Mountains Are Mole Hills To The Sun

I've been feeling like "myself" lately. The ones who would be able to recognize the me inside of me aren't around so those who are around nowadays I think I starting to see the subtle contrasts. Without over-analyzing it too much (too late), I'm humming more often and singing in the shower again.

Another great weekend. Today is Eddy's birthday. Marthalee's too. Happy days. I talk to Eddy about every other day on the phone. He sounds good, but I can sense how much he misses having some type of gay outlet. How would I function without getting my fix of that gay drug on a regular basis? Gay is an intravenous feed for me. Maybe our phone calls give him that lil connection to the culture.

Beer gives some nasty gas.

I stand on my own two feet. I'm still running so fast that I can feel my heart racing to catch up. I stop. I'm panting. Here's where I stand and motion continues with feet planted. Faces with lips I've kissed and continue to kiss. Arms that wrap bodies and make them feel incredible. Breaths that take away, but more importantly, give back air. I sat and thought about the stories I've been told of my father; his fathering of other children. I don't much ever find my mind wandering to Carmelo or the type of person he was. He donated DNA to bring me into the world, but that's where his lasting contributions will stay--DNA. As I entangle the roads and lives of people I meet, I understand how easy it is to be drawn to interesting beauties and how carrying a history of relationship hurts cautions me to never really settle down again.

I think writing that last sentence is sad. I think it is also honest and a reflection of me knowing WHO I am. I know that I will always want for the settling... I know that I will become ever more vigilant in the screening. Until then, I'm paying off debts...

No literally. :-) Got a second job that I start on Wednesday. www.dreamdinners.com Hopefully this will add a new focus and stop my mind from going into dark places. New experience again.

Please believe me when I say, I know many forms of love. I wish sometimes I didn't. I wish I could be naive and believe that meeting someone at 2am at a local eatery after clubbing and exchanging glances meant that we felt Cupid's arrow piercing our souls and that because we then spent every day for the next week together that this was a sign of everlasting and true love. But I know that to only be one form of love, and it is that youthful and naive type. It is the type of love that we sprout from or that we stay locked in for a lifetime. True, I call it infatuation nowadays, but I try not to dismiss this love when others talk of it. I try.

Maybe when I talked to god in second grade he heard me and the world is becoming a better place ever so slowly.