Highlights of the day:
Just like old times but without any earthquakes on the horizon.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Drop in the Bucket
C took today and tomorrow off so today we had a day with the four of us. Daddy, Mama, Elder Monkey and Younger Monkey. We ventured forth to breakfast, the Florida Aquarium, then to the International P'aza for lunch and a play area that wasn't sweltering.
Highlights of the day:
The Aquarium is expensive. But then I saw the admission prices for Sea World and quickly changed my mind.
According to the Elder Monkey the best three things that are worth seeing at the Aquarium are hammerhead sharks, leafy sea dragons, and stingrays. I'd have to concur.
Just because he can use the potty doesn't mean he'll always wipe. You will find this out when he starts walking funny in the long, hot trip back to the car.
I can't lurk too long on the fact that we are just like fish. There's way too many of us to know everyone that ever existed and that bigger one's will eat you if you aren't careful.
The Younger Monkey is just about too big for my shoulders. Realizing I am severely out of breath a lot and that my gym membership is currently a waste of funds.
The Elder Monkey is the biggest drama queen I've ever met. This is, according to her, my wife's payback for her childhood. Because I was a perfect angel when I was young. What. Put your eyebrows back down where they belong.
Changing a poopy diaper in a car in the rain is an interesting proposition. Especially, when you've no plastic bag to put it in or close method of disposal. The only thing appropriate to say in this case is "Oh, shit."
Spinning around fast to catch Younger Monkey by the collar in the parking lot will cause me to simultaneously squeeze the diaper in my hands out of panic. Thus making poop juice dribble down my arm. It's still raining.
Realizing that I still say "Ambercomby & Flinch" incorrectly. And that turning a corner to extremely large pictures of a man's abdominal region looming over me like an mythical beast can make me run for the hills.
The dapper gent who held the elevator door for us... and getting a new version of "the look" from your wife whose gaydar, unlike mine, seems to have developed into a sixth sense.
Driving around the block at home one more time so that C and I can finish singing at each other "Anything You Can Do", one monkey with hands over his ears, the other giggling ferociously. And then hearing him sing it afterwards.
Just like old times but without any earthquakes on the horizon.
Highlights of the day:
Just like old times but without any earthquakes on the horizon.
dreamtime-20060727
...as I'm exploring someone's house, that of Mr. Baxter's, the pastor of my church growing up and it's huge like a dark maze like a Dechirico painting with slanted light falling on my face in a mirror with roses on the sides in a bathroom that is dark grey. I walk out of the house along with many many stray teenagers(?) going in and out to work while a big man yells and fixes things. The house is bright red and lopsided, crooked, impossible to stand up, stairway descending, we travel down the extremely suburban street and try to avoid things being blown up. Then I'm in a school for something we circle through the parking lot twice, I'm qualified to a tee all that's left is a test paper to make checkmarks on and sign that keeps getting wet and I am given a new one several times. There are puddles but it's not raining. The sign outside the school says JACA. Then there is a curved sanctuary. Many many empty chairs. They are a church but are fine with the fact I don't believe...
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Partners in Crime
I've got the boys during the days for two weeks until school starts.
Today, the Elder Monkey and I sat at the dining room table drawing pictures for mom. The Younger Monkey was entertaining himself nearby, tooling in and out of various rooms never quite out of sight long enough to worry and making various action figures with missing limbs fly/crash/repeat with dubious intent while making that "BYYEEEEAAARRRR" noise. Books were read, music was playing, we were calm, we were happy and it was good.
The Younger Monkey has now discovered he can open the fridge by himself. While he's still young enough that this can all be rather cute in the right circumstances, I've had many cold bottles of apple juice dropped in my lap without warning. If he can't open it, which is everything worth eating, he'll bring it to you and shove it into your personal space with an "Ekshuze me..."
Upon the roundup to converge at the pool I noticed a plastic muffin tray, on the couch, that had not an hour earlier been filled with large Sweetbay blueberry muffins. The obvious culprit feigned all knowledge and there was none of the usual evidence. Not a crumb nor wrapper to be found. Even the adhesive label that latched it shut seemed to have vanish.
The thing about having the boys for two weeks is, if we hang around at their house instead of mine they get A/C and a pool, which is currently their favorite thing ever. As a bonus, I get a third young one to contend with. About six months old, furry, howls at sopranos, digs holes inappropriately. You know the kind. This one's name is Foxie.
The Younger Monkey and Foxie are pals, oh yes.
So to recap I've got a dog who may have eaten an entire tray of blueberry muffins, unless I find them stuffed down her accomplice's diaper. She's currently serving time in the nearest high-security cell since it seems an entire tray of blueberry muffins makes young pups bounce and nip with unbridled passion. I can tell that I'm in for it when her parole starts.
Today, the Elder Monkey and I sat at the dining room table drawing pictures for mom. The Younger Monkey was entertaining himself nearby, tooling in and out of various rooms never quite out of sight long enough to worry and making various action figures with missing limbs fly/crash/repeat with dubious intent while making that "BYYEEEEAAARRRR" noise. Books were read, music was playing, we were calm, we were happy and it was good.
The Younger Monkey has now discovered he can open the fridge by himself. While he's still young enough that this can all be rather cute in the right circumstances, I've had many cold bottles of apple juice dropped in my lap without warning. If he can't open it, which is everything worth eating, he'll bring it to you and shove it into your personal space with an "Ekshuze me..."
Upon the roundup to converge at the pool I noticed a plastic muffin tray, on the couch, that had not an hour earlier been filled with large Sweetbay blueberry muffins. The obvious culprit feigned all knowledge and there was none of the usual evidence. Not a crumb nor wrapper to be found. Even the adhesive label that latched it shut seemed to have vanish.
The thing about having the boys for two weeks is, if we hang around at their house instead of mine they get A/C and a pool, which is currently their favorite thing ever. As a bonus, I get a third young one to contend with. About six months old, furry, howls at sopranos, digs holes inappropriately. You know the kind. This one's name is Foxie.
The Younger Monkey and Foxie are pals, oh yes.
So to recap I've got a dog who may have eaten an entire tray of blueberry muffins, unless I find them stuffed down her accomplice's diaper. She's currently serving time in the nearest high-security cell since it seems an entire tray of blueberry muffins makes young pups bounce and nip with unbridled passion. I can tell that I'm in for it when her parole starts.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Moving Right Along
I haven't forgotten your questions. I'm getting to them. I like them, I do. Some are just kinda hard. Although, I've noticed that I must be a stick in the mud as I've gotten few silly questions. It's like ya'll think I'm deep or something.
In the meantime everything is now changing.
Starting today I'm working from home. In precisely two weeks both my kids are in elementary school. The divorce is forthcoming. And soon I'll be moving my mom in.
How did this happen you ask? I'm a bit perplexed myself. Well earthquakes and avalanches usually start fast and without warning so you either keep two steps ahead or fall down.
More on everything later.
In the meantime everything is now changing.
Starting today I'm working from home. In precisely two weeks both my kids are in elementary school. The divorce is forthcoming. And soon I'll be moving my mom in.
How did this happen you ask? I'm a bit perplexed myself. Well earthquakes and avalanches usually start fast and without warning so you either keep two steps ahead or fall down.
More on everything later.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Snippet
...wandering around looking for a way out in a theme park like Disneyworld sorta, full of people snickering at me as if I didn't belong so I have to go around the long way it's a maze of people and impossible structures on top of each other at night, then I find Cassie, Mike and Eric at the Cotton Candy which is about to close but I order food anyway and then we leave and spend a long time trying to find my car which is in various hidden scattered parking lots that are like two spaces big and when I do find my car I start the ignition and there appears a kid who is not my kid and might very well be me although it doesn't look like me and apparently when I start the car the lights come on everywhere including the sun and then there are things that are boxes which are anything that is shaped like a box like a piece of garden, a building, the invisible ones floating in the air that when you throw a thing in it the thing turns into something else accompanied by light and a sound that tells what the thing has been changed into but you never get to see it...
And then I wake up on the couch, to where I've moved in the middle of the night, to see a monkey playing guitar as he tries to play it by putting it up to his face so as to reach the frets and the strings and to the sound of things spilling on to the floor, onto the towel which was there from soaking up things that had spilled the night before, as the unforgiving neck of the guitar knocks over any leftover items on the table from dinner and of the garbage truck thundering away and realize I've missed the trash pickup...again.
"Good morning, Daddy!"
Sometimes it's hard to distinguish dream from reality. It must be Saturday morning.
And then I wake up on the couch, to where I've moved in the middle of the night, to see a monkey playing guitar as he tries to play it by putting it up to his face so as to reach the frets and the strings and to the sound of things spilling on to the floor, onto the towel which was there from soaking up things that had spilled the night before, as the unforgiving neck of the guitar knocks over any leftover items on the table from dinner and of the garbage truck thundering away and realize I've missed the trash pickup...again.
"Good morning, Daddy!"
Sometimes it's hard to distinguish dream from reality. It must be Saturday morning.
Monday, July 17, 2006
50/50: No. 1~10
I'll do this in chunks. Here's the first ten:
No. 1 - Michael - What is your favorite song you are embarrassed of? I'm not embarrassed of any song, if it's one that I like. If anything, the embarrassment stems from the awkward spasms and physical interpretation of my body that occur during the song. I'm of the same failed Taylor Hicks science experiment that got loose from the lab.
No. 2 - I can't speak any foreign languages with any real degree of fluency but I can sing in Russian, Italian and Japanese.
No. 3 - Brian - If guaranteed an honest response to any three questions, who and what would you ask?
The only thing I am truly curious about is how or why people know some kind of god exists. I don't fully trust in science but I've never experienced anything that tells me a higher power is out there, the way others have said it happens to them. If truth is guaranteed, my first instinct is instead to ask three people who did exist only one question; Jesus, Muhammad and Buddha, regardless of your creed or moral code that you wish to spread, were you telling the truth about god or were you just playing the people to make them listen to you?
No. 4 - We adopted a dog from the pound once whose hair was shaved and scheduled to be terminated because she had the devil in her. This was the sweetest dog I've ever met.
No. 5 - Jess - If you could live anywhere, where would you live?
Until there is a reason for me to leave, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else but here. Sure, it's Florida, it's hot, it's hurricane-ridden, it's home-cooked, southern style Baptist prejudice with gravy and I'm here 'til it sinks and I float out to sea. With that in mind, I've never actually BEEN anywhere so certainly this could change given the right circumstance. Every once in a while I feel a gravitational pull to California but that may just be aliens messing with my mind.
No. 6 - I'd like to travel around the entire globe once. Preferably in a rocket ship.
No. 7 - Nillo - What do you think the biggest misconception about you is?
That I am an endearing, young, Christian, straight guy. I get this all the time from people based on my looks. I would have to contest all of these things equally. Once you've set a precedent for most of your life...
No. 8 - Other than that, a) I never had bedtime stories read to me, b) I don't have a special thinking spot, c) I've never been in a fist fight and d) the cruelest person I've ever known has been myself. I could twist a knife in your side like nobody's business. I simply choose not to.
No. 9 - Anony - Is there an item/amulet/keyring that you carry everyday with you?
Not currently. Any items of this nature are doomed to be lost eventually. I don't even wear a watch.
No. 10 - I like pocket-watches. They are far more intriguing than wrist watches. Especially if they doubled as a compass. I don't know that I've ever seen one that does that though, but mine would.
Keep the questions coming. I've enough to get me to 36. Remember, one question per person, whatever you want, and I match it with something of my own. Can you get me to 50? ;)
No. 1 - Michael - What is your favorite song you are embarrassed of? I'm not embarrassed of any song, if it's one that I like. If anything, the embarrassment stems from the awkward spasms and physical interpretation of my body that occur during the song. I'm of the same failed Taylor Hicks science experiment that got loose from the lab.
No. 2 - I can't speak any foreign languages with any real degree of fluency but I can sing in Russian, Italian and Japanese.
No. 3 - Brian - If guaranteed an honest response to any three questions, who and what would you ask?
The only thing I am truly curious about is how or why people know some kind of god exists. I don't fully trust in science but I've never experienced anything that tells me a higher power is out there, the way others have said it happens to them. If truth is guaranteed, my first instinct is instead to ask three people who did exist only one question; Jesus, Muhammad and Buddha, regardless of your creed or moral code that you wish to spread, were you telling the truth about god or were you just playing the people to make them listen to you?
No. 4 - We adopted a dog from the pound once whose hair was shaved and scheduled to be terminated because she had the devil in her. This was the sweetest dog I've ever met.
No. 5 - Jess - If you could live anywhere, where would you live?
Until there is a reason for me to leave, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else but here. Sure, it's Florida, it's hot, it's hurricane-ridden, it's home-cooked, southern style Baptist prejudice with gravy and I'm here 'til it sinks and I float out to sea. With that in mind, I've never actually BEEN anywhere so certainly this could change given the right circumstance. Every once in a while I feel a gravitational pull to California but that may just be aliens messing with my mind.
No. 6 - I'd like to travel around the entire globe once. Preferably in a rocket ship.
No. 7 - Nillo - What do you think the biggest misconception about you is?
That I am an endearing, young, Christian, straight guy. I get this all the time from people based on my looks. I would have to contest all of these things equally. Once you've set a precedent for most of your life...
No. 8 - Other than that, a) I never had bedtime stories read to me, b) I don't have a special thinking spot, c) I've never been in a fist fight and d) the cruelest person I've ever known has been myself. I could twist a knife in your side like nobody's business. I simply choose not to.
No. 9 - Anony - Is there an item/amulet/keyring that you carry everyday with you?
Not currently. Any items of this nature are doomed to be lost eventually. I don't even wear a watch.
No. 10 - I like pocket-watches. They are far more intriguing than wrist watches. Especially if they doubled as a compass. I don't know that I've ever seen one that does that though, but mine would.
Keep the questions coming. I've enough to get me to 36. Remember, one question per person, whatever you want, and I match it with something of my own. Can you get me to 50? ;)
Friday, July 14, 2006
So Ask Already...
I'm itchy to write. But nothing comes to mind as of late. I'm tired and lacking passion about anything.
I've tried to sit down and do one of those weary 100 things lists before but I always draw a big blank. And anyway those things are always so laborious to write and to read.
So let's do something interesting shall we? For my own sake to see if anyone is actually still reading this thing, ask me anything you've been burning to know about me. Whatever you like. Within reason of course.
For every question you ask I'll offer up some other fact to match, until I get 100. One question per commenter only, please. Don't be greedy. If you do the math of course that means I need 50 different people to comment. I'm not an attention whore, really, just morbidly curious to see if it will happen. I'll be happy if I get even 10.
And please don't bore me. You'll get boring answers. I can't entertain you properly with things like, what's your favorite color. I'm saving those for my Tiger Beat interview anyway. Duh.
So...what do you want to know?
I've tried to sit down and do one of those weary 100 things lists before but I always draw a big blank. And anyway those things are always so laborious to write and to read.
So let's do something interesting shall we? For my own sake to see if anyone is actually still reading this thing, ask me anything you've been burning to know about me. Whatever you like. Within reason of course.
For every question you ask I'll offer up some other fact to match, until I get 100. One question per commenter only, please. Don't be greedy. If you do the math of course that means I need 50 different people to comment. I'm not an attention whore, really, just morbidly curious to see if it will happen. I'll be happy if I get even 10.
And please don't bore me. You'll get boring answers. I can't entertain you properly with things like, what's your favorite color. I'm saving those for my Tiger Beat interview anyway. Duh.
So...what do you want to know?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
I Have Know Idea
Mr. Love Lemming, in his infinite wisdom, sent me a funny-haha flash thingy regarding the previously explored topic of ThunderCATS.
I sent it around this morning at work describing them as "bun outtakes."
The only thing I can logically think of is that I got lost somewhere between the words "dub" and "fun".
Outtakes, (also affectionately known as bloopers, flubs to make them sound wacky and fun!) being of course the mistakes, the potty mouthed and brain cramped moments of movies and tv shows. They are then squashed together and placed on DVDs for that extra geeky sheen, or shown on TV in specials that may be hosted by Alan Thicke.
After hitting "Send" and staring at my keyboard for a moment wondering what song and dance routine my fingers were engaged in when aforementioned sentence was written (a tawdry Grease revival is highly suspect) I then wrote a followup email:
"I have know idea what I was trying to type when I said "bun" outtakes."
Which was then followed by several more responses calling into question my actual knowledge on the subject, what exactly I had been doing this weekend and something about "Man Faye's ass." Allegedly.
So the lesson of course is I must remember not to type after heady, early morning discussions that may or may not subconsciously refer to thephallicy fallacy of Superman's implied package. I have know idea.
I sent it around this morning at work describing them as "bun outtakes."
The only thing I can logically think of is that I got lost somewhere between the words "dub" and "fun".
Outtakes, (also affectionately known as bloopers, flubs to make them sound wacky and fun!) being of course the mistakes, the potty mouthed and brain cramped moments of movies and tv shows. They are then squashed together and placed on DVDs for that extra geeky sheen, or shown on TV in specials that may be hosted by Alan Thicke.
After hitting "Send" and staring at my keyboard for a moment wondering what song and dance routine my fingers were engaged in when aforementioned sentence was written (a tawdry Grease revival is highly suspect) I then wrote a followup email:
"I have know idea what I was trying to type when I said "bun" outtakes."
Which was then followed by several more responses calling into question my actual knowledge on the subject, what exactly I had been doing this weekend and something about "Man Faye's ass." Allegedly.
So the lesson of course is I must remember not to type after heady, early morning discussions that may or may not subconsciously refer to the
Friday, June 30, 2006
Stop That You're Being Silly
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?
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?
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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