Justin's Life...

~ May 2000 ~

May 6, 2000 - Thursday

I get aggravated with work from time to time, and I get frustrated when things aren't going the way I want, but Friday night, I was completely livid without an outlet to express it.

I was laying on the bed, watching Judge Judy when Larry got home from work. He walked in, we exchanged our cursory pet names and then he added "child abuser" to the end of the adjectives. He said it in a cutesy voice, but there's no way to call someone a child abuser in a playful manner. I asked what he was talking about and he said that he didn't want to upset me earlier that day, but that the maid had come to him crying, needing to talk about me.

Now, I hate talking about the maid because most of the time her employment is a non-event and I think to mention that we have a maid is crass, but now I need to write about her, so some background info is required. Our maid is about as nutty as they come. She cries if you tell her she made the bed wrong and she's quit at least three times in the last three years, always to never leave. She's been in the US for a least a decade but speaks less English than I speak French. We've wanted to get rid of her for a while now, but with no obviously better replacements and the uncertainty of a new nut case, we've avoided firing her. The devil you do know is better than the devil you don't, and all that.

So, anyway, she came to Larry Friday morning and told him in very broken English that I was throwing Spencer at the couch too rough, that I was kissing him on the lips, and that he'd gone next door with me and come back with a fat lip. Even writing it now, I'm angry. The bitch, to accuse me of that. Yes, last week, Spencer and I were playing and I was picking him up and tossing him about two feet to bounce on the couch. He was laughing and having fun. He didn't cry. He didn't get hurt. It was playing. There was no danger whatsoever. She was overly concerned about him being a soft baby; that I can pretty much understand.

But I don't kiss Spencer on the mouth and he has never gotten a fat lip, ever. I think there's nothing wrong with kissing a baby on the lips, but I don't do it. Where the hell she came up with that one, I have no idea. Larry said she said something about "germs" being a problem with kissing on the lips, but I would guess that was just to soften the accusation. And the fat lip thing, I'm just flabbergasted by that. One day last week, Spencer was in the playpen and I said hi to him when I walked by. Of course he wanted me to pick him up, so I did and we played for a couple minutes. When I put him back in the playpen, he wailed and so, feeling some obligation for having gotten him riled up (as he was content in the playpen by himself before we started playing), I decided I'd take him next door for a bit. He couldn't have gotten a fat lip: in the less than five minutes I had him next door, I never even sat him down. And in hindsight, I thought it was odd that she came over to get him, but for that bitch to think he wasn't safe with me or that she needed to come get him is maddening. And then to tell Larry that he had a fat lip afterwards. ARGHH!

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to just fire her on the spot, but Larry said that would be the worst thing that we could do, because it would look guilty, and that she wouldn't be any harm. How could she even think those thoughts? At the very least, in her mind, I'm neglectful and at the very worst, I'm beating him and sexually abusing him. I view(ed) her stupidity as a threat to my family, yet there was nothing I could do. I couldn't call her up and discuss it. It's hard enough trying to talk in person. ARGHH!! I can't even stand to write it... I'm going to go talk to her now.


Well, I went to talk to her and I feel a little better now. Who knows how much she understood of what I said, but at least I think that she doesn't think that I'm a "bad guy." But, just to give you an example of how little she speaks English, she didn't know "mean" or "evil" and maybe knew "bad guy." I was speaking in sign-language assisted, small word sentences. "You think I bad guy to baby?" : You, pointing to her; think, pointing to my head; I, pointing to me; bad guy, growling and kicking; to baby, point at the baby.

Larry just called (while I was writing that last paragraph), and I told him what happened. He wanted to know what kind of response I got, and that he thought that it was a lot less of a big deal than I was thinking. She's still more trouble than she's worth. At the very least, the nanny and the babysitter also think the maid is crazy, and they were also amazed Friday night at how ludicrous her accusations/concerns were.

But I'll tell you one thing, when someone accuses you of hurting a child, your own child even, it really tears you up. I just hope it's over and "forgotten."


May 8, 2000 - Monday

The middle of last week, I got an e-mail from a fellow admirer of red heads telling me about his site, so I checked it out. It had a few pictures that I'd seen before, a couple new ones, and links to some others which I couldn't see because I wasn't registered at the site where they resided. I looked further at the ones I could see, then noticed a link to sign up for the message boards where the restricted picts were stored. Interesting, I thought. A place where guys post pictures of red heads. I might see a few I hadn't seen already and hey, I'd post a few from RedHeadedMen.com (my website of photos that I took) and perhaps get a little business out of that as well.

The service was free, so I registered to become a member of the site, then requested a subscription to the particular redhead-centric group. A day after I registered, I finally got the e-mail to confirm my address and a few hours later, my my subscription request to the redhead-centric group had been approved. I was in. Koool! Naked red heads!

I started browsing the archived posts, seeing new shots of old faces... And then I noticed a post requesting more of Jim. "Jim?" I thought to myself. That's odd. Jim is the name of one of the three red heads currently online at RedHeadedMen.com. I clicked the header to read the actual post and the person requesting more of Jim is going on about how attractive he thought he was because of his "pudginess". Wait, a pudgy Jim who's redheaded? How many could there be?

I continue looking through the group, curiosity high, and find another article. This one has the header "By Request | Shane's Butt."

What? We've got a Jim and a Shane? I click the header to view the actual post and see my picture there, on that web page. And wait, the copyright notice and URL to the site have been cropped off! And no where does it say "Visit RedHeadedMen.com". This isn't someone doing me a favor, providing a little publicity. This is someone who posted it as though it were his own. He's even honoring requests for specifics: "By Request | Shane's Butt".

Needless to say, by this time, I'm livid! I continued looking and found a series of Jim and Shane posts. We've got Jim, we've got Shane. We've got more of Jim. And we've even got Shane and his feet. A total of 41 images in all. Forty-one of my pictures had been posted to the 1400+ members of the group and someone had the nerve to remove my copyright and URL before doing it. No one even knew they were mine. No one could even visit the site to see more. They all thought this amazing guy had gotten them himself. I even found posts that read, "I love the stockiness (or pudginess?) of Irish Guy (THANK YOU NAME REMOVED for that series!!!!!!!)" and "Who is this man? Where did these photos come from? I am in awe! This guy, Jim, is incredible." Needless to say, that "where did these photos come from?" went unanswered in the group.

I was flabbergasted to say the least. Five or ten of the publicly available ones with a link to the site I could maybe understand, but FORTY-ONE, including those behind the OneCode entrance. How could anyone be so unscrupulous?

I worked on a letter, fired it off to Larry's lawyer to ask for advice, and tried to forget about it. But upon looking further, I found that it was the damn MODERATOR of the group who'd posted the images. It wasn't just some wayward group member: it was the moderator. ARGH!

The next day, Saturday, came and I talked to the lawyer on the phone. I revised my letter, and this morning I sent it off, via e-mail to the moderator and the website's copyright agent and via certified US postal mail to the website's copyright agent at their business address.

~ Edited As To Remove Other Party's Name ~
I am the owner and holder of the copyrights to numerous images posted on the MESSAGELISTNAME message list and archive, residing on the SITENAME website. These images, some of which are described on an attachment to this letter, are not in the public domain. Written permission for the use of these images was never requested or issued, and I hereby demand that you remove said images immediately.

In addition to immediate removal of all of these images, I also demand the following:

1. The images are exclusively available on the RedHeadedMen.com website, many behind a pay entrance. These images are not available anywhere else. The person posting these images specifically cropped them to remove both the URL of the site and the copyright notice. Clearly the person who did this is engaged in willful and blatant copyright violations. Since these images are all posted under the name of the MESSAGELISTNAME moderator I demand that the moderator be suspended and the list be immediately deactivated.

2. I have suffered economic damage by the post and distribution of these 41 images to over 1400 members of the group. I demand appropriate compensation for the illegal use of my images.

3. I demand that a post be made to the list that states that these images were posted in violation of copyright and that each member of the group is advised that further distribution of the images constitutes a criminal offense.

I have retained legal counsel to pursue all lawful remedies for these copyright violations. On advice of counsel I am sending this demand for immediate action on the matters set forth above. If immediate action is not taken, my counsel will take the next steps in the imminent future.

Justin Clouse

Oh, and for what it's worth, I would happily tell you the name of the website and person who posted the images, but as a lawsuit is still a real possibility, I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that. I'm sure, though, that the moderator/poster would plead ignorance: someone else sent him them without the copyright or something like that. ARGH!


And now, for some total fluff (as things seem to be way too serious lately), today I changed my look.

I went from this

To this

Of course, lest I get too carefree... I actually think I looked better before I shaved. Oh well, it'll grow back soon enough and now I look a few years younger.


May 9, 2000 - Tuesday

This morning, as I layed in bed, I watched the E! True Hollywood Story about Bewitched. By the time it was finished, tears were in my eyes and I was severely depressed. Everyone in that show, that ran from 1964 to 1972, is now dead. Those characters that seem so real; Samantha, Darren, and Endora are all gone. Samanta, Elizabeth Montgomery, died May 18th, 1995. The first Darren, Dick York, died February 20th, 1992. The second Darren, Dick Sargent, died July 8th, 1994. Endora, Agnes Moorehead, died April 30th, 1974. And by the time the show this morning was over, even the supporting cast members who'd done interviews for E! had died as well. Sandra Gould, aka Gladys Kravitz Number 2, died July 20th, 1999.

Everyone who'd lived this serenely perfect on screen life faced the real-life consequences of being human. Larry Tate (David White) died November 27th, 1990. Even Abner Kravitz is dead. How can they seem so alive and real on the screen one day and yet be so gone the next? How can I or you ever hope to make a mark as indelible as they made... and yet even with the marks they made, they're now gone. Would someone know me, even if it's a character of me, as well as I know them after my death? Why do we try so hard when it seems we'll get no where, and wherever we get is only temporary. Once it's over, does it really matter?

So, yeah, I was pretty down after finishing that show this morning. Some things are just better left unknown. Sometimes it's better just to live in that world where twitching your nose brings you whatever you want and where everything ends happily in half an hour.

Oh, and for what it's worth, the group I sent the letter about yesterday is now gone. The company shut it down. I was really happy about that last night, but today it seems a little less important.


May 16, 2000 - Tuesday

I've never had a lot of self-discipline, and for the most part, I've never really needed it. High grades at school always came with ease and I've always had enough money in my life from one source or the other to buy the necessities, if not more. Yet, now, I weigh 206 pounds and I wish I had more self discipline to lower my weight.

The increase, from 170, started with David. Secure that someone that cute was butt-crazy attracted to me, I stopped really worrying about what I ate and "threw caution to the wind." Now, don't get me wrong, I was never a healthy eater, but with the new David mindset, I ate whatever whenever and never thought twice about it.

So, now, two years later, at 206 pounds, I'm not displeased with myself physically, but I long for a bod a little more lustworthy. I want to go to the beach in Hawaii, or even San Diego, and not feel like I'm too fat to be there. Too pale is fine, but too fat isn't.

So, anyway, yesterday I walked two and a half miles just after waking and this morning I did the same. I thought about posting my progress online, as some sort of shame deterrent, but I don't work that way. Just because I know you're watching, I'm no more likely to walk each morning or eat less than if you weren't. If I had that mindset, I'd hardly write anything here.

So, no gargantuan thoughts. Just an observation.


May 30th, 2000 - Tuesday

It's been two weeks today since I last wrote: people are starting to inquire about my well being. I'm fine, but thanks for asking.

So anyway, a lot has been happening lately, everything from my Eudora Out box being obliterated to my ten total miles walked not making a dad burn difference in my weight, but one thing in particular has been particularly (pardon the redundancy) noteworthy.

It all goes back to several weeks ago...

(This is the place where you visualize the wavy blurry sequence which has cinematically come to signify a flashback .)

OK, ok... I'll save my playfulness for the newsletter.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, Larry was looking through the online personal ads for someone to hang out with at the ranch house. It's in a small town, with a small population, but we'd met a gay couple there before, so Larry knew that finding a new friend wasn't entirely unfeasible.

So, to make a long story short(er), Larry began exchanging instant messages with this guy who's around my age, but primarily in the closet and lives at home. Larry seemed to really like him, and they were chatting a lot, so I got online and chatted some, too... but I felt like I was pulling teeth. I'd dealt with his personality type before: all talk to hide no self esteem, but I don't deal well with it. I'm a honesty above all type of guy, and when I see someone lying to themselves and to me, I go for the jugular to assure them that they're not fooling anyone.

Yet there was something a little different, little pangs of real would be randomly interspersed in our conversations. It was like the dike of an emotional barrier wall that he'd constructed had tiny leaks and every so often you'd get hit with a bit of the person on the other side.

So, Larry did most of the chatting. I was curious, but that was about it. Before long, Larry decided we'd head to the ranch midweek and possibly meet this new guy, as work needs were low and a break from LA without the kids would be nice.

Larry said if the new guy came over, that was great, but that he didn't think we'd see him. I understood what Larry meant, but a midweek 24 hour trip with four hours of driving isn't all that usual and his possible presence definitely gave it more of an appeal than if his attendance hadn't been a possibility.

Anyway, he didn't show, and I was slightly ticked about it, as I was already feeling that I was investing much more energy than I was getting back. It was one thing for him to be closeted, but he was at least going to have to make the effort to change. I couldn't give him the courage to do it; all I could do was guide.

So, I pretty much let it go... but back to the ranch we headed the following weekend and this new potential friend's presence was again a possibility. Saturday afternoon, he came over... and ... he had red hair.

Needless to say, things got flipped quite a bit after that. For a gay red head, I could afford to spend a little more energy. He was super quiet in person, but he was a smart, available, non-ho, gay red head. I'd never found one before in real life. Well, at least not one my age. Sunday morning, I wrote my friend Jim (whom I've yet to mention but who's been around for a few months):

~ Edited For Publication/Clarity ~

Hey there big boy... how's your weekend going? Pick a night this coming week and I'll come over and we'll work double-time on getting the site up and running.

Things here? Well, you remember that guy that Larry was talking to via IM? (We came to the ranch. He didn't come over. Etc.) Well, yesterday, we were yakking with him again and I asked if he would come over. He again said "maybe" and we figured it again wasn't going to happen... but by the afternoon, he said he was on the way over to say hi. And get this, when he got out of his car, he was RED HEADED!

So, needless to say, Larry tacitly harassed me the entire time he was here. He was very quiet, very guarded, but glimmers of real came through. And then, after he left, after dinner, I IM'd him again and he started opening up. He said he was happy when he left here... and for someone who's been completely tight lipped and an emotional wall, I thought that was a big revelation. By the time I logged off for the night, it was really nice. And I have to say that the eventual thought of actually kissing a red head that I was attracted to, with whom some sort of a yet-to-be-defined relationship could exist, is enchanting. I mean, I've never actually kissed a red head that I was physically and mentally attracted to. It would probably be euphoric.

Soooo... it's been quite an interesting weekend. We may see him today if he can steal away from his parents. (He lives at home.)

Of course, last night Larry made me promise that I'd try not to go gaga. It's gonna be hard. A sweet, near virginal, 20 year old red head. Yee-ha!


A few minutes later, I got a response back from Jim.

Ok, living on instinct as I do (and sometimes I die by it, but here goes) I have to tell you this...

Upon reading this email I became engulfed in jealousy. As I don't have any reason to be, I'm not sure what to do. I know it's stupid. I have this crush I just have to get over is all. So I will have to get back to you on getting together. I will be able to process all of it, I just need a few days to "re-group".

I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable, but as I believe in the theory "When in doubt, communicate" I would have felt worse about myself if I didn't tell you.

Ok, gotta' go...

I had no idea that Jim was even remotely attracted to me. Like I said, it had been months and Larry, he, and I had hung out extensively. Dinner, TV, movies, but not even the most remote sign of interest in anything other than friends. It didn't exist for me, nor for Larry, and since he'd made no signs whatsoever otherwise, I was fairly certain it didn't exist for him either. We were just friends, and it was nice being just friends. There was no pressure to shave, dress nice, or even be on good behavior. It was relaxing.

So, in disbelief that Jim had a crush on me, I wrote him back to apologize about my sending him that e-mail. We worked it out, he understands that I'm not attracted back, and that's that.

But, that still leaves Mr. Closeted-In-A-Small-Town-With-Red-Hair (who, for his own peace of mind, will require a pseudonym: Patrick).

So, Patrick did come over Sunday evening and was again quiet. He left, I gave him a hug which he tolerated but did not reciprocate, and off he went.

For the next few days, I chatted with him online... and then this past week, it looked like he might actually come down to La Jolla to visit for the long weekend. First, his mom said that he couldn't drive on Friday or Monday because of the Memorial Day traffic, but he got cleared for Saturday and Sunday. Then, a computer problem hit that he had to fix, but he stopped working on it and gave me every indication that he was just minutes from walking out the door. I was impressed and getting excited about seeing him for an extended period.

Meanwhile, as Patrick was finishing up so he could leave, Larry was ready to go to Wal-Mart, so I said we'd see him (Patrick) soon and signed off.

So, when we got back from Wal-Mart, I checked to see if Patrick was online, and he wasn't. That was a good sign. He was nearly always online, so if he wasn't, he was likely in his car heading to La Jolla. Sure, it was a long drive, but the living-at-home situation being as it was, the trip was the only real way that he could spend any extended time with Larry and I.

So, hours passed, and I was more and more certain that he was going to walk in the door any second. I even went to the drug store and bought a razor and skipped renting a GameBoy game at Blockbuster. I just knew he was coming... until I logged on nearly 5 hours after we'd last chatted and he was there.

I was livid. I started, "You're online?" and he said "yeah" with a frown face after it. My next line was "why the FUCK didn't you write to tell me you weren't coming?" or something like that with fuck in all capital letters, and I continued from there. He didn't have much to say, virtually nothing. Finally, I said bye and walked to Blockbuster just to let off some steam. Larry and he chatted while I was gone, and when I got back, I realized that I'd torn into him pretty good. I wouldn't have taken it back if I could: I needed to say it, but it was too harsh. Larry said that after I left he had said it would probably be better if we didn't see each other again.

So, the next morning, I woke and wrote:

~ Edited For Publication/Clarity ~
First, I'm sorry I went off to such a degree last night. Needless to say, I was hurt, angry and in disbelief. Having it seem like such a sure thing that you were coming when we stopped chatting (you even wanted to know how the DSL line connected (presumably to hook your laptop to it)) and not seeing you online and having no message when we got back from Wal-Mart, I said, "Hey, he might actually be coming." Larry disagreed, saying I'd see you online in a bit, but I kept checking and you weren't there. With each passing hour with no message and not seeing you online, I became more sure you were coming. A bit offline, while doing other things, I could see but it had been hours and you still weren't online. And it *did* seem odd that you didn't message to say you *were* coming when you left the house, so I took that into consideration, but you knew I was enthused about your possible coming and I thought you were excited about it as well. I just knew you had to know I'd want to know the minute you weren't coming. I even went to the drug store to buy a razor as I had none here and skipped renting a GameBoy game from BlockBuster because I *knew* you were coming. I was sure. How could you have been offline for four hours last night and not be on your way? I was certain and on a high. I didn't think you were going to actually sleep between Larry and I last night: that was too much to hope for. But I would hug you, you'd promised that. And perhaps I'd even hug you extendedly. It was going to be great.

And then I logged on after dinner thinking that you would have likely been here by now, and you were there. Online. No excuse. Not even a realization that it might have been appropriate to tell me you weren't coming. It was unfathomable. I just couldn't understand how someone could let me down like that and not even have a "Sorry. I know you were really excited about seeing me but I just couldn't handle the drive".

So, Larry told me what you two said last night. As much as I hate to agree, I think you may be right. I think we're at two too disparate points. I tried taking a breath and chilling: remember, I did say that coming was up to you, even while I was saying "get your butt in the car." But even if it had been six o'clock, I would have come, probably even at seven. First, it was that your mom wouldn't let you. Then you cleared that hurdle. Next it was the computer problem. But you stopped working on it. I was shocked and impressed. Then, it was the time/driving problem. There are just too many hurdles; some I understand like your mom, but others I don't like it being five o'clock and that being too late for you to start driving. And if you say that you really didn't realize that you should have let me know you weren't coming, I have to believe that. But I also have to look to myself and realize that I can't handle things like that. Us computer nerds, I know we have problems with real life social interactions, but certain assumptions about social interaction are made and used: otherwise we couldn't interact or communicate at all. (Sorry, a bit of communication major coming out here). But it's obvious, at the very least, that your coming was less important to you than it was to me to a large degree. Again, I can handle that, but I don't think I can handle your not realizing its importance to me. I know that if I were you and you were I, I'd apologize about yesterday and I'd drive down today, just to show you that I understood. Now, I'm not asking nor suggesting that you do that. I'm just trying to illustrate the different points where we're at.

So I don't know what the solution is. Larry says I should just let him talk to you and me stop, but he also says he doesn't think we'll ever see you again. And being totally honest, part of me thinks that would be less pain and aggravation for me, but another part doesn't want that to happen... I don't know how I could ever be indifferent about your coming and I also don't know if you could ever realize my viewpoint or vice versa.

So no nice neat solution. I wish there were, but there isn't. And I hate that its come to the point where we're both contemplating not even being friends with the other. Perhaps if we both tried to meet the others' needs a little more. But, honestly, I don't know how feasible that really is. My need right now is that you drive down here today just to silently say, "yeah, I realize that you were super excited to see me, that I let you believe that I was coming (even though I didn't quite realize that I was doing so), and to show you that it's important to me that you realize that I'm making an effort to understand you, I'm driving down to La Jolla, even though it's A LOT of driving." That would make such inroads to getting us to a more mutual place; especially considering that it's not what you would typically do. Even saying that you would drive to L.A. one day this week and spend the night, 18 hours in L.A., that would show me that our effort levels were a little more similar, and that you at least understood my disappointment yesterday, if not totally agreeing. I was *REALLY* disappointed... but the anger overrode and thus the IM attack ensued. I'm sorry for that.

So I'm going to sign off now. I hope to hear back from you, via e-mail or an IM. And I still hope to see you.


Sunday, after I wrote that, Patrick wasn't online all day, which again was unusual. Larry and I figured that he was hiding out; not wanting to deal with any of this, but after I got back from the movies with Katie, Larry said that they'd talked and he was doing better.

We talked Sunday night, too, and he apologized, saying, "in retrospect I know I should have left you a message or e-mailed you." I took hold of that olive branch, while simultaneously lowering my level of involvement, and things have been nice since.

Last night, as were finishing up our chat:
 Justin:    I can see you are definitely keeping tight reigns to make 
            sure I don't get too "focused" any more
Patrick:    I am definitely trying
Patrick:    you don't make it easy though
Patrick:    =:-P~
 Justin:    is that good or bad?
 Justin:    I don't make it easy for you not to flirt?
 Justin:    is that what you just said?
Patrick:    yeah something like that I think
 Justin:    *smile*
 Justin:    ok, on that positive note, I'm gonna sign off.


Just IM'd Jeremy... he said I could call him Jeremy, so there: that's his real name.

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© 2000 Justin Clouse
Justin's Life...Justin's