December 29, 2008
Caliente
The unfortunate souls that live in the ruins of a broken and corrupted society need to express themselves. Their bodies gleam under the artificial light as they dance to an impressive beat. Their hearts, as well, beat. Faster and faster it beats and does not stop until their lives are finally pulverized by the only institution that can (but never will) save them. Their legs move with much strain in precise practice, their arms flail with a kind of unison, their heads bob, their midsection rolls and flows. The beat thickens and climaxes as does the unfortunate soul’s bodies. The lights flicker and change color, exposing the vulnerable people. Because of the light, these people are humiliated. Degradation is something they live with; something they need in order to survive. The star of the moment is anything but proud or impressive, he is defeated. He saunters towards the center of the stage and belts out the final stanzas of the song all the while keeping in unison with his backup dancers. His brown hair albeit short was matted with sweat, his tanned face was sullied by make-up and glitter, his fit body masked with an old fashion, sequined, absolutely hideous costume.
June 13, 2008
Danny Boy
It was quite ironic to Steven Finnan that his least favorite time of year was suppose to be his favorite. The summer is a time of celebration, rest, vacation, warmth, and fun. Everyone around the world yearns for summers return, except Steve. Granted he does need the break, since playing football for a continuous nine or so months was strenuous and the it allowed him to renew his love for the game. However, Steve Finnan would give nothing more than for it to be mid-December. Even though playing in the snow was brutal in every way possible, he was never alone. To Steve the summer meant loneliness. The club was basically his whole life. It contained his friends who had rapidly become his family. With all of the others on vacation or international duty, Steve had nothing to do but wait in the deserted city that was Liverpool.
He had thought about going to Ireland over the break but had decided against it. Ireland no longer felt like home and only his small Liverpool apartment (granted it's not that small) had the comforts of home. His family, his real family, had begged him to return and his old friends had all but forgotten him. The only thoughts they did have of Steve was when they would see him during a game and tell their sons that they knew him (all so that they would have a sense of fame).
Steve sat in his living room which adorned the color of his home. The red walls adorned pictures of red people. His glass cabinet held a medal with red ribbons and pictures of the reds most famous day. In fact the only thing in the entire room that wasn't red was a discarded black leather jacket. It hung haphazardly on the arm of the couch, limp with neglect because its owner left it behind. Steve couldn't take much more of this enraging red so he went into the kitchen. Its white walls and counters and table and appliances resembled headstones. The largest headstone, the refrigerator, read Danny in magnetic letters that Steve's niece had forgotten. An image of himself pressed against that same refrigerator with Daniel fervently kissing him pierced his mind. Steve started becoming distressed, "One more week" he said to himself. Steve sat at the table and looked at the empty chairs. He could almost see Danny, Stevie, and Xabi sitting in them with cards in one hand and a beer in the other. He got up and started cleaning the dishes from the night before and afterwards hesitantly entered his bedroom. Going in there was difficult because it reminded his of just how lonely he was. With only one occupant, the bed seemed desperately cold. Most nights Steve had to sleep on the couch.
Daniel had only called him once since he had gotten to Denmark. The phone had rung only a few hours after Steve had dropped him off at the airport. Danny's voice was happy and Steve could tell he was the last thing on the Dane's mind.
"Hey Steve," was his greeting,
"Danny, You're in Denmark already?" Steve questioned,
"Yeah we just landed and we're pulling into the gate now. I just wanted to call to let you know I was alright."
"Thanks but you better go. I miss you."
"Miss you too Finns, farvel!" and before Steve had a chance to say I love you or even a bye, Daniel hung up and now two and a half months later and still no word from Daniel.
His bedroom was green because it was suppose to remind him of Ireland and hopefully subside any homesickness that may have occured. Steve was normally a clean guy but he had neglected his bedroom which left it so dirty it was hard for him to even look at it. His green bedsheets were rumpled and untouched since Daniel's last night in Liverpool. The naked Dane had rolled onto his stomach and threw a lazy arm and leg around Steve. The dirty sheets hardly covered either of them. Steve had been watching Daniel thrash about and seemingly out of nowhere the Dane muttered, "I'll miss you," it was so quite Steve almost missed it.
Daniel continued, "I'll be gone for almost three months! That's too long"
Steve smiled reassuringly at his lover, "Its ok Dan. You'll be back before you know it and when you do I promise to make love to you."
"really?" Steve was going to affirm his promise but Daniel had already fallen back asleep.
If only he had begged Daniel to stay. They could have made love everyday if that's what it took.
At the foot of the bed was an old and very much dirty sock that Daniel had left laying around. Usually Steve would have gotten mad at Daniel but now it made him only yearn for the younger man. He glided over towards his cd collection and stereo. Inside of the stereo was a cd of Irish folk songs. Daniel had put it in there because he wanted to learn more about Irish culture. He had wrinkled his nose at the melodic Irish brogues, "How do you understand them?".
Daniel had gotten to the twelfth song before shutting it off, obviously not that impressed. Steve was a little upset, not at Daniel's disliking for his culture, but because the next song was one the Dane would have liked. Right now that song explained perfectly how he felt. He turned on the stereo and the final chords the twelfth song rang out. A few seconds later the Londonderry air started playing. A rich male brogue started singing and Finnan decided to sing along,
"Oh Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling,"
Steve waltzed out into the living and due to his new surround sound, he could hear the song from anywhere within his home,
"From glen to glen and down the mountain side,"
He picked up Danny's leather jacket and hugged it to his body,
"The summer's gone and all the roses falling, its you its you must go and I must bide,"
He danced around the couch and came face to face with a frozen and framed Danny,
"But come ye back when summers in the meadow or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,"
He smiled and swung away from the picture,
"Its I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,"
He made it to the middle of the room and sadly dropped to his knees,
"Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so,"
Unbeknownst to Steve, the front door had opened and closed and there was a person walking down the hallway that led to the living room,
"But when ye come and all the flowers are dying, if I am dead as dead I well may be, ye'll come and find the place where I am lying,"
As if the song commanded him, Steve laid on the floor,
"and kneel and say an ave there for me,"
The person came into the the living room,
"And I shall hear though soft you tread above me and all my grave will warmer sweeter be,"
Daniel appeared above Steve, smiling. He bent down and told Steve, "I love you". Steve halted his singing when he saw Danny. Steve didn't need to sing that lyric because Danny's actions had sang it for him. Steve sprung up and kissed his Danny. Danny pulled away and picked up his jacket, "I was wondering where this went to!" he exclaimed.
Steve smiled and led him to the bedroom and simply stated, "I promised you love making".
When they made it to the room, Danny tugged at Steve's arm and pulled him into a hug.
Almost afraid to, Steve asked, "Why are you home so early?"
Danny kissed his forehead, "Cause I missed you,"
"missed you too,"
"What was that song anyway" Danny said with a slight chuckle, by now another Irish song had come on.
Steve blushed, "It's an Irish folksong, Danny boy. It reminds me of you,"
Danny replayed it and gasped, "How does it remind you of me? Its about a dead person!"
Steve hugged Danny and whispered to him, "Because I feel dead without you,"
Later that night a naked Danny was once again sprawled over Steven Finnan, asleep. Steve was closing in on unconsciousness but right before he slipped away he quietly sang, "And I will sleep in peace until you come to me."
He had thought about going to Ireland over the break but had decided against it. Ireland no longer felt like home and only his small Liverpool apartment (granted it's not that small) had the comforts of home. His family, his real family, had begged him to return and his old friends had all but forgotten him. The only thoughts they did have of Steve was when they would see him during a game and tell their sons that they knew him (all so that they would have a sense of fame).
Steve sat in his living room which adorned the color of his home. The red walls adorned pictures of red people. His glass cabinet held a medal with red ribbons and pictures of the reds most famous day. In fact the only thing in the entire room that wasn't red was a discarded black leather jacket. It hung haphazardly on the arm of the couch, limp with neglect because its owner left it behind. Steve couldn't take much more of this enraging red so he went into the kitchen. Its white walls and counters and table and appliances resembled headstones. The largest headstone, the refrigerator, read Danny in magnetic letters that Steve's niece had forgotten. An image of himself pressed against that same refrigerator with Daniel fervently kissing him pierced his mind. Steve started becoming distressed, "One more week" he said to himself. Steve sat at the table and looked at the empty chairs. He could almost see Danny, Stevie, and Xabi sitting in them with cards in one hand and a beer in the other. He got up and started cleaning the dishes from the night before and afterwards hesitantly entered his bedroom. Going in there was difficult because it reminded his of just how lonely he was. With only one occupant, the bed seemed desperately cold. Most nights Steve had to sleep on the couch.
Daniel had only called him once since he had gotten to Denmark. The phone had rung only a few hours after Steve had dropped him off at the airport. Danny's voice was happy and Steve could tell he was the last thing on the Dane's mind.
"Hey Steve," was his greeting,
"Danny, You're in Denmark already?" Steve questioned,
"Yeah we just landed and we're pulling into the gate now. I just wanted to call to let you know I was alright."
"Thanks but you better go. I miss you."
"Miss you too Finns, farvel!" and before Steve had a chance to say I love you or even a bye, Daniel hung up and now two and a half months later and still no word from Daniel.
His bedroom was green because it was suppose to remind him of Ireland and hopefully subside any homesickness that may have occured. Steve was normally a clean guy but he had neglected his bedroom which left it so dirty it was hard for him to even look at it. His green bedsheets were rumpled and untouched since Daniel's last night in Liverpool. The naked Dane had rolled onto his stomach and threw a lazy arm and leg around Steve. The dirty sheets hardly covered either of them. Steve had been watching Daniel thrash about and seemingly out of nowhere the Dane muttered, "I'll miss you," it was so quite Steve almost missed it.
Daniel continued, "I'll be gone for almost three months! That's too long"
Steve smiled reassuringly at his lover, "Its ok Dan. You'll be back before you know it and when you do I promise to make love to you."
"really?" Steve was going to affirm his promise but Daniel had already fallen back asleep.
If only he had begged Daniel to stay. They could have made love everyday if that's what it took.
At the foot of the bed was an old and very much dirty sock that Daniel had left laying around. Usually Steve would have gotten mad at Daniel but now it made him only yearn for the younger man. He glided over towards his cd collection and stereo. Inside of the stereo was a cd of Irish folk songs. Daniel had put it in there because he wanted to learn more about Irish culture. He had wrinkled his nose at the melodic Irish brogues, "How do you understand them?".
Daniel had gotten to the twelfth song before shutting it off, obviously not that impressed. Steve was a little upset, not at Daniel's disliking for his culture, but because the next song was one the Dane would have liked. Right now that song explained perfectly how he felt. He turned on the stereo and the final chords the twelfth song rang out. A few seconds later the Londonderry air started playing. A rich male brogue started singing and Finnan decided to sing along,
"Oh Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling,"
Steve waltzed out into the living and due to his new surround sound, he could hear the song from anywhere within his home,
"From glen to glen and down the mountain side,"
He picked up Danny's leather jacket and hugged it to his body,
"The summer's gone and all the roses falling, its you its you must go and I must bide,"
He danced around the couch and came face to face with a frozen and framed Danny,
"But come ye back when summers in the meadow or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,"
He smiled and swung away from the picture,
"Its I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,"
He made it to the middle of the room and sadly dropped to his knees,
"Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so,"
Unbeknownst to Steve, the front door had opened and closed and there was a person walking down the hallway that led to the living room,
"But when ye come and all the flowers are dying, if I am dead as dead I well may be, ye'll come and find the place where I am lying,"
As if the song commanded him, Steve laid on the floor,
"and kneel and say an ave there for me,"
The person came into the the living room,
"And I shall hear though soft you tread above me and all my grave will warmer sweeter be,"
Daniel appeared above Steve, smiling. He bent down and told Steve, "I love you". Steve halted his singing when he saw Danny. Steve didn't need to sing that lyric because Danny's actions had sang it for him. Steve sprung up and kissed his Danny. Danny pulled away and picked up his jacket, "I was wondering where this went to!" he exclaimed.
Steve smiled and led him to the bedroom and simply stated, "I promised you love making".
When they made it to the room, Danny tugged at Steve's arm and pulled him into a hug.
Almost afraid to, Steve asked, "Why are you home so early?"
Danny kissed his forehead, "Cause I missed you,"
"missed you too,"
"What was that song anyway" Danny said with a slight chuckle, by now another Irish song had come on.
Steve blushed, "It's an Irish folksong, Danny boy. It reminds me of you,"
Danny replayed it and gasped, "How does it remind you of me? Its about a dead person!"
Steve hugged Danny and whispered to him, "Because I feel dead without you,"
Later that night a naked Danny was once again sprawled over Steven Finnan, asleep. Steve was closing in on unconsciousness but right before he slipped away he quietly sang, "And I will sleep in peace until you come to me."
October 07, 2007
Michael Ballack is a Manly Man
Michael Ballack is a manly man. He likes the manly sport of football and to barbecue and to play cards with his friends. Michael dresses manly and has a pretty wife and three manly boys. But now Michael isn't so sure he is all that manly. Do manly men kiss other men? He really didn't know anymore. Michael was sure of his manliness until the day he met Torsten Frings. At the time Torsten was a manly man too. He also has a pretty wife and now two daughters. He even dressed manlier than Michael and his hair was a manly kind of short. For a few years Michael struggled with forbidden unmanly thoughts of Torsten under him. Michael Ballack tried many things to get Torsten out of his head, this is how he ended up with three boys.
It took until his year at Bayern when Torsten transferred there. During the first practice Michael and Torsten were manly fooling around- beating each other up, making fun of each other, making fun of the rest of the team. At the end of practice the coach let them have a free skirmish, Michael and Torsten were split up. The team decided to change up the positions, Michael became a forward and Torsten a defender. Micha had received the ball from a long cross and was on a break away with only Torsten to beat. At the last second Michael tripped and fell onto Torsten bringing them both to the ground. Michael didn't dare move, under him was a hot, sweaty, panting Torsten. He groaned when Torsten shifted a little. By now the coach and a few of the players had reached them to see if they were okay. Their response was a simultaneous groan.“Ok boys shake it off! Go to the lockers your done for the day.” the coach said patting Michael on the back.
Michael moved into a kneeling position and gave Torsten a hand. Their eyes met for a brief second and all Michael could see was lust. That day was the first day Michael challenged his manliness. It relieved him that it was hot and urgent and more like manly sex than love making, at least he wasn't turning into a girl.
But something happened that day that changed Michael and Torsten forever. Besides the fact that every spare minute was used to steal a kiss or spend time together, their attitudes and personality started to visibly change. They both had become protective of one another, on and off the pitch. They both assumed the roles as the “parents” on the national squad. They were both becoming less manly. That was what scared Michael the most, it made him want to end everything with Torsten but he found that when he had just the right amount of courage, he couldn't do it. His taste in clothing started to change, he went from plain t-shirt and shorts to Technicolor, patterned, sparkly shit that shouldn't be worn even by the draggiest drag queen.
He noticed a change in Torsten as well- when did he start growing his hair long? Although he can't say he doesn't like it, he does. It helps him cope with sleeping with another man. They're just lucky the relationship hasn't changed their performance on the field, even if they did received a few extra yellow cards on each others behalf. They became secretive and nervous, constantly watching their backs, making sure the media didn't catch them in their unmanly act. Michael Ballack almost couldn't stand it. He became moody and sad every time he was away from Torsten. At first it was just raw, manly sex but now he wanted to sit and talk with Torsten, maybe in front of a fire-naked. Thoughts like these passed through Michael's mind, not the sex but the intimacy. He hated it. He was feeling, when he shouldn't be. He caught himself looking at other guys and couldn't even remember the last time he checked out a woman, including his wife. And through all of this he had to feel sorry for the girl, even though truthfully her feelings don't matter to him. He knows she has seen the changes since she offers to go clothes shopping with him.
He doesn't want her to know, he doesn't want her to know why he lingers in the locker room or how practice really ends at two pm and not four. Most of all he still wants to be considered a manly man to his wife, to his sons, and most of all to Torsten. But what he really wants is just Torsten. It may seem like he has Torsten, he can kiss him, he can hug him, hell he can fuck him but if he truly had Torsten he would be prancing around hand in hand like a twink. He might even be wearing make-up or paint his nails. His might have been a girl. Suddenly a life with Torsten and only Torsten disgusted him. How can one become so unmanly? How could he have let this happen?
It took until his year at Bayern when Torsten transferred there. During the first practice Michael and Torsten were manly fooling around- beating each other up, making fun of each other, making fun of the rest of the team. At the end of practice the coach let them have a free skirmish, Michael and Torsten were split up. The team decided to change up the positions, Michael became a forward and Torsten a defender. Micha had received the ball from a long cross and was on a break away with only Torsten to beat. At the last second Michael tripped and fell onto Torsten bringing them both to the ground. Michael didn't dare move, under him was a hot, sweaty, panting Torsten. He groaned when Torsten shifted a little. By now the coach and a few of the players had reached them to see if they were okay. Their response was a simultaneous groan.“Ok boys shake it off! Go to the lockers your done for the day.” the coach said patting Michael on the back.
Michael moved into a kneeling position and gave Torsten a hand. Their eyes met for a brief second and all Michael could see was lust. That day was the first day Michael challenged his manliness. It relieved him that it was hot and urgent and more like manly sex than love making, at least he wasn't turning into a girl.
But something happened that day that changed Michael and Torsten forever. Besides the fact that every spare minute was used to steal a kiss or spend time together, their attitudes and personality started to visibly change. They both had become protective of one another, on and off the pitch. They both assumed the roles as the “parents” on the national squad. They were both becoming less manly. That was what scared Michael the most, it made him want to end everything with Torsten but he found that when he had just the right amount of courage, he couldn't do it. His taste in clothing started to change, he went from plain t-shirt and shorts to Technicolor, patterned, sparkly shit that shouldn't be worn even by the draggiest drag queen.
He noticed a change in Torsten as well- when did he start growing his hair long? Although he can't say he doesn't like it, he does. It helps him cope with sleeping with another man. They're just lucky the relationship hasn't changed their performance on the field, even if they did received a few extra yellow cards on each others behalf. They became secretive and nervous, constantly watching their backs, making sure the media didn't catch them in their unmanly act. Michael Ballack almost couldn't stand it. He became moody and sad every time he was away from Torsten. At first it was just raw, manly sex but now he wanted to sit and talk with Torsten, maybe in front of a fire-naked. Thoughts like these passed through Michael's mind, not the sex but the intimacy. He hated it. He was feeling, when he shouldn't be. He caught himself looking at other guys and couldn't even remember the last time he checked out a woman, including his wife. And through all of this he had to feel sorry for the girl, even though truthfully her feelings don't matter to him. He knows she has seen the changes since she offers to go clothes shopping with him.
He doesn't want her to know, he doesn't want her to know why he lingers in the locker room or how practice really ends at two pm and not four. Most of all he still wants to be considered a manly man to his wife, to his sons, and most of all to Torsten. But what he really wants is just Torsten. It may seem like he has Torsten, he can kiss him, he can hug him, hell he can fuck him but if he truly had Torsten he would be prancing around hand in hand like a twink. He might even be wearing make-up or paint his nails. His might have been a girl. Suddenly a life with Torsten and only Torsten disgusted him. How can one become so unmanly? How could he have let this happen?
Hide-And-Go-Seek
Lukas was stunned; and couldn't move. Well, he could move, but he was in their room. Lukas was supposed to be playing hide-and-go-seek with Bastian and David right now, but the two people in the room were making it difficult. At the moment, Schweini was trying to find him and Odonkor.Lukas prayed he both would and wouldn't find him. He was determined, like when he was in match and wanted to win, but the situation he was in now made him want to give up the winning title. From under the desk he could see two pairs of feet, one with adidas sneakers, the other with socks and sandals. The hotel room was getting smaller in Lukas' opinion since the only part of the room that was being used was the desk he was under and they were standing over. Even though it was his teammates that was causing this dilemma he couldn't help but have another problem arise down below. A pair of swimming shorts fell to the floor. It was only meant to be a game of extreme hide-and-go-seek.Klinsmann had given the team a day off, and as a whole they had decided to lazy around the pool. Bastian approached Lukas and David, who'd been napping on beach chairs, Pulling them by the arm, he'd dragged them to the floor where the team's rooms were and took out three card keys.Lukas looked at the keys and said, "Well you could've asked us if we wanted to play PS2."Bastian smiled and shook his head, "These, my friends, are master card keys! They can get us into any room we want!""How did you get them?" David asked."Charmed them off the cute receptionist." Bastian responded.And that's how Lukas ended up under the desk in Timo and Philipp's room. They weren't supposed to be there, and he wasn't supposed to be witnessing this. Of course he wasn't supposed to be there, either. Regaining his thoughts,'Help.' After a minute Lukas took out his cell phone, thanking god he brought it with him, and put it on silence. He decided to text Schweini., a reply came.'Why?''I'm stuck in Timo & Fips room.' He texted back.'Y don't u just leave?' Schweini's text message said, apparently not getting the hint.'They're doin' stuff.'Over the moans, Lukas could hear Michael's voice booming from the hallway, "Schweinsteiger! What are you doing in our room?"He couldn't hear Schweini's response but he could hear Torsten telling him to return the keys. At that moment, Lukas gave up all hope on Bastian.
They were lying on the grass behind the pool next to each other. They smiled at the warm sun and thanked the pleasant time they had with each other. Philipp's sandals were lying next to him and Timo's shirt was tucked under his head to protect his beautiful hair. Timo turned towards Phillip. The defender seemed to be sleeping so the goalie just took in Phils features. Timo admired everything about the shorter man from the way he played on the pitch to the way he gets excited everytime he eats ice cream. Philipp opened his eyes and caught Timo staring at him."Herr Hildebrand it's impolite to stare," Philipp chuckled,
There were many responses Timo could have said to that but each one was cornier than the rest. He contemplated each response, like a true goalie does, and weighed the pros and cons of each. When he finally decided to respond Philipp had already turned to the sky. Timo's inner child flicked Philipp's ear. Phil swatted it away and reprimanded Timo on being immature. Timo just flicked his ear again. Instead of swatting his hand away Phillip launched himself onto Timo and started to tickle his stomach. Phillip's smug grin was probably what did it for Timo, not the need for release from the awful tickling, not how adorable Phil looked when the sun hit him ever so, but his god damn ridiculously happy grin. Timo pushed Phillip off him and rolled on top of Phil. Even pinned under Timo, Phillip still grinned like he was winning."admit it I won," Timo whispered in Phil's earPhillip's grin only got wider, "Then why are you the one losing control?" And that's just what happened he lost control; every last inch of it went into a rough kiss. Timo had every part of Phillip pinned to the ground and had full control over him. The kiss only grew hotter and rougher until it suddenly stopped. Under all the excitement Timo had lost control over Phillip's hips, which took advantage of this oportunity and grinned, hard against Timo. Panting Phillip whispered, "room," and they ran, faces flushed, and hair tossed to their room. Their teammates might of called out to them to join in their fooling around but they didn't hear, they had their own fooling around to do. The elevator ride up to the fifth floor was excruciating. They didn't dare touch each other in fear they wouldn't be able to stop and when they heard the little ping signaling the arrival it got even harder. Phillip searched through his pockets to find the key to their room. Timo only slightly acknowledged Schweini going into Miro and David's room. And that's how Phillip ended up behind Timo red as can be and how Timo had to resist the urge to kill someone, mainly Schweini and Poldi. Lukas was still under the desk fidgeting with his growing problem. He didn't know how he was going to survive this, maybe hope they didn't last too long. He planned to wait them out. That was a better idea than any help Bastian could've given him., who was probably at the lobby returning the keys, Micha and Torsten at his heels. Out in the hall Torsten had started to push Bastian towards the elevator. Bastian all the while protesting by leaning against Torsten, yelling, or grabbing the wall and various handles."At least let me got to the bathroom!" Schweini protested,"There are bathrooms in the lobby," Micha responded,"Then let me get the other key!""There's more keys?" Torsten and Michael simultaneously frowned,Bastian nodded his head head and pushed Torsten off of him. He hesitated, now which room was Timo and Fips? He went to a random door and opened it."What are you doing?" Torsten asked him,"I'm getting the key," Bastian said like it was obvious,"It's in Kehl and Metzelders room?" Bastian nodded his head in the negative and continued through other rooms."Where is it?" Ballack asked,"Lukas has it," Schweini responded, both Micha and Torsten groaned. "Unbelievable! You're lucky everyone's at the pool," Michael said
With Torsten's eyes on him and Micha leaning against his door, Bastian continued looking for Timo and Phillip's room. He opened a door and a loud squeaked omitted from it. That was the smoothest thing Lukas has ever seen Bastian do, just barge in on his teammates doing it. Lukas could barely even see Bastian from under the desk but he could imagine his eyes wide."Schweinsteiger get out!" Timo yelled,"Sorry just here to get Lukas," Schweini said uncharacteristically shy,
That was his cue, Lukas picked up the shorts and handed them up to whomever. After a few seconds Timo leaned down and became eye level with Lukas."How long have you been down there?" he asked,"ah truthfully the whole time," Lukas said sheepishly. Timo closed his eyes, his face turned a creepy shade of red and it definitely wasn't a blush. Phillip, who was unable to move until now, pulled Timo back up and to the side. They waited but Lukas didn't move."Any day now Podolski!" Torsten said in frustration,
From his new position, hanging half out of the desk, he could see everyone, Schweini's wide eyes, Micha and Phillip's blush, and Torsten's annoyed glare. He couldn't see Timo's face because it was digging into Phillip's shoulder. Lukas stood up and put a hand on each of Timo and Fips arm and apologetically said,"Real sorry I thought you'd be at the pool,"Phillip only smiled, "Just go before Timo kills you,""Right," Lukas responded and turned towards Basti, "You're going to have to wait to return those keys,""And why is that?" Micha asked,"Um, none of your buisness," Lukas said looking down, Bastian followed his action,"Oh ok," Bastian said grabbing Lukas' arm yet again and pulled him to their room.
Phillip pushed Timo off of him and walked to Ballack and Frings, "Nice weather we're having,""Uh yeah," Torsten replied, Timo joined them at the doorway.Calmly he said, "It's a good day for a swim. What are two men doing inside on a day like today?" and he closed the door. He turned to Phillip. Phil put his arms around Timo's neck and nuzzled at his ear. Phillip smiled and whispered,"C'mon lets go for a swim,""Smart ass," Timo retorted and pushed Phillip into the bathroom attacking Phil's neck with bites and kisses.
"Phillip 2, Timo 0," Phil chuckled, "FUCK DAVID GET OUT!"
They were lying on the grass behind the pool next to each other. They smiled at the warm sun and thanked the pleasant time they had with each other. Philipp's sandals were lying next to him and Timo's shirt was tucked under his head to protect his beautiful hair. Timo turned towards Phillip. The defender seemed to be sleeping so the goalie just took in Phils features. Timo admired everything about the shorter man from the way he played on the pitch to the way he gets excited everytime he eats ice cream. Philipp opened his eyes and caught Timo staring at him."Herr Hildebrand it's impolite to stare," Philipp chuckled,
There were many responses Timo could have said to that but each one was cornier than the rest. He contemplated each response, like a true goalie does, and weighed the pros and cons of each. When he finally decided to respond Philipp had already turned to the sky. Timo's inner child flicked Philipp's ear. Phil swatted it away and reprimanded Timo on being immature. Timo just flicked his ear again. Instead of swatting his hand away Phillip launched himself onto Timo and started to tickle his stomach. Phillip's smug grin was probably what did it for Timo, not the need for release from the awful tickling, not how adorable Phil looked when the sun hit him ever so, but his god damn ridiculously happy grin. Timo pushed Phillip off him and rolled on top of Phil. Even pinned under Timo, Phillip still grinned like he was winning."admit it I won," Timo whispered in Phil's earPhillip's grin only got wider, "Then why are you the one losing control?" And that's just what happened he lost control; every last inch of it went into a rough kiss. Timo had every part of Phillip pinned to the ground and had full control over him. The kiss only grew hotter and rougher until it suddenly stopped. Under all the excitement Timo had lost control over Phillip's hips, which took advantage of this oportunity and grinned, hard against Timo. Panting Phillip whispered, "room," and they ran, faces flushed, and hair tossed to their room. Their teammates might of called out to them to join in their fooling around but they didn't hear, they had their own fooling around to do. The elevator ride up to the fifth floor was excruciating. They didn't dare touch each other in fear they wouldn't be able to stop and when they heard the little ping signaling the arrival it got even harder. Phillip searched through his pockets to find the key to their room. Timo only slightly acknowledged Schweini going into Miro and David's room. And that's how Phillip ended up behind Timo red as can be and how Timo had to resist the urge to kill someone, mainly Schweini and Poldi. Lukas was still under the desk fidgeting with his growing problem. He didn't know how he was going to survive this, maybe hope they didn't last too long. He planned to wait them out. That was a better idea than any help Bastian could've given him., who was probably at the lobby returning the keys, Micha and Torsten at his heels. Out in the hall Torsten had started to push Bastian towards the elevator. Bastian all the while protesting by leaning against Torsten, yelling, or grabbing the wall and various handles."At least let me got to the bathroom!" Schweini protested,"There are bathrooms in the lobby," Micha responded,"Then let me get the other key!""There's more keys?" Torsten and Michael simultaneously frowned,Bastian nodded his head head and pushed Torsten off of him. He hesitated, now which room was Timo and Fips? He went to a random door and opened it."What are you doing?" Torsten asked him,"I'm getting the key," Bastian said like it was obvious,"It's in Kehl and Metzelders room?" Bastian nodded his head in the negative and continued through other rooms."Where is it?" Ballack asked,"Lukas has it," Schweini responded, both Micha and Torsten groaned. "Unbelievable! You're lucky everyone's at the pool," Michael said
With Torsten's eyes on him and Micha leaning against his door, Bastian continued looking for Timo and Phillip's room. He opened a door and a loud squeaked omitted from it. That was the smoothest thing Lukas has ever seen Bastian do, just barge in on his teammates doing it. Lukas could barely even see Bastian from under the desk but he could imagine his eyes wide."Schweinsteiger get out!" Timo yelled,"Sorry just here to get Lukas," Schweini said uncharacteristically shy,
That was his cue, Lukas picked up the shorts and handed them up to whomever. After a few seconds Timo leaned down and became eye level with Lukas."How long have you been down there?" he asked,"ah truthfully the whole time," Lukas said sheepishly. Timo closed his eyes, his face turned a creepy shade of red and it definitely wasn't a blush. Phillip, who was unable to move until now, pulled Timo back up and to the side. They waited but Lukas didn't move."Any day now Podolski!" Torsten said in frustration,
From his new position, hanging half out of the desk, he could see everyone, Schweini's wide eyes, Micha and Phillip's blush, and Torsten's annoyed glare. He couldn't see Timo's face because it was digging into Phillip's shoulder. Lukas stood up and put a hand on each of Timo and Fips arm and apologetically said,"Real sorry I thought you'd be at the pool,"Phillip only smiled, "Just go before Timo kills you,""Right," Lukas responded and turned towards Basti, "You're going to have to wait to return those keys,""And why is that?" Micha asked,"Um, none of your buisness," Lukas said looking down, Bastian followed his action,"Oh ok," Bastian said grabbing Lukas' arm yet again and pulled him to their room.
Phillip pushed Timo off of him and walked to Ballack and Frings, "Nice weather we're having,""Uh yeah," Torsten replied, Timo joined them at the doorway.Calmly he said, "It's a good day for a swim. What are two men doing inside on a day like today?" and he closed the door. He turned to Phillip. Phil put his arms around Timo's neck and nuzzled at his ear. Phillip smiled and whispered,"C'mon lets go for a swim,""Smart ass," Timo retorted and pushed Phillip into the bathroom attacking Phil's neck with bites and kisses.
"Phillip 2, Timo 0," Phil chuckled, "FUCK DAVID GET OUT!"
Comfort
Sometimes it's a burden to Xabi. At times Xabi hates it. He hates the knowledge and the power. He hates being strong and nice. He hates being Xabi Alonso. But he hates Steven Gerrard even more. Xabi is suppose to, no, expected to know what to do. He is expected to like everyone and be the emotional anchor after a bad game. He expects himself to be all of these things but he is suppose to be the one receiving it. He hates Steven Gerrard because he is suppose to do what Xabi does but instead is the one who abuses Xabi the most. The worst of it is that Steven doesn't know how much Xabi needs him to be a captain. Not to say that Steven Gerrard is a bad captain, he actually is the best captain Xabi could ask for. Stevie raises the moral, raises the fans enthusiasm and gives great advice. Steven is just crummy at losing. The thing he loves most about Stevie is that right after he scores, he doesn't congratulate himself but he riles up the fans, it's what makes them love him, it's what makes him an excellent captain.
Most of the time Xabi has no clue how he comes up with some of this crap, it comes out of nowhere, most of the time it's unintelligible but ends up brilliant and at the end of the day it all helps to further his responsibilities. His comfort is like a golden apple. When Peter is off target, Xabi is there. When Luis can't perfect his crosses, Xabi is there. When the whole of the back defense lets an opposing player through to score, Xabi is there. And when Pepe lets that ball slip right past his fingers, Xabi is there. When Steven Gerrard is in the locker room, sitting there, looking listless, Xabi is always fucking there. It's routine. The team returns to the locker room, Xabi goes around hugging or patting people on the back. Stevie would sit on the bench in front of his locker, while the others stumble into the showers. Xabi would stay behind and sit next to him for hours. After one particularly bad loss to Chelsea they sat on that damned bench the whole day until Stevie silently cried (Stevie doesn't know Xabi realized) himself to sleep. Xabi frowned and carried Stevie to his car and brought him to Xabi's apartment. That night Stevie had horrible nightmares. Xabi watched as his captain thrashed about, screamed, and wimpered during the night. The next morning Stevie still wasn't back to normal. He stared off into space as Xabi held him.
Barely audible Stevie whispered, “ Y'know it wasn't so bad losing to them before. Before the World Cup, I mean. Before then they weren't my teammates or my friends,” he continued after a minute, “before all I saw was blue but now JT, Lamps, Joe, Ashley, they're all amongst the sea of blue and now I see all the great faces of today's football,”
Xabi smiled sadly, “It's sad really, blue, depressing almost.”
Steven turned to face Xabi, “You know Frank is a bad substitute for you,”
“Why because he won't hug you or kiss you and put up with your constant moaning?”
“We were the dream pair, the ones to take England to victory, the ones to lift the cup.”
Xabi kissed him and Stevie, having gotten everything off of his chest, returned to normal.
~~~~
Xabi walked into the locker rooms after the match. Xabi couldn't smile, he couldn't support the team today. They had played poorly and it showed. They had lost three nil to Arsenal, of all teams. As he entered no one looked up as they usually did, no one spoke, no one comforted each other, and no one expected anything from Xabi. Despite his disappointment he felt unneeded and he hated it. Stevie as usual sat on the bench. He hadn't bothered to shower or change or even take his cleats off. His captain band laid in the corner where he obviously threw it. Xabi cringed, he had no will power to sit there and take Steven's grief. Xabi was released from his duties but not from their pain. He felt all of them. Mark was angry and cursing. Luis couldn't understand. Pepe was replaying the whole game in his head and changing the situations to see where they went wrong. But Stevie was understanding. He wasn't angry or doubtful or astonished, he knew. Xabi was standing in the middle of the room and he didn't know where to go or what to do. He looked over to Steven to see if he should should sit next to him. Stevie, sensing someone was looking at him, looked up and caught Xabi staring at him. He smiled and threw a towel at Xabi.
“You're stinking up the place,” Steven half yelled across the room. Everyone looked up and smiled. We're finally getting a competent skipper, somebody said (probably Jamie). They laughed and continued what they were doing in a comfortable silence.
Xabi hates the responsibility but Xabi needs it. Xabi loves the comfort. He smiles at Stevie. He doesn't hate Steven Gerrard. He doesn't hate being Xabi Alonso only because he doesn't hate Stevie. And the burden, at times, can be shared.
Most of the time Xabi has no clue how he comes up with some of this crap, it comes out of nowhere, most of the time it's unintelligible but ends up brilliant and at the end of the day it all helps to further his responsibilities. His comfort is like a golden apple. When Peter is off target, Xabi is there. When Luis can't perfect his crosses, Xabi is there. When the whole of the back defense lets an opposing player through to score, Xabi is there. And when Pepe lets that ball slip right past his fingers, Xabi is there. When Steven Gerrard is in the locker room, sitting there, looking listless, Xabi is always fucking there. It's routine. The team returns to the locker room, Xabi goes around hugging or patting people on the back. Stevie would sit on the bench in front of his locker, while the others stumble into the showers. Xabi would stay behind and sit next to him for hours. After one particularly bad loss to Chelsea they sat on that damned bench the whole day until Stevie silently cried (Stevie doesn't know Xabi realized) himself to sleep. Xabi frowned and carried Stevie to his car and brought him to Xabi's apartment. That night Stevie had horrible nightmares. Xabi watched as his captain thrashed about, screamed, and wimpered during the night. The next morning Stevie still wasn't back to normal. He stared off into space as Xabi held him.
Barely audible Stevie whispered, “ Y'know it wasn't so bad losing to them before. Before the World Cup, I mean. Before then they weren't my teammates or my friends,” he continued after a minute, “before all I saw was blue but now JT, Lamps, Joe, Ashley, they're all amongst the sea of blue and now I see all the great faces of today's football,”
Xabi smiled sadly, “It's sad really, blue, depressing almost.”
Steven turned to face Xabi, “You know Frank is a bad substitute for you,”
“Why because he won't hug you or kiss you and put up with your constant moaning?”
“We were the dream pair, the ones to take England to victory, the ones to lift the cup.”
Xabi kissed him and Stevie, having gotten everything off of his chest, returned to normal.
~~~~
Xabi walked into the locker rooms after the match. Xabi couldn't smile, he couldn't support the team today. They had played poorly and it showed. They had lost three nil to Arsenal, of all teams. As he entered no one looked up as they usually did, no one spoke, no one comforted each other, and no one expected anything from Xabi. Despite his disappointment he felt unneeded and he hated it. Stevie as usual sat on the bench. He hadn't bothered to shower or change or even take his cleats off. His captain band laid in the corner where he obviously threw it. Xabi cringed, he had no will power to sit there and take Steven's grief. Xabi was released from his duties but not from their pain. He felt all of them. Mark was angry and cursing. Luis couldn't understand. Pepe was replaying the whole game in his head and changing the situations to see where they went wrong. But Stevie was understanding. He wasn't angry or doubtful or astonished, he knew. Xabi was standing in the middle of the room and he didn't know where to go or what to do. He looked over to Steven to see if he should should sit next to him. Stevie, sensing someone was looking at him, looked up and caught Xabi staring at him. He smiled and threw a towel at Xabi.
“You're stinking up the place,” Steven half yelled across the room. Everyone looked up and smiled. We're finally getting a competent skipper, somebody said (probably Jamie). They laughed and continued what they were doing in a comfortable silence.
Xabi hates the responsibility but Xabi needs it. Xabi loves the comfort. He smiles at Stevie. He doesn't hate Steven Gerrard. He doesn't hate being Xabi Alonso only because he doesn't hate Stevie. And the burden, at times, can be shared.
The Real Reason Why I Transfered to Bayern Munich
Don't get me wrong I love my old club, 1. FC Köln, but I love something more. I didn't transfer to Bayern for more money, money wasn't even a question. I didn't transfer to Bayern because it simply is a better club. I have an extreme loyalty to Köln and would someday like to go back. To me it's like extreme nationalism, where every club is it's own country. Each club has it's rivals, each has it's followers. Every time two clubs meet on the pitch, it is like a battle is taking place and the cup they are fighting for is the war. My country ended up like Poland in World War II, another follower of the greater nations. I was content at Köln even though we were (and they still are) fighting for democracy in Vietnam.
I was the Fuhrer at Köln, there I was amongst my friends, my allies. I joined the Bayern army for one thing only, a fellow soldier. This soldier, though young, was already successful for his country. He won many medals in the first troop. I've heard from the higher-ups that my soldier boy is much happier and performing better with me here. His aim is on target, his stamina is stronger, and he works harder. Bastian Schweinsteiger has a reason to fight; me, I don't care what or why or for whom I am fighting for as long as I am with him. I long to fight in front of him, make his awards mine. I will do anything for Schweini even if I am considered Benedict Arnold to my old club.
One day we were on the front. The rest of the squad had left for the day and only Schweini and I were there. We sat on the grass and idly passed the ball between us.
“I'm happy you came here Poldi,” Bastian sighed,
“You doubted this would happen?” I asked.
He chuckled because he knew the answer, he won the war.
I was the Fuhrer at Köln, there I was amongst my friends, my allies. I joined the Bayern army for one thing only, a fellow soldier. This soldier, though young, was already successful for his country. He won many medals in the first troop. I've heard from the higher-ups that my soldier boy is much happier and performing better with me here. His aim is on target, his stamina is stronger, and he works harder. Bastian Schweinsteiger has a reason to fight; me, I don't care what or why or for whom I am fighting for as long as I am with him. I long to fight in front of him, make his awards mine. I will do anything for Schweini even if I am considered Benedict Arnold to my old club.
One day we were on the front. The rest of the squad had left for the day and only Schweini and I were there. We sat on the grass and idly passed the ball between us.
“I'm happy you came here Poldi,” Bastian sighed,
“You doubted this would happen?” I asked.
He chuckled because he knew the answer, he won the war.
August 23, 2007
The Musings in my Mind #1
I don't feel. I sit at a computer, staring blindly into this bright screen and I feel nothing. Certain pleasures of the near future no longer plague my mind, no longer satisfy it. I am in need of something different, some excitement. Even talking about the prospects of feeling something is burning an even bigger, emptier hole in me. I wanted to write to express a deep emotion that may have been found in me and to jot it down as lyrically as I can. But as more letters show up on this bright screen, less there is to write about. I want to write about love and bravery of hot guys and happy endings. I want to complete a novel based on my own ideas and not one already predicted by society and previous authors. I guess this emptiness is really a need to complete something. To feel proud of my accomplishments. I feel that if I don't start on a story now I will not have time once school starts. Even now I should be reading. Even now I should be writing.
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