The best Christmas present this year has been the weather, undoubtedly. And it continued yesterday. I went for a run in the Marina, and it was gorgeous. Maybe a little cooler than previous days but still unusually and persistently warm.

I'm off all week this week - one of the nicest perks we get at my company. I'd thought that I would have so much free time - I can get some major things accomplished - Y2K proof my computers belatedly, and start preparing for my most complicated tax return ever. But time seems to leak away - I'm finding that before I know it the day is half over. Of course, running and the gym take large chunks, not to mention maintaining the website and answering email.

Last night, as on any given Sunday (sic :), I was looking forward to watching the English soccer on Fox Sports. My team, Newcastle United, are finally starting to stage a come-back of sorts. This Sunday, their match against Liverpool was the featured match - most of the match was shown and I was glued to the set for that time. Final score: 2-2 not too bad. Howay the Lads, as we say in Newcastle!

I've been feeling unusually horny recently. My body is yearning for sensual contact with someone else. Not having a boyfriend, and not enjoying casual sex much at all, means that, well, I'm not really "getting any". Part of the reason I'm feeling so horny right now is that I'm feeling so in touch with my body - I'm in as good a shape as I've ever been in my life. With that physicality looming large in my life, I long to be touched, and to touch - to lick, and be licked - to feel another man's taut body in my arms, and to lay back, stretch out and open myself for physical attention..

This might be a good time to raise a different subject. I've tried to be nice to people on the subject of unsolicited advice. Witness the polite and deliberately light and jokey sentence at the bottom of each journal entry. But SOME people don't seem to get it. So let me say again more clearly, DO NOT send me unsolicited advice on how to live my life! Such advice always carries with it the implicit idea that the advisor has a better handle on the advisee's life than the advisee himself! I've even had three different people recently say something to the effect that they'd offer me some advice if they didn't know that I wouldn't like it. Let me tell you - that's just as patronizing as actually sending the advice.

Now don't misunderstand me - I can take criticism. Anybody who has the nerve to publish their own material has to accept that some people aren't going to like it. I'm also receptive to "bug notifications" and important typos. Objective criticism from someone who makes no pretense at friendship, or simple observations of technical problems is one thing - unasked for advice in the guise of friendship is quite another thing. If I still haven't convinced you, read literature from the heyday of good manners, the Victorian period, and you'll see that classic good manners included not giving advice unless either it was asked for, or the person you wanted to advise was clearly going off the rails. So are we clear?

I've been continuing to enjoy the Pet Shop Boys album "Nightlife" so much. On most albums, Neil Tennant, the gifted singer and song-writer includes one sweet song, at least, amongst his more common tails of unrequited love and urban panic. There are at least two on this album - tenderly sentimental love songs, with perfect orchestrations, and great melodies. My favorite of these, "In Denial", has some beautiful backup vocals from Kylie Minogue. I guess I'm being self-indulgent here - there's nothing more boring than hearing someone else try to turn you on to their music, or their books. But give them a try, ok? :)

By the way, Neil Tennant is from my home city of Newcastle. And I'll never forget a moment from the early nineties. I was in New York, visiting my then best friend Paul, and we were hanging out in Uncle Charlies, a popular video bar near the Village. They played the video to the Pet Shop Boy's new, high-excitement single "So Hard", and it was filmed in Newcastle. And here I was in a gay bar three thousand miles from home.