziness or just the sheer excitement of self-sabotage, but the fact remains, I leave everything until the last moment. Work, homework, break ups, sadness. I keep everything on hold as if by doing this time will stop its motion. It does not, and the results are not good.
When it comes to work, I’m always very competent, so everything is ready when it has to be. What about School? That’s another story. More and more, I find myself leaving thing until the end and then, I don’t do them. Break ups and emotional crisis? I don’t like confrontations, so I prefer to keep going until… I don’t know. Why do I have to do this? I don’t know, but my therapist, who I saw last week told me that I had to go to visit him immediately. I’ll keep you posted.

UPDATE: THE BARE CROONER

What do you know? Two weeks ago I went to a concert, recital, or something like that. It was locally organized and it features a group of young artists eager for the applause of the masses. As I was reading the program, the only thing I could think of is that one hell of a Queen must have compiled it. An old one too, mostly 70’s, 80’s and early, very early 90’s pop standards. And no, just because it featured “Hips don’t lie” doesn’t mean that it was modern, or hip, for that matter.

The show started half an hour late. Good for me, because I arrived late at the auditorium. The quality of the sound was deplorable, but the energy of the performers was sky high, so it was interesting. And then, The Bare Crooner, there, on stage, singing. I immediately recognized the voice, that beautiful, melodic, velvety voice. As soon as I noticed him, I passed on the info to my friends, who agreed with me that he really had a marvelous voice. He had a very strong presence on stage and I believe had the best voice of the various gentlemen who appeared in the show. And well, at least now I know his name. And no, I did not asked for his autograph.

THE CIRCUS IS IN TOWN

I do not know what to think of this. Yesterday I went to Las misiones, supposedly the biggest and trendiest mall in Juarez (which is not much to say). In the parking lot I saw an interesting vehicle, something like a commercial trailer but made like an auto, something like a hummer on steroids. I barely noticed. I only paid attention to it because my companion pointed it to me. Here is a picture of the vehicle:



When we got out, we passed over the place were the monster was parked. And not only that, it had an audience. Many people were surrounding it, adults and children. Some of them were even taking pictures of it, like a sideshow. I found this event even more interesting, the fact that not just one or a couple of people, a whole group were admiring this mechanical hybrid parked outside a mall. There people in every side of it, looking in awe of the great work of human engineering in front of them. I had to take a picture of this, even more than of the truck. Yes, me taking a picture of the people that where taking pictures of the monster.


My cynical side found quite funny the whole spectacle. I mean, what are they thinking, it’s just a truck, maybe clean and shiny, but still, a truck. Now, as I write these lines, I’m wondering about their reaction. Would I, having in front me something as amazing as this group perceived the truck to be, stop too and admire the greatness that life is bestowing in front of my eyes? Or would I, cynical as I can be, walk away dismissing it because I would look ridiculous. I think I would go for the first option, and I hope that I keep choosing this option always.

THE INCONVENIENT GUEST

Yesterday I was witness of one of the weirdest acts committed in a public restroom. And I’ve been to Samborns, so you know I’ve seen a lot.

I found myself yesterday in Soriana, and needed to go to the lavatory. I got inside and there were some guys minding their business. I noticed the four stalls were in use. At that particular moment I got it. They weren’t minding their business, they were cruising each other. Men, they use every opportunity to get laid, or get some, even a grope. And if you ask, yes, any place where men can wipe it out is a place to cruise. Gyms, bathrooms, dark alleys, a parked car, you name it; they’re used as hook ups places.

I turned away from the urinal and started to wash my hands and at that moment I noticed two kids going into the bathroom. They were waiting for a stall to use it and none of the guys in the stalls seemed to care about it. Finally the two stalls in the center got available and these kids were able to use them.

The kids got out of the rest room and the two stalls were still occupied. By this time I had already washed my face, groomed my hair and was in the process of cleaning my glasses for the second time when another kid entered the bathroom, announcing that he had to use it! He was about nine or ten years old, and was very determent to do what he wanted.

He stood there, looked at me and then, focused his attention at the stall at the end of the row. He started knocking on the door, constantly. He kept saying, “I want to use this toilet, I want to use this toilet”. Since he did not get any response, he started spying on the guy using the stall thru the separation of the door and the wall. When he did this, he started chanting, “I see you, I see you, I see you”. Next thing I know, I hear the flush of the toilet. And I noticed the guy stood up and got ready to leave. Not so fast, the kid thought, because, as soon as the guy opened the door and started walking out of the stall, the kid throw himself at the man and hugged him from the waist. Fear got into this guy’s face and as he could, he got the kid off him (not pun intended) and walked away from the rest room.

Triumphantly the kid, with a wide smile, stood in front of the stall that he obtained thru dubious methods. Holding on to the door, He said, “I want to use that toilet”, pointing to the other stall. And off he went, to the stall at the other side and as he did before, he berated the guy inside to stop doing anything he was doing inside and leave. And again, as he opened the door, the kid grabbed him by the waist to try to hold him. This guy freed himself more easily from he kid’s arms and went to wash his hands. By this moment, I was laughing so hard (on the inside) that I barely was able to wash my hands for a fifth time.

The second victim left the bathroom and I followed suit. I was having so much fun, this was such a bizarre event that I didn’t wanted to spoil it by becoming the psycho kid’s third victim in a row.

SOME RANDOM LINES

A while ago I wrote these lines. These words had been brewing inside of me for a long time; this is what I was seeing around me, so much need for contact, especially in gay men. The thing is that many men in this city (and in many others, I think) decided to live a double life, on one side, wives and kids. On the other, furtive glances, brief encounters, nameless partners.

BRIEF.

Everybody wants to touch
But they’re afraid to reach.
I know I’m a victim of the same disease.
Do you?

Sometimes I see these men and perceive the hopelessness stuck in heir faces. It saddens me and makes me mad. Mad because society made them take an option they were not meant to take… or wanted to take… or did not knew of other option. Mad because we all are demanded to adhere to this rules. Mad because this is arbitrary. And especially mad, because as them I had and have to fight constantly against this silent enemy to find love.

THE BARE CROONER

Last weekend I went to one of two bathhouses that you can find in Juarez. You may ask: why, oh why do I have to go to his kind of establishments. The only thing I have to say about it is: yes, I went, and no, I do not want to get into this moral argument.

The first thing after going into the place, is find a cubicle, one with light and with a door. Don’t worry all of them have doors. Usually on weekend, the place is packed, but strange enough, this particular time was not, which is good, because when there are a lot of people there, the guys tend to be more reserved and do not talk to anybody or the contrary, since there are other fellows who they know, they do not act on their impulses because some guy they talk with might see him go into a cubicle and shut the door. And you know what happens when you shut the door. It’s something that I still don’t understand, guys go to this kind of places in order to hook up with other guys, but when they’re actually there, don’t do anything. Is not that I’m asking for a full on orgy (although it would be interesting), no, but you see the glances, you can cut the sexual tension with an axe. And guys do nothing to cut it.

After finding a respectable cubicle, I went to the showers to get ready for the steam room. In my way I saw the obligatory old, big-belly man sitting in front of the showers. There were two this time. Now that I think of it, I know why they’re always sitting there, that’s the only thing left for them, to look and reminisce of times past, of opportunities not taken. Once I showered, I went to the steam room and stayed for 15 minutes, a record for me, because I usually can stand only a limited amount of steam room time. I went back to mi cubicle and fall asleep.

When I woke up, I lay there for a brief time, and while there, a young man passed in front of my door, trying to cover himself with a towel of the results of a time well spent. I’m sure he was going to the showers. Finally I stood and got out of the cubicle. By that time I was dry again, so I decided to make a round to see if there was someone interesting or interested. There was no one so I went back to the showers, got wet and went into the last steam room and I found my spot. I tit down and was alone, but not for long.

The radio that the guy who does massages was on, and incredibly, it was playing “I will survive”. After the initial laugh, I started singing along silently to myself, but my singing was abruptly silence by someone’s more strong and attuned voice. I heard somebody open the door and I heard a interesting echo of a beautiful singing voice. This echo got closer and closer and finally, the man who was singing arrive at the same room I was. Coincidentally, it was the guy I noticed earlier sans towel. Completely naked. Of course, this is not a weird thing considering where we were, but it caught my attention, because I had seen him earlier with a towel making the rounds. He got into the room, walk inside, stood there for a while and finally he sat right across from me. He did all this while singing in a delicious velvety voice.

I cannot remember what song he was singing first, but he had a swell voice, modulated, and in pitch. I only remember it was a song of lost love and that he sang it beautifully. Since we were in a closed room, the sound felt bigger, and it was amazing. I do not know why, but he was staring at me, maybe because I was his whole audience. The next song in his set was “Acompañame”. I’ve never thought much of this song, but being serenaded this way, it make me listen carefully to it, and I have to say, It’s a beautiful piece. I looked silently at him, because I was enjoying the shared moment.

The third song I didn’t recognized it, but afterwards I asked him. It’s from Alexander Pyres and it’s called “amandote”, another love song. Something interesting happened while he was singing this. Since he, as I, was sitting in a corner, he lifted his legs and spread them across the part of the wall that was functioning as a bench. So there he was, spread eagle while he kept producing those enthralling sounds. Next on the set, was Sinatra’s “My way”, as interesting choice as the previous songs.

When he stopped singing I had to applaud, so I did. After thanking me he said:

- Money would be better. He said trying to make a joke about it
- That explains a lot… I said.
- What do you mean?
- Forget it, just making conversation.
- So, you liked it?
- Yes, I did, it was an interesting experience, so interesting I will have to put it on my blog.
- You will? Well, then, lets talk about the money again.

I laugh. After a brief moment, while he started singing again, I consider the option of getting to know this guy a bit more. When he stopped again, I stood up and sat besides him, I Introduced myself and asked for his name.

- Why do you want to know my name
- I want to know who was singing delightfully to me.
- You don’t need to know my name
- I know I don’t, but I would like to.
- I like your attitude
- Why is that?
- You don’t get scared, you don’t get surprised. You keep your cool.
- Is there any reason to loose my cool?

He laughed, stood and walked away and left me there alone. Later on, when I was back at my cubicle I heard him singing “acompañame” again while getting ready to leave the establishment. At the end, I did not get his name, but I sure was a witness of his nude recital.