I went out in public today with crazy, wild, "I'm an artist" hair today. Hair everywhere. It's how I feel inside this week.
I'm spending money. That can't be a good. So what's up? Grandpa still in my head but there's nothing I can do. Too many boys and guys in the playing field. I'm starting to think that sitting on the sideline is a better position to be in. These meds starting up again are increasing dream activity. Have had a dream every night this week. Searching for something in the dreams seems to be a common theme, haha, no surprise. Going back to work raises an anxiety of trapping myself again. Driving a rental car sparks so much desire to have a car again; this adding another expense to my life that means having to generate an income to support this. Stress. Close friends going through their own tribulations but all I can do is listen. Where do I want to live? I feel all these things flowing inside and so far no release. Action must be taken but it's so much easier to find distractions.
There is this idea of love that I've kept as part of me at all times. It's a part of me that I can sense the capacity in others right away; this, not to be confused with infatuation or lust. Certain people have the ability to return love how I want and need it and others do not. It's not that others may not love, for indeed they do, however it's in a way that may be less verbal and communicated poorly. It may not be said at all, but the actions may speak for the person. The idea for me is simple enough. It's a love where I am stripped of any cloak & dagger deceptions or walls and yet I feel completely safe in the presence of another. It's where someone falls asleep cuddling and then wakes up during the night because positions have changes and the touch is missing. If that's missing in someone when I meet them, I should just walk away.
I'm listening to Ferry Corsten's new Passport CD series: Kingdom of the Netherlands. It's causing me to drift off to sleep now and again in between typing, so enough typing for now.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Insert Inertia Here
Grandpa is in the hospital again. I open up with this in my head tonight, but it's been a long week from last Monday at Disneyland with the boys. What to recall.... what to recant? haha.
What I wish I could do is have a neural-transmitter that could blog my thoughts as they happen. I'm touched by so many lives right now and I still feel this sinking feeling. Conduit, am I? Cranky from my time on the can. Ugh. Wildly unrelated thoughts that I suppose only I can translate at some later date. I forget that there ARE people reading this. I think I'm crazy sometimes, but you've really got to be crazy thinking that you can read and understand this particular entry.
I did go to San Francisco Pride. Recall. I got to see lil brother, Phil. Recall. People were selling pot brownies on the street. I ate two, not one. Recant. Steamy memberships...recall/recant/recall/recant. Sleeping in my rental car. Recant. Finding a motel to sleep in at $120 split in two. Recant. Finding pieces of myself that can only be seen while in San Francisco. Recall.
Last Friday was the beginning of the last five days of non-stop movement. Tomorrow I speak at Cal State Long Beach for PFLAG. There are a lot of details in between and maybe I'll write when I'm more awake. For now... Moodswings (the music group) take me away...
What I wish I could do is have a neural-transmitter that could blog my thoughts as they happen. I'm touched by so many lives right now and I still feel this sinking feeling. Conduit, am I? Cranky from my time on the can. Ugh. Wildly unrelated thoughts that I suppose only I can translate at some later date. I forget that there ARE people reading this. I think I'm crazy sometimes, but you've really got to be crazy thinking that you can read and understand this particular entry.
I did go to San Francisco Pride. Recall. I got to see lil brother, Phil. Recall. People were selling pot brownies on the street. I ate two, not one. Recant. Steamy memberships...recall/recant/recall/recant. Sleeping in my rental car. Recant. Finding a motel to sleep in at $120 split in two. Recant. Finding pieces of myself that can only be seen while in San Francisco. Recall.
Last Friday was the beginning of the last five days of non-stop movement. Tomorrow I speak at Cal State Long Beach for PFLAG. There are a lot of details in between and maybe I'll write when I'm more awake. For now... Moodswings (the music group) take me away...
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Coming To Home
Ali dropped me off at home around 5am....
Foggy.
E-mail had nothing entertaining. The spam filter forgot to catch one of those porn sites. Normally I just hit delete and am done with it, but curiosity and that lingering lust after dancing led me to open the website that was being advertised. "Live Interactive" it read. "Choose your dream." I managed a small laugh of marketing disgust and skipped to the link to see how much a trial access to the site would cost. $2.99, inconveniently re-billed at the low monthly cost of $29.99. I swear these sites know how to milk it. After the credit card information is cleared, I'm in.
Four live feeds going. I was surprised at this hour in the morning to have so much activity, but what do I know about this stuff? I choose "Ethan" to watch and once the buffering is finished, he appears on the screen with a green tank top and a matching pair of Paul Frank, low-cut briefs. The tank top is body tight. He doesn't look that built but lean, maybe 5'9" or 5'10" and probably 150-155 lbs. Every movement he makes, flexes some muscle because that's all there is on his body. The other guys in the chat room are chiding him to take something off. His face looks like someone shedding his baby skin and just starting to grown into his manhood. Hair is a bottled shade of light chocolate brown with a few streaks of platinum white; very very straight and it moves like feathers at each tilt of his head. It just barely covers the top of his ears. Apparently, I came in at a good time because he hasn't come yet. Phew. Ethan starts typing back to the room. "I'm not sure I can do it by myself. Maybe if someone wants to go private with me."
More marketing and sales. Not only do they get you to pay for the site, but when you actually want to watch the models do something you pay extra for the pleasure of talking one-on-one with the models. A pretty face--or an attractive piece of equipment--is all it takes to draw you in. It doesn't hurt that the drinks from the night before are still circulating in me and pulsing in the pleasure zones of my body. I've managed to undress down to my boxers by the time I decide to take him private so I can stop reading all this crap that the others are typing.
"Hiya Stud." He writes as the private is initiated. Stud? I'm stupid for being skeptical while still desiring to get off.
"Hi Ethan. You're hot." That was entirely inadequate, and after typing it I felt this totally 'duh' feeling come over me.
"Thanks stud. Where are you?"
"California."
"Oh, a Cali stud. That's hot. What can I do to get you hotter?"
Here I was paying for the time and attention of this willing, attentive cyber-figure and when he posed the question, I had no idea what it is that I wanted to see him do. I mean, was I really doing this? I decided to start with the basics. "Can you take your tank top off?"
"Ah baby, you know it." He pushed the keyboard aside and got up on his knees. As he did this, it became conspicuously obvious that this very tight, low-cut briefs would not contain the outline of what was inside should it become erect. It looked like it was ready to burst out of the little Paul Frank monkey's mouth as it was. Ethan's arms crossed in front of his abs and grabbed the sides of the tank top. The lighting of the room was perfect at catching both triceps and biceps. The tank top started going up and it revealed not only the six taut and symmetrical muscles for abs, but a cute silver belly button ring.
He didn't move back to the keyboard right away. Instead, he stayed on his knees. Then, he leaned back and grabbed his ankles which thrust his crotch upward for a perfect view of the wrapped package. But he didn't stop there, he let his arms unclasp his ankles and his body continued to fall backward, stretch and flexing his thigh muscles until his back was completely flat on the bed and his arms were above his head. This gave a different perspective of the package and suddenly his body seemed so small in comparison. Proportions seemed off.
"Fuck!" I find myself typing and sending. "You are totally hot. I wish I was there or you were here." He saw that I had typed something and without using his hands, he pulled himself back up to his knees and grabbed the keyboard.
"Me too babe. Then you could take these clothes off of me."
I was so fixated on him that I hardly noticed that a draft had formed below the waist from the opening in the boxer's fly. Someone had popped out and wanted to watch Ethan too.
====
Ok, if you made it this far without having to stop in the bathroom, I just want you to know that everything above after "Ali dropped me off at home around 5am...." is completely FICTION. hehehehe. I was feeling creative this evening. Hope you enjoyed.
Foggy.
E-mail had nothing entertaining. The spam filter forgot to catch one of those porn sites. Normally I just hit delete and am done with it, but curiosity and that lingering lust after dancing led me to open the website that was being advertised. "Live Interactive" it read. "Choose your dream." I managed a small laugh of marketing disgust and skipped to the link to see how much a trial access to the site would cost. $2.99, inconveniently re-billed at the low monthly cost of $29.99. I swear these sites know how to milk it. After the credit card information is cleared, I'm in.
Four live feeds going. I was surprised at this hour in the morning to have so much activity, but what do I know about this stuff? I choose "Ethan" to watch and once the buffering is finished, he appears on the screen with a green tank top and a matching pair of Paul Frank, low-cut briefs. The tank top is body tight. He doesn't look that built but lean, maybe 5'9" or 5'10" and probably 150-155 lbs. Every movement he makes, flexes some muscle because that's all there is on his body. The other guys in the chat room are chiding him to take something off. His face looks like someone shedding his baby skin and just starting to grown into his manhood. Hair is a bottled shade of light chocolate brown with a few streaks of platinum white; very very straight and it moves like feathers at each tilt of his head. It just barely covers the top of his ears. Apparently, I came in at a good time because he hasn't come yet. Phew. Ethan starts typing back to the room. "I'm not sure I can do it by myself. Maybe if someone wants to go private with me."
More marketing and sales. Not only do they get you to pay for the site, but when you actually want to watch the models do something you pay extra for the pleasure of talking one-on-one with the models. A pretty face--or an attractive piece of equipment--is all it takes to draw you in. It doesn't hurt that the drinks from the night before are still circulating in me and pulsing in the pleasure zones of my body. I've managed to undress down to my boxers by the time I decide to take him private so I can stop reading all this crap that the others are typing.
"Hiya Stud." He writes as the private is initiated. Stud? I'm stupid for being skeptical while still desiring to get off.
"Hi Ethan. You're hot." That was entirely inadequate, and after typing it I felt this totally 'duh' feeling come over me.
"Thanks stud. Where are you?"
"California."
"Oh, a Cali stud. That's hot. What can I do to get you hotter?"
Here I was paying for the time and attention of this willing, attentive cyber-figure and when he posed the question, I had no idea what it is that I wanted to see him do. I mean, was I really doing this? I decided to start with the basics. "Can you take your tank top off?"
"Ah baby, you know it." He pushed the keyboard aside and got up on his knees. As he did this, it became conspicuously obvious that this very tight, low-cut briefs would not contain the outline of what was inside should it become erect. It looked like it was ready to burst out of the little Paul Frank monkey's mouth as it was. Ethan's arms crossed in front of his abs and grabbed the sides of the tank top. The lighting of the room was perfect at catching both triceps and biceps. The tank top started going up and it revealed not only the six taut and symmetrical muscles for abs, but a cute silver belly button ring.
He didn't move back to the keyboard right away. Instead, he stayed on his knees. Then, he leaned back and grabbed his ankles which thrust his crotch upward for a perfect view of the wrapped package. But he didn't stop there, he let his arms unclasp his ankles and his body continued to fall backward, stretch and flexing his thigh muscles until his back was completely flat on the bed and his arms were above his head. This gave a different perspective of the package and suddenly his body seemed so small in comparison. Proportions seemed off.
"Fuck!" I find myself typing and sending. "You are totally hot. I wish I was there or you were here." He saw that I had typed something and without using his hands, he pulled himself back up to his knees and grabbed the keyboard.
"Me too babe. Then you could take these clothes off of me."
I was so fixated on him that I hardly noticed that a draft had formed below the waist from the opening in the boxer's fly. Someone had popped out and wanted to watch Ethan too.
====
Ok, if you made it this far without having to stop in the bathroom, I just want you to know that everything above after "Ali dropped me off at home around 5am...." is completely FICTION. hehehehe. I was feeling creative this evening. Hope you enjoyed.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Tonguey Tim and Sucky Suzie
They were characters in an impromptu story writing session with LaTrice in high school during a field trip to the tide pools in Mr. Russell's class.
I think I should return to my erotica writing roots.... haha
I think I should return to my erotica writing roots.... haha
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Spontaneous Weekend
I've been resting. (Obviously) Resting has made me restless. Rey came over and hung out with me on Thursday Night. Then Friday, Randy came by and joined us. My fever came off and on, mostly when I tried moving around too much because I would "feel" fine. We went for a midnight run to In-N-Out. On the way back to the house Nathan was calling so I had Randy answer my phone. Rey & Randy had been drinking so I was driving and somehow the idea of driving to Las Vegas to visit Nathan came into the light.
2am to 5:30am Saturday morning.... I drive mama and shilldren to Las Vegas. We wake Nathan up and then go to sleep on his furniture.
It was absolutely great to see him. The rush of the unplanned roadtrip reminded me of younger days. The fun. The "just do it" mentality. My fever persisted on and off, so I basically sat around while with him, but we found time to go and look at the new Wynn hotel. I also got the chance to have Eddie meet up with us and hang out while we were there. Hard to believe it's only the 2nd time I've seen him in a year.
Shower clean and home again. Warm. Healing. I feel no loss for missing LA Pride.
2am to 5:30am Saturday morning.... I drive mama and shilldren to Las Vegas. We wake Nathan up and then go to sleep on his furniture.
It was absolutely great to see him. The rush of the unplanned roadtrip reminded me of younger days. The fun. The "just do it" mentality. My fever persisted on and off, so I basically sat around while with him, but we found time to go and look at the new Wynn hotel. I also got the chance to have Eddie meet up with us and hang out while we were there. Hard to believe it's only the 2nd time I've seen him in a year.
Shower clean and home again. Warm. Healing. I feel no loss for missing LA Pride.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
MR. S.A.
Two extra strength Tylenol and an Aleeve. This is my standard pain/fever regimen. MR. SA is actually MRSA, or, Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus aureus. It's a form of staph infection that is resistant to most of the common antibiotics used to treat infections. And guess what.... I got it. Six months of mysterious skin irritations that look like inspect bites of some sort have finally been solved with a simple culture last Friday.
As usual when I become sick, no fever. Doctors who either mis-diagnose or have no idea what's going on. Foggier still is where the hell did I get this from? My best guess would be from someone I've been in contact with that had it. Even if this is the case, there had to be some opportunity for it to infect me through some open wound and I can't think of anything. Perhaps a sexual contact? I suppose it's not beyond the realm of possibility. I could have had the bacteria on me for years and only recently at a point of lowered immunity could it have infected me. The more I read the endless information on the internet, the more I understand it, but it does little to pacify feelings of being utterly dirty on some level. I've started washing everything I touch in the house; towels, bedding, clothes. I'm running out of soap.. haha, not to mention Clorox bleach spray. I'm on a course of Bactrim DS. One of ten days completed. I'm crossing my fingers that nine days from now I feel "normal" (for me) again.
Eeeew!!!
Ok, now that all that is said. Thanks to Phil for sharing some music by Imogen Heap with me. Hide & Seek is a song that she sings acoustically, but her voice has been synthesized and I believe it makes her sound like a church organ. It's splendid. (Not Splenda). Gil introduced me to West Indian Girl and Curve. We watched "Mysterious Skin" on Saturday night and then saw lightning in my bedroom. (My sweet idea turned into a light show) I'm happy at the steady pace that things are moving along.
Missing friends lately. Put some calls out. Waiting.
As usual when I become sick, no fever. Doctors who either mis-diagnose or have no idea what's going on. Foggier still is where the hell did I get this from? My best guess would be from someone I've been in contact with that had it. Even if this is the case, there had to be some opportunity for it to infect me through some open wound and I can't think of anything. Perhaps a sexual contact? I suppose it's not beyond the realm of possibility. I could have had the bacteria on me for years and only recently at a point of lowered immunity could it have infected me. The more I read the endless information on the internet, the more I understand it, but it does little to pacify feelings of being utterly dirty on some level. I've started washing everything I touch in the house; towels, bedding, clothes. I'm running out of soap.. haha, not to mention Clorox bleach spray. I'm on a course of Bactrim DS. One of ten days completed. I'm crossing my fingers that nine days from now I feel "normal" (for me) again.
Eeeew!!!
Ok, now that all that is said. Thanks to Phil for sharing some music by Imogen Heap with me. Hide & Seek is a song that she sings acoustically, but her voice has been synthesized and I believe it makes her sound like a church organ. It's splendid. (Not Splenda). Gil introduced me to West Indian Girl and Curve. We watched "Mysterious Skin" on Saturday night and then saw lightning in my bedroom. (My sweet idea turned into a light show) I'm happy at the steady pace that things are moving along.
Missing friends lately. Put some calls out. Waiting.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Aroma
I sprayed his cologne on me like I was inhaling his skin and then wrapping our bodies to sleep. An angel, I am.... and nowhere near him in truth. The scent so powerful I close my eyes.
Quick Pop
Friday - Sick (Pain in the ass.)
Saturday - Better
Sunday - Best.
Nice, long conversation with Nathan tonight before the midnight hour came and went. I can't believe it's almost 2am. Caught up a little bit with my roomies trip to Orlando. Phil suggested I listen to Imogen Heap so I have been as I've been skimming through MySpace blogs.
I want these physical pains to go away now. Pop away please. p, p, p, POP!
Saturday - Better
Sunday - Best.
Nice, long conversation with Nathan tonight before the midnight hour came and went. I can't believe it's almost 2am. Caught up a little bit with my roomies trip to Orlando. Phil suggested I listen to Imogen Heap so I have been as I've been skimming through MySpace blogs.
I want these physical pains to go away now. Pop away please. p, p, p, POP!
Friday, June 03, 2005
Soon The Sentry Sings
1) Madonna's "The Power Of Goodbye"
2) Julie Andrews singing "My Favorite Things"
3) Thomas Newman's Main Title Theme for "Angels In America"
These were the songs on my playlist as I wrote my last entry and closed my eyes. I don't even remember hearing the 2nd song.... that's how tired and or perplexed at the time I was. The music plays now.
About an hour ago I woke in my own sweat from a dream. I can't remember the details anymore. Fade. Faded they have. I feel like my body is fighting and it's taking energy. Obviously it's not just my body but my mind as well. Previously, I talked about walking for an hour. When I got home I was feverish. My glands seemed swollen. I sneezed. I took an Aleeve and two extra strength Tylenol. Water and my Claim Jumper leftovers from the past two days seemed to bring back to normal. As I began watching "House of Flying Daggers," I became too tired to continue reading the subtitles. Lights off downstairs and then walk to my bed to begin the last entry.
I truly feel that I'm finally in an emotionally healed state from the aspect of my heart. I want to share again and have it shared. So begins the process of chemical reactions and dating experimentation. ARDUOUS. Often a sense of imposing urgency to make a decision, but this is not necessary and I know it. But I am not whole right now. This business of work and a car is coming to the forefront. It almost makes me want to do anything in some temporary position, but I must fight the urge to do such a thing while I can still support myself without doing that. The detriment to my soul has the proven effects of five to six months ago that need not be repeated.....so many thoughts... So why am I still awake now? What was this rousing dream?
As I was laying trying to bring back the bits of pictures I could remember an hour ago, my phone rang. I wasn't sure at first because I had changed the ringer and wasn't immediately certain of the tones. The sound, catching me off guard seemed intrusive to the process of dream hunting so I wasn't going to answer it. Still, I decided to look and see who might be calling at midnight. In the darkness, the digital blue letters on my phone showed the name "Gil." That giddy feeling came over me as my arm reached and picked up the phone to press SEND.
I think I will clean my entire room this day of Friday. It will be a starting ground to move out into the world and sit back on top of it soon. No more excuses.
2) Julie Andrews singing "My Favorite Things"
3) Thomas Newman's Main Title Theme for "Angels In America"
These were the songs on my playlist as I wrote my last entry and closed my eyes. I don't even remember hearing the 2nd song.... that's how tired and or perplexed at the time I was. The music plays now.
About an hour ago I woke in my own sweat from a dream. I can't remember the details anymore. Fade. Faded they have. I feel like my body is fighting and it's taking energy. Obviously it's not just my body but my mind as well. Previously, I talked about walking for an hour. When I got home I was feverish. My glands seemed swollen. I sneezed. I took an Aleeve and two extra strength Tylenol. Water and my Claim Jumper leftovers from the past two days seemed to bring back to normal. As I began watching "House of Flying Daggers," I became too tired to continue reading the subtitles. Lights off downstairs and then walk to my bed to begin the last entry.
I truly feel that I'm finally in an emotionally healed state from the aspect of my heart. I want to share again and have it shared. So begins the process of chemical reactions and dating experimentation. ARDUOUS. Often a sense of imposing urgency to make a decision, but this is not necessary and I know it. But I am not whole right now. This business of work and a car is coming to the forefront. It almost makes me want to do anything in some temporary position, but I must fight the urge to do such a thing while I can still support myself without doing that. The detriment to my soul has the proven effects of five to six months ago that need not be repeated.....so many thoughts... So why am I still awake now? What was this rousing dream?
As I was laying trying to bring back the bits of pictures I could remember an hour ago, my phone rang. I wasn't sure at first because I had changed the ringer and wasn't immediately certain of the tones. The sound, catching me off guard seemed intrusive to the process of dream hunting so I wasn't going to answer it. Still, I decided to look and see who might be calling at midnight. In the darkness, the digital blue letters on my phone showed the name "Gil." That giddy feeling came over me as my arm reached and picked up the phone to press SEND.
I think I will clean my entire room this day of Friday. It will be a starting ground to move out into the world and sit back on top of it soon. No more excuses.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
June
June. That was my grandmother's name. I used to joke that we should celebrate 1/2 birthdays and mine would be on June 5th. Most every day with her was a celebration.
I was walking today and having conversations out loud in my head that I sometimes find myself actually speaking. I don't see the world like others. I just don't. When I try to live in it as others do it doesn't make me happy because I am left with the feeling of being fake, however, if I try to live it as would like, I don't seem to be able to function around others. For instance, right now the desire to get to know people seems to be at the top of my ............
I just decided that I can't write about this. It never comes out right. I'm going to sleep now.
I was walking today and having conversations out loud in my head that I sometimes find myself actually speaking. I don't see the world like others. I just don't. When I try to live in it as others do it doesn't make me happy because I am left with the feeling of being fake, however, if I try to live it as would like, I don't seem to be able to function around others. For instance, right now the desire to get to know people seems to be at the top of my ............
I just decided that I can't write about this. It never comes out right. I'm going to sleep now.
