Speaking of fear, I've suddenly gotten a couple huge career breaks this month, and it's scaring the shit out of me.

I had a bit of an emotional meltdown Sunday night. Walked out of the club celebrating the last night of Pride weekend, walked around the deserted streets for 40 minutes watching the sunset and thinking, moved my car under a streetlight and scribbled out all the demons for another hour and a half. Filled about 8 pages of copy, which I had hoped to transcribe here by now, but I'm off on assignment tomorrow and I've been making travel arrangements all day, checking in with sources, etc.

It probably won't happen until early next week. I'll be gone till late Sunday night, so it will probably be a blogless week for me. Sorry. It's all down on paper, though, so it's not going anywhere. I wasn't completely sober, so hopefully it was coherent. In this case, I think it  mostly was. If the words are jumbled, I'll tweak them, but the gist of it is still with me, and there was nothing impaired about the realizations.

I had a few other stark realizations that night, which definitely stand the test of sobriety. I finally realized what sucks so bad about being a homo. It was none of the things I was afraid of, nothing anybody ever warns you about. I for one, have never faced a gaybashing, or actually even any discrimination that made enough impact for me to remember. It wasn't even the self-loathing that I was sure would swallow me whole in the beginning. But the loneliness . . .

So much to say about that. I promise to explain next week.

(And in case anyone is concerned, I'm fine. The writing was cathartic. My friends back on the dancefloor were highly concerned: "Where did you go? What do you mean writing? You were writing?" I'm a writer, that's how I respond. That's how I find my way. Nothing left after that but mild residual fear and lonelieness, most of which was gone by noon yesterday. I have self-diagnosed myself as mildly, non-clinically manic-depressive, but in a most fortunate form. I spend 98% of my life in the manic state, with very brief, though sometimes deep plunges into the depression. Depth I can handle. I'm just not an endurance guy.)

Those Real World producers. What's with the penchant for utterly vile characters? I guess they're afraid boredom might set in if they don't toss in at least one, usually two complete scumbags, devoid of redeeming qualities.

A bit simplistic, isn't it? They get so much more mileage out of a guy like CT. He's got a lot of problems expressing himself, comes on a bit strong sometimes, and has a little trouble knowing where the boundaries are. Plenty of room for drama there--as we've already seen--provoked by one of the sweetest and most endearing characters on television right now. You couldn't ask for a more tender heart than this guy. When Tina bitched him out at the end of tonight's episode, those puppydog eyes could have torn my heart out. It's strange how several of his roommates are clueless about reading him, the guy couldn’t be more transparent. He wants desperately to be a good boy, to do the right thing, nearly as much as he wants to play the part of the bad guy. He doesn't want to be bad, he just wants to look bad. Maybe feel bad. Definitely feel bad. Just now and then, just for the rush of it. He doesn't mean to hurt anyone in the process. And unlike a few of the sanctimonious roommates judging him, he'll forgive any transgression against him, and do anything necessary to atone.

Leah, on the other hand, his self-appointed Inquisitor, appears to have been spawned entirely in the fiery pits of hell. Initially, I thought she was merely pathetic. A fugitive from an all-girl Catholic elementary school on the outskirts of Des Moines, who ran off with her sister's makeup kit, painted her face up with neon hues, struck a pose under a Santa Monica Boulevard streetlight, and regaled bemused passersby with sexcapes so bewildering they're only dimly aware she's attempting to demonstrate her sexual prowess. And never realized she picked a spot in West Hollywood.

Her body seems to have developed somewhat past adolescence, but her mind is still awaiting its entry papers. I wanted to pity her, when she threw herself so pathetically at Ace from Day One--though it was difficult not to cackle at the feebleness of her attempts--bite his butt? Where, exactly has that been successful? She would have provoked sympathy if only she could have proceeded sincerely. But every syllable out of her mouth reeks of insincerity. She seems so confused at this point, I don't know how she could act genuine. What the hell is that? She seems to have no idea.

Things began to look a little worse when that despicable Adam--who made an early stab at the Most Pathetic crown and may still grab it--laid into her about her complete hopelessness at nailing Ace. What he did was just about unforgivable, and he deserved any wrath she bore against him. Except when he belatedly apologized, she coolly explained that she doesn't forgive people, ever, and repeated it again later as a general policy. Scary.

Then she began her unholy crusade against our man CT. Just a vicious jackhammer of negativity. And that bitchy little queen Simon egging her on. I have yet to see a redeemable act from that little prude. He sneers at everyone, judging them for actions that have nothing to do with him, turning up his pointy little nose at them for drinking, or--God forbid!--getting drunk and losing a little control.

The two of those simpering gossips eavesdropping on the battle between CT and Tina--which they worked methodically to instigate--rejoicing in CT's every misfortune, they reminded me of John Malkovitch and Glenn Close in Dangerous Liaisons. The picture of evil.

More later, gotta run. But the show (nearly) always redeems itself with some fascinatingly troubled souls. The sight of Mallory barely able to face the camera last week as she confessed her terror at the world discovering her true nature, and the shame she was sure would befall herself and her family when she was exposed as something other than the good little girl … That was nearly as heartbreaking as CT in the hot tub tonight, noticing everyone interacting so gleefully, with everyone else but him. That Mallory. Fascinating young woman. She has no idea how together she has it, how authentic and good she really is. Or how much more impressive the woman she's hiding is than the bland little girl she's convinced she's supposed to impersonate.