I apologize for nothing!

The Toothache, & The Golden Gate Bridge

2009-10-11T11:16:33Z

every time i log in here to write something it tries to reload a previous aborted attempt at writing something. until tonight. apparently i've been quiet enough for long enough LJ has forgotten me. that's okay. sometimes you have to go inside yourself. besides, i'm fairly confident i'm going to remember some recent events for a long time.

summer has turned quickly into autumn. the leaves are not very thrilling this year after the dry summer.. browns instead of golds... reds quickly fading to black and without much rain, crinkling away in the dry air. i may not gather any leaves this year, and if this is my last autumn here it may be something i regret.

last week i visited the dentist for the first time in 13 years. i lied and told them it had been, perhaps, 5 years... but i know i was 19 when i had the wisdom teeth out, and i'm not sure i visited one again after that. certainly not after 21 when i moved out to Austin after college. what finally got me in was a throbbing, dull pain under my infamous baby tooth. i have this little premolar because there was no permanent tooth under it. when i was 19 they told me very casually it would just "fall out" someday, and here it is so many years later and hanging on somehow, like a memento of my lost youth and naivety. how cute.

as i walk into the dentist's office i'm almost immediately reminded why i have avoided the experience for so long... the deliberately soothing lighting, coffee table covered with magazines, while the dreading suction sound and baritone voice of the dentist go on behind a few cubicle walls. first i'm in for xrays, which the girl assures me have "very little radiation these days." lovely. then a 20 minute wait. then it's time for the hygienist to pick at my teeth. "have you been flossing?" well... "do you grind your teeth when you sleep? i'm seeing a lot of wear for your age..." yes yes, the same questions every time... then she reaches my problem tooth. by now i'm sure it's a deep cavity and i'm going to endure the horrible yanking sensation of it being pulled from my head. "sorry, i know it's sensitive but..." she sprays anyway. "have you been eating popcorn?" um... no?

a day later the pain is miraculously gone. the special brushing tool the dentist gave me seems superfluous. whatever was there is not there. then it occurs to me, 3 weeks before (!) i had been eating caramel corn i bought the day i walked across the Golden Gate Bridge.

----

the evening i arrived in San Francisco was windy and unremarkable. i got off the BART in the Mission District and waited for an endless 20 minutes for Mishka to pick me up from the station. why couldn't he have come over there when i was on my way? after 3 attempts at conversation the hooker finally quits trying to strike up conversation with me. standing next to 3 well lit ATMs i feel safe in the urban glow, but the strangeness of the place, my luggage, screaming vulnerability and making me stand out...

we chat and catch up. he looks great now compared to the disheveled, long-haired aging hippie from Boulder i'd met a year before... his cat living in his car, and he on a friend's couch. now he has his own place, right on Castro, only $725 for the bedroom. i envy.

he didn't fix up the futon for me -- too much trouble he said. apparently i must sleep with him. besides, he'll appreciate the warmth. but he twitches constantly as he sleeps.... and he pulls the blankets over onto himself unconsciously. i lay there, uncertain. finally i sneak out of bed quietly to the bathroom, but decide never to go back into his bed.

the next morning is sunny and alive... aah, i'm in San Francisco! we have lunch and walk to the top of a hill covered in bare, red rocks, which he says remind him of Colorado... then off to Golden Gate park, which seems so much bigger walking through the maze of trails than driving as i'd done with Bill. dinner in the Haight at a quiet little thai place with one of his friends... then a shower. i feel like some wine, so we drink Chardonnay until the bottle is empty, go out to a couple of empty bars. he gets tipsy much more easily than me, and at one point leaves his coat in my care while he runs off to dance to Lady Gaga. some guy walks by, knocking the coat down while i stare absently at a cute boy who looks out of place. when Mishka comes back he discovers his cash has been stolen from his coat pocket, and that ruins the evening. i offer him my cash but he refuses it. i feel like a failed friend, but wonder how someone who goes out could be careless enough to leave cash, card and ID in an item of clothing not on himself.

Mishka makes me homemade blueberry pancakes and eggs for breakfast. i feel like a lover, even though i'm not. find myself wondering why he doesn't have one... speculate it is his overwhelming bitterness and hatred towards "the gays."

then the big reunion with Brandon finally happens... after 6 months, and an abandoned trip in June i wasn't sure it would ever happen, but it does. he doesn't seem angry or resentful... it's just like old times, except maybe a bit less of the bashful smile, a little bit less eye contact. after lunch at Harvey's (where i notice elephants etched into the upper corners of the windows and realize this was once the famous Elephant Walk bar), he walks around with me and takes me to the same park with the red rocks, which he calls "the top of the world." it's windy and cold this time. he talks about how beautiful it is up there at night. the walking continues, without direction... does he expect it from me? then suddenly it feels like the same clash as before... i'm supposed to lead this dance, but i don't know how, or even which direction i'm going. so i take him back to Mishka's apartment, and shortly after he is gone for the day, with promises to meet up for dancing later.

that evening we meet up with another boy of his, this one from New York -- tall, gangly, geeky, wearing a hat to conceal baldness... a competitor perhaps? we're at the same bar where Mishka had been pickpocketed the night before, in the smoking section. Brandon often goes to the smoking section for more space... and i try not to cough. then let's try another place perhaps... this one is called Q Bar i think. i recognize the smoking section of that one as we walk in... a place where we had gawked at each other once before we kissed a few bars later. it's incredibly crowded. people are squishing past me left and right and i can't hear anyone talk. i notice a guy trying to get by so i move out of his way, then he decides to come back and hit on me to return the favor. do i want to dance? well, no. i feel rude and awkward. Brandon dances with the tall boy, even though there is no space. i decide to try to find the bathroom but after squishing past everyone and seeing a line, i feel a flash of clausterphobia and decide to leave the bar entirely. Brandon looks at me quizzically as i say goodbye and rush out.

back at Mishka's apartment i lay on the futon swearing to myself i won't let a bad bar night ruin a trip. but it doesn't really bother me that much. everything has been so beautiful... and bars are just bars to me now.

Sunday morning... Mishka never gets up... 11 am, noon, 1 pm... i decide to go running in Golden Gate park; 45 minutes later i'm at the ocean, but it's too foggy to see more than a few waves cresting in the distance. 45 minutes back, and i'm exhausted, but revitalized somehow. after showering, i'm not sure what to do with myself, so i wander off to Dolores Park to look for Brandon's brunch gang. i find him exactly where i expect him to be, with tall boy and a couple of other friends, circling a blanket covered in cheese and wine bottles. he continues his indifferent air toward my presence, but i get invited by one of his friends to something later that night called "Whorepod."

on my way to this event, i venture into parts of the city unknown to me... without a map and only the vaguest sense of where i should be going. after passing where i think it should be -- and knowing i am headed towards the infamous Tenderloin -- i decide just a few more blocks before i turn around. then suddenly there it is. Sugar Lounge. Brandon is there, on a small couch with a group of friends and many drinks. again, he is by all appearances indifferent to my arrival. i talk to tall boy extensively to stave off boredom, while i enjoy a $10 drink. i'm pretty sure that's going to be it, but a girl friend of Brandon's insist i try another. i've never been good with small talk, so i stand around awkwardly. she tells me "you're going to move to San Francisco. you're not happy there." why is that? i ask.

two hours later i'm walking him home... the pain killers for his wisdom teeth didn't mix well with the shot someone gave him. he can barely walk but can talk perfectly well as always. i take his hand to be sure he doesn't fall. tall boy parts with us and it's off to his place... but on the way i realize i can't stay because i don't have my contact lens case. i keep this fact to myself. we hold hands the whole way, mostly just because i want to. he wants to dart out into the street half the time when it's not safe. i see gritty, urban folk at every corner and prepare myself for the muttering comments... "fuckin fags..." but it never comes. i guess this is San Francisco so...

in the condo, he offers me a glass of water, then collapses on his bed, barely finishing kicking his shoes off before he's passed out. i watch him for a while. i think about touching him in his passed out state, but it somehow feels wrong. 30 minutes later i decide to leave and find my way home. walking alone this time, i retrace our steps... past the old industrial buildings now full of condos, under the freeway overpass littered in trash, and around the corner past the convenience store... then i find Market and know i can find my way home, even at this hour, in this city i barely know my way around without a map. safely home, i text him and explain what happened. i figure he won't remember getting home exactly, or that i left. i stop short of telling him what i'm really thinking, which is that i love him.

i'm on my own again the next day. Mishka is sick, and i'm bored. i decide to walk... somewhere. maybe the Presidio. it's got to be several miles away, but once i start walking i feel fine and keep going. the stately, colorful victorian streets stretch out in every direction. i walk through a thick forest of eucalyptus trees shimmering in the wind, and past drab military housing until i can see the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. it's a warm, summery day nothing like the last time i walked over the bridge. i munch on caramel corn the whole way, stopping on the Marin County side long enough to feel accomplished, then turn back. i pass through Old Fort Point, where a scene from Vertigo was filmed, and perhaps my favorite spot in San Francisco.... i wander through Baker Beach passing middle aged, nude gay men, then stop, and sink my bare feet deep into the sand to rest them. i pass through the Haight again, watching the sun set slowly behind me, and over Buena Vista park, which is so wooded you can barely see any of the city, but it feels like a special place to hide. i'm not even sure how many miles i walked, but my feet are okay, so i don't really care.

that evening, my last holdout for the trip, meeting Daniel, finally materializes. as i'm waiting for my thai food, i get a text from him and find out he's right across the street. he seems nervous, so i try to project calmness. we eat our food outside on Market street and i feel like a homeless person. some guy more or less begs for my leftover spring rolls. they look good, eh? well that's why i'm taking them home to eat later. i feel cruel. Daniel decides to buy me a drink at a pretentious looking bar with bright modern lighting and white couches. he seems so intelligent and curious, and as we hug goodbye i'm glad i managed to meet him.

on the way home, i walk back up to the park with the red rocks, my laptop in my backpack, and the view is indeed tremendous... the city twinkles below me.... it is not very windy or cold. there are hipster kids next to the highest ring of rocks, chattering away. i try to savor the moment, but don't stay long for fear of getting in trouble for being there past park curfew. one day i want to stay awhile.

the next morning i simply don't want to get out of bed, because there's nothing to look forward to except going back to my life in Seattle, my job, my empty apartment. i watch the scenery fill with fog as the hills pass by me on the train. did Brandon really say in his drunkenness that i should come back next month?

---

my tooth still doesn't feel right, even with the caramel corn kernel dislodged from it... perhaps i will still lose it? the dentist didn't seem optimistic...

Brandon has barely chatted with me since i left San Francisco. i find that i miss him. i've accepted that most likely nothing will ever happen between us... but i marvel at my feelings for him. i simply don't understand them. it makes me feel more alive but... such a shame that there can't be something more. i don't fall for guys often anymore. when i do, i take notice. but he's young, and either he doesn't feel the same way or doesn't feel the same sense of urgency to savor them.

what's really been on my mind a lot is how much i enjoyed myself on this trip without needing any guidance. i could see myself there, where i couldn't before. i have a map, and i found my way. but there still is so much uncertainty to my life. what do i want to do with it, how will i manage to take care of myself, what will be my priorities..? i simply don't know, except an awareness of what i'm feeling. but i don't make decisions based upon feelings anymore.

work is incredibly monotonous. i fantasize about quitting daily. but then i think about how easily that could lead to something even worse, or having to move in with my parents again. damn economy...

Brandon is not really the one for me anyway, right? if he were, he would do a lot of things differently than he has. i would be encouraged, supported, communicated with. yes. i just need to keep looking...

but maybe not in Seattle. i never meet guys in Seattle that make me fall in love.

observations

2009-09-06T08:51:19Z

1. i find it interesting to note how many guys will send messages to me on adam4adam or manhunt between 1 and 3 or 4 am Sunday morning... many more times than i can get in an entire week. sadly, it took years for me to realize this is what happens when they run out of better options and desperation kicks in.

2. i don't get clubs anymore... at least not the idea that somehow it's really good if a place is so crowded with flesh you have to squeeze past someone else's sweaty arms to get to the men's room... or that it's really good if the music is so loud you can't even shout in someone's ear and be heard.

3. i hate Britney Spears and i don't understand why she's insanely popular.

4. San Francisco has the most unpredictable weather of any place i've ever been.

5. just about everything can be made better by a cup of coffee.

6. the things that interest me are so widely divergent from even my best friends, i feel so utterly alone in the world at times i want to scream.*

7. there really is no excuse for Seattle having such piss poor transit.

8. people who meditate, do yoga, and focus a great deal on their health, stress level, and emotions, are somehow much more unhappy and turbulent as they pass through life than my bacon-eating, pipe-smoking, factory-working grandfathers.

9. i really like to cuddle but i just cannot sleep next to someone if my life depended on it.

10. i would quite readily enjoy an evening amongst 50 year olds much more than an evening amongst 20 year olds.

*i've felt this way since my teens and somehow i still feel this way.

Uncle Teddy

2009-08-27T16:02:16Z

Of all the tributes that have come out for Ted Kennedy, the best ones have shown what i think is probably the most remarkable aspect of this man -- despite being in the Senate for an astonishing 47 years, he was a deeply thoughtful, kind, compassionate man, unlike the usual self-serving, heartless career politicians that manage to claw their way to the top and stay perched there like an angry hawk. I've teared up watching several clips of various speeches the man made over the years (some famous, some not). I teared up hearing Joe Biden talk about him being there for him when his wife and children died... He was passionate, he was honest, he cared about you the individual and society as a whole. But these little anecdotes are what make me smile:

"A man in Malden said that he wrote Kennedy's office saying that he had been trying to buy two Red Sox tickets so he could take his father, who had lost his legs to diabetes and now was dying, to a game. Because of the illness, he needed seats down low, close to the field, and had not been able to get them. The next week, he had the tickets.A man in Malden said that he wrote Kennedy's office saying that he had been trying to buy two Red Sox tickets so he could take his father, who had lost his legs to diabetes and now was dying, to a game. Because of the illness, he needed seats down low, close to the field, and had not been able to get them. The next week, he had the tickets."

Thank you Senator Kennedy. I sincerely hope we can pass a real health care reform bill this year with your name on it.

lightbulb moments

2009-08-12T05:22:39Z

funny thing happened to me today while at work, repetitively sticking labels onto tab dividers and listening to idiots howl at Claire McCaskill... poor Claire; she did a great job handling the mob... but i realized to myself, why am i living in this country? i mean really, when they sing God Bless America do i really want a being i'm not sure i believe in blessing a country full of racist, willfully ignorant assholes who are so xenophobic and tribal they only watch one news channel and never question authority enough to realize they've been brainwashed? question after question, and all of them founded on right wing lies... and how long before one of these Glenn Beck/Lou Dobbs/Rush Limbaugh/Bill O'Reilly watching lunatics pulls a gun on my president or some unfortunate member of Congress?

how long...

i don't want to live in this country anymore if this is what even just 20% of the population is. although i was raised in an extremely conservative household we always had civil discourse and debate. what we're having in this country now is no longer debate, it is simply hate and shouting.

oh canada, you sound so tranquil and civilized by comparison...

i'm thinking of making a list of criteria for cities that i would consider living in internationally. so far:

1) near water
2) temperate climate
3) has a vibrant arts scene
4) has mass transit (beyond buses)
5) is good for the gays
6) has national/provincial health care
7) left-leaning/liberal/socialist tradition

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

2009-08-03T18:30:04Z

The economy's teh suck. Health care reform is nearly DOA. Referendum 71 is appearing to be close to getting on the ballot, which means 3 months of fighting back the charges that babies will be sodomized and doctors will be forced to allow orgies in the lobby. my boss is on an unending vacation and i have a disaster of a project that portends to turn my job into nonstop envelope stuffing and data entry. there are homeless people doing crack and taking a shit 15 feet from my bedroom. and it's been hotter than it's ever been in Seattle during the summer. what's a guy to do?

i'm supposed to keep a daily list of 3 things that give me a positive vibe and make me feel good about life. well, hmm...

Monday, August 3rd:

1) I'm thankful this is probably the last hot day for the next 10 days, and that there's a cool breeze still coming in my office window at 11 am.

2) I'm thankful that someone is apparently rather interested in me on adam4adam now, although i regret being too shy to meet him last night.

3) I'm thankful that Carol Channing is still alive.

blah. that's not making me feel any different. what i really want is a new damn job, and a new life. i've been reading the biography of Harvey Milk by Randy Shilts, and one thing i have in common with the man is an impulsive, itinerant streak. it's all i can do lately to restrain myself from just quitting without notice, selling all my possessions, abandoning my apartment and boarding the next flight to Rio. oh that sounds so lovely, so damn lovely... but i'm afraid.

last night i turned on the tv just for a moment -- tuned to PBS of course -- and the first sentences i hear, coming out of a familiar voice are something to this effect:

"don't ever let money control your destiny..."
"don't let family drama get in the way."
"don't ever let 'your nature' determine your future, as in, 'it's not in my nature...'"
"don't let your self evaluation limit you."

in other words, all these can'ts and negatives are self-determining failure. you fail because you're already decided you can't succeed and thus your future is determined. i know the voice because it's Wayne Dyer, who i loathe... i loathe him because he can't offer his clear and sage advice without throwing god into it 5 or 6 times. but he's right. i've let poverty be my excuse, expensive be an excuse, fear be my excuse, family be my excuse, i've let ME be my excuse... and then when i realize all of that i just feel sorry for myself because i'm 32 and feel like a failure... even though my own philosophy is that the only thing that matters is now, and tomorrow. what can i do now to seize the future i want without being totally reckless and impulsive?

the first thing i need to get back is resolve. for all my faults as a young man, i could be very determined and resolved once i had a dream or idea in my head. second, i need to put analysis aside and start examining my gut more... what does my subconscious have to say about this change that i'm craving? how can i express that subconscious urge more and then use my analytical side to implement change? third (because i like things in 3s), what's good about Jonathan that can make things happen? what's special about me, and what am i confident about in myself? what have i accomplished thus far that demonstrates that i'm not a failure?

i hate my job

2009-07-28T10:44:35Z

it's 3:30 am and i can't sleep... not for the reason you might think. i have a window air conditioner, but yes, it only keeps me from being sweaty uncomfortable. it's still perfectly capable of keeping me awake -- it buzzes every time the compressor comes on, so the last couple of nights i've switched it to "fan" mode before trying to sleep. tonight it is actually too warm to get by with just fan mode. we may break an all time record high low as well as a record high high this week. i'm not amused.

but what's really keeping me awake is work. about a month ago the Vice President decided in his infinite wisdom the best way to fix the low participation problem with the teacher evaluations (at Bastyr known under the apparently friendlier term "course assessments") was to switch them back to scantron. well, right after this my boss went off on a 5-week vacation. he tried his best to scout out the timeline and potential pitfalls but so far there have already been problems. we almost got the wrong scantron forms. i'm still waiting on the new 20-question form from the ironically titled "Director of Institutional Effectiveness" that will also have to be copied and hand counted out per enrollment. i'm still waiting on any changes from on high with the cover sheet, and somehow they also expect me to get ahold of rosters so students can check themselves off. that doesn't even come from my department. so to cut it short, even though i'm just an admin assistant this is basically all my problem, and since the important, highly paid people are busy doing other things right now (or on vacation) i can't even get the basic things that i need to proceed with the tedious envelope stuffing.

i don't know why, but i woke up at 2 am this morning with this realization that i've got a mess on my hands and no one to help me with it. there's a great temptation to quit in a bad fashion... to just walk out and move on. but then i know all too well what would happen... i'd become a person who quit a job, in a job market that sucks ass, with 9 months of a lease left to go. then i'd face the possibility of having to move back in with my parents... AGAIN. it really is not fair to have gotten to 32 years of age with a Master's degree and finding my job overwhelmed by a new task that is more or less envelope stuffing, but unfortunately i know it could get a lot more unfair if i just quit.

so between the heat wave and this bullshit i really could not be much more unhappy right now. i think today is a lost cause and my best course of action is to go in and open the office -- i have to, because i'm the only person who will come in at 7:30 -- and then come home and try to nap, try to relax, and maybe take a xanax to calm myself down. then maybe i can steal a good night's sleep and feel more prepared to tackle this mountain of a problem dumped in my lap.

Impulsivity

2009-07-26T08:36:45Z

When i was 21 i met and moved in with a guy after knowing him for just a couple of months. of course, back then i had a big post-graduation gift from granny that gave me a cushion... but then a few months later, after feeling rejected by my ex and abandoned by my family i moved 2400 miles away to Seattle. it was the perfect place to grieve i suppose. i remember packing my car with all my things and doing that 3-day drive barely being able to see out the windows. it's amazing to think i did that.

my early 20s are not a time i'm particularly proud of. i made a lot of stupid, wreckless decisions, and among them i count quitting the first good job i ever had and moving back to Texas... twice. the second time was right before 9/11 and so i didn't have the opportunity to second guess myself again.

then after trying to get my shit together by going into grad school, i ended up making my next big impulsive move: DC. 4 months later i was broke and jobless, crawling back to Texas with my tail between my legs. after the fiasco getting moved back, having to borrow money from my parents and take out another student loan, i was just about all done with my impulsive streak.

so my journey back up to the northwest was a safer one in 2006. i was living with my parents for a few months, and really just visiting portland when i stumbled on a job in Seattle. 3 years later, here i am. i have friends, a good very stable job, but i feel stagnant. i want some change. i think about moving somewhere... that city i'm secretly in love with -- San Francisco. i think i could make it work there. but it would be disaster if i had no assurance of a job, so it seems silly. i don't know... it's just stuff i'm thinking about. because my impulsive efforts at changing my life often ended so badly i think i've become too risk adverse. i avoid even the possibility of drama or danger. but here i am feeling... bored. i rarely feel excited about the day ahead anymore. so i've got to do something to jumpstart my life again.

A Piece of My Mind

2009-07-21T15:52:16Z

i sit at work, alone, 7:40 am, because my boss is on holiday in Nicaragua for 5 weeks. this is week 2... so there are a few more to go where i'm the only person here as classes start up in the AM. even though the official heat wave we're about to endure hasn't started yet, it's already becoming bothersome. the office has been toasty the past two mornings when i come in -- east-facing windows be damned. i couldn't sleep last night either... a mix of being hot, bothered, and probably some reaction to cheating the night before --Sunday's sleep had been procured through a half of xanax. it works wonders for me but it'd been so long since i had one of these my body seems to have overreacted after it left my system.

also there's the whole ongoing issue of my living circumstances. a few weeks ago, as i think i'd blogged, the crazy biker chick lesbian neighbor had discovered the squatters to have returned to the vacant property next door. they'd pretty much had open access to that house and i'd resigned myself to that knowledge, and the possibility there was a lot worse than "squatting" going on while i slept 15 feet away. after all our complaints and an ongoing case dating roughly back to november, the city came in at 9 am yesterday and boarded up all the open windows...

well, all but one... and it's probably at least 6 feet off the ground, but i wouldn't put it past someone trying to get through there. at least it will be difficult, right? like everything dealing with this house, peace of mind has been a mirage. shortly before 10, biker chick neighbor came by with a bottle of wine to share. how could i pass up free wine? she makes me a little nervous but i think my 31 almost 32 years has taught me enough about what must make her tick to give me an idea on how to deal with her. she's from Florida. she's partially disabled by tendonitis and freely admits to having ADHD (her rambling conversation style a solid testament to this). she's been a biker chick since probably before i was born, and she doesn't take shit from anybody -- though she's never complained about a thing i've done. you can just tell. everything about her screams, "don't fuck with me fellas!" she describes her dislike of the current neighbors on our north side... don't you hear their music at night? no, i do not actually. although she started the tension there by reporting alpha male skinny hipster dude for abusing his dog (yes, he kind of does, at least verbally), they seem to hate her more than she hates them... although she hates "the girl" the most and doesn't elaborate.

she describes previous tenants at the now infamous squatter house. apparently they were the source of the electronic debris surrounding the property disguised as art. apparently they were also far more obnoxious than anyone else she's had to deal with as one of them was a drummer in a band and liked to practice as late as 2:30 am. but fortunately their capitol hill hipster punk band dreams died with the recession, and they left in such a hurry that it was nearly a fully furnished and unlocked house. the owner is apparently some school principal or administrator yet doesn't seem to care about the condition of the property or the welfare of the rest of us still living in his properties. if he'd just boarded the house up promptly he would have saved the house from the fire, and from an untold but presumably high amount of fines from the city.

upon all this news earlier in the day, i'd gone behind the house for the first time (in my old gardening shoes) to investigate the condition of the property; it is indescribable filth. smell of feces (human or otherwise) in the air, rotting furniture covered in dirty clothing, a beggar's sign pleading for "food not money," and some disturbing drawings of flames on a piece of notebook paper... a few feet away lies a dented, open can of turpentine.

as biker chick talks of "the fire" it occurs to me... they set it on fire. whoever was back there... the crazy one drawing flames on notebook paper.

she continues to ramble about her life experiences... about how she used to be young and fit and how she's gotten old... fat... weak... since she came to Seattle 15 years ago. i look up and notice a rat crawling along a barbed wire fence behind the house to the north... followed by a pair of rats.

the night passes endlessly by in my darkened room, flashing lights of electronic devices in the corner like aircraft on approach, fan blowing against me, but not enough to keep me cool. i toss and turn, thinking about the squatters, wondering if i hear them, (thinking about rats, wondering if i hear them). "you don't think they'll retaliate?" she had asked me. thinking about the beautiful lesbian couple murdered two nights before merely because their windows were open. mine are always closed at night... leading to my physical discomfort. i turn on the a/c and find myself chilled by its fake cold, remembering endless texas summers and wondering why Seattle has felt as hot and as dangerous at night lately. somewhere in the darkest part of the night i fall asleep and have a night terror -- i'm awakening to a smoke filled room, pounding on the wall and fumbling for my bedroom door in the dark. awake, i breathe in a gasp, then out, then in -- no smoke. my heartbeat slows, but i am wide awake again.

6:30 am arrives. having finally slept a couple of hours my body feels relaxed and numb as i throw coffee into my system and prepare to do the ritual of the morning. i wash the eye cream off my face -- does it seem tighter and happier now? despite my lack of proper sleep. birthday approaching. heat wave approaching. i feel tired in so many ways, but nowhere to escape exactly. is it the right weekend to go to the ocean? or will there be hundreds of tourists with screaming children there? all i really want for my birthday is a little peace of mind.

grr.

2009-07-11T08:02:17Z

i probably shouldn't be posting anything because i'm half drunk, and i'm not in a very good mood. in short, for the first time i actually organized an event amongst my friends, everyone left earlier than ever, one after the other, like it was a good time to escape before the wormhole collapsed and everyone was trapped. i'm a little peeved because i didn't really get a nap this afternoon... i've been far too stressed out with work because my boss is leaving for a month and will be totally out of contact, and i'm being asked to do more work than ever and take on something entirely new that i won't bother describing in detail here. so when friday rolls around it's important, and i don't like feeling abandoned.

i'm not really sure what all was going on tonight, because normally even on a friday in the darkest of winter my friends never leave at 9 friggin' 30. i know there was drama between the 3 Chrises, but the two there claimed not to remember what it was about and the third, who refused to appear tonight wouldn't explain. all i can say is, i really thought my friends were more mature than that. i really did. to let a drunken conversation get between good friends is simply not something a 45 year old should be a part of, yet somehow it is. i hate drama. part of the reason i liked these guys is they seemed so adult. well maybe not.

so i come home, with 3 abandoned bottles of wine, having forgotten my own bottle, and having forgotten to ask for some leftover pizza, and i'm just sitting here feeling pissed. what the hell am i supposed to do with my evening now? i already backed off on plans with another guy, and now he's annoyed with me. i drove out to work and picked up my macbook, which i'd forgotten, and came back in under 40 minutes. now i'm sitting here in bed with a stomach ache, wishing i could just just press restart on my whole life.

going out on Thursdays

2009-06-26T09:38:18Z

Michael Jackson died today, as you all know. i probably wouldn't have gone out to 80s night if not for this event. it seemed... appropriate. some of you have misgivings about the man because of his dealings with children. i won't judge. he also did a lot of good for children, like Ryan White. i think he meant well, even if he did things he shouldn't have. he was someone from a very unusual, messed up background who created something marvelous. Thriller was the first album i tried to get ahold of. i'm pretty sure i saw him on tv when he premiered the moonwalk, and i remember how everyone had to imitate it. we don't have mega-superstar pop idols like him anymore and perhaps it will be a long time before we see another of his level of talent for combined music, dance, and production. watching the video clips on tv again had me mesmerized by the footwork.

the sad part is, i was really more sad for myself tonight when i finally decided to leave the club. i enjoyed the music and i was as happy as i've been all week. but deep down i just want to leave. i feel totally empty. maybe it's not Seattle... maybe it's just me. but i have too much baggage here. i want to start over somewhere else and be a new, fresh face somewhere. i want to feel like guys are looking at me again instead of looking right through me, which is how it felt tonight. i'm tired of my friends being the only people who ever make me feel special. and i can't help it... i'm a bleeding heart romantic, so after 7 years of no real relationships my heart feels like it's about to burst. i want to love someone, and my needs and wants make me terrified and miserable. i really just have no idea what to do.

dasmeer @ 2009-06-22T09:37:00

2009-06-22T17:52:25Z

hello facebook, er... wait... livejournal. did i call you facebook? i'm sorry it just slipped out... no really, i'm just out of it this morning. no... don't be angry... okay... alright fine. you want to know the truth? i haven't been spending as much time with you because, well... i've been with facebook. i'm sorry, i was waiting for the right time to tell you but it just never seemed to be right. don't be angry. well okay, fine!

can i have my icons back? don't ignore me. ugh. why must i go through this every time?

***

Spring quarter at Bastyr has ended. finally. this means my normally bustling work place is sleepily quiet, which goes well with the grey day outside the window behind me. i realize i haven't posted anything on here about my personal life in forever, and i wonder if when i'm 60 i'll totally forget this period... which of course means that it's been forgettable. that seems unjust at the moment, somehow.

i moved into the new apartment over a month ago and i still have things in boxes. each weekend i have a long list of "projects" i want to work on but never get around to because i'm too tired, or hungover, or there's a social occasion to interrupt. this weekend was another barbecue, at 3, and instead of seeing the famous Fremont Solstice Parade i worked out. i hate my work outs, not only because they don't seem to be doing much for me, but because they're much more of a chore now after all these years of keeping up with the Mister Joneses, or rather, trying and failing to keep up.

went to the barbecue, despite not feeling cheery or healthy. the same old people were there. people i love, but still... there's a sense of stagnancy. we need new blood. the neighbors are testing out their kareoke machine for Burning Man. it's horrific of course. little Chris's poor sister is endlessly delayed in her flights, finally arrives at Steve's house after we've all moved inside for a movie. the first film doesn't play, so they've chosen a different one, which actually turns out to be something i haven't seen and really wanted to see. it's a cute story about drag queens at the Stonewall Inn getting harassed and a stereotypical but compelling knight in shining armor character who steps in to defend them. the best part is when the riot actually starts... we've all heard the rumor about how it was really because Judy Garland had just died. this movie makes it make more sense by having one of the characters lose her boyfriend hours before to suicide, so when she punches the cop and ends the gay sissy stereotype it works. i want to punch a cop. i want to fight back. somehow. but i'm far too rational and know that my blind rage doesn't get me equality under the law.

saturday night arrives without much fanfare, aside from seeing a guy with a gun running up Madison on the drive home. the clock on the microwave says 11:30 but my body thinks it's 2 am. i start stripping off my hot boy going out clothes, knowing i won't venture out again alone, because i never go out alone anymore... i crawl into bed drunk, connect to gay.com and wait...chat with Lance...he wants to escape Seattle. i have no plans and no motivation. safety. comfort. that's what i want. but it's too easy to get depressed here. another boy has been met... another one blown me off. i have a theory, and i think it rings true; if you want a man in Seattle you have to get him while he's new and knows no one. otherwise he's already been transformed into the cliqueish, passive aggressive, overly analytical/judgmental Seattleite (just like me?); or he's met 20 hot guys and is dating around so much his head is spinning with boy lust; or he's already met the gorgeous aspiring 22 year old actor, or the condo-owning Microsoftie who has lots of fabulous friends and fabulous dinner parties to take him to. in some respects you're better off as a barista, or grocery store checker. search craigslist "missed connections" for either and see how many hits you get.

and then there's San Francisco guy... things have really reached a pivotal moment recently. once upon a time (all of two months ago) we chatted daily and in depth. then somewhere in May he just kind of disappeared. i heard it was related to work, but mostly i heard through a mutual friend. and then there he is, still on facebook all the time, updating and adding and statusing... has he finally given up on me, or just lost interest, or met someone else? i don't know, because we don't talk anymore. so way back in April i had first suggested pride weekend as a good time to visit, but didn't get a reply until one day, dashing out the door as usual, he says something like, "sure. come if you want." it's left up to me though. it's not... "i'd love to see you." in the meantime, i text, i initiate conversations online. he never does. i tell him "miss ya" and he goes idle and signs off. but finally he gets fed up with me leaving the potential trip plans open ended. make up your mind, dammit! testy and annoyed. that's the tone. so i try to explain my hesitation... how we never talk anymore, how he hasn't answered my questions about whether *he* wants me to come. he refuses to answer that. this is my decision and he's pushing me to make one. so i say i'll do it. but i'm still uncertain. i want answers to my questions beyond "i've just been so busy lately." well we're all busy. there's just been a change in priorities. i'm not a priority anymore so i don't get replies to text messages, or answers to questions, or initiated conversations. i can see that. it's just that he won't admit it... and since going down there is 90% about him i get nervous. i send him an email. i back out.

he has every right not to make me a priority. i live in Seattle, 811 miles away. that was all explained long ago, but he still made me feel special. i felt like i was a part of his life anyway, and he cared for me... at least until May.

right around the same time i'd stayed up until dawn talking to Chris Fry about boys n' things... and he gave me a much different perspective on the whole affair. my rational approach, my hesitation to ask him to be mine... may have gave him the impression i didn't really want him. if i *really* loved him, i would find a way to get down there so i could be with him, right? yet i'm torn between my uncertainty, my desire to feel secure that he still cares for me before coming down to visit, and my sense that i've done him wrong by not doing everything i could to make him mine. once again i've fucked it up.

Sunday is purgatory. i sit in bed, hungover, tired, nauseous and depressed. it's the boy right? or the sense of doom and failure in general. this is why i don't date. further, perhaps i shouldn't even be *allowed* to date. i hurt people even when i'm trying desperately not to. it feels like everything i touch turns to salt. text messages from friends inviting me over... instead i find myself dialing for thai food. it's only a five-minute walk now; "thank you" is uttered so many times i start to feel even more nauseous and feel terrible that kindness can feel so uncomfortable. i dip lovely, lovely spring rolls and watch a ridiculous movie from the 70s starring Ruth Gordon. she's a septugenarian with altzheimer's, keeping her son so desperately unhappy while taking care of her that he tries to kill her by dressing up in a gorilla costume and scaring her to death. but of course, her character thinks it's hilarious. every movie this woman has made is so fucking brilliant in its dark weirdness.

it's Monday and all i really want is to go to the beach and sit there until i lose track of time. i want to hike out to the edge of cape lookout and stand at this cliff hanging above the biggest ocean in the world. that's all i really want to do, and i want to keep that feeling of calm, and timelessness in my head when i get back to Seatle. but somehow i know i'll slip back into the old routine. i'll update my status on facebook again, and the next thing i know i'll be neurotic, nervous, and troubled -- like the city i live in -- all over again.

wow, i look contented.

Sonia Sotomayor for SCOTUS

2009-05-01T15:31:39Z

and so it begins... the first judicial nominee. what a perfect moment. the Republicans just had a defection from their ranks. their spin on that is so thick it could body wax the entire caucus. so let's not beat around the bush. Sonia Sotomayor is the perfect first choice for David Souter's seat on the US Supreme Court. not only will she be hard to oppose politically, she would be a choice we can all be proud of. but hey, i'm biased. i don't like the idea of our court being nearly all male and all white. it's 2009 and the highest court in the land needs to look like America, goddamnit.

Fumbling Towards Hopelessness

2009-03-16T05:45:46Z

there's a commercial going around with Sarah McLachlan singing whilst pictures of lonely, sad looking animals go by. most of the time i turn it off because it's simply too powerful for me and makes me feel bad for hours. another thing about it that bothers me is that it's Sarah McLachlan. i don't really listen to her music anymore, because every time i hear her silky voice and sad piano chords, i picture things that happened before. it starts to feel like i should light all the candles in my apartment and drink wine alone while looking through old mementos from exes.

my first encounter with Ms. McLachlan was in 1997. that fall, i met a sweet, gentle boy, John. back then i didn't know what my type was, and mostly i was convinced i was not attractive enough or confident enough to be in a relationship. but John charmed me. he worked at The Woodlands Mall, and one night i met him after work. we sat in his car talking and listening to music for hours (i think it was close to 2 am before we parted). i remember looking at his scrawny, delicate wrists, hearing about his suffering over his first love, and just wanting to hold him and rub his hair. that was probably the first time i'd heard Fumbling Toward Ecstasy. after being a good listener of his troubles, John surprised me and kissed me gently on the side of my mouth as we hugged. then i left. that was the first time a boy had kissed me without it being a prelude to sex. i thought about it for days, and really i can still feel it if i think about it. soft, warm, smooth, gentle.

things didn't work out too well between me and John. in hindsight, i can see why that night happened... he probably appreciated my sensitivity and kindness, but he was still in love with this other guy. so i was just... there. but i deserved a kiss, a tiny token of affection just for that moment. for months after i would go to the mall -- always wearing something different, trying to look different, to grab his attention -- and look for him at the store where he worked. mostly he would talk to me politely, but shrug off any talk of plans with me. i grew frustrated... confrontational. so he cut off contact with me. being 20, insecure, lonely and directionless, i had followed my heart and ended up feeling utterly betrayed.

back then, in the late 90s, i could get a different date every weekend despite living in a small college town 70 miles from the nearest major city (Houston). i fell for another guy, i think his name was Steven, who was similarly gentle and sweet, but this one was closeted and deeply ambivalent about it. we met twice, at a McDonald's in Giddings, halfway between San Marcos where he went to school, and Huntsville where i did. after John, i decided to offer my own sign of affection -- i held his hand while we were sitting in my car. his reaction was sheer terror. what if someone sees us? i really didn't care. i liked him, and all danger seemed to pale in comparison. anyway, i think that was the last time i saw him too.

after that, i dated and broke up with a few guys in rapid cycles of two weeks or less, continued a lot of internet flirtations, and ultimately began to lose all hope of finding my soulmate. then, miraculously, i met Lance. thus marked the first time i'd ever met someone who was as enthusiastic about me as i was about him. it was terrifying but exciting... but then we moved in together all too quickly, and about 5 months after that, we were broken up and i was sleeping in the dining room. i guess because that was the first real relationship it took me years to finally accept that it was over and was not meant to be. but as time wore on, i started to think of it as proof that A) someone could love me, and B) a relationship could work. after all, if i'd just not been so pushy and insensitive, if i'd been more patient and understanding, and seen the long-term potential instead of the short-term problems, it might've worked... or at least lasted longer.

then there was Adam... who went out with me time after time but wouldn't let me kiss him one night, and left me alone crying. then there was Kenny... and Thomas... and Nathan... Nathan who made me risotto while i built the fire he could not get started, and then took me back to the ferry dock the next morning and i've not seen him since (though he's been back in Seattle for almost a year now). i think with each one of these i've lost my hope, and perhaps even my ability to love. deep down i just feel utterly despairing about the possibility of ever sharing love with another man. it's just not going to happen. i can think up the best romantic evening plans, but there's no one out there to share them with. when i see others who fall in to these magical sounding, luvvy dovey pairings, i scowl in contempt and jealousy.... because for me it seems like there's always something... he's either insane, or on drugs, or on the rebound, or moving. most recently it's been a boy who i met on vacation in San Francisco. he was actually crazy about me. but ultimately he lives 800 miles away and the economy sucks. so i can't just move down there. now he's sleeping with someone else and i'm pretty sure it's over.

it's kind of nice to think about John sometimes though. it reminds me of how i felt when i was that age.. how excited i was at all the possibilities before me... how desperately i wanted to fulfill my longing to love a guy after finally unleashing that desire pent up during all of high school and part of middle school. it makes me feel kind of good about myself, because i know that sometimes the good things about me can actually outweigh my faults, and i see how i've grown and become a better person since then too. but i wish there were more Johns coming along in my life. i wish there were more opportunities to show what i'm made of and to make someone else feel complete. i don't understand why that has become so impossible. is it just Seattle? how did i meet so many guys, week after week, back then (and in Texas no less) and now i can sit on any website for hours and at most i get a sexual offer/request? i don't get it.

for what it's worth, my recipe for a romantic evening is kind of sappy and traditional. italian food at home. a bottle of bold, red wine. old music on the radio. candles lit. sitting on the floor at the coffee table, with my shoes off, because i don't have a dining room.

another funny one...

2009-02-25T21:25:07Z

"Ethnic Packaging – The Republicans are like a company selling a beverage no one likes and instead of reformulating decide to change the package color and logo. So in 2008, they decided that being a woman was the right package to sell their neo-con product. After the Obama win, they quickly updated their market research and concluded that America wants an ethnic looking leader. I can imagine the strategy session – Okay, how do we top a good looking, smooth talking Hawaiian born President with a Kenyan father? How about a first generation Indian immigrant who goes by the name Bobby (can we get a Joe in there maybe?) and who sounds a lot like Andy Taylor on qualudes. Damn, we can’t fail!!!! American will eat that sh#t up for damn sure!!"

http://www.dailykos.com/story/2009/2/25/152757/001/946/701795

TPM gets it right, as usual

2009-02-25T18:39:13Z

TPM Reader BH on Bobby Jindal's trainwreck speech:

"Unfortunately for Jindal (and the country), Republicans used that same argument for decades while the intrusiveness of our government and the country's deficits continued to grow at unprecedented rates. His party used the same arguments while they happily used the government to transfer obscene amounts of public wealth to a small sliver of the population and completely trash our economy.

"Simply put, his party has been the one controlling our government for a long, long time. The problem isn't government, it's Republican government - and everyone knows it."

Je Ne Regrette Rien

2009-02-18T18:49:22Z

hello Livejournal. hast thou forgotten me after such a long period of abandonment? do you sometimes, late at night staring at the ceiling, long for the old days of emo, self-absorbed ramblings? i can probably dish something out in short order.

mother is okay, but in addition to losing her hair from the chemo she's now broken her wrist. i get emails and reply to them but haven't called in several weeks; i'm a bad son. both grannies are still alive. i think granny Heath must be 96 now, but i'm honestly losing track of the years. the longevity in my family is amazing. sometimes i wonder how i could possibly live that long... i'm so much more abusive to my body in certain ways anyway, but i still look younger than everyone. i fear 40. i live in the here and now, trying hard to forget the past and not think about the future because it invariably makes me wonder when i'll get the first crow's feet, laugh lines, saggy chest... 36? 38? 42? 50.

but living in the here and now makes me feel like a total loser nobody jerk who doesn't read (except news), watches way too much tv to admit to (albeit PBS), makes less than he should have at age 25, and has absolutely no agenda or plan for the future. not even hobbies, really. bleh. if i were dating me, i'd think i could do much better!

B from SF was here all weekend and left last night... the second long weekend with me in a month. i took a sick day yesterday to be a good host and had nightmares of being in trouble at work. he is a sweet boy, and i think he really likes me... i'm not sure i want him to really like me, even though it makes me feel better about myself every time he talks about how intelligent he thinks i am, or how attractive, or how good my touch feels. it just makes things so damn complicated.... because i don't want a long-distance relationship. and i can't live in San Francisco. this is a city where people either live in the blah suburbs or live like slobs in the city, cramped in a bedroom with a bunch of other people sharing a tiny house... or they sell out for the big corporate job and become wealthy but soulless. i want neither. i like my lifestyle in Seattle so much better, even though i hate the weather (most of the time), the traffic, and the people (except my friends).

and sometimes i feel what i think is love for him -- god, do i even know what it feels like anymore? i'm not sure -- which isn't necessarily something i want, because, well... i like being alone sometimes... maybe a lot of the time. i like my own space. i don't like sleeping in the same bed with someone. i don't like having to feel like i need to take someone else's needs and desires into account. i don't like being nervous that the sex wasn't as good this time as the last time. at best, i'm ambivalent.

so why does he have to be such a sweet person? why does he have to be so much more easy-going and laid back than every neurotic, passive aggressive typical Seattle gay dude i've ever tried to date? he's making this really complicated and difficult. i don't want to have to give him the speech i'm writing in my head about how i'm not cut out for this sort of stuff, how it dredges up my insecurities and fears and makes me more unhappy on the whole than joyful. "just see what happens," is what he'll say, but i'm way past that. i've been way past that since October. i'm practical, dammit... i see the barriers already.

maybe it would be easier to enjoy life if we all lost the ability to retain long-term memory. then i could have just enjoyed Saturday night, stumbling around the hill looking for Italian food and settling on the 3-star Amante's instead of 5-star Machiavelli's, which was overstuffed with patrons. i could have just enjoyed sitting with my legs scrunched under my coffee table with a glass of wine and candles flickering, without even thinking about what tomorrow may bring, or whether i would make him shiver again with my touch. i'd not be sitting here writing about it either, the romantic depression, the feeling old, feeling trapped. it would have all just happened innocently and beautifully and then forgotten the next day. no regrets.

hell on earth

2009-02-09T20:42:38Z

today almost couldn't be worse (okay, okay, i know it could be, but...). first, i woke up at a quarter to 3 and never got back to sleep. during the first 45 minutes that i tried to nurse myself back to slumber i noticed the snow falling. i was surprised how slushy it still was on some of my main roads in to work even at 7:30, and i felt my car slide just a tad on the road next to Kenmore Air. our parking lot was icy and i had someone on my tail most of the crawl up the hill. then the test i have to type up -- the only real reason i felt compelled not to call in sick today -- arrived on my desk. then my boss decided to go home sick. and now my only remaining coworker couldn't take lunch at 12-1 because of a previous obligation at 12:30. so here i am alone, waiting for the 1 o'clock rush, my mind fogging over from sleep deprivation, trying to trudge through this test in case it snows a lot tomorrow and i can't get in to finish. what a fun-tastic day!

WTF...

2009-02-05T00:02:03Z

From Digby:

"I can't believe we have to whip a Democratic senate with 58 goddamned votes, but apparently we do."

yeah, Republicans never had the kinds of majorities we have in both houses during Bush's reign of tyranny, yet somehow congressional Democrats seem utterly incapable of controlling the media narrative, or the amendment pen. i've gone from hoping something truly progressive would get passed, to praying anything gets passed and we don't sink deeper into The Great Recession.

More on the Ricin Scare

2009-01-08T16:41:16Z

From the Times this morning:

"The letter sent to bars quoted the poem "A Display of Mackerel" by gay writer Mark Doty, leading many to speculate the letters were written by someone who is gay or lesbian. The poem was recently published in his book "Fire to Fire: New and Selected Poems," which won the National Book Award for Poetry in 2008."

A ha, i was right!

The letter mimics the poem in the line, "The targets won't care much that they'll be dead and nearly frozen, just as, presumably, they didn't care that they were living."

Doty, who lives in New York City and is currently teaching at Stanford University, said Wednesday he was appalled that his poem had been used in a threat.

"It's just deeply repellent," he said. He wrote the poem in 1994 as a meditation on the nature of the self and mortality after his partner died of AIDS.

"It was a poem that would have helped to address the suffering of gay men, and here it's being used to instill fear," he said.

Dan Savage, editorial director for The Stranger, suspects the letter came from someone in the gay community who was frustrated with going to bars. If it were a hate letter from a straight person, he speculated, the letter would have used epithets and contained references to God.

"It's a gay self-hater," Savage said.

He said he was not worried about the writer following through with the threats.

"Somebody who was seriously interested in killing a bunch of people at a gay bar wouldn't announce the method of the attack in advance," Savage said.

In fact, he said the threats may end up being good for business since people may now turn out for drinks to support the bars that have been targeted. All of the bars, except the Madison Pub, will hold a pub-crawl on Friday starting at 7 p.m. at C.C. Attle's that will wind its way down Capitol Hill to Re-bar.

Scott Hembree, manager of The Crescent, wondered why his bar was threatened at all.

"It's not like we're a troublesome bar or anything," said Hembree. The Crescent gets a mix of gay, lesbian and straight customers. "There's no drama here, it's just a karaoke bar. Unless they are counting bad singing."

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2008602195_ricin08m0.html

...and I forgot to take pictures!

2008-12-10T18:08:26Z

last Friday, amid much jubilation, a UPS truck idled outside my apartment signaling my long awaited replacement RAZR had arrived. hooray! now i can take pictures of my cock again! oops, that just slipped out. but really, who doesn't... right? *nervous smile*

after struggling with a pesky cold all week, Saturday i wasn't feeling too terrible and didn't even need any crystal, er, sudafed to keep myself breathing normally. my friend Danial, the seamster for several drag queens and underwear maker, had helped me come up with an idea for a costume for "Christacular Christmas" Bacon Strip at Rebar.

now, it should be noted the first time i got up on stage in "costume," i found much to my horror that everyone else had focused on "Dynasty" while i had merely dressed 80s. so not only did i stick out like a sore thumb, my brilliant idea to flash the audience my underwear reading "Moral Majority," in homage to an obscure joke from a film that is probably older than many of the patrons that night, didn't exactly go over with the same amusement i had hoped. after that, i had sworn off the costume contest.

but time heals all wounds. Saturday evening, whilst getting ready for the night, i kept telling myself "life is short" to avert the overwhelming urge to chicken out. since Danial had spent a bit of time sewing for me, i figured i owed it to him. figuring i would drink more than one (hey, free drink coupons!), i walked to Rebar, with sticky fake blood all over my forehead and below my right ear. despite the goofy santa hat and rather obvious Walmart-blue vest, a group stopped to shout "hey dude, are you okay?!?" i just wanted to get there... because of course there are much more odd sights inside Rebar for the show, so a little fake blood is par for the course.

when the appointed time for costume contest came up i had to shove my way through the crowd just to get up to the stage. i got my free drink coupon, my free porn, and lo and behold, i won the silly contest. they gave me a can of bacon, bacon salt, and some other random stuff, but as far as i can tell, the porn is the only truly useful item. after that, i felt like Mister Popular. a guy dressed up like Jesus with a hot body danced with me. the exhibitionist, "dominator" dude, who i saw clothed for possibly the first time, complimented the costume. after all that i definitely wanted to buy Danial a drink.

an hour later i'm sitting in Sylvia's "mid-luxury" sedan, with Maxine de la Cunt and Danial in the back seat with me. i'd just wanted a ride, and i'm not sure that was communicated as we sped off to McDonald's for their usual post-performance food run. after 45 minutes in the fast food line, i have to escape the car and find a bush to pee in, only to return to the line and find their car hasn't budged. Maxine and i shared fond memories of What-a-burger, as i explained why i'm not ordering.

shortly after 3, i'm finally home, discovering that fake blood isn't as easy to wash off thoroughly as one might suspect. and oh, did i really FORGET to have a picture taken of this ridiculous, scandalous costume feat?

yes, yes i did.

Eight is Enough

2008-11-26T16:56:05Z

"You might think that an organization that for most of the first of its not yet two centuries of existence was the world’s most notorious proponent of startlingly unconventional forms of wedded bliss would be a little reticent about issuing orders to the rest of humanity specifying exactly who should be legally entitled to marry whom. But no. The Mormon Church—as anyone can attest who has ever answered the doorbell to find a pair of polite, persistent, adolescent "elders" standing on the stoop, tracts in hand—does not count reticence among the cardinal virtues."

http://www.newyorker.com/talk/comment/2008/12/01/081201taco_talk_hertzberg

Mothers

2008-11-15T05:22:08Z

so, it's official. my mom has breast cancer. wow. it's hard to believe. i just got off the phone with my grandmother so i could get less, well, filtered information. she's having a masectomy. they'll also check out the other breast and the lymph nodes. then she'll have to do chemo. the last part is where i really get upset. chemo is one of the most unpleasant things we do to people and it's ashame we haven't found a better way to stop cancer.

who knows what her prognosis is. i really have no idea. people survive, people don't survive. all i know is, i'm more upset for my 2 yr old nephew than for myself. i had 31 years with this woman. he may never remember her, and that's a crime. should i pray? why not. it can't hurt. i knew this day would come eventually, i just never quite thought it would be this.

Volunteer Park, 10:30-noon Saturday. Be there.

2008-11-12T22:28:53Z

Just so everyone knows, on Saturday at noon there will be protests of Prop 8 that was just passed in California, and in support of marriage equality, all across the country. If you can get yourself to Volunteer Park by noon on the 15th, please come. We need numbers to show that this is the beginning of a serious movement to stop discrimination and finally move this country into the 21st century.

http://jointheimpact.wetpaint.com/page/Seattle

The Day After...

2008-11-05T16:58:59Z

I'll be brief with this... this morning Obama's victory for me is bittersweet. we got him in (by a wider margin than i ever could have imagined a few short weeks ago), but here's a brief look at what else our country did last night:

It has possibly re-elected FOUR, yes four incumbent Republican Senators, 2 of whom were expected to lose handily, and 1 of whom is a convicted felon and will likely be removed from office.

Arizona banned gay marriage.

Arkansas banned gay adoption.

California banned gay marriage!

Florida banned gay marriage!

Nebraska ended affirmative action.

This morning i woke up early but invigorated and relieved. I printed a sign that read "Yes We Did!" because we did... and i will never forget walking down Broadway last night, stunned by the crowd at Olive Way, only to see a crowd three times as big at Pike & Broadway... the largest random crowd i've seen since WTO but this one happy, full of cathartic rejoicing after these 8 long years. But why did my fellow Americans have to take away my rights last night? Why did they have to say, yes we can, but no... you can't?

Aww!

2008-10-30T15:00:26Z

Kitty survives 22 miles trapped under car's hood

http://www.komonews.com/news/33475004.html