The Society Strange

This is how it works-

2006-09-01T16:20:00.000-07:00

Current mood: hopeful
Category: Romance and Relationships

When I was sixteen I had a very very brief relationship with the world of modeling. It consisted of a few car shows and *one* walk down a runway wearing a tuxedo. This was in Dallas, during my glorious and wonderful (and there is absolutely no sarcasm or irony in this statement) time in high school, and it was for a GLBT Community Center Fundraiser at the Arboretum. Chelsea and Geb may or may not remember it, but for two weeks leading up to it -
I was fuckin' Kate Moss.
Except that my mom was in the audience, and really, how lame is that?
I mean, she waved at me.

Anyway.

After the show, the arboretum became the site of the after-party and since the theme of the night was romance and gay marriage, they played some slow tunes for the happy couples in attendance. Beautiful stuff, too. As I sat at a table with a group of friends and my mother, a handsome stranger came up to the table and asked me to dance.
As I live and breath, Arnie is the first and only man to ever have asked me to slow dance. Most guys balk at the very idea of slow dancing, and must be dragged forcibly to tiles just so they can hold you between their wooden arms and look around self-consciously, and that sucks. But here he came and fulfilled one of my lifelong fantasies. It was a wonderful few minutes. I'd go so far as to say one of the most romantic moments of my life.
Things quickly went pear-shaped after my little dance-floor affair with Arnie. We never went anywhere cause I was sixteen and he was in completely 'nother age bracket. But shortly thereafter, for various reasons, my view on romance and all its trappings went from blissful to seriously in need of something therapy.

Still with me? Good, cause here's the payoff.
(Yeah kids, I'm thinkin' I'm done with the "woe-is-me" bit. At least for now.)

Last night, I went out with long-time friends and new-found friends together. We danced, made merry, gagged on the sub-par-even-when-gospel-house-WAS-popular music and generally had a ball.
And between drink two and drink three, as I talked comics with Forrest, Arnie appeared at the bar, beside me. It took a few minutes for us to put two and two together. But it happened. And the feeling was unlike anything I have felt in a long time.
It wasn't love, or the illusion of attraction; Not for either of us, I think (I think he was there with a guy), was this a "Before Sunset" kinda situation. What happened last night was that my present communed with my past and I experienced what can only be described as magic.
The feeling that I had during my only slow-dance was hope, and faith in the idea of a future unmarred by anger or cruelty or misunderstanding or inabilities to communicate.
I knew there was no such thing as perfection, but I secretly wished for it.

I allowed the combination of time and experience to fake me out and for the past ten years I have allowed a splinter of cynicism to fester within myself. And all the while, to assuage the pain, I called it "growing up," and I wore sly, knowing grins. I smoked cigarrettes and sneered at those who still had stars in their eyes. I replaced songs of love with songs of regret and anger on mixed tapes. After all, I thought, aren't they more real? More prevalent?

Last night, my sixteen year old self and I had a chat.
Turns out love songs are just as beautiful, and the tears they can bring are just as fiery as any song about heart break.
Turns out, "knowing grins" don't have to carry poison with them, 'cause at its best "knowing" includes understanding and embracing..
Turns out, any splinter can be extracted. No matter how deeply it's buried or how long.
Sometimes it just takes a bit of work.
But sometimes, it works itself out unexpectedly.

Currently listening : Bag Lady By Erykah Badu
Release date: By 12 October, 2000

Come Here You Little Golden Sexbomb!

2006-01-31T10:49:00.000-08:00

The film I spent all last year sacrificing major hours of the prime of my youth to has just been nominated for a freaking OSCAR!
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, one entire year of my life, possibly the most difficult year of my life, to be honest, has been nominated for best visual effects.
Aside from the obvious joy and pride for it being the Year of the Gay Cowboy, I am now extremely grateful and utterly thankful for the experience which, at times, I thought would be the death of me. Many 80+ hour work weeks, disgusting meals for 100+ picky people, copies, faxes, meetings, cannisters of film and midnight drives to Burbank and beyond have surely paid off. This is why this work ROCKS!
In the words of a billion folks before me, "just to be nominated is an honor!"
FUCKIN AWESOME!

Alright...

2006-01-21T13:06:00.000-08:00

Current mood: disappointed
Category: Friends

Like La Lopez before me I have had ENOUGH!!!!

I have often told my friends and lovers that because of a youth spent trailing behind my mother in her nomadic wanderings I have been left with little to no tolerance for prolonged relationships of any kind. I am awkward in them, to say the least. At times this has become the cause of many dramatics between me and my friends. I think for and about myself and act out of selfishness. This has ALSO been the cause of many dramatics between me and my friends. I have tried to learn how to be a responsible friend for many years, and despite all that I am still human and destined to fuck up sometimes. Many times.

I am angry right now. And I take full responsibility for my complete past, forgotten, unknown, horribly remembered and everything besides. But when I try to erase all of the stupid, convoluted dramatics and do something real, something separate from my past, someone must remind me of it. And so I think, "Alright: you've got me pegged, motherfucker. I AM Satan and you just figured out all the prophecies were TRUE!"

Sometimes I feel so much that I don't know what I'm doing and to try and contain myself seems Herculean. I end up exploding. And then I end up regretful.

I don't care anymore. Right now I feel like my best efforts continue to hand me right back into the arms of my past mistakes. SO the only thing I can think to do is explode here, very visibly, and then implode ever so gently and lick my self-imposed wounds.

This sounds very dramatic, and so I guess I come back to myself again. And lots of people may be foolish enough to buy what I'm selling and think that nothin makes me happier than to be this trumped-up character I've created, all frantic happiness, innocence, tattoos, wisdom, venom and madness.....

But believe me, if I could be anyone other than myself, don't you think I would be?

Fuck. Even I don't know the answer to that one.

Candy Canes and Chestnuts and Popcorn on String

2005-12-22T10:50:00.000-08:00

Current mood: grumpy
Category: Life
If you or anyone you know falls victim to these over-used, tired cliches, please arm yourself and protect your loved ones.
For these people are beyond help.
They've fallen prey to the Christmas spirit
And must be put down
Do not approach people with a twinkle in their eye, or those with a "peppermint mocha" in hand, consider them contageous and extremely dangerous
They're beyond salvation, and must be put down
People with shopping bags or dead trees either affixed to car roofs or ceilings of homes (them's some trendy bitches, TRENDY bitches!) should be reported to the authorities.
Equally dangerous are those who've chosen to affix a wreath to the bumper of their car or deigned to wear a "Santa Hat" until December 26th.
Since this type of infection reaches the highest levels of the government and even if it didn't, the government is pretty ineffectual right now anyway, please report people in the throes of this debilitating disease to..... Try your local commie-liberal HQ
On second thought, they are ALSO beyond help and must be put down
In general, anyone remotely enjoying themselves during this season should be considered suspect and immediately terminated
In the event this is impossible, please engage a wire tap and then let nature take its course.
Currently listening: Fake Plastic Trees
By Radiohead
Release date: 26 September, 2000

Bareback Mount Him...No really....I loved it.

2005-12-15T13:51:00.000-08:00

The midnight screening at the arc light cinema in Hollywood was a tremendous milestone for me.

This film exhibits what people continually ask for from the movies today: originality.

Ang Lee took a difficult story and translated it into a fantastic film. The luminous landscapes coupled with the well-paced story give the movie a feeling of dimension and grandeur, while not overpowering the tremendous work of the actors.Heath Ledger, whom I previously thought of as a piece of eye-candy rarely well-utilized, really takes the seeds of talent he exhibited in Monster's Ball and allows them to come to fruition in Ennis Del Mar. His inner turmoil and inherently awkward nature are painful enough to watch; add in the explosively desirous and possibly dangerous character of jack Twist played by Jake Gyllenhaal and the near-tangible temperament of the 1960's and it's enough to make your heart break.

Every member of the supporting cast comes correct and makes this world a reality. Anne Hathaway is gorgeous (even beneath a country-fright-wig in a few scenes) and makes the most of each and every scene she has, taking Jake's charisma and meeting it wink for wink. Rounding out the film with the daring and emotive Michelle Williams we have a quartet of the most amazing young actors and actresses in Hollywood right now, and if they continues to make choices like this, I will follow them no matter where they go.

I was afraid that this movie might be yet another attempt by Hollywood to do something daring which resulted in clichés and let-downs. The surprising truth is that regardless of one's sexuality, this film is a beautiful example of that elusive thing: undying love.

I have a feeling this movie will be preaching to the choir, but I sincerely hope that others will give it a chance.

Fumbling toward insanity

2005-12-15T11:42:00.000-08:00

Current mood: uh....duh....

Things are very very busy, and then there's the holidays, which is all I will say about them. I have friends I love, people I wish to see, emotions to deal with and I'm incredibly lucky. However, incredible luck is not compensatory for incredible loss.

I try to stay positive and upbeat, and then I feel like there's a little worm in the pit of my stomach that eats the fruits of my labors.

No my friends, there is no balm in Gilead.

And Sarah McLachlan is a dope.

I'm just saying......

P.S. I wanna get really shitty and dance.

Town and Country

2005-11-18T17:11:00.000-08:00

I think I'm growing weary of this general area.
I'm an evolved city-boy. Not natural.
but cities aren't natural, so who cares.
Point being:
I LOVE THE CITY!
....usually.

Right now....not so much.

I wanna get out of the way of nighttime lights and gaze at stars and listen to QUIET.

soon, my friends, soon.

Sound Advice

2005-11-16T15:33:00.000-08:00

Glowing meat alarms Australians

Australians have been told there is no need to panic after a recent "glow-in-the-dark pork chop" scare.
A caller to a Sydney radio talk show sparked fears of radioactive contamination in the meat supply.
The New South Wales Food Authority said the glow was caused by the harmless pseudomonas fluorescens bacteria.
Food authority head George Davey said he understood people would be "shocked" to see their meat glowing in the fridge but said the bacteria were safe.
"It is important to remember that the micro organism responsible for the glow is not known to cause food poisoning," he said.
The bacteria are naturally present in meat and fish but they multiply quickly if food is not stored at the correct temperature.
So the glowing can be a sign that the food is starting to go off and Mr Davey recommends consumers throw any luminous pork chops - or other cuts of meat - straight into the dustbin.
"Remember this simple advice - if it glows, throw it."

Thanks Mr. Davey!

Our Wacky World

2005-11-15T10:25:00.000-08:00

So there's this lady right?
She was probably the hottest chick of the 80's and mid-90's.
Fairest of them all, you know what I mean?
Sometimes she looked like this....

And we liked her for that. It was unique and she wore wedding-dresses and danced slutty and she kinda evolved into the ultimate in "sexiness." Come to think of it, didn't she dabble in publishing?

It was around that time that she looked like this.......

And that was okay too, if maybe a bit more "sexy" than most of us were really ready for on VH1 at the time......sigh......

I remember moving to Southern California in 1999 and hearing about this tranny called Viva Sex, who did the best Madonna impersonation of anyone. EVER.

Now I never cared for Madonna, (Althought I do adhere to the Homo-Bylaws which clearly outline that any human being with a penis who likes other humans with a penis must own "The Immaculate Collection."), but I will say that Viva Sex really was pretty damned good. Even if she was a one-trick pony.

Who woulda thought that the hottest woman of the 80's and 90's would move to England, have kids and then end up impersonating her impersonator, badly even??

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!

Splendiferous gorgeousity!

2005-11-10T14:44:00.000-08:00

TA-DA!!!!!!!

Today marks the end, end, end!! of the show we have been sweating blood to finish.
It was marked by days of anger, harrowing self-doubt, alcohol, greasy food, and above all, patience and clumsiness.

We have finally reached the top of the mountain, prayed with the man who lives there and now we will all be making our way back down, to the gently rolling hills of the City of Angels.

It's funny how spending every waking moment of your life in a crock-pot makes you tunnel-visioned about making a stew. And then once you leave, suddenly, you aren't what you once were.

"Well, sure man," you may exclaim, "you're freakin' stew."

Damn skippy, friends, I am stew.

-thestrange

Are you KIDDING me?

2005-11-03T11:04:00.000-08:00

BOULDER, Colo. - Home Depot was sued by a shopper who claims he got stuck to a restroom toilet seat because a prankster had smeared it with glue.
Bob Dougherty, 57, accused employees of ignoring his cries for help for about 15 minutes because they thought he was kidding.
“They left me there, going through all that stress,” Dougherty told The (Boulder) Daily Camera. “They just let me rot.”
The lawsuit, filed Friday, said Dougherty was recovering from heart bypass surgery and thought he was having a heart attack when he got stuck at the Louisville store on the day before Halloween 2003. A store employee who heard him calling for help informed the head clerk by radio, but the head clerk “believed it to be a hoax,” the lawsuit said.
Home Depot spokeswoman Kathryn Gallagher said she could not comment on pending litigation.
The lawsuit said store officials called for an ambulance after about 15 minutes. Paramedics unbolted the toilet seat, and as they wheeled the “frightened and humiliated” Dougherty out of the store, he passed out.
The lawsuit said the toilet seat separated from his skin, leaving abrasions.
“This is not Home Depot’s fault,” he said. “But I am blaming them for letting me hang in there and just ignoring me.”

YAWN.

2005-10-29T15:04:00.000-07:00

taken from an MSNBC pointless-trivia-type-story.

Why is yawning contagious? - P.H.
If you don’t think YAWNING is contagious, see if you YAWN by the time you’re done reading this explanation of YAWNING.
First, let’s dispel a myth. You don’t yawn to take in extra oxygen. “That’s been rejected in lab tests,” says YAWN expert Robert Provine, professor of psychology at the University of Maryland’s Baltimore County campus. He had test subjects breathe air with extra oxygen. For others, he reduced the oxygen intake by giving them air high in carbon dioxide. Neither caused more or less YAWNING.
(YAWN. YAWN. YAWN.)
Provine says “we YAWN when we’re changing states of activity. Going from sleep to wakefulness, like YAWNING in the morning. Or wakefulness to sleep.” (He says we YAWN more in the morning when we wake up, by the way.)
“Concert pianists will YAWN before going out to an important performance. Olympic athletes YAWN before the big event. Embryos begin YAWNING eleven weeks after conception,” Provine notes. He says YAWNING is somehow connected to changing levels of body activity, changes from one state to another, like inactive to active or vice versa, but nobody understands just what the connection is.
“It probably helps stir up the blood and brain chemistry to facilitate those transitions from one level of activity to another.”
Why? “YAWNING is ancient and autonomic,” Provine says. “Maybe it’s to get everyone in the tribe to synchronize their states of activity, to increase the success of the tribe if everyone’s working together. We really don’t know.”
(YAWN. YAWN. YAWN.)
YAWNING is highly contagious, he says. Every vertebrate species YAWNS. Fish YAWN. Birds YAWN. Alligators YAWN. But Provine says it’s apparently only contagious in humans.
Provine has made test subjects YAWN by showing them a YAWNING face. Interestingly, if he shows them just the YAWNING mouth, it doesn’t trigger the YAWNING. If he covers the mouth, and shows them just the nose and eyes of the YAWNING face, it does. He’s made subjects YAWN by talking about YAWNING, or asking the test subjects to think about YAWNING, or by having them read about YAWNING.
Yawning yet?

good luck during the witchy season

2005-10-24T20:32:00.000-07:00

this rocks.

Today

2005-10-19T16:29:00.000-07:00

is a day whose time has come, and very shortly will be gone.
Today won't ever return, like your virginity or your baby teeth.

Course, like your virginity, very few people (aside from the deeply spiritual kook) realize the importance of today and its power. And, like baby teeth, today will be replaced, but the replacements need just as much care as today did.

"Today is the greatest day I've ever known."

And I will do my best to make sure each and every day I can say those words with all sincerity.

"You are all beautiful creatures. And I bless you:

More Life!"

get outta here. enjoy.

One

2005-10-18T17:15:00.000-07:00

There was the moment, Saturday morning in 2003 when I was working at the MOSAIC Project and had been for a few weeks now, and my new friends and I were enjoying the Napa forest and really sinking deep into each other and falling in love. Not the kind of love that leaves you sticky or sick-in-the-head, the kind of love that makes you want to grow it and spread it around for free.

We spent the morning rowing a boat in a little pond, Arturo and I, and we talked in the sun about God. And he reflected on his ideas of prayer, what it was, what it was good for. He had believed for a very long time, in the very basic tenet, that prayer, the conscious act of praying to God, was a way to communicate thanks for life, for the world, for everything to this all-knowing, all-powerful sentient and needy being.

I remember feeling so blessed to be able to share my thoughts with someone who I had experienced so much with. We rowed, shirts off, just men with lives behind us and futures and knowledge uncertain. Neither one of us was comparing or competing.

It was Idyllic.

I breathed the morning air in deep, noticed that Jose was wandering and exploring the man-made banks off to our left. Julie, Ginger, and Elicia, who I called "the three Graces," sat on a large rock on the other bank of the pond nearer to the kitchen/office of the grounds. They ate as we spoke. It looked like cheerios. As Arturo handed the oars to me, I wondered about my view of God. What was it?

"I don't think that a god who could create all this," the girls began to sing, in harmony, "would need our validation. Surely our thanks is evident. Surely waking up each day and taking everything in, as we have been, Arturo, is proof of our perfection in his eyes. No matter how we see ourselves, I think we were created just as we were meant to be. And anything that has the power to do that, sees our gratitude in our actions. Where the hell would mandatory, cheap, flattery figure into the equation?" I never felt more sure of anything in my life.

Arturo and I continued to exchange questions and quiet, and the day was probably one of the most meaningful of my life.

I knew in that one day, what it meant to exist, and to make an imprint on the world around me. I had found something infinitely more priceless than fame or wealth. And in that one day, I knew that this feeling was familiar. It was the light of recognition illuminating my mind so that these individual jewels of experience might be found. And lo and behold, they had all been sitting in my grasp threaded on the same string of my life. I guess I had never realized what I had in my possession.

Thinking of this reminds me of a story I read or heard somewhere sometime ago. It's something like this:

A society of people wear necklaces for their entire lives. For each day they are truly alive, they take the bead from around their necks and mark it with a notch. When they have died, this bead is tallied up and the marks totalled equal the true time they spent living.

How many notches would your necklace have?

Personally? I can think of one, off the top of my head.

2 was yesterday

2005-10-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

and yesterday I decided that today would be good.
as good as yesterday.
all my troubles were just games we played.
oh, yes ladies and gentlemen, I DO believe in yesterday.

and I believe in tomorrow as well.

Tomorrow will break with the same force as its predecessors did.
Perhaps rain, perhaps light, but surely another breath drawn in peace.
I continue to breath through the wide world and all it has to offer me.

I am not the man I was one year ago.
Imagine that.
Nor am I the man I was five or even ten years ago.

I hadn't realized just what was changing, until it occurred to me to look at myself.
I thought everyone lived like this.
Maybe they do.

26 years ago today:

2005-10-16T17:38:00.000-07:00

Every year my mother called me in the weeks and days before my birthday, and each time was exactly the same.

This year the conversation would have gone like this:

"hello?"

"Twenty-six year ago today..."

"Hi Mom." I always feigned boredom, which delighted her, of course.

"Don't interrupt. Twenty-six years ago today. I had a belly out to here and was due any day. You had apparently decided you liked it where you were and hadn't shown any signs of wanting to leave. But I knew...."

"Knew what?"

"I knew that you were just waiting for the right time. You've always had that sense of drama. I knew you would be my perfect creation. And you knew how to make an entrance. And when you were born, you were."

"I was what?"

"Perfect."

This always stung, though she would never understand why. "I am not perfect," I would say emphatically. But of course, in my mothers eyes (as it should be with all children), I was, and no amount of evidence to the contrary would ever convince her otherwise.

Like that for the past 25 years.

I broke down in the projection room today.

good thing the fuckers sound-proofed.

Three days to go.

3

four

2005-10-16T17:33:00.000-07:00

work is all I can think about currently.
which is why the silence yesterday.
however, the silence the day before was because reality was setting in, and i had no words to honor the severity of the situation.
the situation being, this is my first birthday in a sense.
It is my first birthday truly alone.

yeah, fuck all, it is definitely a "woah is me" situation.
severity level?
Well, to inject some humor, this one goes to eleven.

so:

"woe is me."

five

2005-10-16T17:32:00.000-07:00

for silver

seis

2005-10-13T20:50:00.000-07:00

porque mi vida y mi familia vive en mi sangre.
Y en mi Corazon.

6

2005-10-13T11:21:00.000-07:00

I want to write. Write and write and write.
Still not a writer, though, nay.

I just want to let rivers seep from my fingertips.
I want to pour my view of the cosmos onto paper and walls and rough-hewn boulders and let the world gain a bit of weight with my thoughts.

Seven is a number often conjured with mystic overtones. Seven Days. Seven Sins. Seventh Heaven. I guess seven days before my 26th year was a day when I clicked into focus.

I am applying myself to my life.

Six days left, let's see what one can accomplish when one isn't God.

neves (thank GOD that's solved Mix)

2005-10-12T17:56:00.000-07:00

Oldest noodles unearthed in China

Late Neolithic noodles: They may settle the origin debate

The remains of the world's oldest noodles have been unearthed in China.
The 50cm-long, yellow strands were found in a pot that had probably been buried during a catastrophic flood.
Radiocarbon dating of the material taken from the Lajia archaeological site on the Yellow River indicates the food was about 4,000 years old.
Scientists tell the journal Nature that the noodles were made using grains from millet grass - unlike modern noodles, which are made with wheat flour.
The discovery goes a long way to settling the old argument over who first created the string-like food.
Professor Houyuan Lu said: "Prior to the discovery of noodles at Lajia, the earliest written record of noodles is traced to a book written during the East Han Dynasty sometime between AD 25 and 220, although it remained a subject of debate whether the Chinese, the Italians, or the Arabs invented it first.
Lajia is a very interesting site; in a way, it is the Pompeii of China
Prof Kam-biu Liu"Our discovery indicates that noodles were first produced in China," the researcher from the Institute of Geology and Geophysics, Chinese Academy of Sciences, Beijing, explained to BBC News.
The professor's team tells Nature that the ancient settlement at Lajia was hit by a sudden catastrophe.
Among the remains are skeletons thrown into various abnormal postures, suggesting the inhabitants may have been trying to flee the disaster that was enveloping them.
"Based on the geological and archaeological evidence, there was a catastrophic earthquake and immediately following the quake, the site was subject to flooding by the river," explained co-author Professor Kam-biu Liu, from Louisiana State University, US.
"Lajia is a very interesting site; in a way, it is the Pompeii of China."
It was in amongst the human wreckage that scientists found an upturned earthenware bowl filled with brownish-yellow, fine clay.
When they lifted the inverted container, the noodles were found sitting proud on the cone of sediment left behind.
"It was this unique combination of factors that created a vacuum or empty space between the top of the sediment cone and the bottom of this bowl that allowed the noodles to be preserved," Professor Kam-biu Liu said.
The noodles resemble the La-Mian noodle, the team says; a traditional Chinese noodle that is made by repeatedly pulling and stretching the dough by hand.

There is evidence that a sudden calamity overtook the Lajia site. To identify the plants from which the noodles were made, the team looked at the shape and patterning of starch grains and so-called seed-husk phytoliths in the bowl.
These were compared with modern crops. The analysis pointed to the use of foxtail millet (Setaria italica) and broomcorn millet (Panicum miliaceum)
"Our data demonstrate that noodles were probably initially made from species of domesticated grasses native to China. This is in sharp contrast to modern Chinese noodles or Italian pasta which are mostly made of wheat today," Professor Houyuan Lu said.
Currently listening: Thanks I'll Eat It Here By Glenn Ribble Release date: By 14 September, 1993

neves (Infinite Crisis Mix)

2005-10-12T10:55:00.000-07:00

neves

2005-10-12T09:20:00.000-07:00

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/llama.php

Someone Else Noticed.

2005-10-11T20:54:00.000-07:00

"Hey! Strange! Did I see you on-"
"-yes, yes that was me."
"WOW! So you're, like, a gay celebrity?"
"Somethin' like that."
"That's so funny. You should be really famous and then everyone would know you."
"..."
"Wouldn't that be cool???"
"...for a time."
"Okay, well, bye- Celeb!"

It's great being recognized. It's fun and flattering and silly.
It's also incredibly akward.
How do you respond to anything in this interaction with anything that can be related to humility?

I guess the correct answer is: you soak it up and try not to act like TOO much of a bitch.
That, after all, was what the TV show was for.
Now, you have to prove you're a really nice person.

Right.

The Society Strange

2005-10-11T12:24:00.000-07:00

With eight days to go before my birthday, I decided that today would be the day to state clearly what this whole damned thing is about...
So...Without further adieu....

This is a call out to the hamburger stands and 24 hour taco carts of the world.
This is a plea to the office-workers and body-builders.
This is a question posed to the broken and bending masses on every continent.
This is a thesis on the value of super-heroics.
This is valuable information about the quality of life available to anyone who has had the exact same past as I have.
This is a potion to battle sorrow.
This is a dialogue between outsiders and insiders, where both parties find out that there's no such thing as each other.
This is an exclamation of coolness.
This is potty humor.
This is of utter importance to everyone changing.
This is sexuality in all its many incarnations.
This is Mythology having a drink with Reality, and then, if all goes right, a screw.
This is a sobering, cold shower to the irresponsible.
This is an interior monologue which bores even me.
This is wasted time, better spent on personal hygiene and broadened horizons.
This is for posterity.
This is the truth.
This is for no one.
This is for everyone.

2005-10-10T09:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star
Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like, when you’re older, must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town
And they tell him,Take your time, it won’t be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

NINE!

2005-10-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

NINE DAYS!!!
AH! AH! AH!

God how I loved the Count!
(Which is odd considering I really stink at math.)

So last night I went with Best Friends out to Fiesta Cantina and the like. Oh, it was a fiesta all right. And it all ended in our vodka. But it was a pleasant way to spend the evening so no complaints.

Its funny how things go full circle but always ascending. An argument, however familiar is never the same. That means progress. And that's good, because two years ago I wouldn't have been able to foretell this future. But here I sit, at 9:15AM, with nine days to go until my birthday, in my cozy office building, sipping a black eye and wishing for a hug from my mother.

She was right.
One day I would be sorry.
I guess that day is today.

Count Down from...

2005-10-09T14:24:00.000-07:00

10.

Because in that many days I will walk through a door into another quarter of a century.
This doesn't scare me.
This intrigues me.
Because I've been silent about it and watched as the world moves quickly toward the day,and forward, and my life moves with the same pace it always does and the sand keeps sifting through everyone's fingertips, and my mind seems to have slowed down to take it all in.

Last night I had what can only be described as a waking dream.
I was smoking on a patio which may (or may not) have been smoked on by Marilyn Monroe shortly after her divorce with the playwright Arthur Miller. I sat down and inhaled and suddenly my brain said, "this is another moment you're wasting, and in this moment a fight breaks out in the apartment across the way, the one where Debbie Reynolds supposedly used to hang out her window and talk with Marilyn as she sat where you are now, but now there's a fight and it's 2005 and a girl is screaming and a man is telling her to shut the fuck up and she just won't and that's when you hear the pitch in his voice alter just enough to know he isn't fighting aimlessly anymore he means it and she's no longer screaming, her breath has caught in her throat. "
Funny part was that at this moment the entire area was unusually silent.
"And the sound of the gun is followed a split-second later by the shatter of glass and a scream which is followed a split-second later with a bullet searching for and finding your chest," my brain finishes.

And I sat with a burning cigarette between my thumb and forefinger and my heart tightening and releasing as it always has, but now I was acutely aware of the fact that I wasn't bleeding, but not feeling "healthy" either.

I was detatched and curious if the myth of death-while-dreaming is not a myth after all?

I sat, and felt my heart beat in my temples, and along with my heart beat, my brain quizzing, "what will be remembered of you, if you die tonight? Where are you going when the bullet hits? How much more will you resent, accomplish, envision? When will the weight in your heart be lifted? Or will that weight be enough to kill you before a bullet does?"

I labored to finish my cigarette and then went inside, shut off the light and went to bed.

As I drifted toward sleep, I marveled at my acceptance of the future, no matter what it held. My complicity cradled me into the un-knowable shifting zone between awake and asleep and my last thought was this:

"Shit, I'm getting older, too."

10.

Brotherhood with fire.

2005-10-06T13:02:00.000-07:00

Been reading, and chatting and listening to all things bright and beautiful and decided to have this take on things:
The world, the universe, my own goddamn brain, have no idea with whom they are dealing.

A book I read caught a spark.
A song I heard gave it fuel.
A man on the other side of the universe said some things that have me thinking.
And I sit deep in the flames, allowing myself time and time and more time to really burn with this feeling.

What I mean is this:
I will not recede quietly in this roughness.
"What the flame does not consume, consumes the flame."
It's not an original thought, but I've never claimed originality.

And besides, I've got bigger things to consider than unique turns of phrase for the pleasure of whoever.

I'm through waiting for a hero....

Tradition

2005-09-14T20:53:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, September 17th, at exactly 8 PM I will be sitting in a seat so feet from the stage at the Greek. I will be crawling in my own skin, eager and implacable. I will chatter my teeth, stomp my feet, worry my stomach into knots.

All for tradition. All for memory. All for the end of yet another growing season.

I love this time.

Expecting something magical and fearing a loss of wonder.

I've said this too many time to count, but it is always true:

The experience of live art is one of the most precious things we can hope to have as humans.

Especially when it's Tori Amos.

And its the LAST FUCKING SHOW OF THE TOUR!

YEAH BABY!!!!!

I AM OBNOXIOUS!

Hello, It's me.....

2005-09-13T17:17:00.000-07:00

Hello, it's me

I've thought about us for a long, long time

Maybe I think too much but something's wrong

There's something here that doesn't last too long

Maybe I shouldn't think of you as mine

Seeing you

Or seeing anything as much as I do you

I take for granted that you're always there

I take for granted that you just don't care

Sometimes I can't help seeing all the way through

It's important to me

That you know you are free

'Cause I never want to make you change for me

Think of me

You know that I'd be with you if I could

I'll come around to see you once in a while

Or if I ever need a reason to smile

And spend the night if you think I should

It's important to me

That you know you are free

'Cause I never want to make you change for me

Think of me

You know that I'd be with you if I could

I'll come around to see you once in a while

Or if I ever need a reason to smile

And spend the night if you think I should

Think of me...

Think of me....

Think of me

One of the top 100 of 1974.....

for a reason.

six things for desiring:

2005-08-25T20:51:00.000-07:00

a warm bed in a room with a fresh breeze
two vodka drinks
a summer jam playing while driving down PCH
one good photo of your youth
a goal
a sense of mortality

here's to 'em.

The Little Gay Guy that Could.

2005-08-22T16:38:00.000-07:00

ithinkimsaneithinkimsaneithinkimsaneithinkimsaneithinkimsane....

It's a well-known opinion that thinking a thing is the easiest way to make said thing happen.
Here's hoping.

What is this I'm feeling?

2005-08-20T10:00:00.000-07:00

It's too early to be up and alone.

Choices made start seeming ridiculous and bright futures once-imagined look misty and far away.

Regret? Anger? Fear? Boredom?

I want to be alone. with a keyboard, a monitor, music, movies and stacks of books. I want to hibernate through this emotional winter.

I want to wake up not-jaded.

I want to take my sweet-ass time.

I want to fall in true love.

Sad songs and Waltzes

2005-08-19T15:01:00.000-07:00

I am a clean, blank slate.

I am a slate that has a no-stick surface.

I met Jeremy at a time when everything seemed to be beyond my control, and I took control of something:

My emotions toward HIM.

I couldn't control my feelings toward work. I couldn't treat my friends with respect and I couldn't allow them any space or time for themselves. I couldn't control my feelings about my mother. Still can't. I was burning through emotions and people with scary speed and wanton abandon.

I was a needy fuck.
Always have been.

And Jeremy appeared when I needed to be gathered up and he held me, unconditionally, so that I might put the pieces of myself back together, at least tenatively. He held me, and continued to. Came out to visit. Told me he loved me... I had even chosen a waltz for us to dance to when we next came face to face.

I know I love him.

I also know enough about the pieces that fit to know that he and I will not be in a relationship. And so I let him go. He slid away quickly and I feel I made the choice because of our states of being.

My mother used to tell me that she raised me to be too independent. To need no one.
Nothing could be further from the truth. I need someone, and I know that in that need, no one will be able to live up to my expectations. So my fear, in relation to my need, is greater and causes me to let things slip away.

Fear of commitment. It comes from many things. Wanting freedom. Wanting eternal youth and desirability. But what about wanting to be the only person responsible for your protection?
For your happiness? For your stability?

No man is an island and perhaps my desires to remain single are slowly building a prison around my head and heart. But for me that is preferable to chaining someone else to my feelings of need and self-centeredness.

I'd rather be alone than have company in my misery and psychosis...

At least for now.

Dis-ease free redux

2005-07-29T16:07:00.000-07:00

Sporadic writing is my watchword. Perhaps sporadic is the nature because I only write when an idea or lesson has crystallized in my minds eye. Or maybe I'm just a lazy punk.

It has been since sometime in July and though my life will never be stagnant, things have (at least for the time being) begun to settle into a rhythm. I write now to clarify a few things, and add depth to still others and finally to pose a few questions and a few opinions.

Independence day.
Was as brilliant as I hoped. The days I spent in Austin with Jeremy were inspired, hot, relaxing, erotic, comfortable, illuminating and new. Nothing throwaway, nothing ignored. His mother and brother were kind, his father respectful and appropriately amiable and withdrawn.

I saw my mother's lover from years ago, and what I believed to be a great canker between us was healed. My once-parent, once-nemesis and I were reconciled...Over lunch. She and I shared smiles and jokes. She interviewed Jeremy, and made him feel welcome. As she and her lover were about to leave, she grabbed me by the arm and whisked me away from Jeremy and her lover, and I was overwhelmed with fear, high-school awkward, delinquent fear.
When she spoke, though, it all dissipated as I realized her pain.
The one person I thought would never miss her, or care for my well-being did. She held me, and whispered in my ear how terrible she felt for the past eight years. She felt such guilt, and remorse for treating me so sternly, and only after the fact had she realized how good I had been. She asked for my forgiveness and the truth is, I had given up my anger years before, but this washed away even the memory of it. She was my parent. And now, years later, I know that my 16- year-old self would recoil in disgust at that last.

"My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue
an everlasting vision of an ever-changing view
a wondrous woven majesty in bits of blue and gold
a tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold."

Ater returning to LA, and while I continue growing comfortable in my roles as lover and loved, I decided to let my ex know how much I had valued him. I'm letting go of the past, and realizing that "letting go" isn't immediate. It is something my hands do slowly.

I want to feel that I am capable of growing in a way that allows others to do the same. I will not be the tree whose roots kill the surrounding growth. I said thank you. It felt good, and it felt even better to tell Jeremy.

I don't know that he will ever understand why these two acts (the call to the ex and telling Jeremy about said call) are so inextricably linked. Doing one gave the other meaning to me. Because I have always been a "past is the past" kinda guy, I turn back only when I am alone to look at my history at leisure. To introduce it to my future in the attempt to heal all aspects of a life is a new concept for me. But in the doing, both suddenly made more sense.

New Underwear

2005-07-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

So these new underwear I'm trying out are surprisingly snug, yet comfortable and relaxing. I dont know that I've ever felt so supported by my undergarments, be they boxers, briefs, a jock.....what have you.

these things kick major butt.

Independence Day, 2005

2005-06-27T15:46:00.000-07:00

I have felt, for a long time, and yes it's been a long time, that I was not making my choices. I have felt that my choice were being made for me.... because I was beholden to one person or another, one idea or another, one emotion or another. I have felt the desire for love, the confusion of a relationship destined for pain, and the regret of allowing myself to be vulnerable. Commonplace feelings all, but that fact does little to invalidate them. I felt robbed of the free will people so often complain of. And I wanted it more than anything in the world.

And I have reclaimed it as mine. As of now.

This Fourth of July I will be with the man I love. Because I choose to be.

His name is Jeremy and simply put, the guy kicks ass. He is someone whose personality keeps me curious, appearance keeps me aroused, and mind keeps me happy. He tastes like apples and I remember the tobacco scent he wore before we both agreed that smoking was a vice we were done with (for now). Now I expect the apple taste to be stupefying and mixed with other sweet things. His skin is clean and creamy and his eyes sparkle not with dreamy-clouded-far-away stars, but with the light of bonfires on night beaches and in cavernous forest clearings.

The ice we were so afraid of melted. It was thick, and never broke. Instead, our weekend visit caused it to melt underfoot and we swam through warm waters and fell in love.
On his stay we were polite, sweet, vacation-boyfriends (a term Best-Friend cherishes because he finds that these are the most worthwhile relationships). When he left, we were both broken-hearted and I walked around feeling as though my joints were made of fired clay, not meant to bend, and so I cracked gently with each step.

Eventually we said the "L" word to one another. Well, truth be told, I blurted it out as we departed. I shocked myself and him, and in my embarrassment, hastily walked away from his cab. Later on that week, through static-y cell phones, he told me he loved me, and I said I had meant it as he departed, and I meant it now. Still do.

This will be an Independence Day. This weekend I will spend with Jeremy deep in Texas woods, kissing and sharing secrets, raunchy jokes, beliefs, knowing glances. I will meet his parents. I will embrace a choice. I will embrace a future full of choice. Independence day I'll fly over fireworks, still tasting apples, on my way home. Where I will never again be what I once was, and that is truly beautiful.

Treading Lightly, Thinking "Ice" all the time

2005-06-01T15:48:00.000-07:00

Went to Austin with the Angel and My new surrogate benfactor.

Angel has been with me since before thoughts were formed by single-celled organisms. We met one night when I locked myself out of my own home. I was a cold night (for Southern California) and she offered me shelter. I said "I like your eye shadow." We've been friends ever since.

The new surrogate is another god-send. She has been instrumental in the past three months. Sparing no expense to see me comfortable. She does it because she promised my mother that she would. She does it to make sure that I don't spiral out of control or try channelling the Erinyes for the sake of vengeance.

They took great care to see that I was kept in Grey Goose and Whataburgers and cigs.
First night in, I met a boy. Not just a boy, a self-assured boy with the balls to speak to me, so obviously entrenched in my own world with my two guardians. Attraction was instant as was the feeling that he should know the nature of our epic tale. "We're here to pay our last respects to my mother's memory. We're here to recover her belongings. We're here to lose our minds and walk with her down her last path. " Somewhere in there he held my hand, and effortlessly, it felt held by him (along with my two guardian angels) the entire weekend. He made the surreality more bearable.

Now, slightly more than a month later.
He is coming to visit.

Is the ice thin?
Benefactor: "Quite possibly."

Is it Ice?
Angel: "Most definitely."

When will it break?
Best Friend: "What do I look like a fuckin Magic 8 ball?"

Angel, Benefactor, Best friend, they say, "Just enjoy your time together."

I say "okay."

So yeah, I'll tread where I fear to tread.

I might even forget the danger, but I will never forget the history thats preceded me, or the nature of plane I walk on.

MIA

2005-04-19T11:01:00.000-07:00

My mom was murdered.
no fucking kidding.
ON EASTER.
Strangled by her husband.
Innocent until proven guilty and all that rot.

And suddenly I feel crass and sick for typing this and sending it out into the universe, but I dont fucking care. My mother is gone.

I was talking with a co-worker when her ashes were delivered. I was happy.
I have moved from Long Beach to Hollywood, gone home for the memorial, had a trip to vegas, been on MTV, and organized future trips to Portland, Oregon, Austin Texas and Oakland CA.
I have been motivated by a deep, compelling need to move at the speed of sound.

The delivery was set down on the desk without a sound and yet it was the most intense weight on my chest. Like a fucking asteroid landed square on my heart.

This has been my life. Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun. FUCKING RUN. And then I hit a glass wall i never saw in the way.

I meet people or run into old friends by chance.

"Hi..." at what point do i say something because this is so obviously a "heart on my sleeve" situation. I run myself into these walls every few hours. I wanna scream and cry and be totally inappropriate, and sometimes i let myself do just that. In teeny, tiny amounts. But mostly I apologize for what I'm about to say. And then I meditate as I speak and pretend I'm doing a scene from my favorite drama. This isn't happening to me, this is something that never happened that I saw at the movies.

I'm beginning to scare people, and annoy them.
And I have yet enjoy a day where I dont terrify or sicken myself.

Last post seems ages ago, from a different person.
I keep wondering what it was like to feel that because all I can remember is feeling like I'm about to explode and fade away all at the same time.

It feels like I've always felt that.

This is not what life should be.

FUCK.

Hey there pussy-cat....

2005-03-21T11:48:00.000-08:00

How do you like the world you're in?
Satan has nothin better to do than haunt pet shop owners by appearing on the shells of turtles, straight men beat their chests like little old italian women as their heroes turn chicken in front of congressional hearings, and Monday morning was a revelation of time, energy and water.

What is the answer to life? Does everything mean nothing and therefore everything is connected? Do people really enjoy their time together or is it basically a desire to be validated by someone seeming to value our presence, when really theyre just doin the same thing you are? Is it as simple as "no one wants to be alone"?

So far, the world is a beautiful, sad, messy little business which we all gape at because it seems so goddamned BIG!
That can mean so much.

I alternate between cold-hearted terror, sunny acceptance and tepid apathy.

Right now I feel like im trying to mix all three like a baker with arthritis kneeding dough.

It's what I do, but seriously.....Youch.

Hands are Important...

2005-03-10T14:08:00.000-08:00

and for that reason, I think its time to start an impromptu list of things to be desired....

a copy, in any condition of Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata"
LUSH's Smitten Hand creme.
Pulled Pork in a warm, toasted Kaiser roll.
the feeling of a lovers arm beneath your head in the morning.
a knowing smile from a stranger.
cold, fresh Lemonade with lots of crushed ice in the Summer.

These are the first in what will hopefully become a great list of many things to be desired. From my hands to your eyes, O Reader.

Enjoy.

dis-ease free

2005-03-09T19:13:00.000-08:00

Bloodwork results back from doctor.
Everything is A-OK.

No nasty sickness, pestilence, or pariah-inducing disease.

woohooo!

Couple this with the fuel line which miraculously cracked and leaked but didn't explode in the accident and I would say that I have a certified angel alighting on my shoulder.

Actually, I knew that, but that dear angel certainly can be a fickle one, sometimes.

this boy...

2005-03-09T16:26:00.000-08:00

Aquaman continues to endear himself to me.
I love being in this precarious, sweet, sweet place.

We spoke last night at length about what it was like to like one another. I found it hard to put it into words.

"It's exhilarating.... challenging.... calming... unexpected... wonderful."
"I'll take that as good," he quipped.
All I could muster in response was "Hell, yes."

I suppose that this is what the Double-Dipper and the ex must be feeling. God bless 'em.
Forgiveness is a delicate thing, and I've chosen to bestow it upon myself (as much as myself will allow) and upon those whom I previously felt wronged me.

However, I'm learning that forgiveness, along with other ethereal things which we bestow upon ourselves and others, is wholly dynamic. Just like one can fall in and out of love, one can forgive and forget that forgiveness quite quickly.

That said, I have forgiven the past year and more. I'm trying to ease myself into a new phase of life and that includes letting go of anger for the two of them. I'm finding that with my new, beautiful, cheesy emotions, I don't really have time or room in my heart to nurse extreme anger.

After all, it's far nicer to kiss away the night and sleep with butterflies.

vroom, vapid, vexation

2005-03-04T17:53:00.000-08:00

Aquaman makes me feel sexy and foolish and air-headed all at once.
That takes talent.

In other news it looks like it's gonna be a SCION xA.
I told a friend and he said "How did i know?" in a very facetious way.

Apparently I'm the SCION "type", and didn't even know it.

new car?

2005-03-03T17:52:00.000-08:00

Since my accident, the insurance folks have decided that my beautiful spunky, raw, little '89 mustang is a total loss.

It just might be the saddest thing I've heard in a few days, but it's also a blessing in disguise since it might mean a new car for me...

Now the question is what to get. Honda? Toyota? Mini? Saturn? It can't be expensive, but it's gotta feel right. Any suggestions dear readers?

Phone Calls and Butterflies

2005-03-03T17:33:00.000-08:00

"I'm not like the boys that you've known
But I believe I'm worth coming home to
Kiss away night
this boy only sleeps with butterflies"

I'm not a total loss after all.

And again, art reflects the world around me just as much as the spirit within me.

Aquaman called me at work today. Just to say hello. It's nice.

We get along well, and while we don't understand each other totally('cause that kind of understanding takes years to perfect, and even then it will NEVER be perfect.), we find a way to sync up gracefully. We take each other in stride and with honor. We don't take each other for granted and the honesty thus far is refreshing.

This is the best time, the fresh time. This is the part where the snow is gently falling and excitement is building up and eyes twinkle with the anticipation and the experience.
If only it could stay this way. If only it could all be butterflies in stomaches and snow falling, while we eagerly wait for it to build so that we can make fanciful snow castles and angels.

Maybe this time it will.

total loss

2005-03-02T16:26:00.000-08:00

Peter, a representative from the insurance company handling my accident, said "It looks like your car is a total loss."

That was probably the worst lunch I've had in a while. And the kicker was that just as he called, I stepped outside Eatwell so as not to be rude, and a crazy homeless man deliberately walked into me and shoved me, to boot. After I had just lauded him for peeing on a building on Santa Monica. Some crazy people act like the just can't control themselves! I mean really!

So:

"Total Loss."

Those words have been coming up a lot recently in my life.

My Financial Security:
My first Total Loss.

My relationship to Mr.Turned-Inward, my navel-gazing fiance:
A Total Loss.

My relationship to my mother and father:
A Total Loss.

My '89 Mustang:
The Latest Total Loss.

At times like these, when our heads think faster than our hearts can keep up, we can choose to look at the circumstances as catastrophes with a chain reaction, like little bombs that keep setting off landmines in the vicinity, which set off more landmines. When you lose so much, so fast, you can't help but feel empty, and it's tempting to let your soul become a vacuum.

And then there's the other side.

With any luck, and some encouragement from your friends, you can force yourself to review what you've lost. Maybe they weren't bombs and landmines, ruining your world, maybe you're more like the earth desperately wanting to grow, but covered in dead and decaying vegetation. Maybe you were suffocating, and the universe is just acting (as it tends to do) as some mysterious and misunderstood keeper of the soil, employing the "slash-and-burn" method of destroying that which would destroy the fertile earth in order to allow it to cultivate new life. All of that is just a fancy way of saying if you look hard enough maybe, just maybe, you begin to witness just how brutal those things were when you had them.

Bad credit, bad boyfriends, bad cars: all of these things can be improved upon.
...but only after they've been lost.

A Potion

2005-03-02T08:20:00.000-08:00

It's clear when the universe thinks you need to learn.

Those are the times you pull out the garlic and holy water. 'Cause you have to draw a line in the sand, sometimes.

When your own brain starts to try to trick you into thinking you arent worth someone's love, and that the past was all one big joke that doesn't REALLY contain any important information except that you were a fool for a large chunk of it, that's when you have to accept that it isn't the universe that wants you to learn.

It's self-doubt that wants you to fuck up.

And that's when the garlic and holy water have to be turned inward.

"I am piecing a potion to combat your poison." Probably the best thing I've heard in years.

Thanks again, Tori.

Dating a Superhero???

2005-02-28T17:18:00.000-08:00

Well yes, maybe, depending....

Aquaman. I call him that because he looks like him.
My best friend and confidant says I call him that because it has something to do with him being able to hold his breath for prolonged amounts of time.

His exact words were "he can go down and hold his breath for hours, I'll bet."

Aquaman. Never thought he was particularly hot, and then you meet him in person.
Hot isn't the word.
Unbelievably sexy. That's closer to it.

So far we're connecting. Thats nice.
He makes me breakfast, and says I'm attractive, and talks with me, candidly.

What a change.

I'm not ashamed to say I think I might be trading up.

Cinespace-- Super Sized

2005-02-28T17:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the Oscars.
I was invited to be part of the celebration for "Super Size Me" at Cinespace.
The party was amazing, the people were fun and the goody bag was phenomenal.
I know cause I gazed into it. I thought there would be bags aplenty and decided to wait until I was about to leave to pick one up.

HUGE mistake.
There were only enough left for the crew which meant that I had to go without the round-trip airline ticket vouchers, the years worth of ice cream, the digital personal radio, the DVDs, the possibility of a plasma screen TV, and the Ballys membership.

ARGH!

But the drink were good, and afterwards I paid a late night visit to Aquaman, who I seem to be hitting it off with (despite a somewhat rocky start to our flirtation).

I think I like him.

Wookin Puh Nub

2005-02-24T13:07:00.000-08:00

MTV's "Next" should be airing within the next five weeks.
We'll all get to see me behaving badly, just look for the episode devoted to gay guys.
Until then, let's figure some things out. Together!

Angelina Jolie might be on to something with the whole "not talking to parental figures" thing.
Colonics are something to look into: Janet and Usher can't be wrong..
"Lost" is either brilliant or stupid.
Anyone know what the hell is going on? In general?
Diet Coke is bad for you.
Car accidents can be hazardous to your health.
I actually admitted to being in search of true love.
With the amendment that I am not some Don Quixote tilting toward windmills thinking they're giants. I know perfectly well there's no such thing, I just can't seem to help myself.
Why is that human nature??

I want a day off from thinking.

MTV Hangover

2005-02-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

Not four days after my accident I arrived to shoot the MTV dating show.
It turned out to be a day of good fun.

I will mostly look like a cruel, raving bitch.

THAT'S exactly how I'd like to be portrayed in front of the entire population aged 25 and under bored enough to watch MTV.

That's me:

The strange: perpetuating stereotypes with zeal.

Crash, Bang, Whizz

2005-02-22T13:44:00.000-08:00

Valentines Day.
On my way home, fresh groceries good for making home-made pizza in tow, listening to Nick Drake, I got rear-ended. Badly.
The car behind me plowed into my mustang, forcing me about six feet forward into a cute little beetle.

For the first time in my life I thought I was going to die.

Instead, I got thrown around my car and then spent about an hour dizzy and disoriented.
The hour after that was spent in an emergency room, before saying "fuck it," and going home to pass out.

I must give thanks to the very sweet man who came to my rescue.
He drove from Long Beach to Venice in about 20 minutes to pick up all my little pieces after the accident. I was a mess. I felt badly for not being able to make our fantastic pizza's, but he assured me that the day before, when he trotted me around Temecula as we tasted every wine made within a 20-mile radius, and my safety, were good enough.

The man is a romantic genius, and an unwitting hero.

Now, let's pray the car can be saved.

Six Oh One

2005-02-07T18:01:00.000-08:00

At precisely 6:01PM on Monday February the 7th, 2005 I, the strange, figured out a few things.

People can be especially brutal to those they love the most. Even someone's imminent death is not above being ridiculed and made into a trifle.
Love is rarely a straight path, and frequently the way is beset with thorny brambles.
Like is a wonderful mid-wife to love.
Deceit and Desperation are Loves immediate negation.
It's sometimes nice to know it takes the two to conquer the one.

Post-Mortem

2005-02-07T10:04:00.000-08:00

The weekend is over.
Long live the weekend.
It truly was a spectacle of debauched dating and wanton spending.

Saw Sideways. That film is beautiful and brilliant and tight and messy and true and completely, horribly fictional. It almost doesn't live up to all the expectations that have been built up since its been getting such intense reviews. But then it somehow magically does.

I wish someone would be my Paul giammati.

p.s. The new Ferris Wheel at the Pike in Long Beach is AWESOME. Truly romantic.

Unlikely Allies.

2005-02-04T15:30:00.000-08:00

I was sick and tired of being maneuvered, done to, and feeling like a jerk the past couple days, so during my lunch, I decided to take a long one and try to indulge in some much-needed retail therapy.

My fortune cookie gave me the nudge I needed in that direction as it said
"Reward yourself with a much deserved gift." Nice to know the force is still with me.

Two AMAZING pairs of shoes later, I'm feeling like I can take on any stupid romantic scuffles, and it's nice to know that fortune and the universe will be with me.

I said boys I bring home the bacon now.

Bloody Hell.

2005-02-04T13:02:00.000-08:00

Club Boys Room.
Last Friday.
Major Drama including a guy I used to screw around (intensely) with, my ex-fiance, and me.

It boils down to this:

The two of them knew one another, upon discovering that news I bore no ill will, but decided I would rather steer clear.

The guy I used to scew around with (whom well call the Double-Dipper) and I have mutual friends, whom I was going to Club Boys Room with last Friday Night.

Upon hearing this Double-Dipper called me up (after I asked him NOT to contact me) and asked if he could meet up with us. Because no one knew the drama surrounding us, and I didn't feel int appropriate to drag innocents into anything that could easily be avoided, I said okay, hoping that we could avoid mention of the issue and the night would be fabulous.

Double-Dipper flirted with me intensely all night, and then,on the way home, proceeded to tell me just how well he and my ex knew one another. They're dating. Have been. Things are good.

This, I assumed, was my permission to explode.

My beef is NOT based in jealousy, nor is it based in regret. It is based in rage and confusion as to why Double-Dipper felt inclined to "hang out" with me, then flirt with me, then tell me the details of his dating life when I EXPLICITLY asked him not to contact me weeks ago.

I exploded, and then apologized the next day, when I began to feel that my drunken dramatics were inappropriate and crass. I thought things had blown over and they would become just a (somehwhat major) footnote in my romantic memory.

And now:

There is a picture of me, my best friend and the DOUBLE-DIPPER at Club Boys Room
on-line.

We look rather cosy.

How bloody brilliant.

Do You Realize, Hoochie Woman?

2005-02-03T17:35:00.000-08:00

Last year, this time. I went around qouting the Flaming lips "Do you Realize?," from the Album "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots."
It was probably one of the most romantic songs I could conjur from memory...

Do you realize-
You have the most beautiful face
Do you realize-
We're floating in space
Do you realize-
that happiness makes you cry

This year, not even with a first listen, Tori Amos' new song, Hoochie Woman, from the new Album "The Beekeeper," is already the qoute of the moment for me:

Keep your Hoochie
And the bank accounts
'cause boy I bring home the bacon
I said boys I bring home the bacon now.

Time was I was angry.
I have to own that, and continue to move toward the future
But this isn't anger, this is just me saying I can do for myself.

And that is the most romantic thing I can think of right now.

"It's Fun to Shoot Some People."

2005-02-03T15:47:00.000-08:00

That's what the MARINE GENERAL in command of expeditions in Afghanistan and Irag said in a press conference on Tuesday.

Specifically, Lt. Gen. James Mattis mean Islamic fundementalists who believe women should be wear their burqas, and in some cases physically abusing them, or so he asserted. He thinks "guys like that ain't got no manhood left anyway."

And now his words are being broadcast far and wide.

Thanks Lt. Gen. Mattis! One more shining moment for ALL of the United States!

Fish and Pee

2005-02-03T13:31:00.000-08:00

During my lunch (which consisted of leftover fish and chips ) I got a call from a friend of a friend.

"Yer mom's in jail." I thoughtfully munched my fish, the chips had already disappeared. Reheated, they werent very good, but I took one for the team.

"I've heard."

"She was drunk off her ass, with her ass in the air, pants around her ankles, peeing herself. On the front lawn of the house."

...munch...

"The neighbors came out of their houses to watch her ranting as the cops drove up."

...tartar sauce...

I'm sure more news will trickle in. Still, none of it will be surprising.

Mom Jailed. Nothing New.

2005-02-03T11:30:00.000-08:00

No, that is not a headline from the Onion. That is the news I recieved this morning about my mother. The second sentence is my reaction. We'll update you more as we receive more information.

Odysseus I am Not.

2005-02-02T15:32:00.000-08:00

So I went to the MTV thing. Stood terrified, but put on a front. The MTV Truly Enthusiastic Employee People seemed to like me. They were in fact very nice, if a bit too caffeinated.

I made a few lame jokes and acted like a Truly Enthusiastic MTV-Watching Sexually Ambiguous Homeo. I think the New York Dolls Shirt with the naked chick threw them off. They even asked if I was "bi," to which I replied with an amused but modest "nooooooo, no, no, no, no, noooooooo." The other contestants and I had to play a pointing game:

"Who's the most wild?"
point.
"Who's the rich kid?"
point.
Like that for about twenty minutes.
And the two girls and I had never met.

Then they asked me to "give a sexy strut."
The idea of doing a "strut," sexy or not, put me off. So I figured, well what they really want is just naked ambition.

Next thing I know my shirt is off.

Ah, the powerful seduction of the Corporate Siren's Song knows no bounds.

Dynamic shifts in mood.

2005-02-01T14:27:00.000-08:00

The original name for this blog, I had mused, was going to be "The Social Inferno."

The name was attributed to the fact very often I feel like my feet are being held to the flames of social pressure, and after some discussions with various friends and strangers, I've deduced I'm not the only one.

Whether the emotional glaciers began growing from necessity because of the inferno's increasing heat or vice versa is not a matter worth arguing. What is know is that emotional glaciers are what we become as most of us try to steal our hearts and egos from pain. The Social Inferno is a constant furnace of intensity licking away at our protective barriers.

Research shows that every Ice Queen melts under the diligent barrage of the Social Inferno. Thus we become exposed, tender, little bundles of nerve endings and emotion no matter how hard we try. But we still try.

I was trying very, very hard to be a Iceberg: a meandering giant, powerful, terribly huge, and deliberate, a force of nature. (After a serious beark-up, that kind of break-down is inevitable.)

Somehow, though, everywhere I turn, my boundaries are beset by these flame-throwers.
Sometimes they're great, and I'm smiling and the sun shines and I don't mind a little thaw. And sometimes it's gruesome and I melt into a puddle that is best described as an rancid, evil, Bizarro me: Bizarro Strange #666. And sometimes I melt so quickly I vaporize and become a raincloud that floats around without really DOING anything except looking surly and dark.

Today was a bittersweet thaw.

After discovering Ivan Noble passed away on Monday, I was called by....

MTV!

To come in and audition to be part of a new dating gameshow that is strictly for "very hot guys!" and they are "very very interested!" in meeting with me.

Somehow I totally pulled a fast one on this lady.

So yes, it is terribly cheesy, and no it is not a freak-of-nature thing.

I actually sent in my name and phot to some craigslist posting during a bout with my floundering ego (ya know " god, I'm in my mid-twenties, gay, and just got dumped...will anyone ever find me attractive again?!?!?").

Point.
click.
high-speed uploaded photo; just-as-high-speed-swallowed-pride, with a good dose of instant gratification.

Yes, it's completely ridiculous.
Yes, it's highly unlikely that I'll be chosen.
Yes, it's deplorable, not to mention hypocritical, that I'm such a vocal critic on the sujbects of MTV and Reality shows.
And Yes, I desperately wanna be the boy who gets to choose from five others.

Afterward, dear reader, I'm sure we can all expect a full or (at the very least) partial refreeze.

I dont even know what.

2005-02-01T09:06:00.000-08:00

I've taken this from BBC News because this was one of the things that helped me stop smoking last year. This man was courageous enough to take his experience with something so completely human and horrifying and share it with the world. I kept hoping for a Hollywood ending for him. Now I can't help feel robbed of something. Hope maybe. I feel sad, and I didn't know him. Perhaps it's selfishness. I didn't wind up with the comfort I thought would come from a headline that would read "BBC writer Ivan Noble in Complete Remission-- proving again that happy endings do truly happen." I read this, first thing this morning about a man whose life I've followed for a little over a year, kinda came to rely on. What an unexpected morning.

BBC writer Ivan Noble dies at 37

Ivan had worked for the BBC News website since 2001Ivan Noble, the BBC News journalist who has been writing about his treatment for a brain tumour for the past two years, has died aged 37.
Thousands of users of the BBC News website followed regular accounts of his cancer, which last year included a second period of remission.
In November, however, his tumour began to grow again and last month he was admitted to a London hospice.
Ivan died on Monday and leaves a wife and two children.
Pete Clifton, editor of BBC News Interactive, said: "Ivan's column and his tremendous spirit have been an inspiration to all of us - to his many readers around the world and to his colleagues at the BBC.

Ivan: A personal appreciation
Ivan Noble interview

"He asked to write the diary soon after the original diagnosis. He wanted to talk openly about cancer, to demystify the disease and allow people to talk freely about it. And, as a journalist, he wanted to carry on writing absorbing material for the site. Typically, he delivered on every count.
"The dialogue that opened up between Ivan and the readers was remarkable. We will all miss Ivan, and his column, but I think his humour, bravery and compassion will leave a lasting impression on us all."

Response

Ivan started writing a column about his cancer not long after he was diagnosed in August 2002. There was a huge response from readers, some of which was published with each entry.

Ivan's final column

Many readers sent comments saying that Ivan's openness had helped them come to terms with their own cancer or that of relatives, and Ivan established a close affinity with some of them.
He appreciated the support of readers, saying: "It's incredible and humbling that people are interested in me - and it does me an awful lot of good because it takes me out of myself and makes me think about the job that I do."
In his final column, which he wrote late last year in anticipation of being too ill to continue writing, and which was published last week, he said the feedback people had given him had helped him survive as long as he had.

Tribute

Professor Alex Markham, chief executive of Cancer Research UK, sent his sympathy to Ivan's wife and children, and said: "The hopes, fears, honesty and courage he shared through his regular diary entries were very moving and truly inspirational. Great advances have been made in cancer research in the last 10 years but, as this sad news highlights, there is still much left to do.
"Ivan's death will, for me, act as a constant reminder of why we need to continue working hard to understand this most complex disease, to effectively treat it and, ultimately, to find a cure for cancer in all its forms."

Remission

Following his diagnosis, Ivan had three brain operations, radiotherapy and chemotherapy. He also got married and, while in remission, took the decision with his wife to have a second child, who was born in July last year.
In his columns, however, he jealously guarded the privacy of his family, never referring to them by name.

Ivan was born in Leeds in 1967 and was educated at comprehensive schools in Luton and Leeds before studying German at the University of Aston in Birmingham.
He lived in East Germany from 1988 until 1990 where he worked as a translator. After graduation he joined the BBC, initially as a translator, then as a sub-editor in Nairobi.
He became an internet journalism trainer and in 2001 joined the BBC News website science and technology team as a journalist.
A collection of his diaries is to be published later this year by Hodder. Proceeds will go to charity.

I think it's the unflinching happen-ness of the universe that somtimes threatens to drive us crazy. I was fed on fairy-tales, nursed on goodness, and brought up by saccharine. It's the "yeah, yeah, this stuff really does happen- deal with it," baseness of the world that I sometimes lose my breath over. Like I said, what an unexpected morning. I don't even know what to do next. And its only 9AM.

First Entry

2005-01-31T18:32:00.000-08:00

Johnnie-Come-Lately? Sure.
Johnnie-Come-With-Nothing-Intelligent-To-Say? Balls to that.

Blogging has become "the next big thing." Creative-types the world over are clamoring over one another (figuratively, not literally) to write their names in the sands of the internet.

"I was here."

Like so many children who've carved their names onto desks in public schools before us, all we want is to make our marks. We wish for someone to read our scrawls and take something from them. However small their gain, it is the gain that matters. If I can bestow some small amount of pleasure on you, some fleeting thought about me, then I have gained immortality of a kind.

It's remarkable that it's taken this long.

I have long considered myself a guy who writes. Not a writer, because then I would have to adopt all the quirks and conundrums that accompany that moniker. I also get to side-step the anxiety caused over writer's block. No performance-anxiety for me, thank you.

Since I do consider myself a guy who writes, though, it was only a matter of time before I tried my hand at blogging. So far, in the past ten minutes (not counting the first draft of this that was accidentally deleted ), It's been a barrel of monkeys. Although I must think of something else to write about, because the business of writing about the business of starting a blog is quickly losing its luster.

Blog away strange.

And Welcome to Any and All Most Esteemed Readers.