Taking Some Time...

I haven't posted anything here in almost a month. I've written many thoughts here and there; typed in notepad, scribbled on random papers. (Posted here and not published)

I'm not sure what to put down.
(I have already erased three lines since that last sentence)

hmm...

This is what I'm listening to:
----------------
Now playing on Winamp: Tatu - 30 Minutes

I took a two hour walk last night then stopped at Jack In The Box and ordered an Ultimate Bacon Cheeseburger Combo (Large) with a Dr. Pepper, regular fries, two regular tacos and a chicken sandwhich. I ate it all with my vitamins while watching tv. When tv was over I did sit-ups and push ups. I feel something of survival instincts kicking in because my mind is wrapped around so many things.

In sadness there is:


This has been on my for a long time but I have not spoken about it. I have not voiced anything about it. I have not used the sound from my mouth to yell because the fury has no specific ears to fiercely bring blood from. But I would shriek my sadness if I could find that person or people. I remember what it was to be a boy of 15. This sadness has cried me to sleep many nights. Not just for these boys.... for the ones that we know nothing about and for the ones who are yet to come.

In happiness there is:



I still don't get out and dance as much as I should. I'm working on it. It used to be a common thing with friends but dwindle does the deed. Domestication? This video makes me happy to watch. Not just because of the dancing. This is someone's labor of creativity and technical talent. While I may not feel much from staring at a painting or sculpted artifact that resides in a museum, nor anything from watching a black and white film from an era long gone, I still see beauty and appreciate random artforms. They make me smile everyday.

In confusion there is:
Family. Friends. (Family) Roads I have taken and am to take. Byron will have a child in the next couple months. Philip will be home from Iraq. Heidi (cousin) will be married soon. I don't even know her but by blood. Why does history have to be so cruel and the learning of it to be the burden of those who could not avoid the choices of others? When the elders were alive and well the family was so much more intact---even with the secrets that children hear only whispers of.

And I still miss her so much.

Boxcar Children

Between "Halfway Home" by Jason Mraz and the video for "World Hold On" by Bob Sinclair featuring Steve Edwards, I've lubricated my eyes for the evening. My laptop time says 11:13pm, but it's already past 1am here in Pensacola. Just slightly above the sound of the wall heater I can hear the wheels of the train along the railing; a rallying railing call. It's wind taking me back home away from the South. It's calling out to me not to forget this place. I don't want to forget this place.

Earlier today I was happy knowing that I would be home soon. Right now I'm sad to know I'm leaving. Isn't this always the way with Lanny?


"la la la la la la la life......is meaningful......"
j.mraz

sitting at jerry's

The woman next to us is talking about her grandson, the lottery and the cute priests at mass.

Pcola, Better than Coke

I've been here less than 24 hours and I've found my way to the laundry mat. There was a sign that we passed on the street that showed where the dog races were. It was like any other traffic sign one might see on the road except I had never seen anything like that. I'll email it from the phone.

No Menace To Me

"If I cannot bring you comfort....then at least I bring you hope...."
-from the movie TOYS, "The Closing of the Year"

I had a good Tuesday as opposed to a Good Friday. (And I didn't have to give anything up for Lent) Silly humans.

Charlie sparked something in jest that got me thinking a lot yesterday about how I interact with guys on an intimate level regardless of their place in my life. (i.e. a boyfriend versus a brand new face) I approach them both in the same way. I wouldn't want it any other way. I found it hard to explain to Charlie but while chatting with Jorge about it he completely understood. Experience sometimes is the only teacher. There is some quality of being able to bring out in others that which would not normally be shown or shared. The more I ponder on this....the more it intrigues me as I have never really thought to analyze what goes on in those moments.

I've only breathed them; savored them.

The Tortoise & This Hair

Two competing ideas race; one believes in self preservation and the other in expressions of honesty at all costs. Sometimes I don't say things because I know the outcome will result in putting my heart on my sleeve for someone unworthy to stab at it. Sometimes I repeat a pattern in spite of knowing I'll get stabbed because it is important for people to know that they are loved even if they cannot return it.

We're only Science...

As children all we have is time and the most important thing to us is our friends. Somewhere in the middle until we're in the retirement home where we sit around all day with our friends again we lose our way..... Maybe we don't lose our way. Perhaps we all have to journey off to find out what else is out in the world in order to truly appreciate what we had all along.

I'm finding that I'm writing less and less...not only what is public, but also in my private journals. Is that because I am so content with what I am learning or because I have withdrawn so much? I won't know the answer until I alter my daily routine. So traveling I being to do on a small scale.

I feel good. I feel a part of me I haven't felt in a long time.

----------------
Now playing on Winamp: Patsy Cline - Crazy

Quote for a portrait in my head

"In heaven she wondered if there was a place where people still had tears. That didn't mean she was sad, just that she wanted to find hers again."

Clash of the Tied Tens

Before I venture out tonight I feel the need to discard a few thoughts that are working my heart and throbbing my temples. The most intimate of conversations with respected friends and colleagues have such different tones depending on the personalities behind the conversations. I press the "period" with my right hand's fourth finger and "Tom Sawyer" by RUSH starts to play. Mark Twain, meet Mark W. I've long respected in his consult and friendship. For the past decade he has been part of the exclusive trio to be privy to pretty much every aspect of my life, but as we have grown up and apart there is a tension to our communication that seems to grow as well. I know that I am not the image perfect of laser precision thoughts being conveyed with spoken words. I've always been a much better listener; hmm, unless I'm standing up to do a presentation and using words to communicate unemotional ideas and concepts. Sometimes I think my vagueness is part of my allure. (Mostly I think it's a reminder of my continuing evolution)

The hardest thing for me in receiving communication has always been to hear love without hurt. What do I mean by this? I like to discuss feelings, but not when a participant in the conversation has a tone of voice that leaves a sting. Even with serious concerns--perhaps even more so--I've never understood why one's words have to have a bite in order to convey depth and caring. I felt like scalding water was being thrown on me earlier. My skin has grown so thick over the years that often times I know my outward expression is that of molded clay to fend off any alert of hurt, but with Mark I feel open enough to admit my vulnerabilities. Concurrently, however, I have also learned a certain detachment in arguments and discussions when I know that at the base of different points of view is simply an opinion or belief that fundamentally differs. It is not coldness, nor apathy that is used as a defense, rather a pragmatic understanding that to waste breath and time is not necessary. I respect one's choices for his or herself. I ask....no I demand the same in return.

I suppose the deepest hurt is a lack of respect that the road I have chosen for myself may be ok for me, while admittedly not for someone else. (Most assuredly not for most of my friends)

---
---
On some more positive vibes....
My brother's birthday is Monday. Both of us being in our 30's now and a child on the way for him...I blink back to when we were closer. His girl's name will be Taylor Riley. I can't wait to hold her. Mom is supposed to drive down from Oregon. She wants me to join her for the drive back.... I'm still mulling that over.

Ok....I've decompressed. Off to West Hollywood and a home screening of "Breaking Bad." Let the games begin...

Soft Batch

First I wrap myself in Lanny. I then surround with grandma's knit and the warmth is quite comfortable. I lay my head into the soft pillows with mother and make sure my head and shoulders are secured.

I cannot wait for me to find love or for love to find me. I hold close to the love I already know until such time that I can expand my knowledge.

I'm soft.