3:26am I learned a valuable lesson from watching Nathan interact with some of his "coupled" friends over the years. He tended to be friends with both individuals and would find himself in the middle of them; lending an ear and a shoulder to cry on as any good friend would do. But often I thought he was too involved. Step back. Cheddy may be no more, but the individuals are. Chuck is my friend. When he calls me I know it's not to involve me any more than just to talk. Eddie is an acquaintance and when he calls I know it's because he needs some type of connection to Chuck and I provide that. I wasn't feeling all that hot today so I left my phone upstairs where I couldn't see it or hear any calls coming in. Sometimes I just need to step away. Unfortunately, I feel that not just about Cheddy, but about everything as of late.
It's happening. Exactly as teachers and parents said it would, you grow up and you grow apart and friendships don't have that cohesiveness as they did when you were younger. Careers & families replace friendships. I am not adjusting to this feeling very well. I haven't ever really adapted in the last ten years. Studies have been done on babies that receive touch after being born that show they develop better and have less health consequences than babies that are neglected and not shown that same warmth. I know that our brains and bodies change with age, but I don't think that something so basic would change over time. We simply condition ourselves to accept the level at when we are used to getting it. For a long time I was conditioned to love the touch of those around me, then that touch became something dark and shunned by me. Inside I still long for it. It's been a long road back to origins. Growing up does not need to mean growing old.
When we didn't know ourselves as well we were more insecure and relied on the closeness of friendship. I think of Arturo. He was such a starry-eyed romantic and now his focus seems to be more on his business wiles and stability. I know he hasn't lost that part of him. I know that that piece of him hurts a lot inwardly. His brain chemistry isn't made up to be anchored by that like I seem to be. What will Randy be like in 10 years? I certainly did not see myself like this.
4:49am Sex and sexual contact. People have such a spectrum of definitions as to what constitutes sex and what doesn't.
Some people only consider it "sex" if you have some time of intercourse. Hand jobs, BJ's, oral sex... these things are not sex to certain people. I say that any type of sexual contact that results in an individual getting off is sex. I guess I'm pretty liberal. Let me clarify--- LIBERAL, not LOOSE. hehe =)
So...since I'm not having sex, I want to occupy my time with hanging out with friends and keeping active rather than being idle.
Nothing new or profound.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Listening
3:30am "And you live life with your arms reached out. Eye to eye when speaking..."
-"Bright As Yellow"
by Innocence Mission
I had ear infections a lot when I was a child. I only remember one or two specific incidents while living in Seattle. That dreaded feeling of mom putting drops into the ears. I remember my head resting on the arm part of the green couch. It seems some of the strep infection has moved to my ear and the pain is just beyond words--even for me. I'll probably be going back into Kaiser in the morning to get something stronger than the over the counter stuff I had hoped would alleviate some of this.
I don't want to sleep now, but my body is telling me it needs to heal.
-"Bright As Yellow"
by Innocence Mission
I had ear infections a lot when I was a child. I only remember one or two specific incidents while living in Seattle. That dreaded feeling of mom putting drops into the ears. I remember my head resting on the arm part of the green couch. It seems some of the strep infection has moved to my ear and the pain is just beyond words--even for me. I'll probably be going back into Kaiser in the morning to get something stronger than the over the counter stuff I had hoped would alleviate some of this.
I don't want to sleep now, but my body is telling me it needs to heal.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Dawdling
3:40am E-mail surprise. When I got home I had catch-up conversation about Art's trip. I was tired. Yawning. I made it to my room, drew the curtains and created a new winamp play list of slow songs that would put me to sleep. I checked e-mail and had a message from Ryan that was unexpected and nice.
I downloaded DivX viewing codecs. :-)
I see the psycho doctor in a week. It's a brief 15 minute "touch base" session to see how the meds are. Having been on them now for 41 days... nothing really. I want to discuss alternatives. I feel dark still. My mind isn't striving for more than right now, today's dirt, this thought. I want to make plans.
4:45am I want to be with somebody again. I'm happy when a piece of me is engaged in some intimacy greater than what I feel now. But I don't want to just have something because I want it. I want it to develop naturally as it should. No "just add water."
I downloaded DivX viewing codecs. :-)
I see the psycho doctor in a week. It's a brief 15 minute "touch base" session to see how the meds are. Having been on them now for 41 days... nothing really. I want to discuss alternatives. I feel dark still. My mind isn't striving for more than right now, today's dirt, this thought. I want to make plans.
4:45am I want to be with somebody again. I'm happy when a piece of me is engaged in some intimacy greater than what I feel now. But I don't want to just have something because I want it. I want it to develop naturally as it should. No "just add water."
Monday, June 09, 2003
Reading Between The Lines
3:30am It's officially started...my new work schedule. I'm one hour into my shift and all is quiet--as I remember it being Sunday nights going into Monday morning. Work upgraded everyone's computers, monitors & keyboards. It's much easier to type fast on this keyboard and I love it... like ideas can get out of my head faster; no limitations of physical reality.
So how do I feel? I forced myself to stay awake Sunday until 7am. Then I forced myself to keep going back to sleep during the day as I woke up several times. Tricking the body out of it's natural sleep pattern isn't fun. I'm wide awake now--so far, so good. I feel as if I haven't written an entry for some time. So much was packed into the tiny space of this last weekend that I didn't put any of it down. Now I have all this time and I'll let the seepage begin.
I have strep throat. Lovely. Good thing is that antibiotics started on Friday have already alleviated the pain and gland swelling so I know it's just seven more days until the little bacteria fuckers are dead.
Javier opted himself out of my life. My sister says not to feel bad about it because there are plenty of other people out there. The simple wisdom of being 15 again. She hasn't had her heart broken yet so her words are easy to speak. Perhaps this encounter was life's way of repeating the lesson that I haven't learned yet: Don't try and date anyone too young. Jake reminds me of that when I talk to him online. I think I've always done it because I use myself as the template of what I was like at a certain age and know that others can be too. It's rare, but it happens. It's rare. It's fucking rare.
I saw "The Italian Job" with Mark tonight. He told me earlier in the week that he and Randy had hung out. When he said it on the phone it was with some hesitation. I don't know if the two of them discussed not bringing it up to me or if they each individually decided that it wasn't something they wanted to talk about. To me, it doesn't matter. I just don't like to be in the dark about something. It makes it look worse than it may really be. If there is attraction between them... so be it. If there's not and there's a meeting of the minds... so be it. I have a knack for bringing together people and I suppose that's regardless of history. HISTORY... is where all of this anyway and after the Mother's Day brunch I really did clear anything lingering that weighted me down.
On Saturday, I had the opportunity to speak for PFLAG in front of a small group of people in the process of becoming foster parents. I arrived late due to not wanting to leave the comfort Shawn in my bed. So I walk in 15 minutes late to this extremely small group. There were as many panelists as there were parents in the room. This was not strictly about being gay, so the panelists were from different ethnic minorities and social workers themselves. I was the only gay person there. In this forum, there was a lot of focus on the types of kids that would be placed in foster care; the majority being neglected or abused. In telling my "coming out" story to high schools and colleges, I skip over my home life a lot because it's not always relevant to the topic at hand, but here it seemed particularly relevant. For the first time in a group of people I related my coming of age. I talked about my relationship with my mom during junior high and high school, with Ruben and the struggle of being powerless and feeling helpless. I realized just after speaking how much it hurts sometimes to still think about it. I wanted the foster parents to understand the feelings that may not be outwardly expressed by a child who has been abused that comes into their care. They will want to trust and feel loved but will have the experience of having the ones that they want love from the most betray them or hurt them. A couple of times I remember as I was speaking that the emotion was so overwhelming to me that I lost my train of thought and started talking more because I was nervous. Why do I speak for PFLAG? Why is it important? It's important because we still have teenagers killing themselves rather than being able to accept who they are. It's important for me to volunteer my time with youth coordinated events because---as I realized and felt for the first time Saturday---the stuff of my past will forever be worked out and coped with in ways that I find in helping others find shelter from their own haunting pasts. Strangely, my mother called and left a message during the time I was speaking.
Pasts. Who knew that the things of our youth would be so important and so trivial at the time. Chuck is one of my dearest friends, but when I see him with relationships, I think of Nathan with his mom. (I'm sure the argument could be made about me and my relationships too, but different issues) Identity. I keep a card that Chuck gave me for my birthday one year as a sort of IOU for a vacation trip. I hope that someday I'll be able to use it, but I'm waiting for him to meet someone that he can last with so that I can break them up. (Okay, that last sentence was a joke--it's the stuff that goes through my mind when in person my lips speak something else. You'd never know.) I want him to lose this need to control everything. He's come so far in the last seven years, but the core is still there. It's that core that ends up rubbing people into confrontation---as if he knows no love without it. As I held Edwin in my arms and he cried over the loss, I felt my internal vibe go crazy. Wires crossed. Drunken minds wandering. I could feel how much he loves Chuck and I know how much Chuck loves him. I know that the truth in this situation was the only thing that gave me patience to put up with it Friday Night.
5:22am Been working while writing. People can be such gems to talk to. Soon the sun will rise and I'll watch the overcast grayness be illuminated. What a really piss-ass ugly week it's been. Haha... "piss-ass".... oh.. making that word up made me think of Javier and his niece saying "Fuck Ass," making fun of his sister saying it. How can someone I knew so little of effect me like this?
I got to see Bobby on Saturday night. He and Joey came down and went with Chuck, Ken and I to a party in Laguna Hills. I knew they'd like to see the house. I had seen it once before. Quite remarkable. The view from the back patio would be awesome on a clear day. You could see downtown Laguna, the ocean and probably all the way out to Catalina.
6:24am I'm yawning now. 4 1/2 hours to go. Art came home from Orlando and we had some time to exchange stories of our weeks. It was good to see a smile on his face.
So how do I feel? I forced myself to stay awake Sunday until 7am. Then I forced myself to keep going back to sleep during the day as I woke up several times. Tricking the body out of it's natural sleep pattern isn't fun. I'm wide awake now--so far, so good. I feel as if I haven't written an entry for some time. So much was packed into the tiny space of this last weekend that I didn't put any of it down. Now I have all this time and I'll let the seepage begin.
I have strep throat. Lovely. Good thing is that antibiotics started on Friday have already alleviated the pain and gland swelling so I know it's just seven more days until the little bacteria fuckers are dead.
Javier opted himself out of my life. My sister says not to feel bad about it because there are plenty of other people out there. The simple wisdom of being 15 again. She hasn't had her heart broken yet so her words are easy to speak. Perhaps this encounter was life's way of repeating the lesson that I haven't learned yet: Don't try and date anyone too young. Jake reminds me of that when I talk to him online. I think I've always done it because I use myself as the template of what I was like at a certain age and know that others can be too. It's rare, but it happens. It's rare. It's fucking rare.
I saw "The Italian Job" with Mark tonight. He told me earlier in the week that he and Randy had hung out. When he said it on the phone it was with some hesitation. I don't know if the two of them discussed not bringing it up to me or if they each individually decided that it wasn't something they wanted to talk about. To me, it doesn't matter. I just don't like to be in the dark about something. It makes it look worse than it may really be. If there is attraction between them... so be it. If there's not and there's a meeting of the minds... so be it. I have a knack for bringing together people and I suppose that's regardless of history. HISTORY... is where all of this anyway and after the Mother's Day brunch I really did clear anything lingering that weighted me down.
On Saturday, I had the opportunity to speak for PFLAG in front of a small group of people in the process of becoming foster parents. I arrived late due to not wanting to leave the comfort Shawn in my bed. So I walk in 15 minutes late to this extremely small group. There were as many panelists as there were parents in the room. This was not strictly about being gay, so the panelists were from different ethnic minorities and social workers themselves. I was the only gay person there. In this forum, there was a lot of focus on the types of kids that would be placed in foster care; the majority being neglected or abused. In telling my "coming out" story to high schools and colleges, I skip over my home life a lot because it's not always relevant to the topic at hand, but here it seemed particularly relevant. For the first time in a group of people I related my coming of age. I talked about my relationship with my mom during junior high and high school, with Ruben and the struggle of being powerless and feeling helpless. I realized just after speaking how much it hurts sometimes to still think about it. I wanted the foster parents to understand the feelings that may not be outwardly expressed by a child who has been abused that comes into their care. They will want to trust and feel loved but will have the experience of having the ones that they want love from the most betray them or hurt them. A couple of times I remember as I was speaking that the emotion was so overwhelming to me that I lost my train of thought and started talking more because I was nervous. Why do I speak for PFLAG? Why is it important? It's important because we still have teenagers killing themselves rather than being able to accept who they are. It's important for me to volunteer my time with youth coordinated events because---as I realized and felt for the first time Saturday---the stuff of my past will forever be worked out and coped with in ways that I find in helping others find shelter from their own haunting pasts. Strangely, my mother called and left a message during the time I was speaking.
Pasts. Who knew that the things of our youth would be so important and so trivial at the time. Chuck is one of my dearest friends, but when I see him with relationships, I think of Nathan with his mom. (I'm sure the argument could be made about me and my relationships too, but different issues) Identity. I keep a card that Chuck gave me for my birthday one year as a sort of IOU for a vacation trip. I hope that someday I'll be able to use it, but I'm waiting for him to meet someone that he can last with so that I can break them up. (Okay, that last sentence was a joke--it's the stuff that goes through my mind when in person my lips speak something else. You'd never know.) I want him to lose this need to control everything. He's come so far in the last seven years, but the core is still there. It's that core that ends up rubbing people into confrontation---as if he knows no love without it. As I held Edwin in my arms and he cried over the loss, I felt my internal vibe go crazy. Wires crossed. Drunken minds wandering. I could feel how much he loves Chuck and I know how much Chuck loves him. I know that the truth in this situation was the only thing that gave me patience to put up with it Friday Night.
5:22am Been working while writing. People can be such gems to talk to. Soon the sun will rise and I'll watch the overcast grayness be illuminated. What a really piss-ass ugly week it's been. Haha... "piss-ass".... oh.. making that word up made me think of Javier and his niece saying "Fuck Ass," making fun of his sister saying it. How can someone I knew so little of effect me like this?
I got to see Bobby on Saturday night. He and Joey came down and went with Chuck, Ken and I to a party in Laguna Hills. I knew they'd like to see the house. I had seen it once before. Quite remarkable. The view from the back patio would be awesome on a clear day. You could see downtown Laguna, the ocean and probably all the way out to Catalina.
6:24am I'm yawning now. 4 1/2 hours to go. Art came home from Orlando and we had some time to exchange stories of our weeks. It was good to see a smile on his face.
Friday, June 06, 2003
Not on an empty stomach
2:15am
"His wicked sense of humor suggests exciting sex."
-Venus As A Boy by Bjork
That song begins as "Deep Inside of You" by Third Eye Blind finishes. I re-read my IM conversation with Javier to get a feel of the conversation without the initial emotion of the moment. It's true that I lose a lot to those moments. Details. I hone in on the emotion... but that's hard to do with words on a screen. Ironic that I should have such an online "life" but only have the gift of sensing when in the presence of another. One always learns though... and I've learned over the years to "read into" some words as need be and appropriate. I really said some things that I see as being honest and open, but from the responses I think that this was missed. But I also see that I never acknowledged what he was typing in whole. I stayed fast to what I wanted to express even though I could see the words, I could not hear the tone. I so wanted to.... aye. This communicating stuff takes time.
9:30am
All the things I have no cares of consume the air we breathe and I know that I will always be aggravated so long as I try to care for that which I do not.
I'm waiting for my prescription and I can hear a three year old girl named, Cheyenne, screaming down the hall as she is being held down to have her blood drawn. When I was standing by her father earlier, he remarked to the receptionist, "Can I trade places with someone else right now?" At the time I thought it was because of his own fears, but now I really know.
Up, showered, two loads of laundry and a doctor's appointment out of the way all before 10am. I feel like a "Go Army" commercial. "We do more before 6am than most people do all day." Being up early makes me think of Javier. Dumb brain. It's like it knows a lot more than it will tell me. (De-programming it is such a long process. First to understand the code, then to understand how to re-write it without altering the construction.)
"His wicked sense of humor suggests exciting sex."
-Venus As A Boy by Bjork
That song begins as "Deep Inside of You" by Third Eye Blind finishes. I re-read my IM conversation with Javier to get a feel of the conversation without the initial emotion of the moment. It's true that I lose a lot to those moments. Details. I hone in on the emotion... but that's hard to do with words on a screen. Ironic that I should have such an online "life" but only have the gift of sensing when in the presence of another. One always learns though... and I've learned over the years to "read into" some words as need be and appropriate. I really said some things that I see as being honest and open, but from the responses I think that this was missed. But I also see that I never acknowledged what he was typing in whole. I stayed fast to what I wanted to express even though I could see the words, I could not hear the tone. I so wanted to.... aye. This communicating stuff takes time.
9:30am
All the things I have no cares of consume the air we breathe and I know that I will always be aggravated so long as I try to care for that which I do not.
I'm waiting for my prescription and I can hear a three year old girl named, Cheyenne, screaming down the hall as she is being held down to have her blood drawn. When I was standing by her father earlier, he remarked to the receptionist, "Can I trade places with someone else right now?" At the time I thought it was because of his own fears, but now I really know.
Up, showered, two loads of laundry and a doctor's appointment out of the way all before 10am. I feel like a "Go Army" commercial. "We do more before 6am than most people do all day." Being up early makes me think of Javier. Dumb brain. It's like it knows a lot more than it will tell me. (De-programming it is such a long process. First to understand the code, then to understand how to re-write it without altering the construction.)
Thursday, June 05, 2003
Close open. Close open.
10:26pm WOrking. More laundry on my mind when I get home. Vegetables and ranch dip. Water.
Arturo has vacation time in July and wants to do a road trip to San Francisco. July 7th to the 11th. I checked the vacation planner and the 7th an the 11th are blacked out booked up already. I'm hoping there isn't much of a wait list because that would be a fun trip. I could use one of the days as an ESN if I had to.... but it's the group drive that really makes the fun.
As much as two people may want to communicate, it really is incumbent upon them both to make an effort. They are only as strong as the weakest link. I've always been the one who doesn't want to talk or who keeps closed. It's weird being on the other side.
Arturo has vacation time in July and wants to do a road trip to San Francisco. July 7th to the 11th. I checked the vacation planner and the 7th an the 11th are blacked out booked up already. I'm hoping there isn't much of a wait list because that would be a fun trip. I could use one of the days as an ESN if I had to.... but it's the group drive that really makes the fun.
As much as two people may want to communicate, it really is incumbent upon them both to make an effort. They are only as strong as the weakest link. I've always been the one who doesn't want to talk or who keeps closed. It's weird being on the other side.
Colors Of The Wind
9:28am Maybe I'm like the birds. Sunlight has always brought me out of sleep as well. (Unless I'm at the beach where I'm perfectly happy to fall alseep in it)
Javier IM'ed me last night. I remarked to Ken, "Intellectually & logically I look at situations and know with perfect surgical precision what the answers are. But humanistically, my emotions are so entrenched with situations that I forgo logic most of the time." His response: "Fuck Logic." Haha. Yeah, I usually do.
I had these dreams that I remember impressions about. I know that there were at least three distinctly different situations. I remember that people were telling me how much more direct I've become. Now I need to decide whether this is true or whether it was my subconscious suggesting a course of action. The conversation with Javier made me feel vulnerable, but I wanted that in front of him.
Speaking in front of the Police Academy yesterday was okay. I would have to say that the highlight was getting to speak with Veronica again. She and I met at the training for new speakers a while back. She was once a man. Ooooh... I just remembered that I told her I would record "Soldier's Girl" on Showtime so that she could keep it at The Center as a resource. Must find out when that will be on.
I've been catching up on my Stargate SG-1 by watching re-runs at 1am. My mom was telling me that her boyfriend, Jim, watches a bunch of sci-fi as well. Hehe...a man I can relate with.
I am both too old and too young.
Javier IM'ed me last night. I remarked to Ken, "Intellectually & logically I look at situations and know with perfect surgical precision what the answers are. But humanistically, my emotions are so entrenched with situations that I forgo logic most of the time." His response: "Fuck Logic." Haha. Yeah, I usually do.
I had these dreams that I remember impressions about. I know that there were at least three distinctly different situations. I remember that people were telling me how much more direct I've become. Now I need to decide whether this is true or whether it was my subconscious suggesting a course of action. The conversation with Javier made me feel vulnerable, but I wanted that in front of him.
Speaking in front of the Police Academy yesterday was okay. I would have to say that the highlight was getting to speak with Veronica again. She and I met at the training for new speakers a while back. She was once a man. Ooooh... I just remembered that I told her I would record "Soldier's Girl" on Showtime so that she could keep it at The Center as a resource. Must find out when that will be on.
I've been catching up on my Stargate SG-1 by watching re-runs at 1am. My mom was telling me that her boyfriend, Jim, watches a bunch of sci-fi as well. Hehe...a man I can relate with.
I am both too old and too young.
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
Of Love...
2:50am I wonder if gay boys today have romantic dreams of marrying other gay boys and taking their name. Huh? I remember always toying around with first, middle & last names when I would date someone.
I typed this to Charlie (Gage) in an IM: "I have these listening station size headphones on, listening to my dance music probably the equivalent to standing next to a speaker.... and yet the house is silent."
I need to be awake between 7-7:30am. Speaking for PFLAG in front of the Orange County Sheriff's Department. I read the list of questions that they are likely (required) to ask us as. I feel out of touch with "being gay." What does that mean exactly? It means that when I was younger I believed in being much more a part of the the community in ways that surrounded me with other gay people and also worked to help my peers and kids less fortunate than myself to feel accepted.
((time lapse...)) As I drifted into my own head, I was picturing this teacher character who was also the soccer coach; gay. Senior student who has a crush on him. Teacher knows it, but knows that he can't do anything, however, they become close...almost friend like. To the point where the kid is staying after practice and hanging out in the lockerroom office with the coach talking. Another kid on the team wants the coach's kid, but can see that he's not interested because of the crush. A jealousy grows. The one kid starts a rumor that the coach is doing the other kid. Drama. Administration gets involved. Parents. While in court, several different testimonies are presented about what was supposedly "witnessed" but in reality they are all made up stories by friends of the one kid who is jealous. Graphic stories. If it were a movie, as the stories began (toward the end of the movie) the camera would fade into their stories--soft porn. And finally, when the coach testifies, after hearing all of the things he supposedly did, it's almost as if he believes it himself because the reality is that he has vividly dreamt of everything that was spoken of. He truly loved the student on many levels, but that love would never be realized in any world.
Wow.... it took me a lot longer to type all that out than it did to daydream it.
My mind does that all the time. I RARELY capture in writing the little sidewalks that my mind walks down everyday. How could I? How could anyone? I guess some people do. My mind could be thinking about a story then flash to the laundry I have to do then flash to making plans for the future and then flash to something going on in one of my friend's lives then flash to the fact that this is a run-on sentence then flash to a sound that catches my ear in nature or in the office then think about what I want to eat then flash to sexual fantasies then flash to longing for a closer connection to....
My natural impatient side of wanting to know the universe thinks that I should talk and/or clarify with Randy & Rey. My "live & let live" free-spirited side thinks that sometimes life just happens and you accept that and don't need to talk it to death----LIKE POETRY. I read poems and take away a feeling. When you have to explicate each line of the poem, it no longer is a piece of art that initiates an emotion but some academic head masturbation that makes us feel better than apes.
...The lips of boys are writing lyrics on my tongue....
I had the longest conversation that I've ever had with my roommate, Sean. (The straight one) We talked of monogamy, sexual variety and if we thought one person would be "the one" for us forever. It was interesting getting to know him a bit more.
...And their precious eyes sing the words left by mine.
I typed this to Charlie (Gage) in an IM: "I have these listening station size headphones on, listening to my dance music probably the equivalent to standing next to a speaker.... and yet the house is silent."
I need to be awake between 7-7:30am. Speaking for PFLAG in front of the Orange County Sheriff's Department. I read the list of questions that they are likely (required) to ask us as. I feel out of touch with "being gay." What does that mean exactly? It means that when I was younger I believed in being much more a part of the the community in ways that surrounded me with other gay people and also worked to help my peers and kids less fortunate than myself to feel accepted.
((time lapse...)) As I drifted into my own head, I was picturing this teacher character who was also the soccer coach; gay. Senior student who has a crush on him. Teacher knows it, but knows that he can't do anything, however, they become close...almost friend like. To the point where the kid is staying after practice and hanging out in the lockerroom office with the coach talking. Another kid on the team wants the coach's kid, but can see that he's not interested because of the crush. A jealousy grows. The one kid starts a rumor that the coach is doing the other kid. Drama. Administration gets involved. Parents. While in court, several different testimonies are presented about what was supposedly "witnessed" but in reality they are all made up stories by friends of the one kid who is jealous. Graphic stories. If it were a movie, as the stories began (toward the end of the movie) the camera would fade into their stories--soft porn. And finally, when the coach testifies, after hearing all of the things he supposedly did, it's almost as if he believes it himself because the reality is that he has vividly dreamt of everything that was spoken of. He truly loved the student on many levels, but that love would never be realized in any world.
Wow.... it took me a lot longer to type all that out than it did to daydream it.
My mind does that all the time. I RARELY capture in writing the little sidewalks that my mind walks down everyday. How could I? How could anyone? I guess some people do. My mind could be thinking about a story then flash to the laundry I have to do then flash to making plans for the future and then flash to something going on in one of my friend's lives then flash to the fact that this is a run-on sentence then flash to a sound that catches my ear in nature or in the office then think about what I want to eat then flash to sexual fantasies then flash to longing for a closer connection to....
My natural impatient side of wanting to know the universe thinks that I should talk and/or clarify with Randy & Rey. My "live & let live" free-spirited side thinks that sometimes life just happens and you accept that and don't need to talk it to death----LIKE POETRY. I read poems and take away a feeling. When you have to explicate each line of the poem, it no longer is a piece of art that initiates an emotion but some academic head masturbation that makes us feel better than apes.
...The lips of boys are writing lyrics on my tongue....
I had the longest conversation that I've ever had with my roommate, Sean. (The straight one) We talked of monogamy, sexual variety and if we thought one person would be "the one" for us forever. It was interesting getting to know him a bit more.
...And their precious eyes sing the words left by mine.
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
What if i rented myself?
3:30am I saw "Bruce Almighty" with Cheddy. On the way over to their place I stopped by Cardwell's to find him watching the Golden Girls special with Michael, JD, Linda & JD's sister.
I played the X-box for the first time--ever so briefly. I haven't played any type of video games since The Cube with Randy. I wonder if that's just a subconscious aversion. I toyed with the idea of getting some type of gaming device when I moved in here but I never did. I don't get out enough as it is.... it would be one more reason to stay in.
It's funny how there's always that one person in a relationship who decorates and keeps everything "in it's place." I've never seen any place that Chuck has lived as tidy or nice. Haha... Edwin keeps the place like I remember Jonathan keeping the apartment prior to Nathan moving in. I enjoyed playing with the cats.
I must become more organized. Daily focus. With school coming up I wont stand a chance in staying interested if I'm not focused.
"Human" by Dumonde.
Sometimes I just want to wake up.
I played the X-box for the first time--ever so briefly. I haven't played any type of video games since The Cube with Randy. I wonder if that's just a subconscious aversion. I toyed with the idea of getting some type of gaming device when I moved in here but I never did. I don't get out enough as it is.... it would be one more reason to stay in.
It's funny how there's always that one person in a relationship who decorates and keeps everything "in it's place." I've never seen any place that Chuck has lived as tidy or nice. Haha... Edwin keeps the place like I remember Jonathan keeping the apartment prior to Nathan moving in. I enjoyed playing with the cats.
I must become more organized. Daily focus. With school coming up I wont stand a chance in staying interested if I'm not focused.
"Human" by Dumonde.
Sometimes I just want to wake up.
Monday, June 02, 2003
All That Jazz
8:35am The birds wake me up. Something about the sun rising gets them squawking like gays gossiping on the outside patio of a party. It's way too early for me to be awake after being up until about 4am. I think my body knew I needed water. While I was up getting that I remembered that I hadn't cleaned and decided to get that out of the way before coming back upstairs. Clean what? Hmm... it occurs to me that I have a weekend to recap and I'm not sure what exactly I want to remember about it. This raises a bigger question in my head right now, "What is this journal for?"
I've always written. I've played with words. I remember being in 1st, 2nd, 3rd grade and writing little rhyming poems. Writing would grow in junior high school to become a source of recognition. Not only was I different from other kids in terms of what I knew but also in how I expressed it. Writing would become a source of sanity to cope in the form of a handwritten journal all through high school. So in thinking about what writing is for now, I think that it's part recognition, part sanity but also part posterity. When I'm 80, the ole brain wont fire up the same way it does now and what will be left of my life and why is that important? A legacy. Some people have children to carry that on for them. Others build dreams in businesses. We all play a part in interacting with others and that interaction shapes a memory that in turn is part of our legacy.
So what of this weekend? I've become increasingly aware of people reading this. ((No shit Jeremy the link is posted in your AOL profile)) I remember this happening a few years back and that knowledge creates a certain bias in how I relate information. Even if I say to myself, "Just type whatever." The reality is that my brain will concoct some way of filtering. Also... somewhat more moral questions come up. My life is mine to broadcast or not as I see fit, however, my life crosses the paths of others that I mention in my thoughts here in this journal. If I choose to write about any specific people and in turn relate aspects of their life, is it acceptable to do so without their permission? Do I need it? If these are just my personal thoughts on the matter does it matter? Does it boil down to what I'm saying about their life? What the subject matter is? How personal it is to them?
Hypothetical Scenario: I write about someone. They read it and then contact me and ask me to not write about their life so that others can read it. On the one hand I want to comply. On the other hand I now want to write about them contacting me and asking me not to write about them.
I've thought about changing names, but that's just cheesy and ultimately I am not writing fiction here. I am writing about my life and the people in it. Changing names or not mentioning them at all is just stupid. "Friend #1" and "Friend #2." Ahhh.. dumb I say.
There was an impromptu BBQ yesterday. Burgers, cards, friends, drinking and laughter. Oh...can't forget the Coldstone. I have some amazing people in my life. Sebastian continues to grow and become someone that I trust and look forward to seeing. He has a good soul. Smile. Chuck and Arturo always make me laugh. Individually, but even more so when they're together. They play off each other. It feels good to have them close to me because they were lessons in love that helped in who I am today. You never see that when you're going through a current relationship, but years down the road you can absolutely identify items of growth. If those people are still in your life, you also then have a reference of change. It's always sad to me when I lose that connection with an ex.
Enter Randy. We've been talking more lately. Sharing the daily things of life. Talking like friends. I've been wanting his input on situations because I know he knows me on a level that few do or ever can. He visited Saturday night. My arms are sore from supporting my body weight in the thrusting simulation of sex. I just realized right now as I'm typing this paragraph why I'm sore. Laughter. I paused just now for a few minutes.... I don't think I'm ready to write about this yet. I know my head was trying to process all day yesterday. I brought it up to friends. Quick flashes: okay, comforting, manipulation, want, drink, fun, smiles, memory, love, loss, eyes--seeing in. I'm glad that I don't feel sad about anything. No regrets. No longing. Maybe this stuff is really working.
I STAND CORRECTED. A few entries ago I typed about rules in relationships. Turns out Rey made the rule. My bad. Funny thing about rules. I'm a stickler about following them and at the same time I'll find any way to bend them. Any loophole to point out how flawed they may be. I'll even break them. Hahaha... sometimes. I suppose all things are a measure of the parts that make up the whole. There's always an affinity toward those who have jammed more experience into their years than is natural. Who is to say what natural is? I know. Experience teaches, but ultimately it's we who decide which lessons we learn. Reading this Danger Boy? hahahaha... There's this song that I was talking to Randy about and trying to recall for Rey. It's "All Hooked Up" by All Saints. The catch line for me in the song is, "I know you want a piece of my ass. Don't you know that a guy like you wouldn't last?" It's just a cool song to me. And so new connections begin to form.
I've been writing for almost an hour. That hardly ever happens. I do want to get some more sleep in now. The very thought produces a yawn. Damn birds are still chirping.
I've always written. I've played with words. I remember being in 1st, 2nd, 3rd grade and writing little rhyming poems. Writing would grow in junior high school to become a source of recognition. Not only was I different from other kids in terms of what I knew but also in how I expressed it. Writing would become a source of sanity to cope in the form of a handwritten journal all through high school. So in thinking about what writing is for now, I think that it's part recognition, part sanity but also part posterity. When I'm 80, the ole brain wont fire up the same way it does now and what will be left of my life and why is that important? A legacy. Some people have children to carry that on for them. Others build dreams in businesses. We all play a part in interacting with others and that interaction shapes a memory that in turn is part of our legacy.
So what of this weekend? I've become increasingly aware of people reading this. ((No shit Jeremy the link is posted in your AOL profile)) I remember this happening a few years back and that knowledge creates a certain bias in how I relate information. Even if I say to myself, "Just type whatever." The reality is that my brain will concoct some way of filtering. Also... somewhat more moral questions come up. My life is mine to broadcast or not as I see fit, however, my life crosses the paths of others that I mention in my thoughts here in this journal. If I choose to write about any specific people and in turn relate aspects of their life, is it acceptable to do so without their permission? Do I need it? If these are just my personal thoughts on the matter does it matter? Does it boil down to what I'm saying about their life? What the subject matter is? How personal it is to them?
Hypothetical Scenario: I write about someone. They read it and then contact me and ask me to not write about their life so that others can read it. On the one hand I want to comply. On the other hand I now want to write about them contacting me and asking me not to write about them.
I've thought about changing names, but that's just cheesy and ultimately I am not writing fiction here. I am writing about my life and the people in it. Changing names or not mentioning them at all is just stupid. "Friend #1" and "Friend #2." Ahhh.. dumb I say.
There was an impromptu BBQ yesterday. Burgers, cards, friends, drinking and laughter. Oh...can't forget the Coldstone. I have some amazing people in my life. Sebastian continues to grow and become someone that I trust and look forward to seeing. He has a good soul. Smile. Chuck and Arturo always make me laugh. Individually, but even more so when they're together. They play off each other. It feels good to have them close to me because they were lessons in love that helped in who I am today. You never see that when you're going through a current relationship, but years down the road you can absolutely identify items of growth. If those people are still in your life, you also then have a reference of change. It's always sad to me when I lose that connection with an ex.
Enter Randy. We've been talking more lately. Sharing the daily things of life. Talking like friends. I've been wanting his input on situations because I know he knows me on a level that few do or ever can. He visited Saturday night. My arms are sore from supporting my body weight in the thrusting simulation of sex. I just realized right now as I'm typing this paragraph why I'm sore. Laughter. I paused just now for a few minutes.... I don't think I'm ready to write about this yet. I know my head was trying to process all day yesterday. I brought it up to friends. Quick flashes: okay, comforting, manipulation, want, drink, fun, smiles, memory, love, loss, eyes--seeing in. I'm glad that I don't feel sad about anything. No regrets. No longing. Maybe this stuff is really working.
I STAND CORRECTED. A few entries ago I typed about rules in relationships. Turns out Rey made the rule. My bad. Funny thing about rules. I'm a stickler about following them and at the same time I'll find any way to bend them. Any loophole to point out how flawed they may be. I'll even break them. Hahaha... sometimes. I suppose all things are a measure of the parts that make up the whole. There's always an affinity toward those who have jammed more experience into their years than is natural. Who is to say what natural is? I know. Experience teaches, but ultimately it's we who decide which lessons we learn. Reading this Danger Boy? hahahaha... There's this song that I was talking to Randy about and trying to recall for Rey. It's "All Hooked Up" by All Saints. The catch line for me in the song is, "I know you want a piece of my ass. Don't you know that a guy like you wouldn't last?" It's just a cool song to me. And so new connections begin to form.
I've been writing for almost an hour. That hardly ever happens. I do want to get some more sleep in now. The very thought produces a yawn. Damn birds are still chirping.
