Repetition

I'm learning and relearning and relearning which leads me to the conclusion that I never learned in the first place. OR... I didn't care enough to let the lesson stick. For some reason I still have a need to respond to everything. I involve myself emotionally. I am not good at finding a middle ground between complete withdrawal and intense interaction.

My e-mails with Steve over the past six months have a common theme. They make me smile and they make me angry. People who have this ability to effect me are usually only those that I care about and that I know care about me in return.

Work is almost over. I

Work is almost over. I have nothing to do and so much on my mind.

I have a Warning Sign on my Forehead

I just went downstairs to fill a cup with water. My eyes focused on the plate that I painted with Jorge. It seems silly for it to be on display in the kitchen. The plate has no meaning to anyone but me. I like that.

Cardwell called to talk about our emotional distance last night. At several points during the conversation I had a sense that I should feel something more than I was. The thoughts were in my head, but nothing but a blank stare on my face. I really am a walking zombie. I want to stop the meds altogether again. What a fucking cycle.

www.gamesbyemail.com

I wish it were Summer. I would lay in the sun and absorb life.

That Thing

"That last thing is what you can't get...Nobody can get to that last thing. We keep on living in hopes of catching it once for all."

-Jack Keroauc "On The Road"

Uploading Offloading

"Merry merry merry x-mas......", la...la la la. la... la la la. That song is playing now. Boy's choir version that Joshua downloaded onto my hard drive that last night we slept together. The recording has a flaw in it but I have not gotten myself to download a better version, nor delete the one that I have. I probably never will. There is intangible meaning when it is left as is. Last night was another night of friends hanging out at Ken's place in Aliso Viejo. I so much enjoyed it. I can't express that in words really. It's a type of rest for my soul and an exercise in relaxation that I seldom put myself through. All we geeks with lap tops, external hard drives; sharing files---sharing our lives. In the process of sharing, there are things that surface inside of us that we are not always prepared to deal with and when we are in groups we can often see the moments of uncomfortable silence, brief "cover laughter" and smiles, or changing of subjects that signify that the truth is not going to be discussed. There was this moment last night when "Iris" was playing from Ken's music. It's a song by the Goo Goo Dolls that I've always loved and remember hearing a lot when I was friends with Doug (old roommate from Sacramento). Guy asked for the song to be changed because of the memories attached to it with his son and my sixth, seventh and eighth senses went into play. I watched as Ken complied and I started thinking about the things that remind me of my grandmother. I thought of a snip-it of an episode of Sex And The City I saw in syndication a couple nights ago where Samantha is going through cancer and is alone talking to Carrie and everytime something uncomfortable comes up Carrie tries to be cheerful until finally Samantha grabs Carrie's arm and says, "Carrie, let me talk about the things that I'm afraid of." (Wording may be slightly off) Even among friends, we do not always speak about the things we are afraid of. Sometimes it is because we don't want to be a downer, sometimes others don't want us to be a downer. There are different friends to be different levels of "deep" with and so on, and so on, an so on. I wrote a letter to Eddy yesterday, something short and sweet. I don't remember the last time I only wrote a one page letter. I found myself censoring myself a lot or trying to write clever lines that were masked enough that the average military person was not going to understand I was making a gay reference, but not so concealed that Eddy himself would not understand. Tricky. Randy and I continue to exchange brief, meaningless conversations on the phone. We talk about events and people. Small minds. I listen. Every so often I have something to add. I find myself being silent a lot in the conversation. I'm craving conversations that I used to have, or that I remember having. (Not necessarily with him.) Conversations about ideas and concepts. Conversations where people's emotions flare up or where there is no "right" answer but the discussion itself lends one to clarify, fortify or fold the beliefs that are held. Folds in time is where I find myself. Philip's wedding approaches faster and faster and I simply don't want to go. I love my brother and I wish him happiness, but I think spending money on this wedding is similar to the idea of spending money and buying people gifts for birthdays and x-mas. It's the time and effort that really means something. Both are being exerted in this case and I am being forced into a contradiction of my own values. I don't like being coerced, especially by myself. This manipulation will play out soon enough, but not without my fare share of running to relieve the monetary stress that it is putting on me. Yes, I said running. I've been doing it this week and my legs are reacting with the expected muscle pain trying to convince me that exercise should cease & desist immediately. Three days and I can already see the changes. Why don't I do this? Why do I still have a part of me that even on meds does not allow a happiness to come that is so reachable that I don't even have to really extend my arms, it's just a matter of stepping to the left or right to be in the stream? A conscious stream like this writing.

And even in the stream this morning, these thoughts are only a fraction. Names: Rossi, Brandon, Leo, Jorge---names that are in the head and words didn't flow out so quickly as for the things above. I'm trying to think of a sly way to go out tonight without spending any money. Hmmmm.... and that just killed my creative writing juices.

Joe Har Ree

Wanna look in my window? Well first you have to help make it:

http://kevan.org/johari?name=EarthJeremy

It Was Fun

But more than fun, it was friendship. It was life being simple. It was human interaction with conflict and without a thought about tomorrow or the time ticking by.

Lucky II

How do I remember tonight? I type it out. I try and recall the moments and hopefully the essence can be preserved. I think it is best done in random vignettes and not with a chronological approach.

My last description of Club Lucky was not so favorable. This one is much better. I think there are several factors that make it better. The venue has changed since I last went. It's at Tiajuana's here in Irvine which makes it closer to home.

Nicolas sipping drinks whenever possible. He danced on the floor with a straw in his mouth for much of the time. Jovial. He kept dancing further and further into the crowd, all the time wanting to get up on the stage. "They're so bad." he would say after watching the dancers move to the music. This, of course, is subjective. One looks at them and can admire their bodies; may like the way that they move; may be compelled to put money into their waist bands. Haha. Not him.

Guy joined us. I drove Charles & Nicolas from the house. Charles was the first to arrive at the house and then Ken showed up. Nicolas was last and they all had a drink downstairs as we conversed in the kitchen with Justin. Art came home and the computer folk started talking in their language. I could see Nicolas' face tune out as he looked at the alcohol. I wanted to have a sip, but I was driving. After we all got into the club with the free passes, I took Ken's phone to give guy directions off of the 405 & Sand Canyon. He was coming from Ripples and did not have a shirt to wear so he ended up wearing my gray, long-sleeve thermal. He still has it now that I think about it, and his shirt is in my trunk.

I was washing my hands in the bathroom and this boy comes up to me. He opens conversation with, "Are you a top?" I let out a small laugh and move to go dry my hands. He proceeds to tell me about his friend and that I should make out with him. I say that's very nice, but his friend is probably too young for me. He asks my age and I reveal. (Kind of hoping this would end the conversation and he would move along, but it doesn't.) At this point his friend joins and we're still all standing in the bathroom having a conversation about our names, that they both go to UCLA but live in Santa Barbara and Santa Monica respectively. I have decided not to drink much this night and find this chat amusing. A girl walks up to the bathroom door with a guy's hand in hers. "Do you guys know where I can get some coke?" Without a beat, I say, "a-cola?" She stares blankly at all of us. Shifty. We say no and she moves on the the women's bathroom.

Ken ended up with the attention of two suitors. They left before the rest of us. I smile to think that Ken is usually the one who doesn't want to goto a club. No dancing. He danced tonight. I think he had fun. There is pause when I think I've known him for almost four years now. Art and Guy carried Ken out to the dancefloor and I got a picture with Art's camera. I'm glad that Guy came out. I don't know him that well and hope that in time that will change. He has insight and experience that I'm sure I could learn from. He has a pain in him that I can see & sense, but never make the mistake that I could understand or feel it.

Dancing, dancing, dancing. I kept laughing. I smiled when I would watch Nicolas. I felt joy watching Charles dance with everyone.

Audra...the slow ass, big titty, bleached blonde bartender. (Ok..had to throw that in at the end.)

Quoting

The change in my life has to be measured in geologic terms. It takes place over many millions of years.

Forgotten Birthday - A Dream

I'm too tired to lift my head and am pretty much typing with my eyes closed so go typos go. This one is a bad dream. That so rarely happens. I'm somewhere,seemed clear in the dream and there are people that know and love me around. People from my life now. Real People. There is drinking, alcohol. There is the quickest blip of the back of a black vehicle as my headlights become dim from hitting the back of it.

Jump to different part of dream. I'm not even sure of how much above was linear. I'm waking in a bed with a party going on around me. Something about an old lady. I think my Brother Byron is somewhere. I can see the face of Mark W. with a drink in his hand and he's talking to someone. Male. When I wake I have a feeling of urgency. I do not have to go to the bathroom. (I don't have to go now that I'm awake) My green Integra. I feel that I have to be at my birthday party and this party is not it. The people are trashing the house. There are less and less people that I know here, but I know the house. It is mine, or where I'm living or it belongs to a relative of mine. I'm walking out the front door, it's night. THe noise from the party is so loud. I start to have a sense that this party is for me as I get closer to the car. (Something right now flashes an imiage of Scott Brady from growing up and SHuan Paris from my life now....something feels like they are related, by loks, nt sure what this has to do with the dream but it wasn't part of it) I pass through something that is in the air, like gnats. I fel them hit my face as I walk by and start to run to get through them. As I have cleared enough distance from the house I hear "Surprise." I fall to the ground as I'm running and look behind me from the ground. UUpn on the roof above, to my left while laying face first on the ground are people I know, mostly relatives. Blowing on those party horns with the paper than unrolls and wearing hats and shotting streamers. I see aunt Gail somehwere . I see my mom. I feel disorientated. There is laughter. I'[m in the green Integra and I have just driven off the curb and I hear the tires blow out. I have skidding into the middle of the street off the curb. It is a residential street with a cul-de-sac at the end. This is not the house I grew up in because it would be on the wrong side of the street from reality. People are coming to the car to help me out but not out of concern, just casually, still laughing and drinking, proud that they have surprised me. They know I am too "out of it" to understand what is going on. I try to get them to understand that next time (if there is a next time) I want to be able to remember my birthday. Apparently I had passed out on the actual birthday and this was the party still going on 2 days later when I got up. They had been waiting for me. I woke with a very deep sense of loss.

The heater keeps going on here. I'm very hot, dry throat. I must have been exerting a lot of energy in this dream. I feel so spent right now. So.. lost.

Don't Take Picture!

No. Wrong.

So that thing I forgot and then thought I remembered was not it. The Red Roof Inn is what I remembered. I was driving home from Los Angeles after dancing on Thursday night. Nicolas was in the passenger seat and we were approaching the 5FWY to from the 91 East. I saw the Red Roof Inn to my left and remembered a night that Randy and I stayed there when we were both living at home.

I have a faint memory of the color of the room.

Car Talk

I remember what I was trying to write in the last entry. I used to wake up with Randy on Saturdays and listen to Car Talk on NPR. It would be a way of staying in bed and slowly becoming alert to the world. It was a good and happy memory with him.

I'm listening to it now.

The Sunshine on the Gray Cloud

A few days ago I was reminded of something. I wanted to write it down but I never did. A few minutes ago I remembered this thing and rolled over to come and type it in here and after about five minutes I realized that I had trotted down another project's road; renaming a file title and moving from one directory to another. Then, I heard the orchestral version of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" and my world stopped again. It was the only thing worth focusing on. It's still playing in the background. As I listen, I can sense that memory of what I wanted to write down somewhere right underneath the surface of the fingertips that pluck away at these keys. Alas, the memory is not typed out.

Wet rooftops.

Opposite anchors

Opposite anchors

I'm Still Smiling

When we say, "It's nothing special." do we really mean that or do we mean that whatever we are trying to describe simply does not have that much value to us?

I read that last entry and thought it was funny that I could remember typing it on my phone but I didn't have the memory until I actually read it on the screen in my bedroom. Memory is mysterious to me that way. I'm sure it's less mysterious to a neurosurgeon, or anyone else who has the tiniest knowledge about the brain, but even these knowledgeable folks cannot pinpoint the exact science that creates and stores a memory. Pneumonic devices and radioactive isotopes are not the answer. Time, simply time.

My second day not driving into the job. I've been down with something; not quite sure what it is. Not sure that I want to know. I know that it's something that isn't going to kill me and that no doctor is required quite yet. I know that someday I may want a more thorough definition, but for today and yesterday and one day this weekend, it simply is what it is.

Somehow I'm still smiling.

I'm at fubar and everyone

I'm at fubar and everyone is drunk. Cool, i guess. Fun.

1010011101010001010 and somewhere the zzz's

Where is my sleep? I can't find it.
I'm going to be so tired when I am awake later.
Awakening will be tiresome.
The tires on my car need to be rotated.

Lame word play.
Maybe I am sleepy.

Sing a Stab of Six Pensive Senses

Superlicious. Superbulent. My two neologisms for the Superbowl Weekend.

Sleepy shaky. Serotonin congregating in the openness of what is my brain. Serenity. Seeking it is a joyful climb; a tearful slide. Sleeping will synthesize these drugs so that I'll smile more. A smile is contagious because it spreads joy and hides a tale simultaneously. I should have let my eyes stay shut when I closed them three quarters ago. Instead, I insisted on getting up and moving.

Rossi who? An I.O.U. lingers out there in a text message. If Jeremy could just turn off the mind long enough to go with the flow I probably wouldn't be so interesting to myself.

Brandon beckons some of these fiery synapses. My head feels like it's burning inside, but not like an ache or a pressure longing for a valve to be turned. It is just not used to so many alterations so quickly. In time, I'll remember how to allow these things to coarse on this course I'm on.

I hope to dream tonight.
I hope to wake with that smile.

It's not the same; unable to feel the breathing beside me.

Transatlanticism

"I need you so much closer..."

/////it just makes me cry and cry and cry\\\\\

Hidden & Seeking

"Religion is a smile on a dog."
-Edie Brickell

It has begun. No, it has become more visible. I just got off the phone with Cardwell and it looks like I won't be seeing him this weekend. He isn't coming out this evening and not going to join for any celebrations tomorrow. Instead, he's staying home and preparing food and I was invited to join. He mentioned that Rey and Adam were invited. In my head I already had plans to go to Arturo's or possibly Hamburger Mary's with Ken. The negative energy that I tolerate from Randy has always been due to the connection that I feel. I can relate. I know of his true goodness to be there for another person regardless of the shell that could kill. But this shell is less tolerable to me when I'm on meds. Either I'm more sensitive to his negative words or I'm more tuned into them because I'm less afraid of thinking and feeling exactly what enters. It has never been worth a confrontation because I know how it will play out. Defense mechanisms go into place and evil words come out of his mouth. I realize now that it has not begun, it has been going on for a long time.

Another person cannot hold you back, only you can do that. That's a lofty self-help book scribbling somewhere, I'm sure. When the goals trying to be obtained are those which do not require the aid or approval of someone else, this may be true. When we speak about being in relationships where the other person "keeps" us in a place, this may have validity but with exceptions. Sometimes our connections with people become such a part of us that we do not have the ability to move away from them so easily. To do so hurts us, pains us, takes a tremendous amount of strength and energy that may ultimately prove to be more damaging to us. I know that whatever reason I'm hanging around this blue ball I have not finished connecting streams of energy that are diverted in others.

What happens to a person who realizes that they have an infinite number of streams running through them?

I look through the names on my phone and realize that there are few people that I actually talk to.

I heard a story on the radio a few days ago. In it someone said that we wouldn't wipe a piece of paper over something in our house and consider it clean. What do we wipe our asses with?

Maybe when there is more than one person who shows interest in me, instead of trying to see each or all of them and make a decision I'm just supposed to enjoy the time. That's a maybe that is a quick thought and one that I don't entertain much because I know that as soon as someone's emotions intertwine with my life and I'm not at the same place then I begin to feel a pain of knowing that I have to be honest with them. Maybe when there is more than one person who shows interest in me I am supposed to remember the lessons of the past and how ultimately this happiness that I find in being single is one that I'm meant to maintain stability in. Somehow that just seems a cop out to me. Not that I don't think there are people who truly are happy being single, but I'm just not sure that I am that person. The truth... Part of me probably is that person and part of me is not and the two are not compatible but they go round and round trying to be. One will not defer to the other.

This song came to me when I woke up this morning so I listened to it on continuous repeat for a while. Then I sang it in the shower. And here it is to end this entry.


"You Make It Easy"
by Air

Never been here - How about you ?
You smile at my answer,
You've given me the chance,
To be held and understood.

You leave me laughing without crying,
There's no use denying,
For many times I've tried,
Love has never felt as good.

Be it downtown or way up in the air,
When your heart's pounding,
You know that I'm aware.

You make it easy to watch the world with love,
You make it easy to let the past be done,
You make it easy...

How'd you do it ? How'd you find me ?
How did I find you ?
How can this be true ?
To be held and understood.

Keep it coming - no one's running
The lesson I'm learning
'Cause blessings are deserved
By the trust that always could

Be it downtown or way up in the air,
When your heart's pounding,
You know that I'm aware.

You make it easy to watch the world with love,
You make it easy to let the past be done,
You make it easy...

You make it easy to watch the world with love,
You make it easy to let the past be done,
You make it easy...
So watch me fall in love.