Sunday Reflection (Rippled)

1:00pm. Half awake. I feel the Nyquil residual. I yawn and my eyes water. It would be nice to sleep forever I think. It would be nice to drift off into a dream and sleep. Maybe it's just the song that's playing--"It's A Fine Day." hah. My phone is across the room on the corner of my bed--out of arm's reach. It just beeped with a new message. Since the phone didn't ring, I'm assuming it's a text message. Could I be right? Am I wrong? I'm too tired to get up and find out. I want to write instead. The message will wait. It will be there until I'm finished, but I cannot guarantee that my desire to write will outlast the brief seconds it takes to get out of the chair and come back with the phone. That's the tricky think about writing inspiration: cease it when it comes.

The same could be said about probably anything in life that one looks after. Dating, job opportunities, changing lanes on a freeway when there's an opening.

FLASH: picture as I stare out my window's frame of an Asian pagoda. The slats on the blinds--flat with the curvature of the curtains--drawn open.

Aries had his B-day dinner at Bosa Nova last night. I wasn't feeling well and went home to rest while Cheddy, Art & Aries were at the dinner. (The phone beeps to remind me) I met up with them at RAGE. I knew that this particular bunch wouldn't stay very long. They can't. There's no stamina for the night life. It is not them. (Anymore--if at all, really.) And that's good, I think. I would not like to have a bunch of friends who were all creatures of the night. I've always liked the variety of personality that my friends bring to the table. As Martha Stewart would say, "It's a good thing."

With the middle finger of my left hand I gently move it over the hair & skin of my eyebrow where I was pierced about a month ago. It's the first time I've really felt the bar under the skin. It doesn't hurt. Not infected. Another good thing. I ponder whether this will be a passing piercing, or one like my tongue that has lingered now for almost four years. The practical mind sets in and thinks that I'd have to take it out if I went on a job interview. The artists tells me that no job is worth having without the freedom to express part of your personality outwardly. Sadly, I never choose one side or the other and I have to cope with that clash in an eternal bubble always about to burst.

Friday night I went to The Boom. The music and people were pleasant. The highlight of my evening was running into Aaron & Bryan and hearing that Ali's CD to me was in their car. I'm listening to it right now. I've been listening to it pretty much since I got it back. I was too tired to drive home and stayed at Joe's place up the hill. Another night of fooling around that I guess would technically end my celibacy...lol. The cuddles were nice, but my mind is so preoccupied with this coming Monday dinner.

A glance at the clock says I should shower before Sebastian gets here to go to the beach. Meeting Cheddy there. Roommate going as well. Nice to be surrounded by friends when I don't have what it is that I want right now.

Pip Squeak

I have this picture in my head of a boy that I was. Sometimes he comes out and I'm happy. So I begin to think logically---what a scarry thing---and try to let more of this person out so that I don't feel so bottled up all the time.

What would he say... something like a criticism of how I care too much what others think. Old people are great that way. So are children. They really don't care. It's we in the middle that get conned.

I spent my $5 at dinner. I'm going to spend $5 more around midnight. I just talked to Jeff on the phone and will be meeting he and Joe and The Doom Doom Room. I have to go home, change, blah. Maybe I'll get stuck at home.

I just want to be around people and feel like they want to be around me right now.

A friend sent me this for Easter:
http://www.jekyl.com/jekyl/gallery/Easter.jpg

I've been removed from writing because I've been that down I haven't even the desire to try and clear my thoughts.

Still no connections. Nothing feels tangible. I feel no drive. I remember what it feels like. That's frustrating. Maybe somewhat like a stroke victim.....having an active memory of something but no way of activating it again.

On Saturday--before leaving for the White Party--I spent some time at the old apartment with Randy. I had to pick up a few last things. The apartment was barren. We were both looking for things to make the stay longer and I finally had to force myself to go.

On Sunday--after returning home from the White Party--I received a call from Randy while he was clearning up the old apartment. My work phone time says 22:22 right now. He asked if we could have dinner and in my heart I said yes and in my head I said no and the outward result was silence before I responded. Am I ready for a dinner? You never know until you try.

Four minutes until I'm outta here. Driving to Long Beach to say goodbye to Ian. I deleted all the porn off my computer today because it's so hard to find. I thought maybe this would get me to do other things. Problem is, the computer is still there with a connection to the internet.

Mamma's Day Brunch is finally coming together. I have ideas. I have stories. I have pictures in my head.

The White Party Thoughts

Where to begin? People say that a lot. "Where do I begin?" "How do I start?" You just do--or don't as the case may be with me at the moment.

Let me start with Tim Davis. He's an extraordinary man. Open. Kind. He's the type of soul that I knew/know is out there and one that I hope to become. He's friends with Bobby & Joey and lives in La Quinta. He offered his place to them so they wouldn't have to get a hotel for The White Party.
----
----
My throat still has some weird taste to it. I need to figure out what is wrong.
----
----
Artistic, world-educated, benevolent. Warm. Inviting. I would ask his advice on something and know that the answer would benefit me.

We arrived at his place. Someone named Billy was there. They were having cocktails and watching a very large flat screen TV. The dogs are Jake & Zoey. They like me. Tim said something about dogs and babies knowing people well. I said that babies stop crying when I hold them and dogs generally like me. Tim prepared a dinner for us. Joey helped make the salad. Bobby and I sat our asses and made polite conversation with Billy. My vibe was right again---to be proven the next morning.

The White Party--unorganized. I know I'm done with the scene because it holds no more life to me. It has been dead many times now and this last experience with friends lets me know that I'm in that next phase of life. I'm sad the way a child is sad that it no longer has a toy to play with. But I'm old enough to know that there are other toys to play with. Besides....it was never my favorite toy. So... now do I have to join a gym to exercise?

Sardines packed in light spring sweat. After finding the will call booth, doing a before picture with Alex-Dan, Joey-Bobby, seeing Wes, seeing Jeff, we got inside of the convention center and made our way to the center in front of the stage area for the MIDNIGHT show. One by one we fell off and only Bobby was left. He stayed there for two hours. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the alleged performance by Christina Aguilera. She never showed up. Instead, we get a very badly taped video of her reasons for not attending. The other performer wasn't as well known.

The best part of my $100 was about 3am when two gymnasts' bodies used a single trapeze to tangle themselves in moves set to music. The homo eroticism on top of the tremendous skill moved me to take pictures that I hope turn out.

I'm in the Koffee Klatch waiting for Mark. I think I should walk to Woody's.

Tighty Whities

I've stumbled in from a night out with Randy Cardwell & J.D. I almost got a tatoo.....very close. Would have been Chinese symbols for "fire" & "tiger." J.D. got his, but I couldn't wait and so we drove home.

We went to FUBAR---aka: Big Fat Dick. The bartenders where shirts that say: "Dick" or "i love dick." Amusing. Tonight's theme for the poloroid contest was tighty whities...which ended up just bing an underwear show-off. From applause I think I took 2nd place. Perhaps I should have worn the jock strap as well... or maybe I just needed a tatoo. In any case, it was fun just being a contestant.

Miguel was there. There's a name from the past. Nice. We danced together on the box. His nipples are pierced now. We kissed. Somewhat awkward while dancing, but I could still feel the passion. He was the last person I kissed before Randy and I got together. I didn't catch him at the end of the night and don't have his number. I think that's the way it was meant to be.

I'm glad I didn't get the tatoo. It would have been too rushed. I want the right symbols that express me.

sleep expresses me now

5-htp

I've been having random thoughts in the last few days. Vivid memories from the past. Quick flickers of places, people, events that I haven't thought of in a long time: a moment in Summer of 1988 at Loyola Marymount University; a time as a child in Morrow Bay fishing on the pier; the path taken to walk to school in high school; learning how to ski; riding in the sky ride at Disneyland with friends; the first time I drank to get drunk.

I know that taking the 5-htp closer to bedtime with the B-Complex has caused more vivid dreaming. Perhaps this is carrying over? I'm curious.

Blank Hallmark Card

If you don't know what to say, don't force yourself to say it.

Red Bull Rising

What am I waiting for? It's only my life.

Library--Check this out.

NINE-SOMETHING. Why is it that strangers stare at other strangers with a desire to be closer but always at a distance? There are four chairs at the table that I'm at. I'm sitting at one of them. The voices surrounding, that would normally make me hot and uncomfortable, are now whitenoise and I don't even hear the individual words. Every so often I look up to see the faces--and the hair--of those passing by. I see frightened expressions and euphoric explosions of laughter. They're all so young to me now. It's like I was doing some sort of breathing excercise where you close your eyes and take a deep breath in and then slowly exhale and then you open your eyes. But when I opened my eyes the world had jumped ahead in time and I still felt the same.

So I'm here to meet Jose. Strictly friendly, but I was 30 minutes late. He doesnt' have a cell phone and I don't know if he was here and left or never showed up or is in the next room which I haven't looked at.

The singer is beautiful. She's singing so many touching ballad type songs. I haven't seen her yet, but I have this feeling that her appearance is nothing like her voice. Just a feeling. Can't explain why I know this. It just is and my confidence behind the statement has no way of being bolstered other than to look and see. But then one could just blow it off to chance.

The little boys drink their caffeine and smoke their cigarrettes. How cool. How chic. How 10 years later I still find it disgusting and unattractive no matter how cute the face may be.

*Just get the CD's back and close the chapter, Jeremy*

I'm not doing artistic things. What died? When? How? I made a therapy appointment. Of course, the soonest available was 5/22. A part of me is content to wait because things in my life could change between now and then and the appointment might not be necessary. Another part of me thinks that I should utilize my work EAP and get started on meds now.

So I moved rooms. I was right about her look. There's more bustle in this room--less ventilation. I feel more heat. My body attempts to compensate by lightly sweating my forehead. She makes me want to sing too. Shout out. Be free. "But I still haven't found what I'm looking for."--she sings and I feel it. I feel it in my spine as it sends millions of signals so quickly that I know it my eyes are a glaze and this pen on paper is moving like a richter scale.

9:53pm--and no sign of him anywhere. A boy with "36" on his back stands close and I'm attracted to, but such a boy.

I'm so lonely. As I was on Warner, waiting to turn right onto Culver, I thought about why I felt alone. It's because I began to let myself be defined by being with Randy. I began to let my identity blend as an US. I joke and call Chuck & Eddy "Cheddy" (a term that Arturo came up with). It's something that I was never capable of doing before and now I find it difficult reasserting my singular existence. Why?

I haven't really had any contact with my brothers since x-mas. As children, we would always be around each other. Fighting and having fun. We had super powers and lego's. They taught us of building and weaknesses. I'm making myself sad.

10:06pm--I'm walking to my car.

These are not sentences

Another night of staying home. That's two in a row. Also three days of running. I nice lunch with co-workers. A scheduled appointment with the therapist. Someone around tomorrow's corner to meet in real life. A Mother's Day project that I'm still sifting through. A world that I cannot watch on TV because the sheer brutality of an energy stream I have entered and am part of that I do not feel I should be in.

I'm tired but awake. Beaten but not broken. Hungry but content. Horny but infatuated with ideas of romanticism. Goodnight, Jeremy.