More reason to learn Spanish!

http://www.suntimes.com/output/news/cst-nws-gay01.html

http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/20050630/ap_on_re_eu/spain_gay_marriage

sometimes the point stabs you in the eye

I did get my lazy self up and do some cleaning.  I realized that I really need a shower.  And then, even though the weather sucks, I'm going out to get supplies.

Something always gets me going and keeps me going.  I don't necessarily believe that it's me.

I must have a purpose here though it is not immediately obvious.

I know that there were things I did that helped V.  Maybe I am here to help someone else in some small yet significant way, too.

I'm pretty sure if there wasn't some kind of reason I would have died long ago.  There have certainly been opportunities for God to take me... but maybe God already has me. (Whatever God is.)

 

Thursday morning addendum:

I should have written this differently or found another way to phrase it.  What I was trying to say is that no matter how low I get, something leads me on.  I don't know what my purpose is but I must have one or I wouldn't exist.  When I am down, somehow the lift back to my humanity comes and I get up and I go on.

Maybe it's the title, which seems harsh.  Maybe I should have said "kicks you in the ***" or "stands you on your feet."  But I was trying to convey the strength of the surge of "git up."  I wanted it to be soooo obvious.

I was feeling down to start with, but when I wrote this I was already back.  Sometimes we all fail. I'm not going to change a word.  Time will erase the blogger's art soon enough. (Time being infinitessimal.)

 

 

 

4040

and the point is?

I don't know if there is a point to hoping to find a relationship online.  Or to trying to find one at all.  Just think of all the other things I could be accomplishing if I stopped wasting my time in this vain pursuit?

I'm just lazy.  Today I had some ambition but here I am, writing instead of cleaning or running errands.

It's rainy AGAIN.  Who wants to go out and drive with old people who can't and others who seem to have a death wish.

I can't seem to inspire myself to clean.  If this place was neat, I'd have no excuse not let people come here.

Is there a doctor in the house?

I just laughed

Yesterday after work, I drove south to meet a woman who had asked me to dinner. I arrived early, got a table and waited... and waited.

After almost half an hour, I went to my car for my cell phone and called.  I left a message which was friendly.  I said I think I have the right time and the right place... but no you.  I'll talk to you later.... All said with a smile.  I really wasn't upset.  I have a very comfortable feeling here because I am not under any pressure with this woman.

She said that she would have called but didn't have my number.  I realize that if she was a little brighter, she would have called the restaurant.

She gave me her reason as I drove home over the Intracoastal Waterway.  I laughed as the tires hummed across the bridge.

She is not the Baleboste.  The Baleboste would have called the restaurant or done something else.  That's why she is the Baleboste (baal-a-boss-tay).

I like the Baleboste. Her voice in my ear makes me happy.  It seems to slide down to my heart.

The gal who didn't show up yesterday, she seems pretty nice, too....

shelve to the right, PLEASE!

I spent the morning moving the entire large print section down one whole shelf.  I never was very good at math, so I am not aware of the proper theorem of library calculus that shows that moving one shelf in order to make more room for the whole will prove pointless.  By the time I got back up to the As, Bs and Cs there was still little room.  I had to move all the way to the back and squeeze more books in the shelves I had already moved.

Euclid and Pythagoreus were looking down and shaking there heads.  And old Ben Franklin just glanced over his specs and poured them all another beer.

Not for nothing

Inspired, but also having thought about it often, I made an appointment for an STD test.  You can do this at your doctor's, which may be more comfortable, or at your health department.

I don't have any reason to think that I have been exposed to any of the number of diseases out there, and I want to be able to share this information... not just my thinking that I am clean, but actual evidence of it, with the next person who comes along.

There's no shame or reason to be embarrassed by this.  You are smart, savvy and caring to want to do this for yourself and for other people.

I am not going to hesitate to tell whoever serves me that I am a lesbian.  They won't need to know who I have been with unless I have a positive diagnosis. 

I checked into a South Florida health department website.  It said the test costs $30 and you'll spend about an hour at the office.  I haven't yet asked what it will cost at my doctor's office.  I know that it usually costs me $ 40 to $70 just to sit in the air-conditioning waiting to see him.

Trust that your health professionals serve all people and are understanding to homosexuals.  There are many gay and bi-sexual people in health services as it is.

I encouraged one recent ex to confide in her doctor.  Not only did she come back feeling rather liberated, but he gave her some savvy advice in regards to communicating with me about what ailed her.

My test isn't for a week or two yet.  If you have any reason to test, do it.

I will try to remember to write about the experience so that you can see that it's not a big deal and maybe gather the courage to get tested if you find yourself lacking.

$30 is a very small price to pay for peace on one hand, and the ability to make informed decisions and protect people you care about on the other.

J

The nakhes of the Baleboste. (The pleasure of the boss lady.)

Thoughts in red convey my seeking response to a private e-mail.

I was awake last night talking on the computer and then the telephone to a most intriguing new friend.  I haven't met her yet but I think it was about 4 a.m. when we finally said good night.

Y'all don't know me too well, but those who do may be flabbergasted to learn I was on the phone for such a long time.  And I was comfortable at it.

Of course, I cannot see the future, but I suspect I have an interesting time coming.  For how long, I don't know. 

She told me that she wants a committed relationship in which the two parties do not live together.  That may be a good idea, considering my house-keeping....  I do not mean to infer that it will happen for her with me. No committment is stated nor should it be inferred.  For God's sake, I haven't even met her yet! That's just what she told me she wants.  My friend says I have a pattern in my relationships and I am hoping to learn what it is.  Having hope, being kind, starting out with some enthusiasm, not repressing my heart? 

Be cool.  What does that mean?  Pretend I do not care?  You might as well ask a turtle to live without it's shell.  Seeking answers from anyone with a clue.

That is something I was willing to do before now... but you know what?  I'm not going there.  Zay gezunt. (Goodbye.) My broken-hearted sob story is closed. 

Ikh bin a bisl antoysht vos mir kenen nisht a bisl lenger eyner mitn andern redn.

Nu, ikh vel vartn af dir, libhaber.

And at last, I have someone to speak Yiddish with, learn more Yiddish from.  I'm not Jewish but I love Yiddish.  So many words we use originate there.  (Sorry, I was up all night; no examples are coming to me at the moment.  This entry is about her, anyway.)

I didn't recognize the hook in her bait, but last night she reeled me in. (To definitely wanting to meet sometime.) It's just a matter of finding out when we can get together now.  She lives two counties away and has kids, and is taking classes for a teaching degree.

Sound impossible?  Gib mir nisht keyn eyn hore! Khas visholem! Ob got vil, schist a bezem!!!

 

Baleboste -- baal-A-bahst--n.--Landlady, hostess,owner, boss, housewife.

 

 

 

 

 

Cursed

When I was a kid, I like schlocky horror movies like "The Creature from the Black Lagoon" and other gems.  Down in South Florida there was a regular program called the Schlocky Horror Hour (or something like that, but "schlocky" was in the title.)

I watched Cursed (Wes Craven flick, and this is the PG-13 version) starring Christina Ricci and Jesse Eisenberg, with guest appearances by Scott Baio and Craig Kilborn playing themselves.  It's just an old-fashioned fun movie.  Not too serious, not too stupid, not too gross.  They even manage to poke fun at, and pay tribute to, the whole werewolf theme throughout the show.

For a new classic, 97-minute, not-very-scary, escapist horror flick, I recommend Cursed.  You'll want some popcorn to throw at the wolves... and maybe some of the victims.

 

Christina Ricci and her large forehead, a forehead made for horror... and that Morticia Addams hair....  LOL.  She's cool.

 

Hamartia, hamartia, hamartia / Popularity

(pronounced huh-mar-sha)

Hamartia is something that leads to your downfall... a tragic flaw or character weakness, an action, event or even an error in judgement that brings about a bitter ending.

for me it seems to be large women.

Damn! 

 

This morning I am chagrined.  I have been feeling, and I tend to sink more, when I think about artsy essays.  I don't think that I can write for the popular vote.  But I have a dream...

a Judi Heartsong painting.... (heavy sigh)

That's something I want to earn.

I wish that I created something to give as an award.  Heck, I can't even afford the raw materials to make something you can hold and admire.  But sometime I would like to "take a crack" at painting again.  To paint well, you need TIME.

K

Huh?

I wish I could remember the story I told Em last night.  I don't think I've written about it yet.  Dang.

I, too, like fellow journalist Judi Heartsong, suffer from memory loss associated with PTSD and depression, but my stress issues were brought by years of the stress of caring for someone without much relief.

What was that story I related last night???

Dang!

This is why I should keep IMs for a day or two....

3946

Please pity my kitty

Does your pet act like she's never seen food before when you come home at night?

Officially...

...here's a good sign:

I realized that V's address is in the automatic address function here.  I just deleted it.  I have to wonder if I have confused her with another V address at any time.  Of course when I send things to myself I might have sent them to her by mistake.  No more.  Deleted.  Don't want to contact her.  I need to check other mails and make sure she's gone.

Used and despised and making my way out of her crushing haze.  I'll always care but I know I can get treated right and have big love returned.

Bye, V.  Wishing you the best of everything.

 

She found it.

"Em" has found my journal and started IMing.  I'm happy.  She's heap big fun so far.  And another out-of-towner... so if anything happens my weekend buddies will likely lose me again... unless they come over and excavate my place....

And there's a new kid on my block though I have not spoken with him yet:

http://journals.aol.com/deveil/CelebrationofMyExhistance/

SO he can't spell... what of it?  Maybe he did it on purpose.  Sweet, sincere writing.  Give my brother a chance.

Bewitched!

I have not seen the movie yet, but I was just thinking that a picture (that I like) is worth a thousand words.

 

 

This is the place, Em.

I challenged a woman I have been talking to online to find my journal through Judi Heartsong's journal, with the prize to be negotiated....

Life is sweet!

movie review: slap bang smooch

Mr. and Mrs. Smith (seen with cousins yesterday... we pretty much did what the kids wanted to do)

dry and snappy barb aimed at marriage

dry and snappy retort

snipe

growl

smile

wince

(The marriage is in trouble.)

bang

bang

bang

bang

Beat each other up.

bang

bang

bang

Car chase featuring three BMWs and a Dodge minivan driven by both Pitt and Jolie

more bang, bang, bang....

kiss....

 

The good thing about the movie... Brad and Angelina are in almost every frame. 

Have you noticed she acts with her eyebrows?

Have you noticed he acts with the curve of his lips?

Was the movie okay?  Yeah... if you take it for what it is lame humor, violent action and eye candy.

Would I recommend it?  Well... depends on what you want from a movie experience....

bold

I have been making inquiries.  I want to find out what I have been missing, sexually, by not engaging in heterosexual activity.

surprize

So I get home from work and I'm getting ready for a quiet evening when the phone rings through the computer (AOL phone message thing).  It is one of my maternal cousins who lives in North Carolina.  She is in my town!

What a freaking cool surprize.  And suddenly, I'm like "Damn, there is NO ROOM for them here!"  SO I go to meet them and take them to a hotel.

My cousin and two of her four children have come from some event in Augusta, Georgia on a spur-of-the-moment tour of her old stomping grounds.

I get her to a hotel where a friend of mine works and we get in for half price. Tomorrow, rather than do things I ought to, I'm going to spend time with cousins.

I rarely make any plans for my day off, but I had some ideas about what I might try to accomplish.

Swish!  Out the window with those thoughts.

Note to Cristy: What are you doing tomorrow?

All hail, Josh

My friend Josh removed his journal because he is having a lot of turmoil in his family.  I really hate all the garbage that is happening to him because he's a great guy and deserves so much more than he is receiving.

I am not qualified to write about his problems, but let me say that he is a bright young man who should be channeling his energy into education but he is meeting with brick walls in that pursuit.  His parents are not helpful and in fact are the primary cause of all of his grief.

If I had the resources, I've have him set up at college faster than you can say I.T.

What kind of parent rejects their child?  refuses their child?  threatens their child?

I have nothing to fear from these people. The truth is more important than the threats of the ignorant and ill-informed.

If worse comes to worse, I will toss the stuff off the bed in my back room and Josh can stay with me for a while.

I'd do that.  God help him, though! (I feel certain his friends will be able to help him before he needs to resort to me!)

And just think what having a young, good-looking man around would do for my reputation!  LOL

Joshy, man... I'm rooting for you.

 

3847

something's been running through my head

So click on the link already!

http://solosong.net/dancin.html

a pot to piss in

Several years ago, a friend of mine from college came to Florida to visit and go camping.

Trish is a large, straight Christian woman.  She served in the Army.  She is built like a tractor-trailer.  You expect her to be some sort of superhero (She used to ski to school and  she boarded in an uninsulated barn.) but she is just as girlie as anyone else.

She had goals for our trip.  She wanted to camp on the seashore and she wanted to touch a manatee.  We first went to Blue Spring, a nice park north of Orlando.  That was pleasant.  We swam in the spring but the water was too cold for manatees.

We spent time bicycling and hiking around.

Then we went to the Cape Canaveral National Seashore.  As she checked in at the visitor station, I wandered outside and saw people standing by the water looking down.  I went to see what was going on and came running back to tell Trish I had found her manatee.

She peeled out of the building and joyfully bent to pat the humongous mammal while bystanders warned her that such an act was illegal.  Trish would have gotten arrested for it.

We found a spot on the white sands of the beach, pitched our individual tents and settled down to cook some dinner.

As the sun set, we retreated to our tents.  Soon there was a cry from her tent.  "I'm being bitten and I do not know by what."

"No-see-ums, Trish.  Close your tent screen."

"They aren't no-see-ums, I can see them."

"Trish, they are no-see-ums.  Zip up your tent!"

Apparently, they found her non-native flesh sweet and succulent because they continued to ravage her ALL NIGHT.

I instructed her to run out of her tent, into the fresh air and then into my tent, but she wouldn't do it. It would have been the solution to her problem but she was afraid they were filling the skies outside.

I got bitten, too, but not as badly.  I had dressed in long pants and sleeves to begin with.

Throughout the night she cried out to me in agony.  I talked her through it.  She refused to leave her tent.  She covered herself with her sleeping bag and suffered from the heat of her heavy winter bag.

I had brought the food and cooking gear.  My shiny steel cookware came in handy for me that night.  There was no holding it 'til morning.  I'd never been so grateful for something I just happened to have on hand.  I had visions of exposing my tender private parts to the evil cloud that assaulted my friend.  I didn't even mind the smell so much knowing the alernative to be far worse.

When I finally talked Trish out of her tent in the morning, she was covered in welts like a human Dalmation.  Here's your retired para-trooper, dowsing herself in my Rhuli-gel and telling me she's been through hell.

Lessons learned:

When in a different place than you are used to, ask a local what to watch out for and how to survive it if you encounter it.

When a local tells you to flee, flee. 

When you tour your home area with someone from away, advise them on proper dress and preventative behavior.

Always keep your First Aid Kit stocked with the right stuff and don't travel without sunscreen and bugspray if you can avoid it.

Not having a pot to piss in is indeed poverty.

Father's night

Last night I took my Dad to meet the friends I hang out with. It was my Father's Day gift to him.

We will go to my step-mother's father's house Sunday. Last night was just for Dad. I wanted to him to meet my friends and see where I spend my time, among people who are friendly and kind in house that offers reports of laughter instead of shouts and yells and curses.

My friends enjoyed him. He talked about war, he talked about reporting in the old days, he talked about raising kids. And then my step-mother called and his lips formed a straight line and he told me we had to go. So I drove him home and wished I didn't have to. On the drive home, he talked about divorce.

No one should be so miserable in their own home.

She's mad at him because he didn't want her to chaperone her godson in Miami.  He was actually upset because her plans to do so completely excluded him.

Neither of them is right or fair.  But that is what happens when a man marries a woman for love and she marries him for money.  They are intellectually a good match and they have demonstrated caring for each other, but he is at a childish age and she is poorer than she has ever been even though Dad makes plenty of money for an average family....

This is a great part of why I prefer my own little group of friends.  I cannot stand to be among bickering and bitching. I cannot save my father.  He made his choice and I can only let him know I am here for him.

He enjoyed my friends.  They enjoyed him.

disturbing thought in the middle of the night

At an after-party following Pride, I watched my favorite drag queen (in civilian clothes) strip yet another woman and I just realized that he has probably done that more times than I have.

Dang.

 

 

3798

missed it by that much

Today a nice guy that often comes in to the library was inquiring about my sunburn.  One of the women I work with asked me how old I thought he was.  Then she suggested "why don't you go for it."  I really wanted to tell her.  You know that I did.  However, things weighed on my mind.

I am already not popular with the woman who yo-yos with all of our fates in the library system.  Though I like this co-worker and wouldn't mind being her friend in real life, she has issues herself with her employment status.  Moreover, she has made her Catholicism very apparent on more than one occasion. 

I want to be out and simultaneously well-treated.  I don't think I can come out to one staff member only.  That just wouldn't fly.

Homosexuals often fall into the trap of being in the closet until they are actually in a relationship and choose not to deny it.

I would rather they know.  I just don't think it is appropriate for the environment or healthy for my waning career.  Any revelation would soon be all over the world in this quiet village.  I'm just trying to live.

I'd like to be out to everyone.  My family knows and they have been kind.  Everyone at the other job knows and I am secure there because I have respect from the people in charge.

My new boss is pretty damn nice and I think that she would handle it well... I just don't see that it is a safe thing to do.

Coming out is always scary due to the fear of rejection or things even worse.

My immediate reaction was "Because I am gay."  But it stopped in my heart and my head took over before I let the words out.

Instead, I stood there with a quizzical look on my face, eyebrows kneading, stifled laughs turning to exhalations and muted "hmmphs."

Then she wanted to know why I was laughing to myself and I told her I couldn't say.

I want to be out. I need to be out. It's one more reason I need to find a different job.

 

the blush of Pride / the smell of Dad

Carlos came hustling up to me in the parking lot today to get a better look at my face and to pity me.  I'm thinking he checked my journal....

Carlos keeps checking for men and jobs in Ft. Lauderdale and Miami.  If he leaves, I'll cry!  I actually want to have him over to my parents house for dinner.

I was asked to go to my step-mother's father's house on Father's Day.  I am thinking I want to get my Dad to come visit with my Friday/Sunday friends instead.

I do not relish going to mum's parents.  You have to hold your fork just so.  Eccentric millionaires are annoying, although he has a fun streak in him.  He cracks jokes and tells tall tales.  And when he has had enough of you, he suddenly rises and and says "It's been nice seeing you."  Mum's step-mother is very nice, also.

I'm glad my grandparents were just good and caring people instead of rich.  Money messes people up.

Grandfather George is a conservative Republican.  The first time I met him he talked about how the gays want special rights....  Ugh. 

I impressed him with my ability to secure rolling awnings.  We were at an old-fashioned beach club in South Florida.  One with an outdoor changing cabana and a salt-water swimming pool.  It started to rain.

He frequently goes on cruises.  His hobby is to medal in the deck walking contests... what a life.

two spirits

Just a word... (the pictures are from denvertwospirit.com)... about ancient Americans...

native cultures recognized and even honored their gay men. 

I am not an American indian.  I wouldn't presume to discuss their culture. 

I just wanted to point out the wisdom....

Dude laughed.

I saw my buddy Carlos in the library yesterday.  His face was okay.  I walked over to him and mouthed as I pointed to myself "Look at my face!" He just laughed.

When I passed back by behind him I grabbed his shoulders, "You think it's funny,huh!?!"  He just laughed again.

I look like someone painted my sinus areas a pale maroon.

One of the co-workers brought me some aloe "leaves" when she went home for lunch.  I plastered the goo on my burn before bed.  I think the face feels better today.  I haven't looked at it yet.

I'm trying to look on the bright side.  I still might not acquire skin cancer AND I will have new skin when all this sloughs off, right?

PS: There has been no re-application of vinegar as yet.

3778

I was just thinking...

... about how nice it is to kiss someone, how sweet and pleasant it is to touch someone and be touched in return.

And that's the easy part.

Gone is the Wendy

Whatever happened?  Did I offend?

If you are still out there, this inquiring mind is curious about how you are and promises not to broadcast your business in this journal or via any other media.

vinegar

My step-mom told me to put vinegar on my burn.  This is an old remedy for the sting.  I think the truth is that it stings so bad that nothing else annoys by comparison.  And I thought you were supposed to marinate meat BEFORE you cooked it, anyway.

"She must love him"

Those were words spoken to me by a friend when I explained my parental units to a friend.

I went to my father's house last night to visit.  As usual, he complained about everyone in the step-family.  And my step-mother complained about him and about her children, too.

His was an expression of unhappiness.  Her's was a rampage of depressive misery.

She fusses at her son and he fusses about the way her son treats her, which only makes her more upset.

Her son yells at her and tells her he never gets to do anything.  She struggles to make him do homework.

She storms on about how her children use things without regard... but I can't tell her, "Look, you are the one who always gave them everything they desired and let them do almost anything they wanted to.  You can't expect them to give any regard to your personal property since they've never known any real consequences for disrespect."

I can't help my Dad, except to provide a place for him to come to when he runs away.  He doesn't listen to me anyway.

My step-sis is going to college.  She is a smart, hard-working girl who will be successful.

My step-brother is an over-indulged fop who just wants to fish all day every day.  He has a jeep and a nice fishing boat.

My step-brother keeps saying he's out of that house when he's 18.  Even though he has a steady income from a portfolio and social security from his father's death, he has no idea what he's up against when he tries to move out.  Rent here is absolutely ridiculous and even if he lives with friends, it will be hard for him.

That's okay though. Maybe a little responsibility and difficulty will be good for him.  

I do know that he will still be reliant on my step-mom even then, and that she will give him whatever he wants.  She isn't strong enough to say no.  She might want to, but she can't.

I find it hard to go there.  It's only 10 or 12 miles from here, but I opt to stay away.  It's lucky for me that they all like my visits.  My step-sister asks me along on errands when she's home and my step-brother tells me what he's been up to and talks about fish he's been catching.

My father, always fully dressed and looking ready to cover a news story, sits in his office at his computer and manipulates his photo collection.  He listens to mother and son argue and cuss while he offers commentary as if his opinion might change anything.

So that's my family, the people I bring new girlfriends over to meet. 

They aren't all bad.  My parents are kind, hospitable people who love visitors.  My step-mom puts on the dog for company and she really knows how to.  Both parents are intelligent people who can discuss anything easily.

I came out to my Dad at the age of 19.  My step-mother found out when one of my exes got drunk and called their house at 1 a.m. on New Year's Night looking for me for a booty call.  Might not have been so bad if she hadn't called back....

Her response was "Any way you can find love in this world is okay."

(Knowing the kind of life she has had, a Sapphic foray is not something she probably missed out on.  She was kicked out of some of America's best boarding schools. Poor little rich girl.)

So Step-mom and Dad are happily miserable.  Dad keeps saying he can't take it much longer.  He has been saying that for six years.

Mmm. We'll see.

 

3753

machetes and mailboxes

During the years that I stayed homebound with my mother, I lived to hear from my friends from college.

My father's friends had built a ramp and a porch on the front of our house for my mother.  It was there that the nurses would smoke, that the pets would lounge....  When Mom became less easy to move, we would bathe her on the porch as well, with a hose that ran from the utility tub in the garage. (Our house was secluded.) It was there that I would sit and wait to spy the mail carrier.

Our driveway was very long and I maintained it with a machete and clippers. It was important to me to see the postal service day after day.  Every day I waited.  Every day I walked with my heart in my throat, telling myself not to be disappointed.

The driveway was a little world.  I never knew what I would see... otter, snake, alligator, turtle, footprints of every description.  Brazilian peppers, oaks, grasses, wildflowers and wild riverbank grapes covered the drive.

I walked, barefoot when it was cool enough, in the sandy ruts leading to the dirt road we lived along.

When I actually did see the familiar handwriting of a friend, my heart soared.

The difference now is that I have more freedom and I know more people, but I still wait, for e-mail, for connection, for the love of friends that keeps me moving along.

"...trust me... on the sunscreen"

I was saying to Mr. X that this bad sunburn is my fault.  I could have bought a hat or found someone who smelled like Coppertone and asked for some.  Worse case I could have smeared lip balm on my face.  I didn't.

Mr. X suggested I find someone covered in lotion and rub against them....

I should have done something and you can bet that my car will never be lotionless ever again. (I still think there is some in the trunk somewhere.)

By the way, I have learned (yesterday) that it is best to avoid lidocaine.  Damn.  No wonder V was in so much pain that time she got burned.  Ah well.  She recovered.  And I'll know better if I ever get to nurse anyone else's burn.

Mind the sun, y'all.

shameful Confession

I had a really hard time letting go of V.

After she dumped me, I tried to stay in touch, but I succeeded in slamming the doors shut by querying her about why she had done it.

She had told me.  I just wasn't grasping it.

Long ago, if I had just agreed to see her when she wanted to be seen, I'd probably still be there. 

I do understand that it was doomed because we were in two separate places.  I was completely gaga.  She wanted less.

I came on too strong and wanted too much.  I didn't leave her alone as she asked.  I wrote. She tolerated patiently.  I was like a crazy person.  My wounds were really deep.

But I had enough control to stay away from her, her family and everything else.  Still when you continue to attempt communication with someone who doesn't want you in their life, it's harrassment. I'm not proud and I am done.

And now, having had all the rejection I think I can stand for a while, having glimpsed wonderfulness... having met someone new who is also fantastic but unavailable...  I think it's time to put thoughts of dating on the back shelf and just... focus my energies on anything else.

This is the thing I am most ashamed of.  I was struggling to stay in control.  Maybe I loved selfishly. 

I know I was wrong and stupid and hurtful and annoying.

I wanted to be there to support her with the things she was going through.  I am sure she will succeed just fine without me.

I can't apologize enough... (she'd rather I vanished anyway so it's just as well.)

See, I don't think now that I will ever meet someone who will stick around.  And yet, I don't want more cats!

So I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love and I apologize.

I have to say good-bye. 

A broken heart keeps beating. 

Ay, that's the rub.

small peeve

I have so many things running through my mind to write about.  I find myself at work frustrated that I am not home blogging.

I don't have time now to write all of the things out, but the little notepapers in my back pocket are filling up.

 

Has this ever happened to you...?

You're driving and you think of something and you want to write it down but you can't because you're driving and you think "When I get to the stoplight I can grab something" and then when you finally get there the traffic starts moving again?  

I hate that!

Big hairy DUH!

So I'm home for lunch and I open AOL and there's an article that reads "Could E-mail Be Addictive?" with the subheading "Average person checks e-mail five times a day."

Hello!

The answer to the question is absolutely and the reason is that we are starved for connection, affection and direction.

Talk to the Jean-o!

Addendum, 7:20 p.m.: I'm sure someone is causing a big ol' expensive study to be done....

 

FACE OF PRIDE (formerly The SUN)

I dressed for rain because that has been the pattern most every day now, but the clouds blew away about an hour after the event began.

A small picnic actually became a big crowd. I would guess there were 200... maybe more. It was definitely a success.

The young girl who talks to me online didn't go out because she had hurt her knee. 

The young man who isn't out to his folks yet told me that he was there for a very short while but he left after about 30 minutes because it was too much for him.

He also told me that he was thinking about getting involved in a youth group two counties south of here.  That's something... but we need something here.

It is easier to be gay in America than it ever has been before, but it is still hard and it is still dangerous.

There were maybe 20 to 30 booths of vendors... churches, artists, PFLAG, the health department, the two bars the community supports, the St. Lucie County Democrats, and area services and businesses.  And the event was backed by Busch and Tropicana.

Tropicana is progressive in its employment policies.  They even had a chart on the beverage booth about how much time and energy a closeted worker expends in the act of hiding.  If all the world would see that....

My friend Carlos was there and we hung out together, watching the performers, checking the booths... (I tried to stay in the shade but my face is cooked.) Then we went to supper together and hit both of the bars.  There was a lot going on.

I saw the young ladies that have coupled since I introduced them to each other.  And my friends Paige and Ruthann were working the Tropicana booth.  There were several little cliques of youngsters there, too. 

I kept moving into the available shade... but my face is painfully burnt.

It was a great day for the gay.

Pride Sunday

Finally in my own comfy bed.  Yea!

I talked to the doctor last night as they were on their way home up I-95. 

I came home from Cristy's this morning to bathe and go to Pride, but now that I'm here in all this, I feel guilty for not staying to clean the place.

But what the hell.  I need to live.  There's always the weekday-off for grunt work.  So I'll go.  Check it out.  Don't know what's in store but we shall see what we shall see.

There's a 17-year-old boy that talks to me online.  He hasn't come out to his parents yet, but he suffers from that same desperate loneliness that many young gays know.

I probably mentioned it before.  He thought his choice of bathing suit would raise his parents eyebrows and be the sign that told them.  Poor kid.

I have no idea what he looks like but I'll be watching for him there.  I may see the few others I know there.  It's almost easier to go to the event that's farther away.  Anonymity is sometimes more comfortable... and when I do see people I know at a place like that... they are people I really do know beyond mild acquiantance.  I was so happy to spot Carlos at the Palm Beaches Pridefest.

I don't know if Library Lisa will be there.  She is happy with her hottie and doesn't need to be seen.

Part of me does not want to go.

Part of me fears that my step-mom will have a Democratic Women's Club booth set up....  I doubt it. because Democrats are lame around here. The dicks have been measured, I guess.

All right.  I need to get ready....  Anyone wanna come with me?

11:08 p.m.

On the couch at Cristy's

Derek on my right

Cristy on my left

Lisa standing in front of us "Ya wanna shot?"

Boomer resting his chin on my right foot.

My left foot resting on his thorax.

Travolta and Thurman on the big screen.

One of the very cutest kids in the world trying to get them to let her stay up.

I thought about going to a bar tonight, but why be among strangers watching them have fun when I can be with my people and be loved (though not actually Loved upon?

11:18 p.m.  Inebrious, a rare state.  "Be Cool" on the big screen.  I think my left ear is numb.

I could have driven to PSL and paid five bucks to watch a big ol' drag queen pretend to whack off AGAIN.  Or... I could be here.... 

Good choice.  

haircut superstition

When I am about to meet a new woman, I get vain. In the past, I have gotten my hair cut before I met them.  But I waited until after meeting the latest this time.  It doesn't seem to make a difference.  Things still slide into the mud. 

I an not generally superstitious but I have somehow managed to attribute a prelude to romantic failure to getting my hair cut and to one other thing; taking my new girl to Cristy's.

In the past, it was taking a date to the animal hospital holiday party that seem to herald the beginning of the end.  With V, she went to Cristy's without benefit of the party.  Soon after was the first time she pushed me away.

I have been in different states with each woman when I bring them to Cristy's.  Some I have been intimate with already but there was one who got her first kiss from me at Cristy's.  Almost all go away soon after.  And I was the one who dumped the one I kissed there for the first time.

Well, you have to know that almost immediately after my haircut things started to take a downturn with Wendy.  Oh, things are still loose and light and friendly but there is a dark side to it.  I guess I should just be happy to be seeing it right away instead of further down the road.

And I suppose I am more watchful now, having had my heart crushed on the railroad tracks.... (metaphorically, allegorically)

I know that a haircut is not some psychic catalyst, but you really have to wonder.

Nothing is as usual now.  People who know me would be surprised to have seen me drinking beer, doing shots and smoking terbacky tonight.  Maybe I needed to.  I think I've had enough **** lately.  It felt good to be destructive and light-headed and numb and giddy.  Tomorrow, though....

I needed to enjoy my friends.  I was so happy to be going to be with people who actually do give a hang about me.  I've had enough falsery and nonsense in the last few years to last a long damn time.

That's all I have to say... because I'm going back over to be with my friends, my loved ones.

Goodnight.

{{not fer nuthin... no pot, never again. promise kept, PW.}}

T-shirt of the day

Who am I?

Why am I here?

What is my fate?

Where are the cookies?

Who did this?

I found myself in a link to something about patent attorneys?

http://patentist.info/patent-invention/25534.html

Who is responsible?  What does it mean?

Now I have to look into intellectual property laws to protect myself?

Talk to me.

And check me if I'm wrong but I believe you patent an invention and you copyright an idea...?

3669

So anyway, ya'll...

I'm available...!

WWXD, Part 2

And then suddenly it came to me

that God (however you may grasp the concept of divinity) wants me to have good friends!

Maybe (with luck!) I made a great new friend this past Tuesday.

I am so okay with that!

 

WWXD?

She'd slice her laptop in half with her chakram and go kick some ass!

Sorry, that was reactionary.  I wrote this and other things when it suddenly looked like Wendy is possibly reuniting with her ex. Well, ****, ya'll. Naturally, it has to go that way.  So maybe she has to be a footnote. I just wanted to take the time to get to know her. I certainly can't compete with love.  People like her don't come along every day and you have to wonder why these tricks get played on you.

Note to her ex: Be good her, you f***ing putz!

OK... maybe she was just a sign, that it's okay to fall for people your own size!

Ahhh, bosh!  We had too much in common anyway!

3642

Palookaville and tenterhooks

I'm trying to think of something to say but all I can do is wonder what I'm going to be doing this weekend and who I am or am not going to be doing it with.  I'm pathetic like that.  Lahooo-ser!

I don't know how I got this way.  I admire people who can be cold to other people and their plans.  Me, I am always concerned.

I used to live for letters from my friends, especially during the eight years I spent at home.  Every day I'd go to the mailbox.  There was no Internet then.  That's lucky for the Internet because I would have filled several hundred gigabytes with what I wrote.  An average letter from me would easily be 25 pages long.  My friends called something that short a "note."

They saved my letters.  When Kim left the east for California, she told me she had a large boxful.  She had long encouraged me to let her send them back so they could be published.  I should have, but in those days I could hardly see moments ahead, let alone the months of working and waiting to become published.  Then, afterwards, after Mom died, I was empty....

For people who are shut in to care for others for a long time... the world becomes a different place.  You find yourself in a survival mode that makes you seem so strange to outsiders.  Life was going on out beyond us.  Inside, life was a daily question.

I don't know what Kim did with those letters.  I said it was okay to dispose of them.  Geri kept some.  Rhett probably did, too.  The Jean that wrote them... well...  bits of her are still here.  I think of the old self again when I feel intense pain.  I feel lucky that as much as I can hurt, it is tempered by the illusion of time and the tricks of maturation.  Every day cut into me when I was 19.  At 39, the pangs in my heart are no longer heavy rocks but they still have power.

You never know when you meet someone how they will affect your life, or for how long.  That's the rub. I hate suspense! And I don't enjoy the gaps in communication.  Not at all.

I still see people who are together after many years who still love each other.  I remember one member of our library's Friends group working in our backroom and her husband came to inquire if she was ready to come home.  When she said no, his response was "Bananas!"  He wanted her.  More than 30 years and she was his life.

The two of them laughed at me because I laughed in response, but it was more due to their happiness than it was to his wit.

I feel a definite need not to rush anything now.

And I need to keep in mind there are always friends... and house pets.

 

 

 

Eternity

I am not sure but I think it was in the movie "Woman in the Wind" (1990) starring Colleen Dewhurst that I heard this tale about forever.

Imagine a butterfly beating it's wings against a steel ball for so long that the wings make an impression in the ball.

Now imagine all the grains of sand on all the beaches of all the world.  Imagine each grain as a steel ball. 

By the time that butterfly has made a tiny dent in each of those balls, eternity will have just begun.

ssshhhh

It was one of those mornings... you know, when you get hold of the cat and take off her collar bcause you're trying to sleep.

I'm always worn out by Thursday.  Working to 8 p.m. is for masochists.  Now those snits on the second story are considering other days of extended hours.

Ha!  All I can say is "Bite me!"

The dogs actually were more or less merciful until 6 this morning, but I was up before them in anticipation.

I only have two more days. Goodbye, clean water AND bath tub.  Goodbye, reassuring canine company. :o(

Johnny Rocket flew into the room when I went out to let the dogs in.  Now my cat is on the foot of the bed, hissing and warning him from above.

He's wanted to be friendly and bond since we got here.  She's just been pissy about it.

I guess I should take something else home today so that all I have left is some clothes when the family returns....

If we get reincarnated, it might be nice to come back as a pampered house pet. If I don't like it... well, it's only about 20 years....

don't be alarmed

 People around the country will clasp their hands together in delight when I reveal that FINALLY yesterday, I bought some mousse.

How it happened: I went to visit "The Bird" at the private salon where she is a nail tech.  I was there anyway, I decided I might as well get a hairscut.

A nice lady named Donna trimmed me carefully. (She cares about her reputation.)  Then, she moussed me, and told me why I should mousse.

And then (later), I went to a store and bought some.

Wow.

a word about co-dependency

For all the spin on this subject

we need each other to some degree

that IS what life is about

the triumph of love over darkness

it is not bad to need people

it is bad when those people help you hurt yourself

they are not bad when they walk away because they can't watch you hurt yourself and don't want to be part of it

you are not bad if you push away people who are bad for you

 

 

Jean's books of the month

places I would like to go

create your own visited country map or check our Venice travel guide

places I know I've been

create your own personalized map of the USA or check out ourCalifornia travel guide

 

create your own visited country map or check our Venice travel guide

The item / gossamer gold

Chris B. is a woman I met in college. (Well, with 300 or less students you have the chance to meet everybody if you want to.)

She was two or three classes behind my friends and I.  But Kim noticed her immediately.  "Did you see that baby dyke in orientation?," she cooed.  I hadn't.

The truth is I had also scoped out the newbies and had my eye on a different gal.  (No, we weren't "recruiting," just looking for others of our kind.)

It took me a while to recognize Chris.  She had black hair and blue eyes.  She was just a wee bit shorter than me and had a brash and somewhat butch appearance.  She was tough, smart-mouthed and street smart.  Well, she was from NEW JERSEY, after all. (And don't you DARE make any cracks about New Jersey around her!)

Having said that, she was also clever, witty, sensitive, talented.

She had this crusty exterior.  Sort of rude and challenging...  a survival mechanism, no doubt.

You might not get the impression that she liked you.  But there was just something about her that kept me curious.

She kept moving from dorm to dorm as I recall.  I think she was not every roommates cup of joe. She was in my dorm for a while, but it was in the red brick "Wood Hall" that I remember her most.

I would get a yen to visit and go knock on her door.  If she didn't want to talk, she said so.  She had a kind of push-you-away manner but I still wanted to spend time getting to know her.

One night (I think I already told you this.)  I climbed the outer wall up to her window, which was just above the top of the boiler room.)  It freaked her out to find my at her window, but she let me in... or maybe she made me climb down and go around.  I can't recall.

Anyway, we spent some time just talking.  I don't remember what about. I do remember that she was always kind of authoritative about everything, like she knew everything and you were wrong if you thought different.

There was something there.  Whatever she said, I just liked her. 

It was in these moments in her room, mostly, that we connected.

We were never intimate at all. I doubt that we ever even hugged each other hello or goodbye.  Doesn't matter.

She dated a "townie" that I had also dated.  That woman broke her heart.

And then she shared her singing/songwriting/guitar-playing skills in the tavern a few times and that was very cool.  She also did some comedy shtick that was fresh and uproarious.

She is still one of the coolest and most fun people I know.

I found her on Yahoo! IM a night ago and we gabbed for two or more hours about school and work and women and children and house pets.  Then she switched over to AOL IM and we talked a while longer.  It was quite enjoyable.

Then I found out she has an online journal, too.  How cool is that? 

Unlike me, though, she rants and raves about the state of the world. (I do care about the world, but I focus on the things I can help change more directly and try to avoid the news.) 

I'm so happy to have long-time friends.  It's nice that people know you half your life (or more) and still like ya!

 

Just cuz

 (sigh)

 

1987

  Aawwww

Goodbye, Anne! and thanks for the yuks

 

Anne Bancroft  (Anna Marie Louise Italiano)

born Sept. 17, 1931  The Bronx, NY

Godspeed, Mrs. Robinson

She is/was probably my absolute favorite actor.

Dim the lights tonight, boys.

NICE

So I met Wendy today.  She is actually quite appealling if you must know.  She has that girl-next-door quality, Ivory Soap beauty and a Flooridah acksent.   You gotta like that.  That she is smart and gets what I'm saying, or politely pretends to, is also a plus!

It's so nice to have a new friend.  Yea!

 

trying to "chill"

I just watched the dogs double-teaming the cat.  The cat is a sport!

It makes me glad that I elected to keep my cat separate.

Johnny Rocket, the cat, seems to take it all in stride.  Big Dog and Thor are so gleeful as they take different sides of the couch and pin the cat to the floor.

The cat just goes limp while the dogs lick him.  Bleh.

I do worry though, because the Rocket's main escape route is over the kitchen stove and onto the ledge between the kitchen and the informal dining room.

I'm trying to keep calm and rest up some more for meeting Wendy today.  I am nervous.  The fear of rejection is awful.  I am meeting a new friend and that's cool.  It's just everything else that has me tense.

Appearance, impression, the quality of being a nerdy oaf....

Sing out

Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are

And if you want to live high, live high
And if you want to live low, live low
'Cause there's a million ways to go
You know that there are

Chorus:
You can do what you want
The opportunity's on
And if you can find a new way
You can do it today
You can make it all true
And you can make it undo
you see ah ah ah
its easy ah ah ah
You only need to know

Well if you want to say yes, say yes
And if you want to say no, say no
'Cause there's a million ways to go
You know that there are

And if you want to be me, be me
And if you want to be you, be you
'Cause there's a million things to do
You know that there are

Chorus

Well, if you want to sing out, sing out
And if you want to be free, be free
'Cause there's a million things to be
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are
You know that there are

If you want to sing out, sing out

Cat Stevens

Chris, get to it!

how jedi are you? :: by lawrie malen

'Tis Herself

This lovely, expressive work of art is a masterpiece by C's precocious, angelic, future hellion of a daughter.  It is a portrait of me.

It actually is very good.  It manages to express mischief and my wild hair.  There's that intelligent brow, that crooked smile.

It also expresses that the little girl loves me.  It's very warm.

It is pencil on paper.  It belongs in a fine museum.  I think it shows promise... and a cubist influence!

And even though spelling my name with a G makes me grit my teeth I think it's great! 

(Who, in their right mind, spells it "Gean" instead of Jean?  That's just freakish!)

I think she's got a good instinct, raw talent, a good eye.  I believe she has "captured" me.

New Hampshire, Autumn/Winter 1987

We used to go to Contra-Dances, the other kids working at Boston University's Sargent Camp, and I.

The dances would be in old wooden churches, mostly.  We'd pay a few bucks and dance.  I have forgotten almost everything except the women's whirling skirts, and how the dancers would redirect you to keep the dance unbroken.  It was serious business and it was a blast.

Nothing has reminded me more of the faces of the people I worked with than this memory just now.  We had two Andy's.  My favorite was blonde Andy with dreadlocks.  He loved Bonnie Raitt and got all dressed up to go to see her in concert.  Then there was Mary, my roomie.  She is the daughter of a former president of the Audubon Society.  And there was Will.  He was a bike racer.  And Raina.  What a sweetie she was.  There were several others but these are the ones that stick in my mind.

We used to sit around the dining room table at the farmhouse and play "Slap and Go Uno."  It didn't even matter if you put down the right card.  It was all about the speed and the yelling.

Why I didn't tell my friends that the woman I always talked to on the phone was my lover I will never know.  I mean, they must have figured me out.  Duh.

Those were good days.  They were the beginning and end of my career in Outdoor Recreation.  After that, and a brief stint with Nature's Classroom in Ohio, I started taking care of my mom.

New Hampshire is a wonderful state.  I wish things had gone differently.

my fellow voyeurs

http://www.googlesightseeing.com/ 

What I don't have

Today...

a lawnmower at the house I am attending.  I would totally mow the lawn.  We have had more than nine inches.  The place is a jungle.

Last night...

one of those energy drinks that could have kept me awake all night.  The opportunity to get some could have happened!

 

Scat!

You know, they don't allow you to type in your own mood.  There are some that they have missed.  I would like the freedom to tell you more specifically what kind of mood I am in.

And why do the ask what music you are hearing? And why don't they ask about the experiences of your other senses?

This entry is scatological.  I'm not talking about Ella Fitzgerald scat.  I am talking about the by-products of the world's processes of digestion and elimination.

That's right.  I am addressing POOP.  I am going where taste and sense have not allowed you to go!

A good poop feels good.  We tend to lighten our load when we are upset, frightened.

I am a professional poop picker-upper.  I get fairly decent money to walk dogs, which includes the clean-up.  I am not afraid of poop.

My more intimate relationship with poop began when I was caring for my mom.  I had to wipe her derriere.  I had to do many things.  It's bad enough that we have to deal with our own stuff....

So anyway, the stuff became less intimidating.  Mom died and I thought I was done with having to manage the stuff.  Then I got a job at an animal hospital.  What was I thinking?

So one day a few years ago I finished walking the dogs.  I wrapped up the sack containing their spoor and tossed it away.  Then I spied a lost poo on the ground.  Damned if I was gonna waste a new bag on a single poo, I shoveled it up and prepared to launch it over the fence and into the woods.

Angle.  Trajectory. Swish.  Nothing. "Pllap." "Huh?"

The poo had fooled me and was sticking to the hospital wall.  Ah hahahahahaaaa  It still kills me.  I bet this isn't happening to anyone else right now anywhere in the world, I thought. (I hosed it down.)

So no, I am not afraid of poo, or bugs, or lizards or most snakes.  I'd rather take my chances in the woods than in the big city.  Men are more dangerous than any dog.

They call me at the library when something gets in the back door.  I'm the one that saw to the removal of black widow spiders in the bookdrop.

My live capture of a dragonfly in the county commission chambers during FEMA work made Jennifer G. laugh. (It really is sad that she is not my friend.  She got my jokes.)

We all deal with waste products, sex, taxes and God.  What's the big deal?

2:18 p.m.

I started thinking that entry is tasteless.  You ought to delete it. But then I thought, "No, you need to augment it!" Then I laughed maniacally.

Zen Poo

I have a touch of the colitis.  At work, I have a book in my cabinet, "Zen Flesh, Zen Bones."  When I have a serious thought, I take this book to the "thinking place."  It distracts me.  It's a good thing.   Try it sometime, reading on the pot....

 

The library has a book by Japanese author Taro Gomi in the children's section.  It's called "Everyone Poops."

No lie!  It's a classic.

I also see in the catalog that there's one by him called "TOOT!"  LOL LOL

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday

Back to Out on the Coast magazine Home Page For Forms, right click on link and download, then print. Instructions are on form. June 12, 2005 1 to 6 PM
All Proceeds Benefit PFLAG Vero Beach
Directions to 2355 Se Scenic Park Dr
Port St Lucie, FL 34952-8147

Booth Sign Up Form

Event Sponsor Form

Sand Hill Crane Park
2355 SE Scenic Park Dr,
Port St. Lucie, FL
Take US 1 to Walton Rd., go east, first left past Leonard Rd.
Map of 2355 Se Scenic Park Dr
Port St Lucie, FL 34952-8147
Click this link for page with logos Sponsored by:

 

 

<!-- var SymRealOnLoad; var SymRealOnUnload; function SymOnUnload() { window.open = SymWinOpen; if(SymRealOnUnload != null) SymRealOnUnload(); } function SymOnLoad() { if(SymRealOnLoad != null) SymRealOnLoad(); window.open = SymRealWinOpen; SymRealOnUnload = window.onunload; window.onunload = SymOnUnload; } SymRealOnLoad = window.onload; window.onload = SymOnLoad; //-->

I could be...

... out doing something useful.

Instead, I'm being quiet, scanning the NNDB for bi and homo folks.  I still don't know what the two Ns stand for.

http://www.nndb.com/

My day off... why not HIBERNATE?

(sigh)

Eventually I will get up, bathe, walk the dogs....

Maybe Cristy will want to hang.  Maybe she won't.

Maybe I'll go work on my own home.

Watch out for the flying pigs!

It's all about giving quality time to the cat this morning.

Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

 

what they didn't tell me

They didn't tell me:

Don't bother to bring your alarm clock.  The dogs will wake you up before the sun to be let out to pee.

Lightbulbs, step-ladders, TP... they didn't tell me where to find these things, either.

Our bed is rock hard.  Nope, didn't let me in on that.

I can't complain.  I'm not complaining.  It could be far worse.

Fortunately I used to clean this house....  there have been no rude surprises.

The most surprising thing to me is how much of my own stuff I have brought over.

I have watched other houses and pets farther away and brought less.  But then again, I am here for 19 days.  That's longer than usual.

If I could fill my days with house-sitting, it would give me an excuse to jettison everything I couldn't squeeze into an old, small Saturn sedan.

At this point, what difference would being rootless make?

 

let's write a book together

There are two books in the library written by several people. Each writer wrote one chapter. The books are "Naked Came the Phoenix" and Florida writers followed it up with "Naked Came the Manatee."

What do you say?

How shall we organize?

Who wants to start?

Please just include me in at some point.

I want

Last night I spoke with a woman I met a while back who was bi-curious and now is fully engaged in her bi-sexuality. 

The topic was her and me and bed.  She has been the person who has been wanting to enjoy me but last night, I was very lonely, and sought her.

Nothing happened but I had a picture of her to imagine being held, nestled in her astonishing chocolate breasts and ... so forth.

I have no one and only my friends at Cristy's touch me, briefly.  Except for Geoff, who was drunk the other night.

I seem to be able to get attention from men.  I need a woman to brush her hand along my ribs and lock me in her embrace.

I need her sharp sighs in my ear.

Masculine attention is alien to me.

I made Geoff stop rubbing my leg when I started getting goosebumps.  He's cute, but as far as men go, I prefer the lumbering oaf type.

I think he just senses an unused vagina.  He can no more make me straight than I can make him taller (vertically).

I would have to be out-of-my-mind high.  Surprisingly though, I tend to stay rational... just even more forthcoming with my thoughts than one may have already experienced.

But lately I am lonely enough to wish that I was open enough to affection from any party.  However, I am unfortunately imbued with sense.  

Sex is like meat... it probably really shouldn't be the main course.

Yet... you should have some... frequently.

 

3455

dose of my own medicine

I envisioned what a friend who discovered the woman who won't stop calling me might write to her.  Then I likened it to my own sick desire to communicate with V. (Except that I have exercised as much control as I can stand.  I do not call her or send flowers or....)  You have been watching me recover from something so very painful. Such a waste of energy for all parties.  It's ending though.  Thank God.

I am writing in regards to my very good friend J. You have been calling her incessantly.  She has gotten your messages.  She doesn't know how to respond to you. Let me tell you a few things about J, XXXX XXXX XXXXXXX of XXXXXXXX, Texas.... She is a very sweet, sensitive, hard-working person.  She lives in each day. You trying to suck her back into a life she has left far behind isn't doing her any good. She is happy and healthy and thriving.  She doesn't know how to tell you that she doesn't have anything to offer you.  You calling, sometimes several times in a given day, hurts her.  Moreover, it constitutes HARRASSMENT.  I'm asking you to stop calling her and to also leave her family alone as well. Please, if you really care about her, leave her alone.  Respect her decision to move only forward.  Pretend that she is dead.  Get yourself some new friends.  You aren't bad.  You just aren't right for what she needs in her life.

Eccentric Bookstore

There is a bookstore in this town that is open "ocassionally and by appointment." (Says so on the sign!) It specializes in books about Florida, by Floridians.  It's only open sometimes. 

It's a nice building, in kind of a strange location.  I guess the owner is kind of strange, too.  Must be nice to have a business and not need to operate it.

Hard Scrabble Women

The title is a play on words.  "Hardscrapple" generally refers to someone who is hardy because they have been tested by hardship.  "Scrapple" is sausage mixed with oats... more or less.

"SCRABBLE" (copyrighted title) is a word game.  It happened to be a favorite indulgence of the last two women who I dated and who rejected me.

Why do I mention it?  Just so others may take it under advisement.

marriage tradition

If June is the traditional month for marriages... does that mean that most people are born around ... May?

 

chocolate wisdom

I have several things noted down to consider for blogging.  However, Cristy expects me to blog about how my day got better after sucking in the morning so here it goes:

My morning was bad because my heart was conflicted. 

I don't want to talk about what was wrong.  Let's just say that my heart hurt.  I didn't want to get up and go to work.

I missed the garbage truck here where I'm house-sitting.  I flew to my house with the garnage in my car, because they come late to my house but I had to get to work.

I got there in plenty of time, arriving at the same time as that very unplesant co-worker.  Luckily she was friendly today.  I stayed busy.

The new boss came and she was happy.  I am so grateful for her.  She's well-balanced as a manager and a human.

The library finally opened and work went along and that itself cheered me.  I had some underpaid purpose.  And I had brought chocolate for the office the day before.  In the afternoon, I picked up a piece of milk chocolate and a piece of dark chocolate.

The wrapper of the first piece advised: "Don't think about it so much."  I was shocked and awed.  I wondered how the second piece could possibly follow that.  What are the odds?  The other wrapper read "Don't think about it so much!"

My gawd!  If even chocolate is telling me to move on, what choice do I have??????

And that made me happy.  The rest of the day went well.  I made my boss laugh several times. 

I love women who laugh.

It was a good day.

 

The Ex you described appears to have been a Leader. She was strong, energized, and abounded with passion, persistence, and versatility. She was driven to make an impact on the world. She thrived on intensity and excitement and gravitated toward other strong-willed people. As a friend, she was fiercely loyal and would do anything to protect her loved ones.

Gay Pride Month

So it's Gay Pride Month.

It's amusing.  There is no Het. Pride month, or black pride month or white pride month.  Does any other group have a pride month, week or day?

Jewish Pride? Slavik Pride? Maori Pride?

And why be proud of being gay?  It's not an accomplishment.  It IS an accomplishment to survive being gay.  It is an accomplishment to face being gay.  It is an accomplishment to show a gay face to the world with dignity.

I'm proud of being a fairly good, generally nice person. 

There is a Black History month.  Gay history is rich.  The thing is that gay people aren't pink and purple.  That's almost too bad.

Want to know more?

I suggest Another Mother Tongue: Gay Words, Gay Worlds by Judy Grahn

It's one of the best books about gay legends, lore and history.  You'll wanna wear green on Thursday (or not.)

I have to get back to work... more later, maybe!

Why my life is good...

I woke up around 5 a.m. to the sound of a drizzling rain on the skylight.  I fired up my computer and saw that I had new mail.

The new bits were messages from Cristy.

I don't know how I happened to score her sweet and honest affection but it is one of the very best things in my life.

I wrote once about how many times in my life I have been "in love."  I have written about people I love.

I haven't written about how many times I have been loved, without condition.

I don't honestly know. I'm thinking none of them were lovers... but I'm almost tempted to add one more to the list.

Read the comment on the previous entry.  It's gold.  Somebody does love me. 

That's as good as it gets.

yin, yang and my foolish heart

sometimes

lives intertwine

for no good reason

or so we think

there are no guarantees

that we will make sense

not all the time

 

I learned a few things about my last love tonight.  I hurt, I rejoice, I wish I was at peace.  She must be.  I am a by-gone nothing to her.  I wish I could get her out of my system once-and-for-all.

There are times when you can't make it on your own.  This must be another of them.  Oh, for the resources to have a professional counselor.

Wherever... whatever...  more power to you!!!   You go, girl! (No, I'm not talking to myself.)

I-BU-PRO-FEN

OK, OK, Cristy, YOU WIN!

I went to see the doctor about my aching shoulder, neck and head.  What did he give me?  ADVIL.

Are you happy now????

I knew that I was wasting time and money, damn it.  $59.20 to tell me what I knew... that it would eventually go away....  Dogs!

It's just that I hadn't been in such pain...  I can't remember ever aching so.  (I'm sure I have but I tend to block out unpleasantness.)  So I took some and after a while my back started feeling like lead.  After work, I went to the grocery store and suddenly felt an urge to goose a grocery BOY. 

The stuff might be dangerous.

He was just a cute kid.  And like Library Lisa says, we can appreciate male beauty....

touching base

IMed with two friends tonight.  It made me feel good.  Thanks!

Aunt Cracker

When I say "Cracker"... this is what I mean. The first cattlemen in Florida were called "crackers" by the indians because they used the crack of whips to direct the cows. That's where it comes from. Just thought I'd share.

not who they seem

I watched the movie "Kinsey" a few nights ago.  Great cast, cool story about the man who surveyed American sexual habits and attempted to bring us out of the dark ages in regards to sexual knowledge.

Cast: Liam Neeson, Laura Linney, Peter Sarsgaard, Chris O'Donnell, Oliver Platt, John Lithgow, Tim Curry, Timothy Hutton, etc.

What did I like about it?  Well, to be honest I had watched several other movies outside of my ususal genres before I fired this one up.  Two of them were horror movies that as far as I could see were the same movie, really.  You know, demonic killer snatches bodies and keeps on killing. (C-r-a-p.)

And I watched "Collateral."  You know I don't like Tom Cruise, but I found I could stand him in this one.  He was subdued.  He was actually acting and not just strutting.  I don't think Jamie Foxx was all that he can be, but then again, you don't get parts like "Ray" everyday.

Anyway...

"Kinsey" was good.  No car chases.  No guns.  Just revelation about a man who was driven to change the world for the better.  He showed that there were many ways to express yourself and that absolute heterosexuality is not as common as you might think.

And that's OK.  So get over yourself.

Just a little more

I've had this pain for several days... don't know what it is.  Finally made an appointment with a doctor.  Yesterday, however, it was intense.  Moving in certain ways meant sharp, instant pain.  I wanted to give up.  I wanted to go sit down.  I wanted to ask the manager to let me go home, but I heard the voice; "Just a little more." 

I don't hear voices as a rule.  It's not an audible voice.  It's a thought in my head that seems to come from somewhere else.  I think if people were more honest, they'd admit that sometimes they seem to be guided by the unseen.

I've heard this before.  My mother had died and I got up to go over to the school where I volunteered.  However, when I got to the end of the driveway, I went and sat on the edge of the pond.  I was sad.  I didn't want to do anything.  I wanted to disappear, to implode.  And then something seemed to whisper insistently into my ears, directly into my heart, "Get up, baby, and go to school."

Every now and then, when I want to fold, something pushes me on.

What or who... well, it may be the love that has left me reminding me that it really hasn't.

3357