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"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.