I've been completely unfocused at work today.
First they stuffed us full of food. Because it's like the American way or something. Of which I got a big stuffed mushroom made just for me because even though I sorta eat chicken again I'll always be the resident vegetarian. Which is fine. Cause then I feel special. But then I needed a siesta, stat.
Then I've been emailing C back and forth because she's bored and we still entertain each other thoroughly with inside jokes, monkey lamentations and what super power we would have which and has strangely sometimes morphed into frivolities about cute men. She would have to watch out for the shapeshifters that can change into Johnny Depp. (But not too heavily...)
And now we've come to the end of the day where all work goes to the wayside and we get conversations like the following:
Man, that Transformers trailer is such a cocktease.
I know right? I'm just wondering when the Thundercats live action movie is coming.
Right. You know they should make ThunderCATS. Like Thundercats meets CATS the broadway musical.
...
Is it time to go home yet?
Friday, June 30, 2006
Can't Touch This
Ow.
I haven't been to the gym in at least a couple months and I just this very moment, realized it. Somehow, I haven't gained or lost any weight which is why I had to stop and think about it.
My soon to be ex thought I should have a little backrub yesterday. Like I looked stressed or something. Upon this type of contact, the likes of which has been missing for quite some time, it seems all those meaty things holding my bones intact were at some point replaced in my sleep with thousands of rubber bands. Locked and loaded.
And my how they snapped. Is that what a tazer feels like? Anyone wanna come rollerblade up and down my back for a while?
So I have a theory. It must be that this consistent contracted state that all my muscles are currently in are burning calories and fat. Right? Stress is the new Weight Watchers.
Okay. I know it's really lame. But it's all I got right now.
I haven't been to the gym in at least a couple months and I just this very moment, realized it. Somehow, I haven't gained or lost any weight which is why I had to stop and think about it.
My soon to be ex thought I should have a little backrub yesterday. Like I looked stressed or something. Upon this type of contact, the likes of which has been missing for quite some time, it seems all those meaty things holding my bones intact were at some point replaced in my sleep with thousands of rubber bands. Locked and loaded.
And my how they snapped. Is that what a tazer feels like? Anyone wanna come rollerblade up and down my back for a while?
So I have a theory. It must be that this consistent contracted state that all my muscles are currently in are burning calories and fat. Right? Stress is the new Weight Watchers.
Okay. I know it's really lame. But it's all I got right now.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
"You know Truth, Justice, all that stuff..."
So, I found this from a circa 1998 sketchbook. When I used to remember how to use a real pencil. It seems appropriate to post today.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Heat
I wouldn't run the air conditioner at all if I had a choice. Even though it's summer, it's Florida and it's sweltering. I do, though, about a total of once a week, on Friday nights. Can you guess why? Yup, monkeys will do that. It's the night they sleep over and of course they need to be comfortable.
Right now, it's Saturday, and the AC is blasting. I have monkeys all weekend. Sort of a father's day extravaganza/give mom a break weekend. It must be hot out tonight though because I just woke up drenched in sweat, even with it on. Most times now I don't blog at home because my computer's fan goes into jet turbine mode. Because it's hot. But I can't sleep.
Monkeys crashed in the car around 6:30 on the way home after a very long day. I don't know if it was the heat or just general state of being a six year old who's not getting his way, probably some melding of the two, but the Elder Monkey had several nuclear meltdowns. Mainly about selfish things. Sometimes it's hard to keep your cool when everything around you is not, but you realize that you must.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm being too strict. Or not strict enough. Funny how either way can easily go awry. Getting to know your kid's personality is one thing, but learning to adapt to them isn't in any instruction manual you'll ever read. I threw those out long ago. They were rather useless. Adults are pretty much set in their ways. Monkeys will throw their poop at you one second and then ask you for help tying their shoes the next.
Elder Monkey just wandered in and asked if I was coming to bed. In a minute, babe. Now he's snoring while sitting up. Poor guy.
There's lots of talk of pride this month. I've been frantically trying to figure out what I feel about this new pride. It is new to me only because I never paid attention to it before. Tis the month to wave a rainbow flag and have a parade. That's fine. I'm still not comfortable with it enough to really raise my voice. Be careful not to drown in the celebration lest it lose it's meaning. It does happen.
Today (now that I see what time it is) is also Father's Day. I don't know much about being part of a gay culture or community. Of which there is certainly is one. What I can talk about is the broader and completely surreal sensation of raising a miniature version of yourself only to realize they aren't you at all. Talk about putting pride in perspective.
A friend at work is now going to be a new dad. One of the last people I expected to hear that from. For all the jokes and intense whining around my place of work I hear about being married and having kids being the end of your life, he's even said himself that he feels like he's turning into a human being. And it made me proud. It made me smile. Because I know what he's talking about. I totally get it.
It may be an odd correlation, these things, but in this sense I understand where gay pride comes from. Even though I lack the desire of pursuit, I understand it's wildfire mentality. It's power comes from connection, it passes itself on like a chain of dynamite, throwing itself from person to person in a way that makes you feel alive.
Pride is heat. It's explosive, sometimes beautiful, sometimes hurtful and always causes equally heated reaction at the opposite end of it's spectrum. I know because it's certainly hot around here.
As far as I can tell you aren't gay just one month or day out of the year. Like you aren't black or female on one month or one day out of the year. But it's good to be visible, to be jolted, to be reminded. Even though they aren't here all the time, for me Father's Day is 24/7. It's my version of pride. Go figure.
Right now, it's Saturday, and the AC is blasting. I have monkeys all weekend. Sort of a father's day extravaganza/give mom a break weekend. It must be hot out tonight though because I just woke up drenched in sweat, even with it on. Most times now I don't blog at home because my computer's fan goes into jet turbine mode. Because it's hot. But I can't sleep.
Monkeys crashed in the car around 6:30 on the way home after a very long day. I don't know if it was the heat or just general state of being a six year old who's not getting his way, probably some melding of the two, but the Elder Monkey had several nuclear meltdowns. Mainly about selfish things. Sometimes it's hard to keep your cool when everything around you is not, but you realize that you must.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm being too strict. Or not strict enough. Funny how either way can easily go awry. Getting to know your kid's personality is one thing, but learning to adapt to them isn't in any instruction manual you'll ever read. I threw those out long ago. They were rather useless. Adults are pretty much set in their ways. Monkeys will throw their poop at you one second and then ask you for help tying their shoes the next.
Elder Monkey just wandered in and asked if I was coming to bed. In a minute, babe. Now he's snoring while sitting up. Poor guy.
There's lots of talk of pride this month. I've been frantically trying to figure out what I feel about this new pride. It is new to me only because I never paid attention to it before. Tis the month to wave a rainbow flag and have a parade. That's fine. I'm still not comfortable with it enough to really raise my voice. Be careful not to drown in the celebration lest it lose it's meaning. It does happen.
Today (now that I see what time it is) is also Father's Day. I don't know much about being part of a gay culture or community. Of which there is certainly is one. What I can talk about is the broader and completely surreal sensation of raising a miniature version of yourself only to realize they aren't you at all. Talk about putting pride in perspective.
A friend at work is now going to be a new dad. One of the last people I expected to hear that from. For all the jokes and intense whining around my place of work I hear about being married and having kids being the end of your life, he's even said himself that he feels like he's turning into a human being. And it made me proud. It made me smile. Because I know what he's talking about. I totally get it.
It may be an odd correlation, these things, but in this sense I understand where gay pride comes from. Even though I lack the desire of pursuit, I understand it's wildfire mentality. It's power comes from connection, it passes itself on like a chain of dynamite, throwing itself from person to person in a way that makes you feel alive.
Pride is heat. It's explosive, sometimes beautiful, sometimes hurtful and always causes equally heated reaction at the opposite end of it's spectrum. I know because it's certainly hot around here.
As far as I can tell you aren't gay just one month or day out of the year. Like you aren't black or female on one month or one day out of the year. But it's good to be visible, to be jolted, to be reminded. Even though they aren't here all the time, for me Father's Day is 24/7. It's my version of pride. Go figure.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Love Thy Neighbor
I don't know any of my neighbors. That is, beyond a passing glance and a wave. Lately, I've often thought about going to a few doors and introducing myself. Just to put names with faces. I think it might be a good thing. Just in case, you know, I should happen to need some sugar.
I found this today, via Addison Phillips. It seems KnowThyNeighbor.org started in Massachusetts and now have a presence here, I presume in reaction to Florida4Marraige.org. I'm trying to figure out really what the effectiveness of this is. In fact, in their response to KTN some of the same thoughts crossed my mind.
I get the intention. I do. Trying to start conversations and open communication, but this seems really...divisive. Perhaps I'm being too sentimental, too worried about brother vs. brother, and maybe it's the matter of seeing them all there in a detailed list form. Truthfully, the first thing it reminded me of is an assassins hit list.
I didn't want to search through it, but I did anyway. First my street, then a name, and another and another. It was like crack. I couldn't stop. I felt so invasive. It was rather disheartening, but not surprising to see the names of people I know and some I care for among the signers of this amendment. People who should really just know better.
Relatively all the people who know me and what I'm about now are scattered across the country, heck, around the world. And I do love meeting you all in this way. I wouldn't be as sure of myself without that kind of support. Goodness knows I wouldn't get it locally. I can clearly state that I would not have come out if it weren't for an online presence. Take from that what you will.
But I don't know the name of the kid in the wheelchair two doors down. Or even why he's in one. Where is the Asian looking man across the street from? Who is the little monkey girl that visits there and is probably my son's age? Is any of this even my business?
I've always liked my solitude. It's when I think the clearest. My thoughts don't exactly come freely so it takes time to polish them into coherence. But now at times it's becoming uncomfortable. Ignorance may be bliss to a degree but it's shockwave can be felt for miles. I'm no longer ignorant. I'm just paranoid. I know exactly what I'm afraid of. Where is the line between disclosure and irresponsibility? I have to keep my kids safe, but not in a cage.
My wife's grandparents live down a few houses, too. They know the neighbors. They all talk to each other. They have garage sales together. It's awkward to interact without the boys around. They are like my shield. I want to know what people think about what's going on and why they do. But then it's harder to do if the person that lives within throwing distance of you decides they hate you because of your past or who you love.
There's a high possibility I will have to sell my house after all this divorce stuff. I've tried to keep this house as a way of keeping stability for monkeys. It's someplace they know, it keeps drastic change down to a minimum. But I've said it before and it won't be the last time, it all comes down to money. I'm not sure I can afford to live here and take care of them at the same time.
So it may be a moot point. I still may try and meet the neighbors. Just give them my name. Even if I get salt instead of sugar when I ask for it.
I found this today, via Addison Phillips. It seems KnowThyNeighbor.org started in Massachusetts and now have a presence here, I presume in reaction to Florida4Marraige.org. I'm trying to figure out really what the effectiveness of this is. In fact, in their response to KTN some of the same thoughts crossed my mind.
I get the intention. I do. Trying to start conversations and open communication, but this seems really...divisive. Perhaps I'm being too sentimental, too worried about brother vs. brother, and maybe it's the matter of seeing them all there in a detailed list form. Truthfully, the first thing it reminded me of is an assassins hit list.
I didn't want to search through it, but I did anyway. First my street, then a name, and another and another. It was like crack. I couldn't stop. I felt so invasive. It was rather disheartening, but not surprising to see the names of people I know and some I care for among the signers of this amendment. People who should really just know better.
Relatively all the people who know me and what I'm about now are scattered across the country, heck, around the world. And I do love meeting you all in this way. I wouldn't be as sure of myself without that kind of support. Goodness knows I wouldn't get it locally. I can clearly state that I would not have come out if it weren't for an online presence. Take from that what you will.
But I don't know the name of the kid in the wheelchair two doors down. Or even why he's in one. Where is the Asian looking man across the street from? Who is the little monkey girl that visits there and is probably my son's age? Is any of this even my business?
I've always liked my solitude. It's when I think the clearest. My thoughts don't exactly come freely so it takes time to polish them into coherence. But now at times it's becoming uncomfortable. Ignorance may be bliss to a degree but it's shockwave can be felt for miles. I'm no longer ignorant. I'm just paranoid. I know exactly what I'm afraid of. Where is the line between disclosure and irresponsibility? I have to keep my kids safe, but not in a cage.
My wife's grandparents live down a few houses, too. They know the neighbors. They all talk to each other. They have garage sales together. It's awkward to interact without the boys around. They are like my shield. I want to know what people think about what's going on and why they do. But then it's harder to do if the person that lives within throwing distance of you decides they hate you because of your past or who you love.
There's a high possibility I will have to sell my house after all this divorce stuff. I've tried to keep this house as a way of keeping stability for monkeys. It's someplace they know, it keeps drastic change down to a minimum. But I've said it before and it won't be the last time, it all comes down to money. I'm not sure I can afford to live here and take care of them at the same time.
So it may be a moot point. I still may try and meet the neighbors. Just give them my name. Even if I get salt instead of sugar when I ask for it.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Crushed
Yeah. I care too much and I don't know why.
The South Central Farm was forcefully seized today despite the peaceful resistance of the South Central Farmers and their supporters. An early morning raid began at 5:00am to evict the farmers and community supporters who had taken up camp 21 days ago at the South Central Farm. The L.A. County Sheriffs Department coordinated this action with the assistance of the Los Angeles Fire Department and the Los Angeles Police Department who were dressed in full riot gear. Approximately 50 demonstrators have been arrested, some suffering the force of baton use. Bulldozers have been brought in to level the 14 acres of food and medicine that began to bloom 14 years ago when the land was mitigated to the community in the wake of the 1992 uprising. With tears on their faces farmers are being supported by an influx of community supporters turning out to demonstrate their continued efforts to save the land for the community.
Links:
South Central Farmers
Democracy Now
IndyMedia
via CapedMaskedandArmed.com
The South Central Farm was forcefully seized today despite the peaceful resistance of the South Central Farmers and their supporters. An early morning raid began at 5:00am to evict the farmers and community supporters who had taken up camp 21 days ago at the South Central Farm. The L.A. County Sheriffs Department coordinated this action with the assistance of the Los Angeles Fire Department and the Los Angeles Police Department who were dressed in full riot gear. Approximately 50 demonstrators have been arrested, some suffering the force of baton use. Bulldozers have been brought in to level the 14 acres of food and medicine that began to bloom 14 years ago when the land was mitigated to the community in the wake of the 1992 uprising. With tears on their faces farmers are being supported by an influx of community supporters turning out to demonstrate their continued efforts to save the land for the community.
Links:
South Central Farmers
Democracy Now
IndyMedia
via CapedMaskedandArmed.com
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
You Got Served!
For a few weeks now, she's called me up every day with a "Did you get served?" It's become our little running gag.
It's like being in the waiting room, patiently sitting, staring at the uninspired, mass-produced painting featuring a still life of flowers. You hear everyone's name called, even the guy who came in an hour after you, and you wonder if you were forgotten about. Someone took a snapshot and we're all just walking around in it but we never change scenes or costumes and the muzak is stuck on repeat.
But now, behold, the season of inclement weather is upon us! And I don't just mean Tropical Storm Alberto.
Last night the storm come through violently. This morning, however, the weather cleared, the sky was beautiful, and with the breeze a knock came to the door. We hardly take this lightly, but allow me to be the first to give myself an irreverent "Bwaha! You got served!" Because she will too. That's how we get through all this. It's a big deal but... geez, man, get on with it. I talk to myself a lot don't I?
I'm actually not sure what I'm supposed to do next. Originally, our plan was that we would do the whole thing ourselves to save from being raped by lawyer costs. Ages ago, I downloaded all the requisite forms and put them in a folder affectionately titled "Blech." But I'm no lawyer. Though I am a professional procrastinator. "Can't today, we'll do it tomorrow, we'll do it next week, we'll do it next month..." So she decided to get an attorney. I can hardly blame her and really I'm half glad about it. I'll be representing myself because frankly I can't afford anything else.
---------------------
If you haven't caught on, the only real reason I don't actively seek any kind of companionship is, well, I'm still married. It's been a year and a half now and it's a legality pure and simple. We've taken off our rings, come to our conclusions, but between her and I, it won't be okay until it's done with.
I can't speak for anyone else, but I think I may have really messed myself up in the bedroom sense. My libido is now major league manic depressive. I fear for the poor souls who I may eventually encounter in the wrong stage of that erratic cycle.
This holding pattern effectively prevents me from wanting to make any contact in the just to be friends sense with anyone who presents themself as gay. I have a sense that I'm being watched, like a criminal on the loose. If I even look at someone with those inadvertent, sideways staring eyes, I may as well put the handcuffs on. I feel like I have to explain over and over that I don't want to just sleep with everyone I come in contact with. My own homophobic hell stemming from a lock that I've assigned in order to not step on any toes. Of course, no one is really asking but still...guilty, guilty, guilty.
I have a habit of daydreaming. A lot. I always have. I crush hard and fast, but if anything ever actualized from those crushes I think my brain might hemorrhage.
I still end up a nervous catastrophe whenever I indulge myself in feeling attracted to members of the same gender. Like with Cute Subway Guy who I still get uncomfortably hot under the collar about whenever he makes my sandwich. Last night, Dreamy Apple Store Guy was replacing my power chord and I just wanted to stick my finger in a socket when I was done to get rid of the feeling. And Lordy, I can't even get into the dreams I have about certain...people I've never met.
So I be sure to keep at a safe distance. Although I can board up the windows all I like, storms have a tendency to take unpredictable paths.
It's like being in the waiting room, patiently sitting, staring at the uninspired, mass-produced painting featuring a still life of flowers. You hear everyone's name called, even the guy who came in an hour after you, and you wonder if you were forgotten about. Someone took a snapshot and we're all just walking around in it but we never change scenes or costumes and the muzak is stuck on repeat.
But now, behold, the season of inclement weather is upon us! And I don't just mean Tropical Storm Alberto.
Last night the storm come through violently. This morning, however, the weather cleared, the sky was beautiful, and with the breeze a knock came to the door. We hardly take this lightly, but allow me to be the first to give myself an irreverent "Bwaha! You got served!" Because she will too. That's how we get through all this. It's a big deal but... geez, man, get on with it. I talk to myself a lot don't I?
I'm actually not sure what I'm supposed to do next. Originally, our plan was that we would do the whole thing ourselves to save from being raped by lawyer costs. Ages ago, I downloaded all the requisite forms and put them in a folder affectionately titled "Blech." But I'm no lawyer. Though I am a professional procrastinator. "Can't today, we'll do it tomorrow, we'll do it next week, we'll do it next month..." So she decided to get an attorney. I can hardly blame her and really I'm half glad about it. I'll be representing myself because frankly I can't afford anything else.
---------------------
If you haven't caught on, the only real reason I don't actively seek any kind of companionship is, well, I'm still married. It's been a year and a half now and it's a legality pure and simple. We've taken off our rings, come to our conclusions, but between her and I, it won't be okay until it's done with.
I can't speak for anyone else, but I think I may have really messed myself up in the bedroom sense. My libido is now major league manic depressive. I fear for the poor souls who I may eventually encounter in the wrong stage of that erratic cycle.
This holding pattern effectively prevents me from wanting to make any contact in the just to be friends sense with anyone who presents themself as gay. I have a sense that I'm being watched, like a criminal on the loose. If I even look at someone with those inadvertent, sideways staring eyes, I may as well put the handcuffs on. I feel like I have to explain over and over that I don't want to just sleep with everyone I come in contact with. My own homophobic hell stemming from a lock that I've assigned in order to not step on any toes. Of course, no one is really asking but still...guilty, guilty, guilty.
I have a habit of daydreaming. A lot. I always have. I crush hard and fast, but if anything ever actualized from those crushes I think my brain might hemorrhage.
I still end up a nervous catastrophe whenever I indulge myself in feeling attracted to members of the same gender. Like with Cute Subway Guy who I still get uncomfortably hot under the collar about whenever he makes my sandwich. Last night, Dreamy Apple Store Guy was replacing my power chord and I just wanted to stick my finger in a socket when I was done to get rid of the feeling. And Lordy, I can't even get into the dreams I have about certain...people I've never met.
So I be sure to keep at a safe distance. Although I can board up the windows all I like, storms have a tendency to take unpredictable paths.
Friday, June 09, 2006
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