EBP

New Project Idea

2011-02-03T23:22:00.002-05:00

Before I forget ...More for my own sake than anyone else, I want to document here that I had a pretty decent idea for a project. Though I haven't begun yet.

I want to reopen my Facebook account, dismantle it gradually and blog about it. I don't know how interesting that sounds to outside parties, but for my own sake (as I said) I'd like to take all the personal things I contributed to Facebook over the 3 or 4 years I was addicted to it, and assemble them in this forum/medium with context and sentimental value and insight. I wrote many personal things in my "notes" section, and collected wonderful quotes and reviewed books I'd read, and movies I'd seen. I was a pretty serious Facebooker. But... what good is all of that stuff when you can't search it or even access your earliest contributions?? Have you ever tried to scroll back as far as you could? It takes forever.

At any rate. All entries on that front will be tagged under the label: "Dismantling Facebook". I hope to make it commemorative, if-not exactly riveting.

And now.... bed.

What Seems Like a Dizzying Cluster-Fuck

2011-02-03T22:53:00.002-05:00

Sometimes way too much happens at once to blog about. I seem to be in the midst of one such period.

Hopefully I'll have the time to detail things soon, but in a nutshell... the vacation was a little bit terrible, but not without redeeming qualities. Weather was gorgeous. Temperature was perfect. Both beach and ocean were sublime. Resort was "meh". Wedding was really, really simple and beautiful. Family was misbehaved and typical. Picked-up a parasite and suffered a week of diarrhea. Returned home to discover the aforementioned uncle had died. (no, I'm not making that up.) Returned to work, to complete upheaval and the most traumatic day of my professional career. Reported to a new office and new job to discover a renewed excitement I haven't felt in probably over a decade... possibly ever. Took a letter that I've been crafting for weeks (physically) to Scooters place, placed it in his mail-box, walked to subway, rode 2 stops, turned-around, rode back and walked to Scooter's place again and took said letter out of his mail box, then proceeded home. (I'm ridiculous.)

This weekend I'm headed to Kingston for a funeral that now isn't happening until Tuesday. I'm coming back to Toronto on Sunday and will not be able to attend the funeral because I don't want to be "that guy" starting his new job, fresh-off a vacation and then taking time off for dubious-sounding family deaths that (to me) would sound an awful lot like "dog ate my homework" stories kids tell their teachers. (again, I say I'm ridiculous.)

I'm tired folks. Dead fucking tired. Not enough sleep. No sex (since October). No pot on the god-forsaken vacation. Stress, stress and more stress. Not enough exercise. Diarrhea from hell. Mass-firings of co-workers I've known and worked with for years. Dead uncle. A dodged-bullet in will executor duties. Now, a useless trip I can't cancel, to visit family I've already spent too much time with all-too-recently.

Blah! Too much activity doesn't even make for entertaining blogging.

I got a lot of sun, and watched a lot of movies during my vacation though: "The Illusionist", "Unstoppable", "Breakfast With Scott", "Megamind", and "Red"... all, very entertaining.

No song or lyrics today, merely because I just want to go to bed.

I'll try to write again soon.

Who'd You Rather Be; the Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

2011-01-23T14:44:00.003-05:00

If there's a dull roar...
If the silence is deafening...

It's only waves from a mighty ocean,
Heard from the island where I am this time tomorrow.

February's going to be a world of change.

Gimme Sympathy - Metric

Get hot, get too close to the flame
Wild, open space
Talk like an open book
Sign me up
Got no time to take a picture
I'll remember someday all the chances we took
We're so close to something better left unknown
We're so close to something better left unknown

I can feel it in my bones
Gimme sympathy
After all of this is gone
Who'd you rather be?
The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
Oh, seriously
You're gonna make mistakes, you're young
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, "Here Comes the Sun"
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, "Here Comes the Sun"

Don't go, stay with the all-unknown
Stay away from the hooks
All the chances we took
We're so close to something better left unknown
We're so close to something better left unknown

I can feel it in my bones
Gimme sympathy
After all of this is gone
Who'd you rather be?
The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
Oh, seriously
You're gonna make mistakes, you're young
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, "Here Comes the Sun"

Gimme sympathy
After all of this is gone
Who'd you rather be?
The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
Oh, seriously
You're gonna make mistakes, you're young
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, "Here Comes the Sun"
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, "Here Comes the Sun"
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, "Here Comes the Sun"
Come on, baby, play me something
Like, "Here Comes the Sun"

Eak, Pugs and Windbag

2011-01-20T15:56:00.006-05:00

Hmmm... I'm wondering what it is about me that makes me so distrustful of even those who are close to me.

I'm having an e-mail discussion with Eak even as I type this, and he asked me why I wouldn't just get Pugs to water my plants for me while I'm away next week. And if I'm honest with myself, I wouldn't trust her to just water the plants and leave, and that gives me a feeling of unease.
Eak, I would trust with my life, and wouldn't even care if he spent all day every day there in my apartment while I was gone, but there's a strangeness to Pugs that even after 2 years of a "good" friendship, I suspect that she would linger and snoop. Not that I have anything earth-shattering to keep hidden, but I do a lot of personal writing I don't let "anyone" read, and ...well... I'd hate to think of her riffling through my porn or any manner of kinky things (ie: lube, toys, attire) she could find with little effort by going through my bedroom.

This makes me an asshole. I'm certain of it. She's a sweet old lady who thinks the world of me, and I don't trust her to water my plants. Ugh. I guess you'd have to know her. I may yet go and make another key and let her do it for the sake of my plants, which will undoubtedly suffer for water after 8 days unattended.

Eak has offered to take me to the airport, which is incredibly sweet. But that's who he is. And we've come a long way. I declined the offer, because there's no need for him to drive across town 2 hours earlier than he'd normally get up on a Monday morning, when I can walk for 7 minutes and catch a bus that will drop me off at my airport terminal. I'm grateful though. I hope he knows I appreciate it beyond just saying I do.

--Dear Fucking Jesus-- while I'm typing now, one of my co-workers is on one of his tangents in my ear on the phone. Oh how I wish I was the type of person to tell someone to "shut the fuck up!" I've worked with this dude for the better part of 10 years at 2 different radio stations and his talent for nattering on and on about absolutely nothing of importance, never ceases to amaze and annoy me. "Cell phones", "internet service providers", "radio and television stations", and "right wing political bullshit"... without prompting "Windbag" will launch into a 20 minute vocal editorial. He's a 30 year old gay man with the demeanor of a senior citizen with chronic hemorrhoids (he voted for Rob Ford for fucks sake!). And I'm not alone in my opinion or dealings with him. People on staff, take turns rescuing one another with fake phone-calls to save comrades from the grips of his verbal diarrhea.
I do on occasion ridicule him in a high-pitched voice as I'm passing by. Without stopping to engage or join the enraptured victim(s) pretending to listen, I'll squeak "Are you STILL talking", as I head out of earshot. But he never seems to take it to heart. I cut him off and told him I had to retrieve a chicken burrito from the toaster oven in the kitchen. (not a lie) Now it's time to eat said burrito and get my butt to volleyball. I haven't played since early December, the second playing season starts tonight and I'll be feeling it tomorrow no doubt.

Song of the day is from a British band called "Hurts", that I'm absolutely loving despite the fact that I can't buy their album in Canada yet for anything short of my first born. Here's hoping it's released here soon. The song is called "Stay". And of course it makes me think of Scooter.

Hurts - Stay

My whole life waiting for the right time
To tell you how I feel.
Know I try to tell you that I need you.
Here I am without you.
I feel so lost but what can I do?
'Cause I know this love seems real
But I don't know how to feel.

We say goodbye in the pouring rain
And I break down as you walk away.
Stay, stay.
'Cause all my life I felt this way
But I could never find the words to say
Stay, stay.

Alright, everything is alright
Since you came along
And before you
I had nowhere to run to
Nothing to hold on to
I came so close to giving it up.
And I wonder if you know
How it feels to let you go?

You say goodbye in the pouring rain
And I break down as you walk away.
Stay, stay.
'Cause all my life I felt this way
But I could never find the words to say
Stay, stay.

So change your mind
And say you're mine.
Don't leave tonight
Stay.

Say goodbye in the pouring rain
And I break down as you walk away.
Stay, stay.
'Cause all my life I felt this way
But I could never find the words to say
Stay, stay.

Stay with me, stay with me,
Stay with me, stay with me,
Stay, stay, stay, stay with me.

A Scooter Tale

2011-01-19T15:15:00.005-05:00

Do you think that when you treat someone really well, that they'll always come back to you?

I know I haven't "said" a whole lot about Scooter lately, but it doesn't mean he hasn't been on my mind... like a feedback loop... or a virus...

Mind you, as of late I've spent a helluva lot more time thinking negatively about him, and how we're not even going to be able to be friends. Quite frankly, I've had little choice but to think about all the negative things about him. Here we are in the midst of another break. Another bout of silence, that I'm pretty sure he feels is up to me to break, and come back when I'm ready. But... the thing is... the part of me that wants to do that is really diminished. More so than it's ever been. And right now, I'm just kinda clinging to the idea, that eventually we won't be all that important to one another anymore. It's kind of already happening. I mean, how many times can two people come back to one another to reaffirm they want different things? Especially when one of those people has no sexual boundaries and keeps hurting the other person (who happens to still be in love).

I still flounder back and forth, and fuck knows, I have really, really bad days still where I miss him with a really profound ache, and wish I could just be around him. But then I remind myself how cold and cruel he's been to me, and how he just can't seem to communicate and use the English language to tell me what it is exactly he does want from me, so I find myself more often feeling I've had enough and no amount of growing-up on his part could ever make it worth it to let him get close to me again. But like I say... that's floundering and wavering... and the "giving-up" part of me is just on the heavier side of the scale right now. But whether encouraging or discouraging... that is where I'm more apt to linger these days when I'm driving myself crazy thinking about him.

During our last lengthy break from one another, (which lasted from April to September) he told me he just "needed more time"... though he never specified what he needed that time for. When he contacted me at the end of August, there was no mention of what that time had been spent evaluating... just that he missed me. And when we got together near the end of September, a very romantic kiss, made things very ambiguous for my best intentions of just being friends. I might add, that I think it's both shitty and immature of someone to need "time" to be someones friend. I don't have a disease, and it's not like I can "make" him love me.

I've spent too much time playing the idiot.

Plain and simple.

There are two ways in which Scooter does NOT treat me like a friend: 1) the physicality... the kissing, the holding, the nuzzling, the intimacy. 2) the emotional arm's length... no longer discussing anything of depth, only communicating in person and pretty-much ignoring all else. That is not the behaviour of a friend, and on two levels, it's not something I can work with, adapt to, or accept: 1) I have been in love with him for a long time. I can't be given the physical intimacy I want. I'll never say "no" to it, and he shouldn't want it if he doesn't think of me romantically. 2) we WERE friends before. Friends that spoke and shared and communicated. To roll-back our contact to something less-than what friendship is about seems pointless.
Both paths are blocked and impassable.

When last we spoke (a week and a half before Christmas) I told him I didn't feel welcome in his life. He said (I'm paraphrasing) there was nothing he could do about it. I said, perhaps we needed more time apart. To which he replied that would be fine and that I should just contact him when I'm ready, and I said I didn't think I'd contact him again. Again he said there was nothing he could do, he wasn't "cool with it", but he'd wish me well if that's what I wanted. So... I said good bye.

I'm leaving stuff out... just so you know... but that's the gist. And now we play this ridiculous waiting game rather than discuss our differences.

To see it in print, I know I'm done. He won't hear from me again. But.... and that's a huge BUT... I know he'll be back. And I'm not looking forward to my reaction to it. I'm not looking forward to telling him to "stay gone". I'm not looking forward to telling him "thanks for thinking of me. I hope you're happy and well. Take care." I'm not looking forward to telling him "I have zero interest in being in your life because you feel guilty". I'm not looking forward to ignoring him entirely. I'm not looking forward to saying "what do you want?" or "Fuck you". Because I see all of those things as an unwillingness to forgive him for something I don't think someone needs to apologize for. He doesn't love me. Big fucking deal. That's the way life is. At the same time, I think it shows a tremendous void of respect for myself to even attempt to be his friend. He's proven he can't. He can't respect my feelings and keep his hands to himself. And there's no level of acceptance in between. It's not like I'm being given the chance to be around him and just suck-it-up that we're never going to be together, because we end-up not speaking for months at a time, because I'm not allowed to be around him and in love simultaneously.

His rules.
Not mine.
It just so happens, this time I've chosen to walk away because he called me back into his life to hurt me -yet again- and it hasn't quite occurred to him, that I'm being given every reason to not even fucking "like" him anymore, and why would I return to a friendship with a douche bag and ignore the humiliation of ever being in love with said douche bag for the honour and privilege of being said douche bag's friend?

Sounds pretty cut and dried doesn't it? Simple decision.

Simple decision had I never ever been close to him.
Simple decision if I didn't know how damaged and hurting he is.
Simple decision if there wasn't a delusional core of me that believes he's loved me for a long time and just can't trust that what I feel is real because of the mind-set I was in when we met (after coming out of a 12+ year relationship, and determined that polyamory was for me.)

For all of these reasons, and the HUGE, glaring, life-chewing issue of my sanity being at stake... I stay away. And I will stay away. Far, far away with no real danger of breaching that agreement with myself.

Being in love with someone... like I mean the crazy, movie/romance novel level of love... is as close to insanity as I've ever come. I'm not even convinced I'm not already plummeting to absolute absence of common sense as I type this... a fall set in motion too long ago to ever turn back from or reverse the effects of. I know I shouldn't want it anymore. I certainly shouldn't want Scooter anymore. It's a trap. Being in this kind of love with anyone, is a mind trap.

It's made me afraid of everyone who even smiles at me.

I don't know how I'm going to react on that inevitable day when he comes back to fuck with me again, or try to make amends... whichever the case may be... but I do vow, that I'll never let myself feel this way about someone who doesn't feel exactly the same way about me - ever again.

I'm hoping upon hoping that I won't want him by the time he figures out that I'm not coming back, but I can't even guarantee that.

Absolute madness.

Sweet Nothing - Ashlyne Huff

The sky is grey today
It's like it knows
It knows that it's that kind
A couple highs but mostly lows
Gravity has come
Forcing me to fall down to nothing

You were my conviction
My happiest concern
Then it all came down
When luck was gonna turn
Gravity has come
It's done this once before
And now I'm feeling

Sweet nothing
Sweet, sweet nothing

The atmosphere is cold
I thought I'm feeling more
Now it's more like numb
And I don't care to be yours
Gravity has come
But it hasn't won
And all our memories drift away into the

Sweet nothing
Sweet, sweet nothing

I guess I tried
I guess I'm fine
I think I'll try again sometime

Sweet, sweet nothing
You were my sweet, sweet nothing
I feel sweet nothing

Chocolate, Orgasms & Soothing Voices

2011-01-18T17:15:00.003-05:00

There's strangely little to do at work this week. I think it has something to do with the glaring absence of our sales manager, thus leaving the sales reps to their own devices. This suits me fine today, because I've had a headache since I woke up.

Today, I was talking to one of my co-workers and listening to him speak, I found myself comforted by the sound of his voice. He's an elderly gentleman, and though his voice isn't "soothing" per say, it's calm and steady. As a result, I found myself wishing for a bonafide "soothing" voice.

Among the strange things I'll admit to, I am deeply affected by voices, and it's probably no small coincidence that I gravitated towards radio as a career. A soothing voice can literally cause a "trance-like" state for me, complete with a tingling sensation that's right up there with chocolate and orgasms. Not to mention, a guy with a sexy voice is immediately 75% more attractive to me, even if he's not good looking.
It's a weird affectation, but I'm sure I can't be the only person with a "fetish" as such. We have ears. And hearing is one of our most profound senses in relation to how our brain processes information. I know this because of the countless advertising seminars I've sat through.

On a day like today, in a lull of better things to do, I'll search YouTube for whatever comes to mind. And I went looking for "soothing voices". Sadly, I didn't find much that qualified that wasn't just a little odd, and furthermore, I found absolutely nothing that could appeal to, or induce that aforementioned "trance-like" "tingly" state.

I did find something that might prove useful for falling asleep, but the woman's voice is bed-time story worthy soothing. Check this out.

I remember as a kid I used to watch Bob Ross on the Joy of Painting. I found his voice rather transfixing. That reminded me of The Secret City with Commander Mark. Though, checking it out today I realize I had a crush on Commander Mark. I don't think it was his voice. Or his mustache. (Definitely not the mustache.) I think it was his eyes... and his enthusiasm... and the jumpsuit.
C'mon, he's kinda cute in that 80's way. No??
Wow, I loved that show. Drawing and watching him draw used to keep me thoroughly entertained.

My search for a soothing voice on YouTube continues. I'll keep you posted if I find anything.

In the vein of all things soothing... I encourage you to click here... for the Flower Duet. Don't ever say I don't mix things up musically.

Flower Duet (English translation)

Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
With the roses entwined together
On the river bank covered with flowers laughing in the morning
Let us descend together!

Gently floating on its charming risings,
On the river’s current
On the shining waves,
One hand reaches,
Reaches for the bank,
Where the spring sleeps,
And the bird, the bird sings.

Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!

Under the thick dome where white jasmine
With the roses entwined together
On the river bank covered with flowers laughing in the morning
Let us descend together!

Gently floating on its charming risings,
On the river’s current
On the shining waves,
One hand reaches,
Reaches for the bank,
Where the spring sleeps,
And the bird, the bird sings.

Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!

Meaty Doesn't Know I Call Him Meaty

2011-01-17T15:46:00.006-05:00

One of the problems with telling tales about real people in your life, is remembering the "nick-names" you give them. Since typing this sentence I've gone back and found the name I gave to Poppycock's lovely man: ..."Meaty". It makes me snicker a little as to why I call him that. I'll just say it revolves around his penchant for testicles and let your imagination do the rest.

I needed to remember because I'm going over to their place tonight for dinner and Meaty's cutting my hair, so I look all nice-nice for my niece's wedding next week in Punta Cana. A beach vacation sounds sooo good right now. I can't properly express my longing for a week of sun, water, heat and nothing to do.

Today was Poppycock's Canadian Citizenship ceremony. I was up bright and early, holding up my right hand and swearing my commitment to Canada and the queen right along with him. Momentous day. I could have done without the judge blathering on about Venezuelan goat cheese, but "Hey"... she's a judge. She can talk about what she pleases. And "no", I'm not making that up. It's out of context obviously, but it was no less a topic of her "greeting/story" to the new Canadians in the room.

Friday night I hung out with Marty. She and Fucktard (that's not me being mean; it's his honest-to-goodness, affectionate nickname) have broken-up again. We had a very long, very heartfelt conversation. I think she appreciates that I listen, but I think I prompt conversation that goes a little darker and sadder than people want to venture. *sigh*
They've been together for more than 2 years now. They've built a house that's almost ready for them to move into. And they've suffered and suffered and suffered a really volatile relationship. Y'know one of those relationships in the movies that every one of a girls friends would tell her to cut and run? Well, I'm not one of those friends in the sense that I know you have to let your emotions run their course. (Look at me and Scooter for fuck's sake.) But I also know she's not really happy, and I lightly, ever-so-gently, acknowledge this with her. She's not unaware. There's just a lot of factors to consider.

Marty and I didn't spend the "entire" evening talking gloom. After I shared my woes, we watched 2 episodes of BBC's "Life" (narrated by Oprah). And when she started falling asleep, I said my good byes and was home by about 2am.

Saturday I was determined to go clothing shopping for formal beach attire that won't make me look like a homeless person or a dreadfully overdressed person when I give my niece away at her wedding. There was a lot of snow Saturday morning, I was lazy and horny and I hate clothing shopping - so, I procrastinated the endeavor well into the late afternoon. But since I needed clothes, I did eventually go. And I'm pleased with the boring pants I picked-up for the occasion. I needed boring pants. Doesn't everyone?

More pleasing, were the sexy athletic long-sleeved shirts I bought for volleyball and football. The strategic striping makes me look like my chest is massive. Me likey! I bought 3 of them for 45 dollars. (total) Which pleases me more.

After the shopping, I met up with Poppycock and we went to the new restaurant that Meaty now works for. PC paid for dinner for my birthday, and we kinda had a somber meal together. It was the first time we'd spoken since last weekend, (we had a scrap) so it was a little awkward. Fights will do that. But I think we were ok at that point.

Sunday, I went for dinner with Eak and used my gift certificate for The Keg that my mother gave me for my birthday. We had a nice meal and then went back to his place to hang out. I got a hero's welcome from the dogs and Eak and I just talked and played cards and listened to the new Kanye West album. I brought a joint with me, so we smoked that, and I have to admit I got a little lost in my own head.
There are still times when I'm around Eak that I just want to throw my arms around him and cry and tell him how much I miss him, and that I wish things could be the way they were before. Times when I miss him so badly because he knows me and loves me.
But that's just the loneliness talking... and the weed... and the nostalgia. We've both moved on, and I wouldn't muddy the waters like that, because I want him in my life, and I know that I don't want him to be my "partner" anymore. I just mourn him a little still. He was my best friend and now he's not. We may get back there some day. But not if I express any doubt in the roles we're developing in each others lives. Truthfully, I don't want him back the way we were. I just got to thinking sadly that many people give a relationship a second chance, and we're just not going to. Luckily, I don't think he wants that, but if he "did", there's nobody who deserves a second chance more than him.
I'm talking all of this sentiment for no good reason. He told me yesterday that he and his boyfriend are moving in together February 1st. There isn't a pang of jealousy or regret in me. So I know that everything is how it should be. Eak's going to be saving $400 a month, which will be good for the dogs, and for his debt. I honestly couldn't be happier for him. My lapse was just self-pity and THC.

For all my visiting this past weekend, I still feel like I've been spending a lot of time alone. But... I'm feeling good about it for the first time since I was single (before Eak) in my early twenties. As I was telling Marty on Friday night, I'm not certain there's anybody for me now. I've grown really wary of letting anyone get close for one thing, and as I've mentioned in here before... I'm a ghost/angel/alien. Who's going to be like me? Better yet... who's going to put up with my identity crisis? I'm better off dating myself for a good long time. The sex sucks, but no one can hurt me.

And sometimes in the time it takes to construct an entry, your plans change entirely. Meaty got called into work, so I'm headed home for a Skype session with Lion. No dinner. No hair cut. Just a chat with someone who "would" have sex with me were it not for the intercontinental boundary of an ocean. Pesky thing, that.

Kanye West - Hell of a Life

I think I just fell in love with a porn star
Turn the camera on, she a born star
Turn the corners in a foreign car
Call the coroners do the CPR
She gave that old nigga a ulcer
Her bitter sweet taste made his gold teeth fake, uh
Make her knees shake, make a priest faint, uh
Make a nun cum, make her cremate, uh
Move downtown, cop a sweet space, uh
Livin’ life like we won the sweepstakes, what!
We headin’ to hell for heaven’s sake, Huh!
Well I’mma levitate, make the devil wait, Yeah!

[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life

Never in your wildest dreams, never in your wildest dreams
In your wildest
You could hear the loudest screams, comin’ from inside the screen
You a wild bitch
Tell me what I gotta do to be that guy
Said her price go down, she ever fuck a black guy
Or do anal, or do a gangbang
It’s kinda crazy that’s all considered the same thing
Well I guess alotta niggas do gang bang
And if we run trains, we all in the same gang
Runaway slaves all on a chain gang
Bang bang bang bang bang

[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life

One day I’m gon’ marry a porn star
We’ll have a big ass crib and a long yard
We’ll have a mansion and some fly maids
Nothin’ to hide, we both screwed the bride’s maid
She wanna role play, ‘til I roll over
I’mma need a whole day, at least rolled doja
What party is we goin’ to on Oscar day
‘Specially if she can’t get that dress from Oscar de
La Renta, they wouldn’t rent her they couldn’t take the shame
Snatched the dress off her back and told her, “Get away.”
How could you say they live they life wrong?
When you never fuck with the lights on

[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life

[Outro]
I think I fell in love with a porn star
And got married in a bathroom
Honeymoon on the dance floor
And got divorced by the end of the night
That’s one hell of a life

January 13th 1992

2011-01-13T17:44:00.002-05:00

Today's a pretty poignant day for me. I got thinking about it last night. This is the 19th anniversary of my dad's death and I had just turned 19 at the time. I now proceed in life having lived longer without my father than the time I had with him.

I can't even fathom how this much time has passed, but that's what time does. It's kind of nice at this point because seldom do I ever think of my father without fondness, and I know I didn't always when I was younger.

Last weekend I had some friends over to play crokinole. It was a game my father and his brother taught me, and that my family played mercilessly. Sharing it with friends was a really great way to remember my dad with a lot of love. He never, EVER let me win. It made me a good player at a very young age.

You were loved Harv.

(Hee Haw reminds me of him, big time.)

Archie Campbell/Buck Owens/Hee Haw

Down here on the farm the weather gets messy
Laying around with nothin' to do
When you went away, you took my cow Bessie
I miss her darling, more than I miss you

You took off your leg, your wig and your eye glass
And you shoud've seen the look on my face
I wanted to kiss, I wanted to hug you
But you were scattered all over the place

Chorus:
Where, where, are you tonight?
Why did you leave me here all alone?
I searched the world over,
And thought I found true love.
You met another and
Phht! you were gone.

I know that you loved me, here's my way of knowing
The proofs hanging out right there on the line
When I see the snow and feel the wind blowing
Your nighties hugging them long johns of mine

The noises you made at our supper table
Your habits, my dear, were surely absurd
But how many times do I have to tell you
Soup is a dish to be seen and not heard

Chorus:
Where, oh where, are you tonight?
Why did you leave me here all alone?
I searched the world over,
And thought I found true love.
You met another and
Phht! you were gone.

Remember you phoned me a-sobbin' and cryin'
The dog bit your maw, and drug her around
You said she looked pale and thought she was dying
I said "Don't worry, I'll buy a new hound."

I had six kids and you had eleven
And we had a boy, and they grew like flowers
I wish you'd come back, without you ain't heaven
'Cause your kids and my kids are beatin' up ours

Chorus:
Where, oh where, are you tonight?
Why did you leave me here all alone?
I searched the world over,
And thought I found true love.
You met another and
Phht! you were gone

I searched the world over,
And thought I found true love.
You met another and
Phht! you were gone...

6 am in Toronto, 12pm in Madrid

2011-01-11T06:27:00.002-05:00

I'm up really early because I got to Skype with Lion (in Spain). : ) Only for a few minutes though. He had to run, but he really wanted to see me with no beard. He says I look good, but he's biased.

I miss him.

It's always nice to see him when it's 6am for me and noon for him, because he's full of energy and that's the Lion I remember. Happy and feisty and cute. Nobody loves me like him. Nobody ever has. He puts a perma-grin on my face.

Back to bed though for half an hour if I can even sleep at this point.

....and oh yeah... ...I just saw this story... we're doomed.

Stick Your Fingers Down Your Humility

2011-01-10T22:51:00.004-05:00

I think I should stop blogging. I'm leaving signs of my insanity on the internet.

Hmmmmm.

When I'm emotional, I should go nowhere near the internet so as not to cause others to vomit.

Yes.

...Or myself to vomit at a later date when I'm feeling relatively fine but decide to go back over my previous works of 'genius' that I write here.

Like tonight. ...'Feeling fine, then I read about how devastatingly sad and excommunicated I feel from the world, and I barf.

Or, my ego barfs.

Since it's figurative and I haven't had to physically clean anything up in slimy chunks from the floor, I'll say my humility barfs. How 'bout that?

Whole Lotta Naked

2011-01-10T12:54:00.006-05:00

The birthday weekend is at it's end. I can't remember at the moment whether I mentioned what my intentions were for the actual day, but I thought I'd be different and invite my friends to a strip club. It was only the second time in my life I've ever been.

Hardly anyone came, which in retrospect is probably a good thing. I didn't know what to expect, but... at any rate, I bought myself a lap-dance with a very beautiful black man, who told me I was the first handsome birthday boy he'd ever performed for.

I suspect he says that to all the birthday boys. But he was all up in my business, telling me how good I smell, and asking me if I was single, and why I was single... He was absolutely, stunningly, gorgeous. I was really surprised that he kissed me. Do strippers generally kiss people? Is that a faux-pas? He asked me to come back too. (I realize that's no big surprise.) I broke his heart when I told him I was an Atheist though. lol Poor poor christian stripper with the smokin' hot body. His life is probably a helluva lot happier than mine.

Peachy and Puppy (and Puppy's friend) (the only friends who went to the strip club.) were grilling me when I came out, only for me to discover just how gentle and tame I am - and how pristine and polite my actual lap dance was. Maybe that's why he kissed me. He thought I was there to ask him on a date. *sigh* I choose to be amused by this, because I can't be anybody else. I treated him like a human being. No shame.

In other not-so-exciting news, I shaved my beard off.

BIG mistake.

It's growing back as I blog. I've never felt so naked, or quite so homely. It's the first time in about 14 years though. Weird feeling. It felt so smooth, I wished I could kiss someone for a while. That would've been nice.
: )

My co-workers are in agreement that it's not a flattering look. I gather this by the polite lack of comments. I knew immediately after I'd done it that I was going to let it grow back. But at 38, with all the grey taking over my face, I thought I'd give it a try and see if I recognized the guy in the mirror without the furry mask. Turns out he's just naked without it. Not youthful, not hiding something more handsome.... just naked. Put some clothes on that mug.

Song of the day, something random that my iPod graced me with yesterday on the subway. Made me think of Scooter. Surprise, surprise, surprise.

Kelis - Trick Me

Said I've paid all my dues for that I've done
And I showed you that I loved you more than once
There's nothing left there to decide
Said you, might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice
Freedom to us has always been a trick
Freedom to you has always been who ever landed on your dick
Seen it in you one to many times
Said you might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice

no
Might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice
Might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice no
Might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice
No I won't let you trick me twice

Those days are old and overdone
And it's only cause I'm not with you that you make me number one
Though I may love you
I hurts me deep inside Oh
Now you no longer have to hide

I used to be down with the late night hit
Started gettin' heavy when I really wasn't ready
Used my class to get in my mind
So I fell for your lies like all the time
I thought you were the shit to be playin' around
Call the police there's a mad girl in town
Couldn't get even here without a sound
It's not how I wanna get down Yeah

You
Might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice
Might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice no
Might trick me once
I won't let you trick me twice
No I won't let you trick me twice
No I won't let you trick me twice

And I've paid all my dues for what I've done
And I showed you that I loved you more than once
There's nothing left there to decide
Ooh Trick me I won't let your trick me twice
You might trick me once
No I won't let me trick you twice no
You might trick me once
No I won't let me trick you twice
Whoa!
Peace

Happy Birthday Idiot

2011-01-05T23:03:00.006-05:00

Hey!

It's the last day of being 37 for me. And I'm not sure how I feel about it. I've been so consumed by other things and feeling insane, that my life has been passing me by actually.

Tomorrow and Friday I'm off work, partially because I want to party for my birthday, partially because I have 2 remaining holidays for 2010 that I have to burn off before the work upheaval, and partially because the holidays have made me lazy and I want to have extra days to stay in bed. A four-day weekend for my birthday after a 2-day work week sounds pretty good to me. Though it's doing nothing for my ability to get up early and start plodding away at my exercise regime again.

Speaking of exercise... In addition to volleyball starting up again shortly, I've also taken steps to sign-up to play football this spring/summer. The season starts in May. It's flag football, not tackle, but still... lots of running and physical activity to keep me active and sorta social. I say "sorta" because, speaking strictly from my volleyball experience, team sports are great for making you feel like you're part of something, but not necessarily for making friends. In my current mental state it suits me just fine though. I don't have energy for the friends I have, much-less for anyone new. ...Not a very sun-shiny disposition for someone so close to his birthday, but honesty is my thing.

Anyhow... a few random things... my friend Kujo and his husband are in India, welcoming their new baby boy into their lives. I got an e-mail with a picture of the 3 of them together over the weekend. We exchanged niceties and I congratulated them with the ever-so-slight edge of envy. Not that I want a baby. (I don't think so anyway.) But I guess it's "human" to see other peoples lives so filled with things they seemingly want, and wish I wanted something bad enough to get it. I am genuinely happy for them. It's going to do Kujo a world of good to create a loving and supportive home for his son, that won't include the conditioning or conditions of his own Islamic upbringing. Right now I can't even imagine being over Scooter long enough to find someone else to love and be with, and marry and try all the domesticities that Eak and I failed so miserably at, much-less add the care of another human being into the mix. Fuck... I don't even want another pet.

For that matter, as lonely as I am, I don't even want another man. I'm so shredded it's not funny. It's going to take a long while. The way I see it, I've got a long period ahead of me before Scooter realizes that I'm not coming back, then his attempt to show me he wants me in his life again.

I've spent the past few days writing yet another fucking letter, telling him I'm done, but I can't decide whether to send it or not. So much of what I feel for him is "protective". I feel like a tremendous failure to tell him "you're hurting me, and I can't let you anymore", and yet I know he doesn't want my support or intimacy because he's afraid of sending me mixed messages. Because all the physicality doesn't confuse me at all. (sarcasm) But the thing about Scooter is, he's got an incredible disconnect-ability when it comes to his body. He'll give you sex. It means very little. He is that damaged. And yet, it's through physicality that he seeks the spark that will lead to a lifelong love.

This letter I've painstakingly crafted and named "the grenade" has gone through many edits. Some of them loving, on the verge of apologetic for giving up, some of them angrily calling him on his shit and being harsh enough to raise his stupid Aries ire of superiority. All of them, wishing him well with great sincerity and bidding him good bye for good.

The potential for "the grenade" to become a "boomerang" is large. So I know if I send it, I must be prepared to stick with it and shut him out. Good bye, must mean good bye. I don't get angry enough at anyone I love to ever shut them out entirely. My anger though toothy, carries the clout of an angry Koala bear. Scooter knows I'll forgive him again, though I do think this time around he realizes how close I am to being hurt enough to say I can't do it anymore. Fuck... what makes me think I know anything he thinks. I'm a nut case.

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
--Albert Einstein

I need to let go. And I don't need to tell him I'm letting go. I just know it's only a matter of time before he's back again. Which doesn't have to mean I'll accept him back. But I'd rather have closure and tell him to "stay gone". Though, as an idiot slash addict... the last thing in the world I want is him gone, and any attempt he makes to keep me around is going to make me feel gratified and wanted.

Fuck, am I REALLY, actually, honestly having this conversation with myself online for anyone to read on the eve of my 38th birthday, thereby signifying my adulthood as a man of almost 40, and simultaneously affirming my penchant for the rambling concerns of a 14 year old girl?

Are there not bigger concerns in my life? Yes. Yes there are.

This is not love. It's sickness. It's energy and devotion only deserving of reciprocal, healthy relationships... not this bleeding mess of a fuck-buddy obsession gone terribly awry, 2+ years after the one night stand that I didn't know how to have.

How can I possibly love him? I don't do I? Could anyone listen to me and tell me "yes, sometimes that's how love is right before it magically turns healthy"?

Ugh... Happy Birthday to me. Tomorrow is today, and I disgust myself.

"You're a Disaster" - Dragonette

You're a disaster
Does anything matter to you
Do you ever slow down
Touch your feet to the ground underneath
Faster and faster
Straight for disaster

You're a disaster
And it makes all the laughter look sad
So pull up your socks
Or crash into the rocks you're headed for
What are you after if not disaster

Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration
You better find, you better find another medication
The one that you're using is bruising you

If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you

Aah aah aah aah aah aah aah aah

Yeah the outlook is grim, and the shape that you're in is diminishing
How long can you last for
Before disaster

Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration
You better find, you better find another medication
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you

Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration (Aah)
You better find, you better find another medication (Aah)
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken (Aah)
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you
Something to ruin you
Something to ruin you

At Year's End

2010-12-31T11:34:00.004-05:00

Last day of 2010. It feels like it just got here and it's gone.

Poppycock asked me last night what my greatest impression of the year was. I said it was a year of growth and learning. I'm in a stage of my life where I'm either going to continue to change significantly and be more willing to be happy, or I'm going to languish in stagnant behaviour and be an increasingly miserable person. ...I think not.

My birthday is coming. Next week. I'm going to be 38, and it never ceases to amaze me how each approaching birthday comes with the triumph of defeating some previous neurosis that means nothing now, and new tawdry concerns that do a dance in the corner until the day passes and I realize I'm older, wiser, and simultaneously not as old as I feel or as wise as I think I am. Hopefully that's genuine evolution and not just running on the hamster wheel.

Final song of the day spits in the face of that wisdom. It's a song for Scooter. The insanity in my life. We're on another indeterminate break. I can't go back. And yet I know he's not gone. We're not done. I can't be the one to ask for anything more, and my nature will never see me turn him away. It's neither good nor bad. It's merely the narrative between us. There's nothing I can do but stay away. Loving anyone is insanity. If we were wise we'd keep our distance from everyone, and yet the ultimate foolishness is isolation for the sake of fear.

For now... I let everything be. I have no control.

Happy New Year!

Shayne Ward - Obsession

Baby baby what can I do? I need to know that I belong

Belong with you
Yeah with you
Baby baby what can I say
The more you play those wicked games
The more I stay
The more I stay

Teacher be concerned
I want it so bad right now it hurts

Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I’m in obsession
I’m in obsession

Baby baby don’t make me beg
I only want to give up air
Breathe you instead
You instead
Baby baby just ring the bell
And I’ll be staying after class
Under your spell
Yeah, your spell

Teacher be concerned
I don’t think my lesson’s been learned

Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession

Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession

Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession
’session
’session
’session
’session

Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession

Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession

Honest Uncle

2010-12-27T23:01:00.004-05:00

"You can leave now".

This is what my socially awkward, hermit uncle Bob said to me on christmas day 5 minutes after I arrived at his house with a plate of food and a pie, and a gift from my mother.

For all his nasty behaviour over the years, I have to smile a little at his honesty. His life hasn't been good. He doesn't like people. My mom's a crazy bitch. He grew up surrounded by emotionally stunted people. He has epilepsy, and was taught to be ashamed of it by his father. He has no reason to be nice in his mind.

It was a live enactment of "Scrooge" in a way that didn't offend me. I don't like people either. I just don't want to end up like that. I don't think it's possible, but still. It's nice to have a living road sign that tells you to turn back.

Happy Holidays uncle Bob. Your honesty is refreshing. Pity is an empty sentiment.

I Feel You

2010-12-23T01:16:00.005-05:00

I'd like to acknowledge to anyone who might come along and read the stuff I talk about, ...Yes. I'm aware of how gay I sound. ; )

"Urban precious slob" is my term. I coined it. It's me. I'm a little bit hippy, very big picture, self-superior, egocentric, ego-checkin', sometimes morbid, rarely present, man. And if you meet me, or read what I have to say and go "what the fuck", it's mostly because I'm one of "these". If I'm trapped in a moment, or absorbing the social atmosphere of a room, it's not unlike me to ask someone to repeat themselves. I read people "feelings first". It's pompous, presumptuous and 9 times out of 10, a reliable basis for my assessment of peoples character and how I should interact with them.

In my opinion, "empath" is often confused and completely indistinguishable from the labels "softy/geek", "internal", and "brooding".

It's also exhausting.

But yeah, just in case anyone ever wonders if I know how "gay" I sound, I will observe of myself that flamboyance is at it's height in me when I write, and truthfully, I kind of embrace that. Because most of my waking life is spent listening and absorbing the neurosis and abuses and self-consumption of the masses, or... ...obsessing about things and people. When a person obsesses over "nouns", he's not seeing the whole big picture. It takes some big picture thought to realize this short-coming in yourself. What does it take to quiet it, and invent/contribute to the picture?

Working on it.

Perfect Winter Evening

2010-12-22T16:22:00.003-05:00

Who had a perfect, perfect winter evening last night? Why me!!

I met up with two of my friends, ("Buju" and "Puppy") that I haven't seen since well before Halloween, and we went to the Kensington Market Winter Solstice "Festival of Lights". It's not like we did anything spectacular besides commune and get caught-up, but the combination of company and events just left me feeling cozy and a little more willing to open myself up to the beauty I tend to forget comes along with this time of year. The night was perfectly cold and dry, which made the crowded streetcar ride tolerable for the heat it provided. Buju filled us in on her break up with her boyfriend of many years, and Puppy filled us in on his adventures in dating since he's decided he's ready to move on and find someone new. We walked through Kensington, which is fun even when there's nothing going on. There was a small crowd on the street, but as we walked we heard drums and caught sight of folks walking up Queen street with lanterns on sticks. We followed the festive parade-of-sorts and ended up in a school yard baseball diamond where the drummers joined a larger troupe and then things turned tribal. It was awesome. Beating drums, fire dancers, and a clear sky with the moon smiling on the CN Tower. The longest night of the year, celebrated with the burning of a ceremonial wooden sculpture. After the crowd dispersed, we walked back through the market and happened upon Wanda's Pie in the Sky. Puppy had a berry bar, Buju had apple crisp, and I had pecan pie. And we all had the most amazing hot chocolate, made with real chocolate.
If that wasn't good enough, I spotted a really cute guy that plays in my volleyball league. The first time I saw him I chatted him up somewhat awkwardly because I thought he was really sexy. I was pleasantly surprised last night that he recognized me and said hi. We traded smiles and a brisk conversation across crowded tables. He told me he works there at Wanda's. This may result in me eating more pie. He's from New Zealand and he's really adorable. Maybe I'll be smitten and free of Scooter. Maybe just maybe. I can hope.

Incidentally, both Buju and Puppy are from Spain. Catalonia and Barcelona respectively. I met them both through Lion while he was living in Canada. Love them Spaniards!

Anyhow, I'm off to a party tonight at Peachy's place. So I gotta run.

Kay Starr "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm"

The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing
But I can weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm.
I can't remember a worse December
Just watch those icicles form!
What do I care if icicles form?
I've got my love to keep me warm.

Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
I need no overcoat, I'm burning with love!
My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher
So I will weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love to keep me warm.

(Instrumental)

Off with my overcoat, off with my glove
I need no overcoat, I'm burning with love!
My heart's on fire, the flame grows higher
I will weather the storm!
What do I care how much it may storm?
I've got my love, I've got my love,
I've got my love to keep me warm.

Sheepless Goat

2010-12-21T17:24:00.005-05:00

I cannot wait for the holidays to be over. If that makes me a Scrooge, so be it. There's a certain level of "normal" I'm hoping to rediscover by the time February or March rolls around. ...Pending the luxury of still having a job by then.

Poppycock hung out with me on Friday night. I've missed him. Since he's been in "new relationship" mode, he's been justifiably preoccupied. I don't hold it against him, but it doesn't change the fact that he's pretty absent from my life. We had a good time though. 'Ordered pizza, drank wine, talked, smoked a joint. I cried a little over Scooter to him. He talked to me about the stresses of his job. (He has a really emotionally taxing job, working with people who abuse and are abused.) And after introducing him to the amazing Sci-Fi show that is Farscape, he did a Tarot Card reading for me. The cards unanimously agreed that I am one sad panda, and that I need to love myself more. Granted, one doesn't need Tarot to determine these things about me. One only needs to be a close friend... which Poppycock happens to be. So I do take these readings with a grain of salt, but I've seen his gift with matters supernatural, so that grain of salt, comes with a considerable amount of respect. That, and PC knows, my stubborn goat heart is gonna do, what it's gonna do.
The first round with the Tarot cards is always a question of detail. I asked them if I should be worried about my job. The second round is a "Yes or No" question, of which I inquired (very uncharacteristically) if I would be coming into any money soon. PK, had a firm picture in his head that the cards wanted to talk to me about my love life, even after the reading when I told him I asked about money, he was insistent that the four cards pulled were very distinctly about 2 boys in my life. I'm presuming Lion and Scooter. One of them was definitely Scooter. The other boy could be someone who's about to enter my life within the next 2 months.
Nonetheless, I didn't ask the cards about my love life. I quite simply didn't want to know. Partially because as much as I love PK, his Cancerian nature is all-too-willing to dispense advice in matters of the heart, and I already know where he stands on Scooter. But the "Yes or No" was a "Maybe". In PK's mind, that was pertaining to who I would end up with. He said it could still go other way, but I need to consider my happiness.
If the cards were truly trying to answer my "actual" question... y'know... about whether I'd come into any money, a "maybe" isn't really helpful. But considering my earthliness, I don't really have much business consulting cards when I know that things like finances don't just fall in your lap. Well, rarely. Truthfully... I'd like to confess that I was in a round-about way, asking the cards if the uncle who recently specified in his will that I was to receive half of everything he owns when he passes, would indeed be passing anytime soon. Not very nice of me. I certainly don't wish him any ill.

Time to go. The days before Christmas are certainly full of places to be and people to see.

Song of the day, in favour of the holidays is Count Your Blessings. It was originally made popular by Bing Crosby in the movie "White Christmas". This rendition was in Amy Grant's most recent Christmas special (which was about 9 or 10 years ago at this point). It's so peaceful, and the set is Christmas personified.

Count Your Blessings (instead of sheep) - Amy Grant and Cece Winans

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

So Sexy

2010-12-13T16:19:00.001-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-J2UZZ45BqU&feature=player_embedded

Hello December

2010-12-08T14:58:00.006-05:00

I've been really sick, and really depressed. Those are my only two excuses for the blog lag.

Happily all went well with the neurologist appointment. He was a very kind doctor. Kind and compassionate, and intuitive. I found myself wishing he were my therapist rather than Dr Truth. But at any rate, he acknowledged/diagnosed my condition and told me I would be seeing him once a year to monitor its progress, and assured me that it's no cause to worry, and I do not display the symptoms of Parkinson's or MS. (Which were what I was largely afraid of.) To say I was relieved is putting it mildly.

Today was the first day this week that I went to work, but I left early because I'm still pretty ill. For 5 days now I just can't seem to feel comfortably warm. The weather's turned cold since the weekend and took my blood with it, it would seem.

So right now I'm wrapped in a blanket (doing battle with the wheels on my desk chair) and waiting for my laundry to finish, so I can throw it all in the dryer. I really had no desire to venture into the cold basement, but given the alternative of running out of clean underwear, I have braved the laundry room in the name of Joe Boxer. The real trick here, will be resisting the urge to bury myself in toasty-warm clothing when all that laundry comes out of the dryer. I may do just that before I do any folding.

On the Scooter front, we had a date on November 29th. As per usual, not as planned. Originally, he had said he'd take me to some great restaurant he loves (his treat) but when it came down to it, we went to Subway because he spends all his money on weed and his Christmas shopping has only just begun. No matter. All I've ever wanted is time with him. I got to meet his 3 month old kitten, Zoey. I took pictures of her with my new camera, that I got from Airmiles that day. We spent the evening watching The Munk Debates which I both fascinating and frustrating. I loved that they could have SUCH a civilized discussion with opposing view points for one. But I found it frustrating that such a poised and eloquent man as Tony Blair could be arguing in favour of religion. I don't know if someone less civilized would have satisfied me more, or what. But I found it strangely non-gratifying that his points were (in my opinion) so lame and candy-coated. Christopher Hitchens barely had to speak at all to debunk everything Blair said. In itself, I should find that rewarding given my stance on religion. I'll just leave it at that. I really enjoyed that Scooter wanted to watch it though.
By the end of our evening, he was of course high, and I was rubbing his feet. Putting him to sleep with a foot rub was preferable to getting him sexually aroused with a back rub, which he requested and I declined, knowing it would only lead to more mixed-messages and time apart. When he did fall asleep, I kept rubbing his feet for a while, watching he and Zoey asleep in his chair, and reminiscing about nights we've spent together in the past, that I'd probably sell my soul to repeat. Then, I gently woke him and told him I was going home.
We hugged. We kissed. We nuzzled. And I headed for my coat and shoes.
We kissed again, more passionately, which he ended.
I said good bye.
He said we'd talk soon.
I left, feeling more sexually aroused than I've ever felt.
We have not spoken since then.

And that... leaves me thinking yet again, with little doubt, that he is fucking with my heart yet again.

I don't understand it. I don't want to delve into it. I just know that the pictures of Zoey I sent him on the first (before the appointment, I expressed so much fear over - to him as well) is the last e-mail I will send him. There was no reply. Not even a "thanks". No inquiry into how I am after seeing the neurologist. And no discussion of further plans to see one another.

Long ago (weeks) was the last text message from me, and weeks before that was the last phone call from me. I just can't try anymore.

He doesn't contact me. He doesn't reply when I contact him. He does... not... care... about... me.
I can only conclude, that he invited me back into his life after almost 7 months of silence, just to show me yet-again, how little he cares about me. And I let him do it.

I can flip-flop between indignation, and determination on the head of a pin. Excuse his behaviour because he's just so fucking dysfunctional and damaged, and condemn his behaviour for the same reasons, but in light of what would seem a pretty cut-and-dried decision that he doesn't deserve anything I have to offer... I still love him. And though for my own good, I'm not going to try anymore, I will be here for him if he needs me. At least that's what I'm saying in this five minute interval. Ask me again in the next.

I guess I did want to delve into it. Of course I did.

Move on Johnny. Move on. Don't just walk away. Run.

There is nothing he could do at this point in time to make me believe he loves me in any capacity, as a friend or lover. I just can't give up on him. WHY!!!!!???? Why is my learning curve so long and slow? Why do I value this broken boy over my own self-worth?

Ugh.

If I've never mentioned before, my bedroom is aligned with the building's elevator shaft. I hear the movements of all 3 elevators diving and raising, night and day. Over the past few days, much of which I've spent in bed, I've noticed one of them making the most disconcerting noise. It's alarming. Almost like a metallic "yelp". I don't know which one obviously, or even whether it's ascent or descent. But is that the kind of thing I should report to the superintendent? I think I just answered my own question. And I think I'll do it right now. ...There. Did it. And the super, (ever-charming) said with a sigh, he'd call the elevator company tomorrow. Whether or not he does is another thing entirely, but at least an accident won't be on my conscience.

In other boring news, I'm quite pleased with myself that I replaced a CD/DVD burner in my computer. This is noteworthy because I have never opened a computer casing before, much-less removed or installed any hardware. I wouldn't have done so at all, had I not been tutored and assured by "Totty", our computer engineer at work. I did it, perched high on my balcony on Saturday, before I was feeling so deathly ill. (catalyst perhaps - 'cause it was so fucking cold.) I had to do it out there because "Totty" told me the casing would be filthy, since it was a dusty tomb that had never been opened in four years. Which it really was.
Since I did the deed though, and got it all back together successfully, my computer has been running so QUIET - Holy cats man! The fan has either been disabled (not beyond the realm of possibility) or doesn't need to run anymore because the circuit boards were cleaned with a can of compressed air. It's made talking on Skype with Lion so much more easy. (because I don't have to mute my microphone after everything I say to drown out the sound of the fan) - Nice.

Though I still haven't taken it upon myself to burn a CD to see whether the hardware works. *blush*

Tonight I may just finish off Season 3 of Arrested Development and go to bed early. I've cruised through so many episodes, so easily because it really is as good as it's acclaimed to be. Hysterical really.

I leave you with a song by Canadian indie artist Peter Katz, whom I first heard on CBC 2 months ago. There are no (written) lyrics for me to share with you (if only because I'm too lazy to transcribe it.) but he sings with great clarity, so you should be able to hear the words pretty well. This video contains a story of how the song came to be and the recording of Peter's part. It's pretty touching. 'Something I needed to finish a "why not give up" day with. I encourage you to give a click and listen to "Oliver's Tune" (this link contains the finished song) (but use the mp3 player in the top right hand corner, not the video, which is a tutorial of how to play the song).

Swing Pendulum Swing

2010-11-25T15:48:00.005-05:00

Scooter and I didn't have our "date" last night. He called me up with a list of things he needed to get done and the things he didn't tell me were just as loud as the things he did. He's troubled. Which of course makes me want to rescue him. Which of course he does not want. So of course I will not offer.

What I did offer was to postpone our evening together til next week, which he initially accepted, and rescheduled for Monday... he then said we could get together last night, just to eat and part company -and- get together on Monday. I said "sure". He said "call me when you get off work" and I was happy that I was going to violate my own boundaries and see him twice in the span of a few days. But then, 10 minutes before I was going to call him, he called me, said he "was running late" and needed to just get together Monday.

He also expressed that he broke up with his boyfriend, really wanted to talk to me and had lots to tell me about.

It's funny how I could spend the better part of a week thinking of ways to tell him that I don't think I can give him anything anymore based on how he treats me, and within the span of a few minutes on the phone I surmise he thinks the distance between us right now is strictly for my comfort and doesn't know that anything is wrong. He tortures me. Or is it just "me" torturing me?

Far more likely the latter, with a good dose of the former.

He's such a private person, and so guarded. What little he gives me seems to be such a sacrifice for him, like he thinks he's giving me way more than he actually is.

If I didn't love him, I wouldn't be here. But then, it's not my feelings I question.

He's 25 years old, irresponsible, messed-up, repressed and directionless.
Head says run. Frequently. Heart says he's the one. More frequently. Almost constantly. Head says all I want to do is rescue him. Heart says he's an amazing man who hasn't realized it yet. Head says he'll never know what he wants unless you cut and run and let him come back to you. Heart says he needs a friend more than a lover right now, and I can't seem to detect the presence of any other man with a soul so like mine.

Tick tock. Stay, go. Tick tock. Love, run. I wonder if there's any Libra in me? That I can't make the decision to walk away. A Capricorn will believe in love with his last breath, even if it's the cause of his last breath, I'm thinking.

Do I deserve someone who loves me unconditionally? Yes. Am I convinced that person isn't Scooter? Absolutely not. Am I fucking delusional? Probably. But I'm only a danger to my emotional self.

Ray LaMontagne - "Let It Be Me"

There may come a time, a time in everyone's life
Where nothin' seems to go your way
Where nothing seems to turn out right
There may come a time, you just can't seem to find your place
For every door you walk on to, seems like they get slammed in your face
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call.
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend that you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Feels like you're always comin' on home
Pockets full of nothin' and you got no cash
No matter where you turn you ain't got no place to stand
Reach out for something and they slap your hand
I remember all to well
Just how it feels to be all alone
You feel like you'd give anything
For just a little place you can call your own
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you cant go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me

Shaky on Every Front

2010-11-24T11:23:00.010-05:00

My anxiety is taking over.

I have an appointment with a neurologist on December 1st. As this date approaches, the fear I have about it gets a stronger foothold. I realize that fear in the face of something that needs investigation is pretty counter-productive, but I'm still afraid. For years now, I have noticed an increasing tendency for my hands to shake. Sometimes it's inhibiting to performing tasks. You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I have very weak hands. Opening jars and bottles is an ordeal.

Of greater concern to me... the shaking has gotten significant enough for people to not only notice, but comment... a lot. I've inherited it from my father. He used to shake quite a bit. But according to my mother, he would never visit a doctor to have it examined. He didn't like doctors. He didn't like hospitals. No small irony that he died in one. But at any rate, if he did have some neurological disorder that he could genetically pass on to his son, I'm soon to find out. And I'm quite thoroughly terrified.

It could be nothing. It could be emotional stress. It could be that I need to set aside 10 minutes per day to scream and cry like a crazy person. As emotional as I am, I feel repressed. I feel like a person who's screaming and crying on the inside. Have you ever seen that episode of Six Feet Under where David has a waking dream of screaming during a funeral? I'm reminded of that.

Insecure thoughts are circling and rattling my cage. I'm thinking of how my parents had me late in life. I'm thinking of the legacy of poor health in each of their families. All of my uncles and aunts on my father's side, are all gone. 10 of them. All dead. My father was the youngest, and he's been gone for almost 19 years. The siblings on my mother's side including my mother are all still alive, and I figure if I can avoid the plague of obesity they all suffer from, I can dodge a few of the bullets they've all taken.

I have no delusions of living forever. And I don't think I'm afraid to die per say. I just don't want to be sick. I don't want to suffer and degenerate. Given the fact that I'm (as I've pointed out ad nauseum) alone in life, the prospect of being unable to care for myself is frightening. But I suppose no-more-so than the thought of sentencing a loved one to care for me.

Couple this (perhaps irrational) concern with the take-over at work... the approach of Christmas... my collapsing faith in any hope of a friendship/relationship/anything with Scooter... my overall stress of social interaction... and the pressure of merely existing....
And I think I've got a pretty good recipe for an all-systems-failure.

Taking a serious look at my health, and the potential to be really unwell, sheds a light on the fact that nothing really matters, but I don't know that I "live" that knowledge... so maybe a crisis, whether real or manufactured could be just what I need.

Shut it down. Shut it all down. Everything that's not key to my existence. The friends and family who don't bother. The job that, if lost, could force me into action I've never had the courage to take. Shut down the worry. Shut down the mother fucking future I cannot see and cannot change and could not affect otherwise. Shut it down. I don't want to think about it.

I want to be a tree. I want to long for nothing more than the sun hitting the greenery and the water that nourishes the roots. Fuck health problems. Fuck worry. Fuck being loved. Fuck being known. Fuck ever wanting to please another human being on this doomed ball of dirt. Fuck it all, for tomorrow I could be forced down by winds. Struck down by lightning. Cut down by some unwitting lumberjack. Today. This moment I still stand.

I stand and spout empty words about bravery and apathy I don't possess.

And I go that much more crazy.

*sigh*

I missed my appointment with Dr Truth today. Totally forgot about it. You'd think my mind would be on therapy given how stricken I feel. I'm going to be penalized 120-dollars for missing the appointment. Which makes me think I should stop making appointments in the event that I'm going to fuck-up and miss them. I can't afford to miss them. And it's not that I have issue with the concept. Dr Truth's time is valuable. I have to make appointments well in advance because his calendar is full. When someone just doesn't show up, it's a waste of his time. That doesn't alter the fact that I can't afford a 120-dollar fuck up. Yet, my co dependence asserts itself in the pattern of thought, that without him, I will have absolutely no one to listen to me fall apart. And my ego can't handle falling apart all by myself now, can it?

Last night I went to visit my soon-to-be-nephew in the hospital. He was in Toronto (or Markham rather) to have a hernia operated on. I didn't really want to go. It was a case of feeling it wouldn't matter to him whether I did or not anyway. I don't know him very well, and thought it might even seem weird that I would go and visit him, but... he was all alone with no family up here, in a boring hospital in the middle of nowhere. So I went. He's a nice kid. I like him a lot. Mind you, I took the opportunity to deliver the bad news that I can't afford to go to their destination wedding in January.
It took me an hour and a half to get there, and even longer to get home because I don't know the transit system up there very well, and missed a bus on the way back. It turned-out to be a blessing. I had to wait an hour, so I took refuge in a Shopper's Drug Mart and bought things I've been meaning to buy, but for whatever reason, haven't. I picked up the November issue of Details magazine with Chris Pine on the cover... band aids, tissues, peroxide, nail clippers (to replace the ones I sucked up the vacuum cleaner by accident) and probably most importantly... a bottle of Valerian Root. I wish I had some right now as a matter of fact. I've used it before for anxiety. There's really no reason why I should ever not be taking it. It brings on a wonderful wave of calm. Which makes up for it's horrible smell. (wet dog in a bottle anyone?)

I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my problems that pale in comparison to the hardship that faces so many other people. I am grateful to be alive. To love and learn, and feel disenchanted with the whole ordeal. I am grateful to be creative enough to even wish to be a tree. And though it causes me self-afflicted misery... I am grateful to be self-aware. It simply must be better than ignorance and oblivion. Ok gratitude... stay with me. Balance me, ground me, heal me. I need your help so badly.

Rattling chains, fine-tuning the probe... unfurling the wings... the ghost-alien-angel will dwell among the humans another day.

Today's song of the day, is by Amy Grant. I will forever love this woman. I don't believe as she does, but if ever a true christian existed, I think it's her. So I'm not waiting for Jesus, but these lyrics speak to me anyhow. It's a great song.

Amy Grant - The Water

Quick sand
My heart is sinkin'
I try to run
But I can't stop thinkin'
I'm climbin' walls
I'm on the ceilin'
It's gonna take a miracle to heal me

I'm starin' down
Into the quarry
I see a stone
For every sorry
I'm on the edge
I'm goin' under
And after I die
I'm gonna rise from the water (oooh)

I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean

The sky is red, there's
Blood on my hands
I can't deny
I'm guilty where I stand
The verdict's in
I hear them shoutin'
Send me a river to drown this mountain (oooh)

I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean

Wash me clean

(Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me)

Leaving "Everything But Poopie" Behind

2010-11-23T16:42:00.004-05:00

Upon contemplating the complete abandonment of this blog in favour of something completely anonymous, I decided it would be a better idea to simply go forward with a new title.

I have one follower who checks in on a semi-regular basis, so it's not like there's much ceremony to engage in. Cheers to you lone reader. : )

The name "What I Leave Behind" is meaningful to me on a few levels, though it may seem a tad morbid. I am a tad morbid person. (I say this with a laugh.) First and foremost, everything I write here, I leave behind. I may say things time and again, but the words are, and will be, a part of my past. Hopefully dealt-with, celebrated or grieved with honest emotion.

When I started writing in this space I was a different person. The name "Everything But Poopie" was playful, and well-suited to all of my musings about being a dog owner.

I just noticed, that if you remove the letters "o" and "g" from "dog owner", you get "downer".

Perhaps.

I want to leave "myself" behind. In whatever I write. I want to leave a trail of who I am and the scope of what I felt, loved and cared for. Even if it only ever matters to me alone.

There's no goal to be known by those who don't already know me. I just want to leave a picture of "who I am", (or who I was) to anyone who does know me, to find when I'm gone. That sounds positively suicidal, but it's not. Self-indulgent maybe. But the intention is just "hey, I'm mortal".
And quite simply, I need to take everything that's so painfully inward, and release it. To be "known" for what makes me, me. That includes the things that amuse, move and inspire me. Not just anguish.

Therapy. Legacy. Biography. Emotion, wisdom, foolishness and ego.

Carved into the tree bark of the internet...

John was here.

Open Letter to Scooter

2010-11-23T15:25:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow we meet again for dinner, and precious time spent together. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I wish you could see me the way I see you.

I wish my love were tangible and enveloping.

I wish I could properly convey how beautiful you are and how you consume me. I wish my words could be spoken. I wish you could know how I ache for you, only so you'd know how deep it goes and how safe you would be with me. How I long to keep you safe and give you everything I have to offer.

My love is so true.

It's so real.

It's so unrealized and forlorn. I wait for you.

I wait for you to see me and to love me back without any doubt or fear of abandonment.

I wait for you.

Or I wait for some other man to free me from the sad delusion I suffer from, that my waiting will be with reason and that we would be strong and true together.

Such a delusion. Like you can't break "broken".

I love you so much.
So deep.
So relentless.
So nurturing.
With such lust.
With such single-sighted longing.
With such a desire to think of you as my family.

I love you.

I love you.

Though it may yet break me.
Though you may never love me back.
I love you still.

Beautiful Music

2010-11-23T13:41:00.001-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-NpATPAa08&feature=player_embedded

Janelle Monae - Smile (by Charlie Chaplin)

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

artist: nat king cole
-peak billboard position # 10 in 1954
-competing versions charted by sunny gale (#19) and david whitfield (#25).
-also charted in 1959 by tony bennett (#73); in 1961 by timi yuro (#42); in
-1962 by ferrante and teicher (#94); and in 1965 by betty everett and jerry
-butler (#42).
Words by john turner and geoffrey parsons and music by charlie chaplin

Productive Nothing Day

2010-11-22T16:18:00.007-05:00

I took the day off work today. I'm still burning off unused holiday time from 2010, which sounds normal enough except that in my employment world, it's now 2011, and I've still got 2 more days to use up before the "big move".

A day off should be something good. Why don't you be the judge of whether mine has been? I woke up at 8. Took out the recycling. Ate my breakfast, took my vitamins, watched porn, went to the laundromat, came home, walked to the grocery store for a bag of chips and a 2 litre bottle of Pepsi (pop is a rare treat) watched 4 episodes of Arrested Development (which is one of the funniest, most-enjoyable contributions to my life right now), ate lunch, potted a new plant, bought every Adam Lambert song I enjoy from iTunes, cleaned-out my iPod a little, made my bed with the bedding I washed at said laundromat, discovered I'd lost my fabric softener on the way home from the morning excursion, retraced my steps and found the fabric softener (eureka!), moped, contemplated smoking pot but decided against it because I still want to vacuum, now I'm blogging while I do my regular laundry downstairs. Oh yes, and I forgot to mention all the time I've spent thinking about Scooter all the while this funtastic day has been unfolding.

I am a lonely man. Not necessarily miserable, but dreadfully, unspeakably, alone.

And keeping a strong attitude about it. Learning to just exist with it. I say this because I wouldn't describe this day as depressing. I've certainly kept myself occupied.

For a 3 day weekend though, this one has sucked tremendous. You can feel the pull of the suction. The slurp of time and energy being drained as though from a valve in my private store.

That's not to say Friday night with Pugs wasn't fine and dandy. And Saturday's trip to Costco and afternoon/evening of pizza and substance abuse with Peachy and McMac wasn't fun. Even hanging out with Lactose and Skatz was ok. I've never mentioned them before because I have to take Lactose in small doses (ha! No, really.) Skatz is Lactose's boyfriend, and I like him well enough. I went to the Santa Claus parade with them, and then hung out at their apartment yesterday afternoon.
They're a happy/miserable couple who will break up messily one day. I hope I'm wrong.
I spent the majority of my time sleeping on their couch at any rate. They wanted to watch movies, and I don't know if it was the chill of being outside for the parade or the sleep deprivation of having the dogs all week, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open.

I ran into a guy from volleyball on the subway home from their place. I won't name him in the event that he requires a nickname later on, but he's really cute and kind of shy. We talked for my entire trip home. (He was headed farther north.) I really got a good feeling about him. I'm not going to allow myself any happy fantasies about him beyond that, but I may ask him for a date if he's even remotely happy to see me the next time we run into each other at volleyball. Why not? He's cute, articulate and nice. Why not.

I wish I could feel better about the productivity of this day. I didn't do my workout, or my stretching routine. I didn't do my morning pages, or work on any of my writing. Had I done any of those things I wouldn't feel so guilty.

But now, it's late enough to just wait for Lion to log on to Skype, retrieve my laundry, fold it, and vacuum. I have to vacuum. The dog hair is crazy and I don't want to track any into clean bedding tonight.

What a boring blog entry. Sorry.

Hopefully you'll enjoy my guilty pleasure, Adam Lambert. Mind you, I'm not really guilty about it. I really do love him. As a person I find him quite admirable. As an artist, he's nothing if not entertaining and talented.

Adam Lambert - For Your Entertainment (Brad Walsh remix)

So hot, out of the box
Can we pick up the pace
Turn it up, heat it up
I need to be entertained
Push the limit, are you with it?
Baby don't be afraid
Imma hurt you real good baby

Let's go, it's my show, baby, do what I say
Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display
I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed
Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name

No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on until it's over

Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment

Oh!
I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment

S'all right
You'll be fine
Baby I'm in control
Take the pain
Take the pleasure
I'm the master of both
Close your eyes, not your mind
Let me into your soul

I'm gonna work it 'til your totally blown

No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on 'til it's over

Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment

Oh I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment

Oh
Do you like what you see?
Oh
Let me entertain ya 'til you scream

Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment

Oh!
I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment

How I Met Pugs

2010-11-19T15:27:00.003-05:00

Going to have dinner with Pugs tonight. Yummo, yummo, yummo... we're having Chinese take-out from China House restaurant on Eglinton West. It's a celebratory dinner because she got a 6-month contract job that she starts on Monday. I'm really happy for her. And quite proud of her too. Pugs is my 59 year old friend who lives one floor down from me in my building.

We sometimes go to the movies, sometimes play cards, and she quite frequently invites me over for dinner. She's a nice lady, and though she's lonely, she's assertive and social and when she has no friends, she introduces herself to strangers.

I know this, because that's how we met.

2 years ago when I was still a dog-owner, I used to run into Pugs in the elevator with her little dog "Suzette". We communed as most dog owners do with the good fortune of having dogs that don't want to kill every other dog they encounter.

You get 3 guesses what breed of dog she has, and the first two guesses don't count.

When I first met Pugs, she kind of spooked me a little, because she was so forward and a little socially awkward. But... loneliness does that. I'm learning first hand. Sometimes the mere act of speaking to strangers seems to project a second holographic head beside your real one for people to gawk at as they reach for non-existent pepper spray.

The first time Pugs and I had a significant conversation was the day she saw me toting around a book. (not an unusual sight) It was the Time Traveler's Wife. She's an avid reader, and took full advantage of the opportunity to ask me what I thought of the plot, and since I was loving it, I told her so. The next time I saw Pugs, she told me she'd picked-up a copy of the book and was reading it too.

One day she kinda cornered me in the elevator and just blurted out, "John, are you gay"? Bold, top-of-the-mind inquisition that brought a smile to my face. I replied, "Yes I am". And she was pleased that I would admit it to her. She said she wondered because I always referred to the dogs being with "my ex" every second week, and never saying ex "girlfriend" or "wife". Pugs also wanted me to know she had no issues with gay people and she was worried that we'd never be friends if I couldn't tell her. She then asked me if we could be friends outright, to which I replied with more than a little inward trepidation that we could.

I'm a little ashamed to admit that, because really, being friends with Pugs has added a wonderful element to my home life. It's really nice to have a friend who lives in another apartment in your building. We've borrowed things from one another. I've helped her with things she couldn't do on her own, looked after plants, and I'm going to look after Suzy for her for a weekend in January. And she cooks for me, and lends me books, and quotes me poetry and tells me stories. We take turns paying when we go to movies and restaurants. It's kind of like having a mother who's a friend.
Admittedly, I don't treat her like a mother, because I have issues with her getting too close, because she can be a little ...eccentric, and demanding. But for the most-part, I really do enjoy being friends with Pugs, and like that I can help her and be company. I don't want to even allude to it being charity, because she's been a friend and company for me too. It's not like I'm mister popular.

Pugs is a kind woman. She's led an emotionally difficult life, and she doesn't wield her solitude like a crutch. I admire her. Even if she thinks her dog is actually speaking to her.

Perhaps a stage in life that waits for me too.

Elvis Presley - "Are You Lonesome Tonight"

Are you lonesome tonight,
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

I wonder if you're lonesome tonight
You know someone said that the worlds a stage
And each must play a part.
Fate had me playing in love you as my sweet heart.
Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance
You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue
Then came act two, you seemed to change and you acted strange
And why Ill never know.
Honey, you lied when you said you loved me
And I had no cause to doubt you.
But Id rather go on hearing your lies
Than go on living without you.
Now the stage is bare and I'm standing there
With emptiness all around
And if you wont come back to me
Then make them bring the curtain down.

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Global Anxiety

2010-11-18T17:46:00.004-05:00

This morning I was listening to an interview with Joe Pantalone on CBC radio one. He just recently lost the race for Mayor of Toronto to Rob Ford. Mr Pantalone has been in politics for 30 years. He’s articulate. He seems thoughtful, intelligent and pleasant. Everything Rob Ford appears “not” to be.

The host asked Joe Pantalone what he thought could be the reason behind Toronto’s swing to a Conservative mindset, and he gave the most likely answer I’ve ever heard. He said “the world is in the grip of global anxiety”, and people when faced with fears tend to look for answers in the safest way. (I’m paraphrasing.)

I can’t help but wholeheartedly agree that that is exactly why a right-wing conservative mentality is on the rise. Fear.

The Conservative Party of Canada just killed Bill C-311, (requiring the federal government to set regulations to bring greenhouse gas emissions 25% below 1990 levels by 2020, and to set a long-term target to bring emissions to 80% below 1990 levels by 2050) furthering my belief that Stephen Harper and his cronies don’t give a rat’s ass about the environment.

People can control economies… (for the time being) until such time that our planet says “no more”. The “global anxiety” that Mr. Pantalone spoke of, is quite real. But I don’t think the heart of it is a financial recession. Granted, people having no means to support themselves or families is of huge concern to everyone.

I happen to think natural disasters are of bigger concern. And caring for our home… this planet… the only one we have… is of much greater importance than securing economies that will fall when the earth can no longer sustain us. “You can’t conduct business in a burning building”.

Global anxiety could be triggered at a very low-level of consciousness within us when our habitat is threatened. Volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, flooding, fires, storms… I’d say we’re getting our fair share of threats to our existence as a species. Religious folk (ie: my mom) wag a finger and claim it’s prophesy from the bible coming true. Perhaps. Who knows?

I tend to think a virile, unchecked, expanding species like our own, hell-bent on consuming and multiplying without any consequence is bound to hit a tipping point of “self-fulfilling” prophesy. When is the wake-up call, that we can, and will use things up? I think it was years ago.

People are still sleeping.

Imogen Heap - "Earth"

Baby, behave, we'll make it work [x8]
Are you with me? [x3]

You're not golden
And I'm getting tired
Act like you own the place
When really you've only just arrived

I caught first glimmers
In hides and skins
Look who's all grown up
Black swanning about the solar winds

You're gonna lose it all
And find yourself on your knees
So, get a grip and you might
Flow, reverse the great, slow bleed

I've tried patience, but
You always want a war
This house won't tolerate any more
Stop this right away

Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

The cold shoulder
Folded arms and looking up
You've never listened
And carry on careless, regardless

This is not a fire drill and
If we hold any hope
It's harmonic connection
And stereo symbiosis

These legoland empires
Choking out mine now
You're everywhere, everywhere
Multiplying around me, child

A strain on my heart
This rock can't tolerate any more
Stop this right away

Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

Baby, behave, we'll make it work [x8]
(Baby, do you love me?)

Whoa , oh, oh, oh
Whoa , oh, oh, oh
Whoa , oh, oh, oh (yeah)
Whoa , oh, oh, oh [cont]

You're only what you give back [x5]
Back
Stop this right away

(Baby, behave, we'll make it work) [cont]
Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

Stop this right away
Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now

Are you with me? [x3]

You're only what you give back [x5]
Back

(You're not golden
And I'm getting tired
Act like you own the place
When really you've only just arrived)

How Would a Goat Say Amen?

2010-11-17T14:10:00.005-05:00

"To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive".

-- Robert Louis Stevenson

I read this this morning in the subway and it really spoke to me. There are many inspirational quotations in the margins of the pages of The Artist's Way. Others have been really poignant to the recovery process I'm working towards, but this one in particular, speaks to my aching Capricorn soul.

If there is one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that I do not enjoy advice. That's not to say I don't like hearing people's opinion, or that I don't think there's any wisdom to be found in the perspective of another. That would be foolish, and just plain goat-stubborn-stupid.

But, as I've pointed out before. I am a very unusual person. I don't always see why things should work the way people say they should... and therefore, I dig in my little hooves and lower my horns and defiantly bleat a sad little "goaty" tune as I take the difficult path.

Often I feel that people feel the need to solve your problems for you just as readily as they'd like someone to solve their problems for them. And really, I'm sure we all wish at some point in our lives that someone could wave a magic wand, but that's just not how things work.

As well-meaning as people are when they'd like to solve my problems... I quite frequently find myself annoyed at how quickly they're offering-up solutions when they don't even know the scope of how I feel or why. I find my annoyance with people offering advice has altered the way I talk to friends about their problems. I'm far more apt to ask question after question, and very seldom say what I "think" they should do. After-all, in most cases, we all do exactly what we're going to do, or would have done anyway.... ....don't we? Perhaps my thoughts on that are distorted by Capricorn arrogance.

At any rate, I wish sometimes that friends would try to understand my hurt instead of charting their course out of my journey.

Lion told me on Monday, "Oh JohnJo, you take a look around you, you spot the most complicated thing, and head straight for it." And that was pertaining to a sexual escapade I had on Friday night, that I detailed to him, but not to this blog. He's totally correct in the assessment of that circumstance, but let's keep in mind that he, at 25, has more experience sexually than I do at the ripe old age of 37. I'm allowed to experiment and I don't have to answer to anyone as long as I'm not hurting anybody.

And of course, as everything in my life swings back 'round to Scooter, I have overwhelmingly refused to "humbly say Amen" to what other people say about my love for him. I look for ways to justify the way I accept everything about our damaged (and perhaps, damaging) relationship in the name of believing that sometimes you must hold on, and not give up on someone. The difficulty with Scooter, for me, comes with discerning whether or not he wants me to give up on him.

If he did. I would.

And until I eventually detail the Johnny and Scooter saga from start to finish (which I'm working on in my "Yellow" notebook) and everyone knows every reason why I love him, how lovable he is, and the circumstances of every hurt we've caused one another... ...I really don't want any advice... ok? *wink*

I will not say "Amen". Not yet anyhow.

Kate Havnevik - "Kaleidoscope"

You cut me out in little stars
and place me in the sky.
I lose my sense of time

You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go.

'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful

A tingle travels up my spine
a cluster of colours and twine
as we melt into wine

You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go

'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful

Dances With Trolls

2010-11-16T17:08:00.004-05:00

Wow, still in the doldrums.

I've sat with this window open all day thinking I'd write something light-hearted once it hit me, and instead I mixed-it-up with small-minded trolls making hateful comments under a video on YouTube.
The comments have since been disabled, which is a blessing in disguise. I can stop monitoring it and making comments of my own in a futile attempt to dispel homophobia and make the world a better place. *sigh*

My worked-up nerves and frustration are what I get for not adhering to my own boundaries. I try not to read comments under anything on the internet. There, dwell dragons and hateful idiots spewing venom.

So much homophobia springs from religion. That is my number one reason for distrusting religious folk, and for seeking out real answers to counter my childhood Pentecostal indoctrination. The greatest truth or peace I have ever found was in embracing Atheism. Though I must admit, there is additional frustration at this point in believing as I do and hearing people spout religious dogma. It makes blind faith in a deity a lot less tolerable to not believe in god(s).

I highly recommend "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. It changed my life for the better. In terms of my own self-esteem and acceptance of my own homosexuality/releasing the programming... I read that book and a light came on. It made more sense than anything else I'd ever read.

Today I leave you with a quote (by Stephen F Roberts) before the song. And a statement I truly believe by an unknown author.

"I contend we are both atheists, I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours."
	...Stephen F Roberts

Morality is doing right, no matter what you are told. Religion is doing what you're told, no matter what is right.

"Imagine" by John Lennon (as performed by Madonna)

Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people
living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,

It isn't hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Imagine no possessions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
imagine all the people

Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.

Alien, Angel or Ghost

2010-11-15T14:16:00.006-05:00

I'm in a place right now, where I feel nothing good will ever come from my relationship with Scooter. It will always be my effort for his apathy. And yet, I'm not the type of person who gives up on people that I love. I genuinely wish we could have some kind of friendship. I just can't see that far. And being the person I am, it's always an issue of letting go.

"Let go" of those who can't give you what you want. "Let go" of those who don't care for you the way you want or need them to. Where is the balance of accepting people for who or what they are, and what they can provide you ...with valuing yourself and not allowing people to take you for granted or abuse you? How many people simply walk away from everyone the moment something isn't right? And how many people stay long beyond what any sane person would tolerate?

After our "date" on the 24th, I'll let it die. I'll let it fade. I'll speak when spoken to, and leave an open door, but turn off the flashing neon sign. That in itself should satiate my need to "not give up", but no longer chase the affections of someone who just doesn't care whether I'm around.

I "think" that I'm open and giving, and forthright and genuine... and yet... I fear I don't let anyone in. Furthermore, I don't truly believe anyone "wants" in. I am that odd. I am that "unique". I am that egocentric and arrogant to obsess over it too.

I'm an alien, or an angel or a ghost. I am something otherworldly that doesn't belong here. More and more, I believe there is no one for me in this life. This time around the cogs my goal is to achieve happiness in solitude and enjoy the gift of life as an observer. I say this with only a sparing amount of self-pity, and a whole lot of awareness of what I've been through and how I'm treated.

I quite simply, do not fit in. And I'm largely ok with it, if a little lonely for my knowledge of it.

That person in the conversation who's always listening? That's me. If I don't pipe up and offer my thoughts and opinions on things, no one will ask. Of this there is a guarantee. I could wager money on it.

Of course, there's the possibility that I'm merely uninteresting. This makes me hold my tongue on occasion.

I am forever the pursuer, and never the pursued. And yet, when I stop trying, I am still not pursued; I'm merely given to solitude.

For anyone not following this, I assure you, I'm no longer talking about Scooter exclusively. He's just one of the many.

Whatever...

Like I said before... I just haven't spent enough time alone yet. "Do good and good will come to you."
I have friends that love me, even if I still manage to feel alone in their presence. And if my purpose in this life is not to discover how to live happily alone, then I will cross paths with a man who matches my paradigm - or blows it out of the water.

I am certainly a "strong" personality. There must be some guy out there hurtling toward me at the speed of gravity, that I won't have to "try" to love or be loved by.

It's hard to sound convincing saying you "don't want a boyfriend" when you obsess over loneliness that way I do. I don't view "being alone" as a bad thing. It's just a state of things. And I wouldn't have to be alone if I were willing to settle for the efforts of guys who just don't make the full grade and friends who don't give what they get. I swear I'm not sitting here saying "poor me". I'm just wishful. Longing even. It's not easy to be alone. And I know it's not exclusive to me.
How many people throughout history have pondered the same self-consumed things? Tiresome.

When you hear from me tomorrow, I'll be in a better state of mind. I have my dogs for the week while Eak is in Las Vegas for business. I'm really looking forward to having the boys. They'll be good for my soul, if not my social calendar.

*note to self* Just live your life Johnny. Live it for you. Happiness within. Dig it out. There's gold in them there chasms.

Song of the day is Jann Arden's new song from her live album "Spotlight". Sadly the audio clip I've linked to on YouTube is ridiculously sped-up, probably for copyright purposes. The song is still "listenable", but it's the Jann Arden "chipmunks treatment" to be sure.

Jann Arden - "I Can't Make You Stay"

Not going to lie across the subway track,
Not gonna pin you to the floor
Not gonna bind you up or pull you down
So what are you waiting for

After all we’ve been through,
I’m not gonna beg you

So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change, no.. change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.

I’ve given you what’s left of me
Everything I am.
I try to be the ocean you could float on baby
The fuel that made you fast.

If I’m not the dream you dream,
If I don’t make you happy

Just go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up
No matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.

Don’t need to see it in your eyes
To know it won’t be long, it won’t be long
Don’t need to hear your goodbyes
To know you’re already gone

So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way…

My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.

I can’t make you stay.

Oh no, no….

I can’t make you stay.
I can’t make you….

738 Days

2010-11-14T09:43:00.002-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9pZgOLUs6iQ

I Dreamt I Dwelt Between Chris Pine's Thighs

2010-11-12T15:05:00.006-05:00

Ain't got nothin' much to talk about today. But I suppose that's not much different from any other day.

Right now I'm listening to CBC Radio 2/Pacific online to catch a beautiful Opera piece that I heard on the radio a while ago. I heard it on Tempo, so I'm hoping it will repeat and that miraculously, I'll hear who performed it so I can hunt it down. Fridays are "Music That Rocked Your World" days, and I'm not a huge fan of opera, but it was one of the prettiest things I've ever heard. It will likely be one of those instances where I'll never hear it again. ...Or hear it again months from now and forget that I've heard it before. Hide your own Easter Eggs kids.

The situation with Scooter is somewhat resolved. Though he had me FUMING mad. On my way to volleyball last night I couldn't help but start giggling, at the way he called me up in a huff, saying "What's this bullshit about me being rude and you being mad at me?" Because I know he was concerned, and yet trying to put up some bravado. In spite of his nonchalance, I could tell he was concerned, because he verified with me, not once, but twice that we were still on for our "date" (of sorts) on the 24th. It bothers me that I so readily forgive him. I was ready to throw up my arms and say "you're too much work" yesterday. I was expecting him to call "drama", and rehearsing the retort that if I was too much drama then he should just leave me alone. But of course, I am always more drama than I ever have the opportunity to act out.

I love him so much. I can't help it. I'm pathetic. He calls me up indignant, and still manages to score points for confronting my anger head-on, apologizing and pledging to do better in the future. Whether or not he does, remains to be seen. He may stop texting me altogether. Which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I'm self-campaigning to get over him.

Sexual frustration is my greatest affliction right now. And I'm satiating one craving with another solution: I've eaten half a large dark chocolate bar. 72% Cacao. Not dark enough, but satisfactory. (It was on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart.) And in ode to my cravings, I give you pictures of Chris Pine. Oh the things I would do. Yes, the new Captain Kirk does it for me in ways I cannot describe. And probably because he reminds me of Scooter. Yes. Scooter is this good looking. If a little chubbier in recent times.

Oh!!! They're playing the opera piece again!!! It's so gorgeous. I wish I could share it. I know she spoke about it before it started to play and I completely missed who it's by - AGAIN.
*time passes*
Eureka!! I did a little hunting and discovered what it is: "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" Act 2 of Bohemian Girl, as performed by Elina Garanca. You cannot imagine how pleased I am to find this.

I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.

But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.

I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
That knights upon bended knee
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,

They pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.

But I also dreamt which charmed me most
That you loved me still the same
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.

O Canada Tree, O Canada Tree

2010-11-11T14:54:00.005-05:00

I am pooooooped. So frickin' exhausted it's not even funny.

Peachy called me up yesterday and we decided to hang out last night. He and his boyfriend "McMac" are good company and we had a nice time just hangin' out doing a whole lotta nothing at Peachy's place. He has a really nice apartment, and kindred that he is, he's a music fanatic, so we always have plenty to listen to or talk about. About a month ago, Peachy bought a new turntable to allow him to actually enjoy his rather sizable record collection. There's something organic and fun about listening to actual LP's, and examining the album art and enjoying an entirely different sound quality. My favourite selection of the night was INXS "Kick". Though I did enjoy being introduced to the music of Morrisey. I've never really explored his stuff. It seems wrist-slittingly honest and raw. I'm not sure how much of it would be good for my outlook on life lately. But I did like it.

Staying entirely too late for a work night is my specialty. Last night was no exception. I left at 11:45 and got home at 12:30. I then turned on my computer so I could leave Skype running for Lion to wake me at 6am like we planned. My computer was misbehaving, so I contacted the tech support that I pay for and asked them to take a look at my computer via remote. After much process and puttering around, I got to bed around 2 and awoke to the "beep beep booping" of Skype, and a smiling, mid-day-hyper Lion at 6:30.

He filled me in on some drama involving his mother's employees, and showed me some things he bought on a recent shopping trip. 2 beautiful jackets, some nice gloves and some cute character-emblazoned boot-slippers (just for women) that he scored in his size. He was giddy about the boot-slippers, and how nice and warm they were, and he started my day with joy.

Coincidentally enough, I was treated to some of his singing, and in classic Lion form... it was him proudly singing "O Canada" ...to the tune of "O Christmas Tree". It's always the first melody that comes to mind for him. Our founding fathers would laugh, and hug him for the light in his eyes and how much he wants to come back.

He's so easy to talk to.

I'm running on a mere 4-plus hours of sleep though. And I'm emotional and on-edge because I confronted Scooter this morning via text. Stuff I feel distraught and hopeless about. We're always a stone's throw from good bye it would seem. It's a stupid issue really. He sucks about text messages and I told him how it made me feel last week, and he was up to the same bullshit last night. So today I told him he's rude, and that I'm mad at him. No word from him yet. If I'm right, he'll use it as an excuse to stay away. Part of me expects him to. Part of me wants him to. Just to call it over, y'know? It is getting late in our game for me to not speak my mind about his behaviour. If he is a lesson in letting go, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head very soon. I will be hurt, and sad, yet again... but I know this time will be easier to just walk away and say I tried. Not everyone is meant to remain in your life. He's always had a question mark.

Lion... is a different story. He'll be around with an exclamation point. Even if it's from the other side of the world for the rest of our lives.

Take solace Johnny. Take solace. You will never be important to everyone you show kindness to. It's just not possible. And the hurting will end. Like everything else.

Click on this one and dance! It's impossible to be still when this song's playing.

Janelle Monae - Tightrope

Whoaaa
Another day
I take your pain away

Some people talk about ya
Like they know all about ya
When you get down they doubt ya
And when you dip it on the scene
Yeah they talkin' bout it
Cause they can't dip on the scene
Whatcha talk about it
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
When you get elevated,
They love it or they hate it
You dance up on them haters
Keep getting funky on the scene
While they jumpin' round ya
They trying to take all of your dreams
But you can't allow it

Cause baby whether you're high or low
Whether you're high or low
You gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
T-t-t-tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)

Baby, baby, baby

Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
You got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now let me see you do the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it

See I'm not walkin' on it
Or tryin' to run around it
This ain't no acrobatics
You either follow or you lead, yeah
I'm talkin' bout you,
I'll keep on blaming the machine, yeah
I'm talkin' bout it,
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
I can't complain about it
I gotta keep my balance
And just keep dancin on it
We gettin funky on the scene
And you know about it,
Like a star on the screen
Watch me tip all on it

Then baby whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Ooh, you gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Yeah, tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)

Baby, baby, baby

Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby let me see you tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it

Big Boi
You gotta keep your balance
Or you fall into the gap
It's a challenge but I manage
Cause I'm cautious with the strap
Doing damage to your canvas that a doctor cannot patch
See why you don't want no friction
Like the back of a matchbook
That I pass as I will forward you
And your MacBook
Clothes shows will shut you down
Before we go-go backwards
Act up, and whether we high or low
We gonna get back up
Like the Dow Jones and NASDAQ
Sorta like a thong in a ass crack,
Come on

I tip on alligators and little rattle snakers
But I'm another flavor
Something like a terminator
Ain't no equivocating
I fight for what I believe
Why you talkin' bout it
S-s-she's talkin' bout it
Some callin' me a sinner
Some callin' me a winner
I'm callin' you to dinner
And you know exactly what I mean,
Yeah I'm talkin' bout you
You can rock or you can leave
Watch me tip without you

N-N-Now whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
I'm gonna tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
MMMMMM
(Tip, tip on it)

Baby, baby
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
High or low
(High or low)
I got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now baby tip on the tightrope

You can't get too high
(You can't get too high)
I said you can't get too low
(We can't get too low)
Cause you get too high
(You can't get too high)
No you'll surely be low
(No, you'll surely be low)
1, 2, 3, Ho!

Yeah, yeah
Now shut up, yeah
Yeah, now put some voodoo on it
Ladies and gentlemen the funkiest horn section in Metropolis
Yeah, oh
We call that Classy Brass!

Ohhhhhhh
OH!

Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
As I play the ukulele
If I play my ukulele
Just like a little lady

(Happy birthday fades to end)

Be Here Now

2010-11-10T16:13:00.005-05:00

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned "Dr Truth" in this particular blog. I think I've written about him elsewhere, but at any rate, he's my therapist. I meet with him every 2 weeks or so, and I've been seeing him for about 3 years or more now.

Only in recent months have I felt like I'm actually exploring useful territory with him. For the longest time I thought he was a pretty cold fish. Not very emotional and certainly not as empathetic as I'd like, but he chose his career path for some reason, and because I can't afford to choose my own therapist, he'll do.
But as I said, in recent months, I've really felt like I've had nothing to lose and things to gain from just pouring my heart out to him. Why not? He gets paid to listen to me, and really, no one else in my life hears the things he hears, because I'm a ghost. Meaning, people don't know nearly as much as they think they do, and I feel quite invisible most of the time.

Today I was talking to him about how different I feel I am. And how lonely I am. And how much I miss being touched and held and hugged.

He told me perhaps it's time to start dating.

It's the first time he's ever suggested it.

Most of the time over the past few years, he's been on the side of me taking time for myself and working on my issues and removing the complications - and remaining single. Lo and behold, all it took was 4-plus months of keeping to myself for him to change his tune. And his say-so wouldn't really deter me from dating if I wanted to, so I'm kind of inclined to not let it be an encouragement to begin again at this point when I really don't think I've spent enough time alone.

How do I know?

I figure it'll be time when I don't mind being alone anymore. That is not now. 'Cause truthfully, I don't want to be alone.

I miss Lion. I know now, he's not the one for me, but he's the closest I've ever come to being happy with a romance. Had Scooter not been ever-present in my mind while Lion was in my life, I might be writing this blog from Madrid. But things are as they are, and I still need to get over Scooter, and if Lion were the love of my life things would have turned out differently.

He was a sweet, sweet, picture-perfect romance to remember when I'm withered and old.

The affections and attentions of a 24 year old Spanish boy were mine for a time.

*sigh* I'll be Skyping with Lion tomorrow morning at 6am. It'll be noon in Madrid. We still talk a lot. I miss him. He's always going to have a place in my heart. I love to hear his voice.

I miss him singing to me off-key. I remember some humid days laying on his bed in his little apartment with him on top of me singing and speaking Spanish lyrics in my ear while he played me songs he loved.

Lion is a terrible singer. He knows it too. But he knows all the words, and he always has a song in his heart, so it makes his singing a very joyous and enjoyable thing. He doesn't really sing to me over Skype.

I love to watch him. I miss hearing him speak Spanish and watching his lips move unintelligibly to the beautiful sounds that came from his mouth.

Anyhow... enough reminiscing for today. At least thinking about Lion is more fun than recounting my visit with Dr Truth.

Song of the day, a song I've taken some solace in. It's gorgeous.

Be Here Now - Ray LaMontagne

Don't let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don't try
Don't let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there's a strength that lies

Don't let your soul get lonely child
It's only time, it will go by
Don't look for love in faces, places
It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

Don't lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don't put your trust in walls
'Cause walls will only crush you when they fall

Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now

Best Keep Moving

2010-11-09T14:11:00.006-05:00

Heaviness is all I feel today. It's remarkable how I can feel sadness like a weight and yet ignore it. It's a new skill I think. Mind you, saying I "ignore" it isn't quite succinct. I feel it. I acknowledge it. But it's almost like I say to myself, "Ok... today's a sad day... best keep moving".

I've described it in conversations before but I don't think I've ever actually written anything down about it. For me... depression is just something carried around.

Some people are really angry all the time. Some, negative. Some bitter, critical, aloof; you name it. Some people are more one mood than they are any other. I just happen to be a sad sort. Chances are, even when I'm hiding it well, there's a sadness at work in me. And it doesn't even have to be over something tangibly mood-altering. I guess that's called depression. At any rate, I feel the heaviness today. For no significant reason.

I mean, yeah, I miss Scooter. I miss Scooter all the time. I'd be with him every day for as long as I could if he wanted me to be. But I tend to think that's influenced by the fact that he doesn't want me to be. Though he does contribute to my sadness, it's not even him that's weighing on me today. I'm just plain down.

And to that I say "oh well".

My latest homework assignment for The Artist's Way, is to write a thank you letter to the champions of my creative self. I don't think I mentioned that the previous assignment was to compose a list of champions and describe how they got the title. I was supposed to come up with 3, and I stopped at 8. It took me pages of writing. And all of it, had me welling with fond memories and admiration. I may be taking this course at my own pace and doing it slow, but I have to say it's really good for drumming up gratitude, and finding pride in myself. Even when I'm trudging through hurtful things.

On another note, I (with a few other co-workers) got a tour of our new office today. The move won't be happening til the end of January or beginning of February, but it's kind of nice to get a look at where we'll be. It's going to be a shorter commute for me. I have mixed feelings about that. I enjoy my commute. But I guess it will be a lesson in taking the time that I need for myself from other time, and not just because I have nothing better to do. ...That or I'll have to move farther away.

Ugh... just had a huge verbal scrap with a co-worker. I overheard him picking on someone and tore a strip off him. He went back to his desk fuming, and called me to tell me that it was none of my business, so I tore another strip off him and told him how "unliked" he is in the office. I think it was news to him. The truth hurts. I've had a rotten relationship with him for years now, but I've kept my venom largely at bay. I think it's on now. And I really don't care. If there were an HR department here, I'd haul his ass. His interpersonal skills suck. That boys-club-bullshit-I'm-just-teasing attitude burns my ass. One of my co-workers (the victim of abuse) has been growing his hair for months and it's been driving him crazy. I know he's self-conscious about it, because we've talked about it, and I have to listen to this other jack-ass tease him every day. I've told him to stop, and he doesn't listen.

It amazes me how often I'm willing to charge into conflict these days. I think I'm just tired of letting people behave like assholes unaware.

Song of the day... a lil hip hop. I won't bother with the lyrics, but I do like the word-play. I apologize if it's offensive. In all honesty, I just heard it for the first time today, so I haven't listened all that closely. Jeremiah "Down on Me". I just really like it. : )

A Slice of Sky Pie

2010-11-08T15:56:00.005-05:00

"Be strong and do not give up. For your work will be rewarded." 2 Chronicles 15:7

I spotted this bible verse on a little card loosely affixed to the street car stop sign on Parliament street. It provoked a few thoughts in me, so I took note of it in my phone. I've taken to doing that over the past year, when I want to remember things.

My first reaction to it, was kind of warm and squishy I have to admit. Being as "Anti-Religion" as I am, it still made me think, "Aww, not everything about the bible is bad." because Hey; a little card that someone had charitably posted with some random words of encouragement for those days when you feel like nobody cares and nobody notices you. Nice.

And then, the ugly underbelly: another connotation.

"Keep preaching and trying to convert people, because there's a place in heaven for you, if you do."

Now, what could be wrong with that?

Well, the spread of ignorance for sky pie.

And I know non-Christians who know nothing of Christianity, probably wouldn't look at it that way. But non-Christians who've escaped the cult-clutches of child indoctrination and have taken the time to "think" about life and the likelihood of god(s), might be inclined (like me) to feel a sick little feeling in their stomach, at the thought of the creation of more mindless drones to follow Jesus and give their time, hearts and money to churches.
That in itself isn't bad. Churches do wonderful things in the name of Jesus.
Charitable works, and a strong sense of community and fellowship are things that the world at large could benefit from if they took a look at the way a church takes care of it's own. I just have a problem with the selection of random rules to follow telling me against my own better judgment, that my morality is wrong from a book whose origin is almost as sketchy as the thought of it's translation.
Can we learn everything we need to know about life from a book that's supposedly 2000 years old? Even if it's holy. Shouldn't what's being learned every day be added to it, and taken into account?

No. And I think yes. But purist Christian followers believe to alter anything beyond status quo is blasphemy. And so they cling to scriptures like "a man should not lay with another man", written under Levitical Law, when people were (documented) wandering a dessert and under threat of dying as a race... and let other silly Levitical Laws... like not eating shellfish, "eye for an eye", and various cleansing rituals and sacrificial practices... slide.

There's so much labeling of what's evil, and what isn't, made by people whose reality is unaffected by the reality of the groups that they're pointing fingers at.

I've had discussions with people who cite all the wonderful things about religion to me as though I don't know what they are. As someone who's escaped, I say the spread of religion is a virus. It's a crutch for those unwilling to face the reality that human beings are creatures of this planet, not far removed from all the other animals. We are unique. But I hesitate to agree with any notion that we are divine, or created by a deity. We die. We don't know what happens when we die. That is good enough for me. I don't need to be told I'll live forever, up to my pits in sky pie. And I don't think that human beings as a species have much to gain from not facing the fate we know, instead of focusing on theism and the things we don't know, but hope for.

I wish there were another way to give people hope, aside from encouraging them to forsake logic.

Religion scares me. More than anything that it does through good will, it tears down through arrogance and segregation and divisive judgment. All balled-up with the fail-safe that to believe anything else is punishable by eternal damnation. If there were a god... (s)he's wouldn't be like that. And if he/she is... would they be worthy of worship? I think not.

So even an innocuous little "encouraging" scripture leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It goes without saying that if you work hard enough at anything, eventually it should pay off in the way you want it to. That's worth remembering at least. Good intentions.

One Republic - Secrets

I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess
Til' all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said
Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw me wink, no
I've been on the brink, so

Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away

My god, amazing how we got this far
It's like we're chasing all those stars
Who's driving shiny big black cars
And everyday I see the news
All the problems that we could solve
And when a situation rises
Just write it into an album
Singing straight, too cold
I don't really like my flow, no, so

Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away

Oh, got no reason, got not shame
Got no family I can blame
Just don't let me disappear
I'mma tell you everything

So tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away

So tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
All my secrets away,
All my secrets away

I Search Myself, I Want You to Find Me

2010-11-06T12:49:00.004-04:00

Hello? Universe?

I'd like to know some really great sex please.

Healthy, uninhibited, confident, fun, sex with a man who keeps me in the moment, and thinks I'm just as amazingly attractive as I find him.

Please, no lazy, narcissistic douche-bags, only interested in their own gratification, and no guys who will hurt me.
I suppose those are redundant parameters. But in the name of being careful what I wish for, I just thought I'd be concise.

Masturbation is fun, but it'd be nice to be touched by someone ...who's not me.

I'm Like This Sometimes

2010-11-05T14:44:00.004-04:00

I got the letter "from me" "to me" in the mail today. And an interesting thing happened: I typed it out to share, and then realized it truly was just for me. There was something very affirming about the process and the decision.

If I had to give it a name, I'd say self-sanctity.

Sorry, not much for blogging fodder, but something I can look back on some day.

Nothing worse than telling someone about a surprise and then never revealing what it is. Nasty goat bastard that I am.

I'm feeling really cerebral today, and I know how boring that is. But I don't really have any readers, which makes this for me. 'Kinda nice.

I wrote something on July 24th of this year, that I'm going to share instead... it's from the "Pink Notebook". I'm not mentioning real names of course... so that may detract from the heartfelt nature of the words. Hopefully one can imagine full, given names substituted for the privately assigned nicknames.

July 24, 2010

No one in this life has loved me the was "Lion" has. May I keep him close and show him nothing but love in my days. Even as I explore love and reconcile love.

May there never be any doubt in my heart that I have loved three men deeply... "Eak", "Scooter", and "Lion".

Each of them have pieces of me known by no other men.

Each of them occupy my soul and being with the purity of wanting what is best for them and to know them the rest of my days. To forgive and be forgiven, to tread with courage to be vulnerable, and the willfulness to do them no intentional harm through life's inevitable transgressions.

.....

It's so singularly meaningful to only me, even now. Perhaps especially now. But I feel blessed to love the way I do and not know any other way to feel about them. I want to know them and love them and give them myself. Maybe one day there will be another name to add to that list with whom the chemistry will be mirrored and perfect. Thus far something has always been just out of reach.

My heart's a vast place. My head's a black hole. Disparaging things could be said, but not by me anymore.

Ever Dance with the Devil in the Pale Moonlight?

2010-11-04T23:32:00.004-04:00

I always ask that of all my prey.

And here's the proof that I was indeed a Vampire Slayer for Halloween. Sweet PJ sent me the pictures today. Despite my ponch, I think I look pretty damned butch. And really... what an amazing setting for photographs. That would be one of the reasons why PJ is such a good photographer.

Fun stuff, this vampire slaying. Though those stakes are sparkling clean even now.

Truthfully I wouldn't have the heart to kill anything. Even if it was undead.

I do miss wearing the mascara and eye liner. I need an excuse to do that again.

Balls Harvey

2010-11-04T15:13:00.004-04:00

Before I start in on my real thoughts...
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.

Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.

We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)

Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.

This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)

"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.

Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.

Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.

Heartsblood and Letters to Yourself

2010-11-03T13:21:00.003-04:00

I addressed and mailed a letter to myself today. Like actual snail mail, in an envelope with glue and a stamp and a dirty Canada Post box and everything.

Entertaining huh?

It's a personal growth and emotional recovery exercise in "The Artist's Way". Which incidentally, I'm finding really engaging in ways I didn't anticipate.

I think there's a concrete/physical/psychological element to receiving and tearing into a letter you've written yourself. That's strictly my hypothesis as to why it's an exercise. I've never actually written a letter to myself before. ...I've left messages on my own voice mail to remind me of things, but that's about as close to this (brand of) crazy I've ever come. Though I have heard it's a cheap way of copyrighting your material to mail your work to yourself, and not open it.

At any rate, it was a "letter to the editor" of sorts. Intended to defend my creativity against the enemies of my creativity. You wouldn't think one would have many enemies of their creativity. I managed to think of a few. It's all about wallowing in your own damage to find out where and how it happened. Bring on the healing. I'm ready.

I wrote Scooter a 3 page letter yesterday, and kinda finished it off today. No, I'm not going to give this one to him either. I've written soooooo many letters to him. You have no idea. He's received maybe 4 or 5 total out of at least 50 to 75. I'm not joking. As I said, they are my therapy. They allow me to say all the things I want to say without making a complete ass out of myself time and again. He doesn't respond to my letters. Not verbally, not written, not emotionally. I get no response. Sooooo... they go in a box. Out of my head, onto the paper, into a box.

This particular letter came really close to being given to him tonight. I'll have it on me when I meet him for dinner. Astounding proximity. But I always run the "fever" letters past my friend "Marti". Fever, as in I'm running one, and delusional enough to send it. She's been following the Scooter saga for well over a year now and knows just how crazy-in-love I am. And she sympathizes, though she's close enough to me to tell me I really should run or let go. As she did today, when she read this Fever Letter. A barrage of text messages and some loving advice later, I've decided I need to sit on this for a while, if only because I'm not sure I want to try so hard anymore. Really, maybe I should let things fade if they're going to. I don't want to campaign for anyone to love me. What would it be worth to win it?
I say that now, but my angst will spike again and I'll be in "all or nothing" mode and licking envelopes in the name of true love.
*barf*

Scooter is a train wreck. He needs me as a friend more than I need him as a boyfriend. Truthfully, there has to be someone better for me. I realize this. I can recite it with sincerity. But Fuck I love that boy. No one will ever convince me not to. Not even him. I need to do it on my own. I'm a stupid, stupid, masochistic Capricorn. Big yellow sign on the lawn of my mind... "Caution: Goats Obsessing".

He may yet get that letter. It's pretty hardcore heartsblood.

Another Scooter song.

"How" by Maroon 5.

I have been searching for your touch
Unlike any touch I've ever known
And I never thought about you much
Til I'm broken down and all alone, ohhh

Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up

I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back

But how?
But how?

I can feel it in my guts
What's going on with him now
And don't patronize me with lies
I'm a man, be a woman now, ohhh

I have been bound by the shackles of love
And I don't mind if I die tied up, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up

I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back

But how?
But how?
But how?
But how?

Ohh yeah
Why must we be so ugly
And please do not think ill of me
Why does the one you love
Become the one who makes you want to cry
Why?
Why?
Why?

And how?
How?

But I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying

Love: the Disease

2010-11-02T12:43:00.003-04:00

Countdown to an evening with Scooter tomorrow night.

He brings out my neurosis full force. ...And the deepest sadness I've ever known.

November 7th marks the 2 year anniversary of when I met him. I've never loved anyone as much as I do him. And he keeps me at arm's length. And breaks my heart over and over.

I let him. Like a complete bitch with no self-esteem, I let him. Just to have him in my life. Just in the off chance that I can show him how much I love him.

He draws me in... And pushes me away.

From one day to the next I waffle back and forth between showing him nothing but love... and telling him good bye for good. Good bye is winning today.

Everblue

Love doesn't come alone, now does it?
Present perfect tense
So you made yourself a new world
Where even strangers make more sense
I pay the pain up right straight ahead
And with the beat
You can ease yourself into the light
Or keep that record on repeat

What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue

Fought away the sleepless hours
Unsettled dreams will make you keep
You can paint them all your brilliant colors
Just don't fall off into the deep
Happiness is not a burden
Oh, how the pendulum will swing
I have felt the ground, I've seen the seeds

Out of which grew golden wings

What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue

High above the stars are dancin'
To a soul, one bird is singin'
And it's you, my Everblue

What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
You know I love you
My Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
Everblue

Halloweekend in Words

2010-11-01T14:26:00.009-04:00

Well, Vampire Slayer costumes garner a considerable amount of attention. This I've learned. Lots of comments, a few gropes, one ass-slap and a whole lot of bedroom eyes. It's the mascara. I'm certain of it. People dig a guy in mascara and leather.

Though attention does not a fun weekend make.

Friday and Friday night were fun. Our staff Halloween party was cute. The food was amazing. (though it always is.) I tied for "best costume", and won a DVD and a piece of Hayes carry-on luggage (pink! and yes, I'm that secure.). After work, I stood in an impossibly long line at the LCBO for booze, and then took an equally impossibly long streetcar ride to Parkdale to hang out with my friend Peachy at his place and proceeded to drink a lot. He DJ's/hosts a night at the Press Club once a month called Queer Social and that was our destination. Good scene. Nice little bar. Live music and then some lost 80's stuff. This was the first QS since August, when I met a sexy 22 year old "Vin", who I made-out with for hours at and after the club. And he just happened to show up this Friday too. I suffered a little indignity of feeling a little too sexy for my alcohol. I was all touchy-feelie with him, and he (though receptive) told me he just wanted to be friends. A good thing, because I don't want another boyfriend, but OUCH!
The boy sure can kiss though. Lordy.
It was his birthday. We danced a strange combative conversation during which he told me he'd give me his phone number. I told him I'd give him mine instead. This puzzled him. So I told him, I'm 50% "don't believe you". Once he had my phone number, he immediately called to see if I'd actually given it to him, and texted me. "Hellos". I later texted him back "Hellos & Goodbyes. : )". I realize that's maybe a little cold and dismissive, but I do not need another 23 year old. 3 of the guys I've had "things" with over the past 2 years have been under 25. They're untrainable. Horrible pets.
I was out late that night, and was texting back and forth with my friend "PJ" who is a very kind and sweet suitor. He insisted on picking me up and driving me home, which probably rescued me from hypothermia and got me home a good 3 hours faster than the TTC would have. He stayed the night at my place. We were going to have brunch at his place on Saturday anyhow, so it worked-out well. He made me an amazing omelet and then we headed out in search of cupcakes and bow ties. Which just plain makes me smile.
He needed a bow tie for his costume as an old-school press photographer. And the cupcakes.... just because cupcakes rock.
He never did get a bow tie, but we shared a dozen mini-cupcakes on the beach, watching waves, and petting dogs. Me in my full costume.
I highly recommend dressing like a male-on-male porn star and going to a dog-park. The dogs don't mind, 'cause they see your soul and wag their tails. Their owners... not-so-much.
Again though... fucking cold.

Not too long afterwards, we headed to The Guild Inn in Scarborough, which was beautiful. We walked among a huge collection of pieces from demolished structures, that are brought to this site for posterity. There are massive pillars, and arches and statues and such, made from cut stone and marble and the park just has a surreal "gorgeous graveyard" feeling to it.

PJ, being a skilled (and sought-after) photographer, took the opportunity to snap a few "in character" photos of me in my costume in some amazing surroundings. I climbed atop an 8-foot stone sculpted pillar and posed with stakes in hand and cape blowing. Incredible fun. I was a rock-star/superhero. ha!

This was my first "autumn walk" of the year, and I got to enjoy two of my favourite sounds: crashing waves and crunching leaves. PJ is playing a good game, considering how unavailable my heart is, and how quickly I threw the anchor off the boat at top speed, shortly after we met. His is a good soul. I care for him already. Though I'm not sure romance is in the cards. Like I said though, he's playing a good game. He's charming and gentle and has a great approach to life.

PJ, dropped me off at my best girlfriend's place, so she could do my makeup again. She was solely responsible for how readily I would wear mascara again just to turn boys heads. I didn't stay there long because I was late for dinner with "Poppycock" and "Meaty". I always smoke entirely too much pot around them, but hey, it was Halloween. We actually discussed a few favourite Halloween memories from childhood, and then their landlord joined us for a late dinner where the conversation strangely-enough turned to 4 year olds who poop their pants, not once, but twice. Meaning, twice the conversation went there. Not "double-load pants pooping". Good times.

I'll sum-up the rest of Saturday night quickly because it wasn't that interesting.
After dinner, I headed out to the village on my own. Strolled up and down Church street twice to see where things were happening and to enjoy the good costumes.
Lots of bare-flesh for such a cold night. But I think as Canadians, we forget that winter is not a sexy time, and a good cold snap makes outdoor lingerie a poor choice for Halloween.
This stroll up and down Church street was when I got the majority of my "great costume" comments, and a grope and lots of loving glances. It would be easy to become intoxicated by feeling that desired. (an interesting experience for me)
I went to a club that was having a "bear" night. That's the sub-category of homosexual culture that I fall into strictly based on stature and body/facial hair. The night is called "Pit Bull". The music and the crowd, are not my thing. Admittedly, I was kind of on the prowl for at least a little make-out action, and thought this place would be my safest bet. Wrong. After one drink and about half an hour waiting for a good song, I took off. The music really, really influences whether I can remain in a club and it just wasn't happening. I don't know why I bother going there in all honesty.
My fail-safe for good music is actually a lesbian bar called "Slacks". The DJ there is usually a "9 out of 10 songs are good songs" category DJ, with a sad penchant for the Black-Eyed Peas, which I forgive resentfully. I didn't even really get into the club on this evening though, because one of my favourite young guy friends "Sauce", texted me and wanted to know where I was and what I was up to. I have had a huge crush on Sauce for 3 years now. He's gorgeous. I'd rope the moon for him if he didn't have a boyfriend. But seeing as how he is 22, it's probably best that that never happens.
I waited in line til he got there, and we went in for a while, but he felt self-conscious because he didn't have a costume and he's not much of a club kid. So... we went for Chinese food. Sadly he called his boyfriend who brought along four very odd friends so the meal was a little awkward, but Sauce and I shared a cab ride home and enjoyed each others company. This was a late night.
Got home at 5 am, went to bed at 5:30 in full make-up like all the professionals, and slept til 10am when awakened by a call from "Pugs", my 59 year-old downstairs neighbour lady. I was an ass and ignored her call because she wanted me to take pictures of her dog in a devil costume, and I knew I could endeavor to get that done later on in the week when I wasn't running on fumes and crispy-fried shrimp. "Pugs" will make me pay for this neglect in some sulky Virgo way. I should call her today to make amends.

So yes, I was up at 10, and had a Skype date with "Lion" for an hour. He's in Spain, so it was late afternoon for him. He was looking all cute and chipper and practically jumping through the screen because he loved my beard being all dark from the makeup. "Lion" is my Spanish boyfriend. We had an incredible Spring romance while he was in Canada that I'll undoubtedly talk about another time. He always makes me happy.
Though, I crashed emotionally shortly after we spoke. I don't know if it was the pot or the alcohol catching up with me but I was a sad mess yesterday afternoon. Too much time to think about "Scooter". I spent the afternoon writing him an e-mail I'll never send him. That's my therapy.

At any rate, I decided I wasn't going to let the heaviness keep me home. I went to the tree house to meet up with Poppycock and Meaty again. From there, we went to "Ginger" and "Bert"'s place. Ginger was dressed as a viking, and Bert opted for a very classy impersonation of Queen Elizabeth. Poppycock and Meaty are in "new couple" mode. They didn't wear costumes. Poppycock is one of my best friends and I really can't picture him in a costume.

The five of us decided to go down to Church street again. The city closes the street for Halloween every year because it's such a huge party-slash-spectacle. I highly recommend it. There are so many costumes and music, it's kind of like Pride without the spectators and vendors.

Bert became an attraction almost immediately. Who knew that so many people want nothing more than to have their picture taken with the Queen?? He was loving it though. There were people practically lining up just to pose with him. I became an unofficial escort for him because it was hard for him to walk in his shoes. Since I'd only met him once before, it seemed a strangely intimate thing to do for him to be walking by my side, on my arm. There were a few times when I had to take a reality break and stop treating him like I was paid to protect him. Not that heels in a sewer grate aren't a bonafide hazard for anyone, much-less someone who'd never dressed in drag before.

Poppycock and Meaty headed home early, as I knew they would. As much as I love PC, he doesn't have a "good times" constitution. The nest is always calling his name. I wasn't ready to go home, but I was really cold. So I accepted an invitation to go back up to Ginger and Bert's apartment. Not knowing either of them, I was a little awkward, but Ginger and I have fooled around before. He's seen me naked.
And Bert, being new to the city, doesn't have many friends here and he's quite warm and receptive to the possibility of friends wherever he goes. I saw it in the conversation we had last night while I was walking him around, when we first met after Labour Day at a housewarming party and in the lobby of their building where he engaged two drag queens in conversation. Best advice of the evening dispensed from a man in a dress.... "Avoid boys in their 20's. I mean, you can Fuck 'em. But don't let 'em anywhere near your heart."
Where was this drag queen 2 years ago before I met Scooter?

I also noticed Bert has a rapport with the doorman of their building. And I think it's a good sign of character when someone speaks with respect and familiarity to someone who works where they live. I had a bit of a lengthy conversation with the doorman while we waited for 2 friends of the drag queens to see them as a complete troupe.
The doorman is an expatriated soldier from Afghanistan who fought for the "bad guys" for 9 years and gave it up to escape war altogether. He's been in Canada for 2 and a half months and can't believe his own luck that he's working in an apartment lobby in downtown Toronto.
That makes me smile too. We never know how good we've got it, til we meet someone who's grateful to do a job most of us would consider "beneath" our aspirations.

"Ginger" and "Bert" had originally asked me up to go in their hot tub, but I opted just to bundle-up and talk to them while they indulged in a dip. Bert's had one helluva life over the past 3 years. My heart went out to him. We really connected.

Post hot tub, we went back to their apartment and watched "House of Wax" on TV. An appropriate movie for Halloween night on many campy, gory levels. Bert had been commenting about my pants all night, so I let him try them on. Yes, I stood in my underwear in the living room of 2 practical strangers while one of them cooed over how nice my leather pants felt. Isn't being gay, free-spirited?

Song of the day... you might not like this one. New Dragonette. It's called "Animale" and I'd say it's risky business. Certainly not the propulsive, radio-friendly stuff they're known for. But I love the "datsik dubstep" remix. It's unusual. Makes me wanna grind. : ) No lyrics I could find. But I love the lines "Scratch at the door, your name is not on the list, go on n' show 'em your fangs, what kind of jungle is this?"

Vampire Slayer

2010-10-28T13:52:00.006-04:00

My Halloween costume is coming together nicely. Today I'm in full makeup. It's hilarious. My friend Melanie did it for me. My beard has been darkened with black powder, and I'm wearing black eye-liner and mascara. I look hot if I do say so myself. My eyelashes look so long!! It's wild!
I could get hooked on this makeup thing. I've never ever worn any. Today was just a test run to see if I would like it, and to see if it will suit my "Vampire Slayer" costume, which it will, perfectly.

The ensemble is going to include spiking my hair, the long black coat I bought on Saturday, black t-shirt, 2 wooden stakes I whittled myself, a gold crucifix, a pair of black leather Doc boots I'm borrowing from a friend of a friend, and more black leather... a shitload of black leather really. Leather pants, leather cop gloves, and leather wrist bands. I'm quoting myself when I say, this costume is going to be "Hyper Masculine... and Uber Gay". I'm looking forward to rockin' it with confidence.

This is my first "real" Halloween costume since I was a kid. Every other effort I've made has been just thrown together and lame. This year, I just want to have fun. It's sexy. I feel pretty good about myself, so "why not"? Halloween's past, I've always been too self-conscious to look silly or draw attention to myself. This year is going to be about having fun with everyone else by getting into the spirit.

I'm finding that makeup makes me sleepy. My eyes feel heavy, and the only thing I can attribute it to is the added weight to my eyelashes. Mel told me this stuff doesn't wash off easily. I'm not even going to bother til tonight. Which means I'm headed to volleyball, looking exactly as I do now. Should be good for a few laughs or comments. It's a gay league, so it's quite possible I won't get any strange looks.

At the very least, I'm making all of my coworkers smile today. I've been grinning at all of them when they react. Of course the guys tell me I look scary, whereas the girls for the most-part have told me I look sexy. Everyone loves the beard. I do too.

Fun stuff!

Song of the day is "New Morning" by a band called Alpha Rev. Love them. They remind me of Coldplay or Keane. This song is very uplifting. It's helped me keep my head up on an occasion or two. (click on the title to watch the video and hear the song.)

Alpha Rev "New Morning"

I don't give a damn
'Bout the castle on the hill
All the gold that we could eat,
Or the horse you had for sale
No I'm getting kinda rich on the sight of any soul alive.

I don't give a damn
If I'm running from the law
When my money's not enough
And they come and take it all
No I'm getting kinda rich on the sight of any soul alive

Have you heard the Mona Lisa?
Have you heard who you are?
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.

Wanna be OK
When I'm sitting here alone
Not just thinking of the ways
That I could have done it wrong
No I'm getting kinda rich on the sight of any soul alive.

Have you heard the Mona Lisa?
Have you heard who you are?
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
Now,
You're a new morning now.

Have you heard my Mona Lisa?
Have you heard who you are?
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
You're a new morning.
Now,
You're a new morning now.

Perfect Tuna Sandwiches North of Bloor

2010-10-27T12:10:00.009-04:00

Today I congratulate myself on the perfecting of the tuna fish sandwich. Yes. You read it here. I did it. The most perfect tuna sandwich ever known to the human palette. And I do not fear telling the world, for I have nothing but joy to gain from knowing more souls will know the bliss. The secret is lemon juice, lemon juice, lemon juice, a shot of olive oil, and lemon-pepper. ...Oh... and 12 grain bread if you please.

Considering I don't really like fish, and I eat it merely as a healthy alternative... this is a delicious accomplishment. Mark my words, if you wish to begin living. ; )

That patting sound you hear? My hand, making contact with my own back.
Go tuna sandwich boy! Go!

And on a completely different note (of frustration), I would like bitch for a moment about friends. The kind of bitching that needs not be mentioned out loud to anyone specifically. Merely trumpeting it on the internet will serve a purpose all it's own.

Do you have any friends that never see your home? Not for lack of invitation or cleanliness, please note. Though I am no Molly Maid, I do not live in discernible filth. But I rarely have guests to my apartment - because... I can only surmise to have the laziest fucking friends in the world. I don't think I've ever written about where I live, but in the name of good storytelling I will say that I live in what is considered "Uptown Toronto".

I live minutes by foot, north of Eglinton Avenue West, and a 10 minute bus ride west of Yonge Street.

Yonge Street is (at almost 1900 kms) formerly listed as the longest street in the world. For perspective... it is roughly 27 kms from my apartment, to my workplace (which is downtown by the Eaton Centre). It takes me 20 minutes via TTC subway to make this commute. The portion needed to traverse my section of the former longest street in the world, is a fraction of a fraction of its great distance.

20 minutes is not a huge time investment.

Admittedly, traffic can be awful, but this is Toronto; take the subway.

Perhaps I am alone in not minding the journey across the city to see friends in the many different communities they reside in. They live in the Beach. They live in Parkdale. They live in Cabbagetown. They live in Etobicoke. They live downtown. And I will gladly go wherever they live to enjoy their company.

But mention "where I live", and suddenly, many friends are too tired, don't have enough time, or enough dogs for the sled it will take to get north of Bloor Street.

Please note, I live 7 minutes north of Bloor Street by subway.
7.
Effing.
Minutes.

I do not complain.
Ever.
But it most certainly occurs to me that to go and visit my friends, I must traverse the exact time and distance it would take for them to visit me.

And with that, I release a giant sigh, and ask what I can bring from the great northern unknown of Eglinton Avenue West.

There are no seals to club for warm pelts, so don't bother asking.

Song of the day: click on the link to watch the video. Clare came to fame on YouTube and MySpace by doing cover songs. This link contains the incredibly moody Breakage Remix version of the song, but I highly recommend the amazing original too. This lady's got chops.

Clare Maguire - Ain't Nobody (& Ain't Nobody, The Breakage Remix)

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

Meet me in the red sky and dance with me,
let the valley change you and the night set you free.
This dusk in the desert,
it's heaven at the gate.
You are my desire,
You are my escape.

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

Open up this moment and bury me inside.
I can see us changing,
like a season over time.
It's sin undermines us,
reflections of your life.
Drown me in the silence,
it will never come undone.

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

woah oh x 3

Shadows are falling,
tomorrow is closing in.
Stay with me 'til morning,
open up your wings.
I can hear your whispers calling out my name,
will you promise me that you'll steal the night again?

Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.
Ain't nobody can love me like you do.

woah oh x 3

Meet me in the red sky and dance with me,
let the valley change you and the night set you free.
This dusk in the desert,
it's heaven at the gate.
You are my desire,
You are my escape.

Swat

2010-10-25T12:54:00.003-04:00

There's a difference between writing because you need to let things out, and writing because you want people to know what you're thinking.

I think that's why my blogging has been abandoned.

Attention and comments are irrelevant. Ultimately, only what YOU think of your own life is what matters. If you're putting your thoughts out there for sympathy: good luck. Everyone has their own dose of misery to contend with. Advice... ...advice can be merely empty words if it doesn't speak to you, or if you truly believe your own take on your woes is unique to the woes of anyone else, or their take on them.

Holy fuck, am I a different person than when I first started this blog.

I like me.

I think I'm a wonderful person.

I long for the day when I live like I believe it.

I'm so close I can swat at it, and watch it tether from the impact.

/////////////////////

I'm getting tattoos. One on the underside of each forearm. The left arm: Sasta. The right arm: Amhain. It's Gaelic for "Happy Alone". It is my mantra, and my resolve.

Though I may not be blogging, I have been writing. At long last. I've been reading "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron, and only just begun to complete the exercises. Of course this is something I had originally planned to begin in August, and gave up Facebook to do so. It set me on a path of writing every day in a notebook, which was incredibly liberating and therapeutic. I filled a 200 page notebook in less than 2 months. It's time to carry on with the lessons though. I do not want to journal. I want to write. I want to create.

Giving up Facebook has been a life-lesson I didn't anticipate. I will not take it up again before I have finished the Artist's Way, and finished "Writing Your Screenplay". I will not take it up again until I actually "write" a book or "screenplay" as a matter of fact.

I have learned that grief can be wielded with function. It can sit on my shoulder. It can shut the fuck up.

Contemplation

2010-01-10T19:50:00.002-05:00

Hmmm... I find myself wishing for more time alone lately, because my life is so filled with people. And yet when I do get one precious, glorious day by myself I am my own worst enemy. I think of all the things that sadden me.

I'm being pushed by my own psyche to abandon Facebook for one, and the social/dating site I've only recently started frequenting again after almost 10 months away from it.

There's a certain level of terror in trying to be your own favourite person. Failure to do so seems a grand one indeed. It's easier to try to be someone else's favourite person instead.

A hobby or the pursuit of a dream seems to be in order. I need to conquer this unrequited love thing that's been dogging me for the better part of 2009. People say there's always a "rebound" after you've broken-up. Well, boy did I ever fall-prey to that.

I fancy myself a writer. I aspire to write. To make it my pastime and my career, and yet my thoughts are too scattered and my discipline non-existent. Even a blog-entry of any value or coherence seems beyond me. Gotta lick this. I've been waiting for too long.

Only I can make me happy.

Salvage

2009-11-09T15:19:00.005-05:00

Just reading over some of the earliest postings on this seemingly dead blog... and wondering what happened to that guy. Where did he go? ("He" being "me". )

I remember writing the words. I remember the enthusiasm.

There's nothing to be done to get him back entirely. But I am on a salvage mission of sorts.
That comes with no promise of additional blog entries, though "who knows". I did love this once. Everything just got so damned sad that it didn't seem the type of thing that anyone would want to read, and my circumstances certainly became too painful to document (for me anyway).

I wonder if I can find that guy. Does he remember me?

The Curve

2009-05-18T19:19:00.003-04:00

This weekend has been a chapter in learning to live alone. I'm getting there. And I can assure anybody that there is a lot to be learned from spending all the "firsts" by yourself. The May holiday weekend... it's the "first" weekend of the summer by many standards. I'm not proud of the mopey manner in which I spent most of it, but here on the twilight day of it, I've taken two long walks, got some much needed sleep, had a paradigm shift in my attitude about my search for "romance" (let's see how long that lasts) ... AND I washed all my living room windows, inside and out.

I watched a half-decent movie last night, "I Love You Man"... (half-decent, but not recommended necessarily). It's one of those comedies I had really low expectations for, but despite some RRRREALLY painful (intentionally) awkward scenes, this movie hit home on a fundamental level. In a nutshell, it's the story of a guy who's never taken the time throughout his life to make "guy" friends. Instead, he's devoted himself entirely to relationship after relationship with women. When faced with marriage and the realization that he doesn't even have someone close enough to ask to be in his wedding party, let-alone be best man, he sets out on a search to make male friends. There's so much truth and sad irony in the isolation we set ourselves up for when we hit our stride in a relationship, never thinking we need anyone else after being so completed by the love we've found. Couple that with the lack of opportunity to even pursue "new" friendships as an adult... and what other people are undoubtedly laughing about (in this movie) has me taking a long, hard look at my life and wondering just "how long" I'm going to be alone.

I think I may have erred entirely in my lack of maintenance with female friends in particular, in an effort to find the elusive "something" I'm looking for in guys. But then, I think I'm hard to wrap your head around, be you male or female, and though I know I'm kind and respectful, I'm also extremely "judgemental" in that I look for magic, and the moment there's a hint of it's void, I know (or default that) the relationship holds little reward. Not because I expect someone to instantly fulfill everything I want them to be, but because I know exactly what I don't want.

That makes me sound like an ogre. Hmmph. Maybe I am one. They certainly live a life of solitude in every tale.

I'm just thinking out loud.

This song... a curious choice I'm sure. But I've got my own cryptic reasons for picking it.

Something Stupid - Robbie Williams (with Nicole Kidman)

I know I stand in line
Until you think you have the time
To spend an evening with me
And if we go someplace to dance
I know that there's a chance
You won't be leaving with me

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place
And have a drink or two
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid
Like I love you

I can see it in your eyes
You still despise the same old lines
You heard the night before
And though it's just a line to you
For me it's true
And never seemed so right before

I practice every day to find some clever
lines to say
To make the meaning come true
But then I think I'll wait until the evening
gets late
And I'm alone with you

The time is right
Your perfume fills my head
The stars get red
And oh the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid
Like I love you

(INSTRUMENTAL)

The time is right
Your perfume fills my head
The stars get red
And oh the night's so blue
And then I go and spoil it all
By saying something stupid
Like I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you

C.S.S. Rudderless: I Am Not My Expectations

2009-05-05T15:00:00.005-04:00

Expectations.

My life is full of them.

The expectations I place on myself, and those I hold up to other people... daring them to live-up, or let-down. I try not to worry about the expectations I put on other people. Quite frankly, I keep the bar extremely low. But sadly, I keep that bar equally low for myself in that I don't seem to accomplish a whole lot.

I am in wheel-spinning mode. Not "down" or "depressed" per say, but certainly feeling "rudderless". I think that would be the name of my boat if my life were a boat... the C.S.S. Rudderless. Just kinda' driftin' around... following the same course without plotting a new one.

There's a course (of the educational variety) at Humber that I'd like to take, but upon inquiring, I've found I'm going to have to save up some cash, and won't be able to do so before the course start date of... Hey... It's tomorrow. Ahh well... the next time it's offered for sure. Oh, and the course itself is all about "Career Planning" and "Occupational Assessment"... perfect for someone like me. But then, leave it to me to need to take a course to find out which courses to take thereafter. *sigh*

Refusal to berate myself for it, is integral right now. That is my resolve: I will not beat myself up for not knowing what I want. I don't have to know what I want.

Even writing in my blog is undue pressure I put on myself I think. Not that I don't enjoy doing it. I just "feel bad" when I don't. What's that all about?

With this talk of expectations I think I would wish for a life free-enough that it wouldn't matter to me whether I have purpose or not. Free-enough to view life as a gift no matter what I'm doing, and free-enough to know that expectations should instead be "joyful pursuits".... not a "to do" list with boxes for check marks in the left hand column.

I wish. I wish. I wish.

A Life Full of Ticky Tacky

2009-04-05T20:22:00.003-04:00

Quite obviously, Facebook is bad for my blogging.

Not to mention... I can't quite put my finger on it, but I have a theory that Facebook depresses me. Perhaps it's that other people appear to have more eventful/meaningful lives than I do, or perhaps it's all that activity and interaction going on, knowing full-well that people aren't really "thinking" about you, or wanting to spend time with you. They're just slapping a post-it note on your head to let you know you're still friends.

At any rate... I'm having a rough time of things this week. And "that" is also bad for my blogging. 'Cause nobody wants to read about how sad or lonely you are. I know this, because I don't want to "write" about how sad and lonely I am. And furthermore, I want to be one of those people who's perfectly satisfied with his own company, and uses the solitude to accomplish fulfilling things.

I just can't seem to get a handle on that yet.

Anyhow... anyhow, anyhow, anyhow... in much more enjoyable news, I have discovered just how much I thoroughly enjoy the show "Weeds". I've had the first season on DVD for literally years now and just this weekend, decided to crack the plastic and give it a whirl. The result was a 6 hour marathon to watch the whole thing because it was just that good. I just couldn't stop. The show in general is quite clever and volleys back and forth between provocative and humourous, but there are moments of incredible tenderness. One episode in particular ends with "this scene" (clicky clicky) where Nancy (Mary-Louise Parker) is watching a video of her and her husband Judah while they were making love. Poignant because Judah, is her deceased husband, and the entire premise of the show is her trying to care/provide for herself and their two sons after his death. Prior to what you see here, she has just gone through many things she never thought she'd do, and questioning her decisions with regret and takes a moment to reflect and allow herself to miss him. Her grief is not something they dwell on throughout the entire season, but when they do...
...Yeah... I cried a lot. It's unfortunate this particular youtube clip cuts off the song before it finishes throughout the credits, because it really is perfectly fitting and heart-wrenching.

"Ballerina" by Leona Naess (this link contains a rough recording of a live performance)

I'll never feel the weight of your hands
Inside mine, like diamonds
Lace so fine, ballerina
Cupcake and my earthquake
Wakes me from my sleep that
Never comes, are you breathing?
Waiting for me

I didn't really want you
But I want you now
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I needed you
But I need you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you crashing down
Into the empty world
The music stops
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
You will always be mine

The room spins
Pull you from me
My body burns
Tell me all the rainbows
The colors that the rain throws
Ballerina dance softly
She knows when to come only
When she's called on, slowly coming to

I didn't really want you
But I need you
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
Want to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I wanted you
But I want you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you crashing down
Into the empty world
The music stops
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
You will always be mine

So, so sorry
Just come back for me now
So, so sorry
Just come back to me now
Or soon

I didn't think I wanted you
But I want you now
Was so foolish of me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
Wanted to rescue, want to scream out loud

I didn't think I needed you
But I need you now
Was so empty, in me
Feel you tumbling down
Into that empty room
The lights went out
I want to rescue, want to scream out loud
That you will always be mine...

Mmmmmmm.... Pop.

2009-04-01T00:12:00.005-04:00

Sometimes I must admit my unapologetic sweet-tooth for the sugary goodness of pure orgasmic, melodic pop.

Tonight as I was sitting at work ridiculously late with little or no reason to be there other than not wanting to go home to an empty apartment, I decided I would indulge in a trip to HMV. (The big one on Yonge) I figured I'd spend as long as I wanted going through every single row of CD's and pick one or two. I spent over an hour and a half doing so, and enjoyed myself thoroughly, 'cause I haven't done that in forever.

I was hoping to get some really, really good deals and wind up with a bunch, BUT... because I was determined to at last pick up the latest Sam Phillips CD: Don't Do Anything, (which as expected was effing expensive) I stuck to my guns and only got two. I don't regret for a moment that I bought the Sam album, 'cause it's fantastic, and I will revisit that in a later post.

Here comes the explanation of "unapologetic". Y'see... I am NOT an American Idol fan. I don't hate it for the sake of hating it, nor do I deny there are some genuinely talented young vocalists rolling off the line in it's fully greased machinery either. BUT... other than Kelly Clarkson, I have not been a patron of the factory American Idol represents. HOWEVER.... like a year or two ago, on YouTube... whenever it was that I relented some hype to pass through my gates, I saw this button-cute, little guy sing "Imagine" by John Lennon. And he sang the fuck out of it with about as much passion and tenderness I've ever heard. For those not-in-the-know, his name is David Archuleta.

Now for some reason unknown, he didn't win his season, and since even his beautiful take on that song couldn't coerce me into devoting any time to that show, I couldn't tell you with any sincerity whether he was robbed or not. All I know is that the boy can sing, and I've been paying attention to the singles from his debut album, and since the first time I heard "Crush" (the first single) I knew I'd be buying this CD. Tonight I did. No apologies. I love this kid's voice. He does not take a single note for granted and his debut is pure pop bliss. I love it. I've already listened to it 3 times.
I'd go beyond merely recommending it, and insist you go pick it up. It's simply called David Archuleta.

Repeat after me: we love him.

Seriously, I can't wait to see what he does when he has more control over the material he sings. Though he does have a hand in writing a couple of the songs, and does more than justice to a cover of Robbie Williams "Angels".

I'm a giddy school girl fan of an American Idol. Oy! Oh well. Pride and an empty sack is worth the sack. I'd wear a David Archuleta t-shirt if I had one. He's that good.

"Your Eyes Don't Lie" David Archuleta

(I won't bother posting lyrics, 'cause if you watch the video link and hear the song, --which I strongly encourage you to do-- some fan crazier than I, has already done the work in far more entertaining detail.)

Good Things Happen

2009-03-30T16:31:00.003-04:00

My friend who was in danger of eviction, is now in the clear. I couldn't be more relieved for him.

And I got to sleep in til 10am this morning! *yawn, stretch, sigh* This is particularly wonderful because I went to sleep at about 11pm last night.

I dreamed about Ted quite a bit, because he was on my mind a lot this weekend. I don't remember all of the details, but I know we argued, and then we were getting along really well.
There was also a sexual element to the dream, involving me and some guy I met working in the garden centre of a hardware store, which I won't detail.... 'cuz I'm classay like dat. But the dream ended with me tending this huge front-yard flower garden that I knew wasn't mine. And "no", it wasn't the garden of the strange man from the hardware store or if it was, I wasn't aware that it was.

Dreams... ...they're like an inflatable "jumpy castle" for your brain.

No One Need Die. Just Let Me Do My Laundry.

2009-03-29T17:32:00.005-04:00

Laundry room etiquette 101:

If you return to the laundry room of your apartment building and there's a big gay guy sitting, swinging his legs, obviously waiting for something... you might want to survey the room to realize that there are no available dryers, and he might just be waiting for one. If this should be the case, then it may not be the most considerate time to proceed to fold each individual item as you remove it from the dryer you've finished using. Perhaps you could instead, remove all the clothes like a normal person and fold them elsewhere instead of slowly, steadily sealing your death with each maddening gesture of oblivion to your fellow tenant. Consider if only for a moment that others also happen to pay rent which entitles them to use the laundry facilities, and quite likely before you've folded your last pair of panties.

Yes, the big gay guy is not above stuffing your delicate little frame inside said-dryer and forgoing another cycle, just to rid the world of someone with your glaring lack of manners. But instead, he'll just suffer silently and write passive-aggressive evil intentions towards you in his blog before creating a soft little lint voodoo doll out of the filter remnants you did not clean out. (adding insult to injury).

If You Seek a Tax Form

2009-03-27T19:15:00.008-04:00

Ok. Tonight's the night. I am doing my fucking taxes if it kills me. And putting it in writing will make me do it. Right?

Just like putting my new healthy regime in writing made me do my stretches but not my exercises this morning, skip breakfast, have the Big Bell Box (from Taco Bell) for lunch, and a big pot of pasta for dinner. (which I'm munching on right now) *sigh* So yummy.

I did take the boys for an extra long walk this evening though. I love walking Porthos along Eglington in the shopping district. It's almost like a public service because he just plain makes people grin, and laugh, and fawn. Well, those who aren't inexplicably afraid of him. Poor Cole doesn't garner much attention, but such is the plight of the aged, right?

Anyhow... the pasta is finished and so is my time for procrastinating. Fuck you fucking taxes! Stop giving me hives and give me my money!!

Bright-side of spending this particular Friday night doing taxes: I have an extendo-weekend! My work computer contracted a vicious virus and needs to be rebuilt, so our computer engineer advised me (and the boss-man) that there's no sense in me coming to work til about 12:30 on Monday! WOOT!

Happy Weekend to you! And may I survive this night.

Fluff piece. Fluff piece. It's not turning out to be quite the hit I anticipated, but meh. Still a great song, from a phenomenal pop album....

If You Seek Amy - Britney Spears

Oh baby baby
Have you seen Amy tonight?
Is she in the bathroom?
Is she smokin' up outside?
(Oh)

Oh baby baby
Does she take a piece of lime?
For the drink that I'mma buy her,
Do you know just what she likes?
(Oo)

Oh, oh
Tell me have you seen her
'Cause I'm so... oh
I can't get her off of my brain.
I just wanna go
To the party she gon' go
Can somebody take me home?
Ha ha, hee hee, ha ha, ho

Love me, hate me
Say what you want about me
But all the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

Love me, hate me
Can't you see what I see
All the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

(La la la...)

Amy told me
That she's gonna meet me up
I don't know where or when
And now they're closing up the club
(Oh)

I've seen her once or twice
Before she knows my face
But it's hard to see with all the people
Standing in the way
(oh)

Oh, oh
Tell me have you seen her
'Cause I'm so... oh
I can't get her off of my brain.
I just wanna go
To the party she gon' go
Can somebody take me home?
Ha ha, hee hee, ha ha, ho

Love me, hate me
Say what you want about me
But all the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

Love me, hate me
But can't you see what I see
All the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

Oh, say what you want about me
Oh, but can't you see what I see

Yeah, say what you want about me 'bout me, 'bout me

So tell me if you see her
(Noone knew what she was wearing and what she was like)
'Cause I've been waiting here forever
(Lemme know if she was going out of mind)

Oh baby baby
If you seek Amy tonight (oh)
Oh baby baby
We'll do whatever you like

Oh baby baby baby
Oh baby baby baby

(La la la...)

Love me, hate me
Say what you want about me
But all the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

Love me, hate me
But can't you see what I see
All the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

Love me, hate me
Say what you want about me

Love me, hate me
But can't you see what I see
All the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

Oh, say what you want about me
Oh, but can't you see what I see
Oh, say what you want about me

All the boys and all the girls
Are begging to "if you seek Amy"

9998 and a Hot Cup O' Fish-Ass-Juice

2009-03-26T10:42:00.004-04:00

Hey! I think it's safe to say that my blog, this blog... this VERY blog... is going to have it's 10-thousandth hit at some point today. I say this with the arrogance that only having the counter sitting at 9998 can bring. Surely 2 people will stumble upon it looking for something entirely unrelated to what they thought they'd find. You'd think. ...Whether or not they'll return is an entirely different issue altogether.

Today is a dull, gloomy Thursday (see - I just summoned one hit) and I'm sitting at my desk at work, drinking a mug of hot green tea... only because it's good for me I might add. 'Cause personally, I think green tea tastes simultaneously like fish juice, and "ASS". Not to be confused with fish-ass-juice, which would just be unpalatable. Remarkably enough though, I've been drinking at least one green tea every day for about 3 or 4 weeks now, and I actually do feel quite good, and I don't know if it's related, but my skin has been quite nice. I've also been exercising ever so slightly ("stretching" and "moving" would be more precise) for at least a half hour every day for the past 3 weeks, as prescribed by my new chiropractor.

I've been writing, and not just blogging, though anyone who checks here even semi-regularly would have to notice a dramatic increase in activity in the ol' EBP Blog by now. I've been reading more. Listening to music more. Including more fruit in my diet (insert gay joke here) (no really, it applies). And just plain rationalizing things. I'm hoping it becomes my "Less Round, More Rounded" phase. I'm not going to detail exactly what the extra-curricular writing is all about, but let's just say it's my contingency plan for a more fulfilling career finally taking baby steps.

Yeah. Yay.

Anyhow. Good day to you. Lemme know if you're number 10,000.

A song because I love it. I may have even posted this before.

Piano Man - Brandy

Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)

Do you have a request book handy, I can flip through
I do, he said my name is Rodney, good to meet you
What do you wanna hear tonight he asked me
I said, something I can feel inside
I've got what you need know exactly, why don't we give this a try

[Chorus:]
Play me a song about heartache, I promise I can sing every word
Play me a song about love lost, that's another one everyone's heard
Strike up the band
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight

Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)

He played a song filled with sadness, I believed him
Each note was dripping with madness, I could see it
We were lost in the music, everyone knew it
Truth was in the air tonight
I could see all the faces, they thought the same
Won't you please......

Play me a song about heartache, I promise I can sing every word
Play me a song about love lost, that's another one everyone's heard
Strike up the band
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight (Mr. Piano Man)

Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)

[Bridge:]
He was going for hours, people crying showers
No one ever really tells how it is
I sang about hopeless,
cause everyone knows it, knows it
And it was so honest
Finally breathing some clean air, been through it and seen there
I witnessed all the pain
As the spotlight was fading, he just kept on playing

Play me a song about heartache, I promise I can sing every word
Play me a song about love lost, that's another one everyone's heard
Strike up the band
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight
We can have the whole world singing tonight (Mr. Piano Man)

Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for us (Mr. Piano Man)
Play a song for love (Mr. Piano Man)

The Day I Had Nothing to Say (I think not.)

2009-03-25T19:01:00.008-04:00

There's always something to write about isn't there? At times I'll be somewhere with no access to pen and paper let-alone a computer and struck by things I want to write down and express fully. Y'know thoughts I feel are really worthy of remembering because it's something I feel very passionate about, or found really funny, or think is really clever...

...And then there are the days when I plop my ass down in front of my computer, and all I can do is gripe about the way some woman smells on the subway... or like today... have nothing to say at all.

Ok... that's a lie... I never have absolutely "nothing" to say. I'm a little too verbose and opinionated to declare that with any kind of conviction. There are days however, when nothing I have to say feels like it'd be a very good thing to share. I guess this is one of those days.

I sit here now, thankful my day is drawing to a close with me doing something I enjoy after a day of not-so-enjoyable truths and circumstances.

For example... I thought my day was getting off to a reeeeeally bad start when Porthos doddled around outside this morning and would not poop to save his life (or my schedule). I yelled at him in the elevator and gave him a couple of smacks in anger. Which is really awful when I think about it. He's a dog. He obviously just didn't have to go. But all I could think was "oh you stupid animal! I've got to go to work and I won't be home for 9 hours, and now I can look forward to cleaning up a mess on the floor because you won't be able to hold it that long."
*grump grump grump* *grumble* *grumble* *stomp* *stomp*
Yeah... well... I got to work and talked to a friend on the phone who's in danger of being evicted from his apartment because he hasn't paid his rent in 2 months. He had an emotional breakdown two nights ago, and has one week to come up with over 2000 dollars. And that's something I can't even help him with. I wish I could, but I just don't have that kind of money.

By comparison, my life is not that bad. Not that I didn't have additional stress come at me quite steadily all day, but still... I've got a place to come home to when my day of unrealistic demands, and impossibly negative, bickering co-workers, comes to an end. And it's paid for. And I'm grateful.

It's strange how all the talk of financial crisis and economic downturn has finally started to affect me in ways I didn't think it would. I've got sales reps clambering for any business they can get their hands on and obsessing over every minute detail, because business has dropped-off considerably. And they're obsessing over current clients they don't want to lose, and those clients are stressing about lost business, and of course it's "because their advertising doesn't work anymore", and not because people might put off buying a new car, or having plastic surgery, or laser hair removal, or may even rethink going out to a ridiculous bar to pay 20-dollars to get in, and 10 dollars per drink to enjoy themselves.

I know it's tough. Seriously, I sympathize, 'cause it's going to get tougher for us too as a business, but at some point you have to take a step back, and look at the blinking, shining, oozing mess of EXCESS that modern civilization has come to expect as a norm and a right-of-passage... ...and say "yeah... it had to end some time didn't it"?

You can try to sell all the crap and luxuries you want, but as a matter of self-preservation, "many" people (with more modest incomes, or spiraling credit card debt) WILL come to the realization that there are crucial priorities to ensure for yourself and your loved ones. Priorities a tad stronger than trading in your perfectly reliable 2 year old car for a new one just because your lease is up and you like the smell of new plastic and leather.

At any rate, I'm expected to come up with brilliant new ways to shovel snow in the Arctic when really... these businesses have to "wait it out", or "find something else to sell that consumers need - not want".

Sorry, I hate being preachy... even though I won't shut-up about it beyond my apology. Going to work lately feels like watching people drown.

Don't let me paint a pious picture by any means. I'm not immune to the credit-consumer-disease. I'm extremely grateful I still get by and pay my bills on time. Likewise, I'm starting to realize the threat of the economy on my own job. We're not untouchable. Media companies are suffering all over Canada, and it's not like we're a ratings giant. At the very least, this may well be the event that crushes our music format. I'm not privy to that information, but the possibility is there. Better the format to disappear than our jobs though. Of this much I'm certain. And I don't work for stupid people, so I'm sure it's crossed their minds too.

Funny how I sat down thinking I had nothing to say, isn't it?

Time for more Oz. Which is getting a little dull sadly. The characters are like Kleenex. They're running out of ways to kill everyone. Another shank - Another day. And I've still got 18 episodes to go before the series finale.

Song of the day... (yes, I really do like this song - even though it's strategically posted for ironic purposes given the topic of my post. It's a very catchy hip hop dittay!) ...

PS... Porthos was really good. No mess to clean up when I got home. That much I didn't deserve after being so angry with him this morning. My reward should be someone standing over me while I sit on a public toilet... camera pointed at me saying "go on... poop" "and make it quick, I've missed four subway trains".

9th Ward - Add Me Up

I got my Gucci shade on with my Gucci tennis shoes
I can hear nigga's whisperin' that that look Gucci do
I say yeah this me (uh huh,) who else it gon' be
Quarter mil', add me up, from my head to my feet
Thousands on my shoes, thousands on my pants (uh huh)
Same thing goes for the guap in my hand (come on)
Bling bling on my wrist, bling bling on my neck (uh, uh, uh)
Showin' 'em my teeth, yes nigga I'mma flex
Now people be like damn, what he gon' do next
I know one thing I ain't gon' do and that's god damn stress (yeah)
Got my goons on my side, got them two's on deck
Like 3-6 mafia I'm dope boy fresh (uh)

I think I want to buy that there (add me up)
But I know I'm gon' buy this here (add me up)
I think I need the one with the ice (add me up)
But the gold one looks so right (add me up)
I think I want to buy that there (add me up)
But I know I'm gon' buy this here (add me up)
I think I need the one with the ice (add me up)
But the gold one looks so right (add me up)

D-Boy swagger, see your status (hey)
See me on that block, tool on my bladder (alright)
Ho's know my face, niggas know my name
My bank grown up, now they wanna see me change (nah)
Keep it real, I'm a keep gettin' dollars (hey)
Keep it throw-away, buy a couple more Impala's
Either way I talk I'll be swear I got shorty
That thing on that showroom floor, I bought it
Ho's lookin' at me, like I owe 'em somethin'
I just bought a few things (oh nigga stop stuntin')
What you mean Gu, I ain't doin' nothin' new (nah)
I been gettin' money (rarr rarr rarr)

I think I want to buy that there (add me up)
But I know I'm gon' buy this here (add me up)
I think I need the one with the ice (add me up)
But the gold one looks so right (add me up)

Peephole Stank

2009-03-24T19:30:00.007-04:00

There's no secret that I'm pretty intolerant of stinky humans. I've most certainly made more than one entry about people with bad breath and body odour. Today before I delve into something of more substance (maybe, no promises.) I simply must mention a growing trend of women who favour really high-octane floral perfumes. It used to be only heavy-smoking women to douse themselves in something offensively, flowery... presumably to cover-up the smell of cigarettes and rotting lungs from the noses of those who might be fooled into thinking "oh no, she couldn't possibly be a smoker... she conveys only the essence of begonias on a sunny May afternoon".

Has anyone ever been fooled? The allergic and easily-annoyed want to know.

At any rate there's an entirely new segment of the female cologne-marinating population who simply love-love-love a particular brand of perfume that, to me (and who am I really?) smells like Dollar Store fabric softener sheets. Y'know, that really cheap, synthetic floral scent that doesn't even really smell like flowers? It's just one of those generic odours that someone accidentally stumbled upon and deemed the epitome of "femininity".

Picture the instructions on the label... "pour on ground, roll in puddle, smell pretty". Or "attach nozzle to create fine mist, dance in said-mist for 15 minutes until personal space consumes city-block, repeat, smell pretty".

I know I'm being extreme, but really... this is what I envision when some chick's perfume makes my sinuses close-up shop, immediately threatening to declare a headache, leaving me VERY grumpy and longing for a roll of smiley-face-stickers declaring "I stink. Stand clear." that I can slap on one of their boobs to be both provocative and offensive. Not-so-much-unlike the relationship of their "perfume intention" to their "perfume reality".

There is a rule with cologne and perfume. If you haven't heard it... gather 'round. It goes a little somethin' like this:

IF YOU CAN SMELL YOUR OWN FRAGRANCE, YOU ARE WEARING TOO MUCH!

Fragrances are subjective. I realize this. Everybody has their own idea of what smells complimentary on their own skin. But like a teenage boy who smells like he just crawled out of the air conditioning ducts of your local Abercrombie and Fitch store... and soaked in a tub full of the latest stank by Tommy Hilfiger... LESS.... is almost certainly MORE.

Gee... I truly wasn't planning on a full-blown topical rant. But it's decidedly more colourful than my chiropractic appointment today. Let's leave it at that. I think I shall watch more "Oz" and get to bed at a decent hour tonight.

Help, I'm Alive - Metric

I tremble
They’re gonna eat me alive
If I stumble
They’re gonna eat me alive

Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft, tough to be tender
Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer

If you’re still alive
My regrets are few.
If my life is mine,
what shouldn’t I do?
I get wherever I’m going,
I get whatever I need
while my blood’s still flowing
and my heart still beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer.

Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft, tough to be tender
Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer, beating like a hammer

Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer.

The Bird, Wrapped in Sunshine

2009-03-23T20:57:00.004-04:00

If this song doesn't absolutely invade your brain and take over... then I suspect there's something seriously wrong with you.

Yes... I said it.

I may write more later, but in case I don't. I hope you have a splendid day. Listen to this song for guaranteed splendid-ness.

"Fuck You Very Much" - Lily Allen

Look inside, look inside your tiny mind
now look a bit harder
cuz we’re so uninspired
so sick and tired
of all the hatred you harbor

so you say it’s not okay to be gay
well I think you’re just evil
you’re just some racist who can’t tie my laces
you’re point of view is medieval

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cuz we hate what you do
and we hate your whole crew
so please don’t stay in touch

fuck you, fuck you very very much
cuz your words don’t translate
and it’s getting quite late
so please don’t stay in touch

do you get, do you get a little kick out of being small-minded?
you want to be like your father
it’s approval you’re after
well that’s not how you’ll find it

do you, do you really enjoy living a life that’s so hateful
cuz there’s a hole where your soul should be
you’re losing control of it
and it’s really distasteful

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cuz we hate what you do
and we hate your whole crew
so please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cuz your words don’t translate
and it’s getting quite late
so please don’t stay in touch

You say, you think we need to go to war
Well you're already in one.
Cuz it's people like you that need to get slew
No-one wants your opinion

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cause we hate what you do
and we hate your whole crew
so please don’t stay in touch

Fuck you, fuck you very very much
cuz your words don’t translate
and it’s getting quite late
so please don’t stay in touch

How Taxing

2009-03-21T17:25:00.003-04:00

I am procrastinating.

My taxes need to be done, and I don't wanna.

Truthfully, I've never done my own taxes before, and although I bought a "QuickTax" program, I'm dreading the process. I don't like numbers. They frighten me.

And this is with the knowledge that I'll be getting a return on my taxes. Probably larger than I have in a long time because of my TTC pass rebate. My irrational fear of numbers is rooted in ridiculing high-school math teachers. Meaning teachers that ridiculed me... ...not the other way around. One teacher in particular anyhow. I can't even remember his name. I blocked it due to trauma.

Math and I have a long history as enemies. But we "used" to be friends. Or at least amiable. I remember the exact time I felt the sting of math's betrayal. Throughout grade school, I was an all-A student. I did well in absolutely every subject. So when it came time to enrol in high school courses, of course I chose "advanced" in everything. It was the next logical step, right? Math said "not so". For it was in my Grade 9 advanced math class that I discovered... I didn't know diddly. I struggled for an entire semester to learn the secret language of numbers... but for the most-part I only learned the equivalent of how to ask the whereabouts of the bathroom in the twisted, sadistic land of numbers. My final grade was 75% that year... ...a "B". And it only got worse. Grade 10 advanced math had teeth like small, sharp daggers. I didn't understand my homework... ...so, I stopped doing it, because I was getting the majority of it wrong. My final grade that semester: a lowly 60%.... a ...."C". I was mortified and defeated.

By grade 11, I had lost all hope of mastering even the basics of math. I enrolled in the advanced class, and lasted less than 2 weeks. Our first test was "a review" of the previous year and I scored 10%. Knowing full-well, I was only going to be dragged behind the bumper of the math bus, I dropped the course and didn't take any more at any skill level.

That in essence, is what kept me out of university. (I originally wanted to become a teacher.)

It's tragic to think of the minds I could've twisted by now. Hee hee

Anyhoo... don't know how I was quite-so-inspired to write an entry about "math" of all things. Sometimes you just don't know what'll come spewing out of your brain.

It's certainly time I could have spent doing my taxes, isn't it now?

Jesus Doesn't Love Me

2009-03-19T12:21:00.006-04:00

HOW DID I NOT KNOW DRAGONETTE HAD A VIDEO FOR "Jesus Doesn't Love Me"?????!!!
They're so naughty! I want to have a dinner party like that. Except maybe without the girls. heh heh

I yearn for new music from this band. Like oxygen. Like dark chocolate. Like blind-folded dinner parties. ;)

Home is Where You Fart Most

2009-03-18T00:50:00.011-04:00

I have the day off tomorrow (today) to spend with someone I adore.

"Happy" is such a wonderful feeling when it's at it's most anticipated. *grin*

Since it's 1am... and I really do want to go to bed to be rested for tomorrow, I'm just going to post a few pictures of me and the boys and apartment stuff.

First: a very recent picture of me and P-Dawg. Yes, I'm sporting a beard now. Though it's truly more work than I ever bargained for, and yielding less-than-satisfactory results. Porthos... ...or Pork-ohs (baby dog needs to shed a stone) (just like papa) if I may be allowed to boast for a moment, is THE most loving and sensitive of dogs I've ever had my entire life. I could not love him more.

And then, proving "salt and pepper" is the new "black", the ever-handsome gangsta beagle, Cole. My sweet little princess is starting to show his age, but he's still spry and lean and has a coat that'd make a mink say "DAYUMN". Not bad for a gentlemen of 80 years of age (that's 12 calendar years this summer) . It's a little bit harder to get him to pose for pictures these days. He's grown weary of the paparazzi, or rather, just privy to the flash. It annoys him, so a lot of shots are of him walking away, turning his head or closing his eyes. Oh that clever hound.

And, now just to show y'all that I'm actually setting-up house. There are still boxes unpacked and much crap "undealt"-with (***note the conspicuous lack of any bedroom shots, and not because I fear the widespread knowledge of my porn HQ.) but I'm starting to really get things arranged the way I want them, and the plants are thriving and looking good. It feels more like home. Anyhow, just pictures to play us through the credits. No song lyrics today 'cause I'm going to fall-the-"eff"-down from exhaustion.

Harpy Birthday to Shrew

2009-03-13T15:12:00.008-04:00

Hmmm.... one of my coworkers just said to me: "Oh John you're always making me laugh, you should have your own blog."

Is that what this is supposed to be for? If it is, I'm admittedly doing a very poor job of being funny lately.

Incidentally, she overheard me say to no one in particular (with reference to a song we were playing on-air) "This song is sooooooooo shitty.... so shitty it sounds brown."

Whatta ya think? Does that make me worthy of writing my very own blog? (which I didn't tell her about) I don't think it was that funny.

I dunno, if I was being judged on it, I would've spruced it up... y'know... like "this song is so shitty... so shitty I can hear the kernels of corn begging for freedom." That's asking a lot of imagery of it's audience though, isn't it?

And no, it's not always about poo with me. It's just more amusing when it is.

In a topic totally unrelated to poo. This movie is REALLY, REALLY GREAT! "Rachel Getting Married" for those of you disinclined to clicky on m'a linky. It's one of those films that will have you feeling a) thankful for your own family or b) wondering how they managed to film your family without you knowing about it. DYSFUNCTION JUNCTION, what's your function? Loved it. But be forewarned, it's NOT a feel-good film whether or not you can identify with any of the mental-patient nuclear family hyjinx contained therein. I saw bits and pieces of my sisters and most certainly my mom in a great deal of the female lead characters, but certainly not to the extremes they were taken for the plot of this movie. The similarities were present though. No doubt about it.

In a topic not completely unrelated to dysfunctional families... today is my mom's birthday.

Oh... and before I forget, I just saw "Religulous" for the second time. (& LoVeD it even more the second time) If you haven't seen it, you should. "Required Viewing" for a very fucked-up world in my opinion.

Never Done

2009-03-06T19:35:00.004-05:00

I'm not sure why I did what I did tonight, but nonetheless, I've turned down plans to get together with an aforementioned superficial friend in favour of being alone this evening. So here I sit on a Friday night with nothing in particular to do, and feeling rather mopey.

Of course I've been feeling mopey since Wednesday night. A likely side-effect of going off the meds I suppose. Which causes me more than a little bit of dread, because I'd hate to have to go back on them and endure the zombie state of reintroducing them to my system. *sigh* It's very difficult to admit to depression as an actual "illness". Even now, after enough years (taking pills) for me to lose count, I still feel like antidepressants are a cop-out for me. Like they're an excuse to shut-down and not deal with my real feelings. I have to remind (and justify to myself) that depression isn't "merely feeling sad". It's not some event that happens along that you have to mourn to overcome. And yet, I perpetuate my own stigma, by feeling the need to be pill-free. Truthfully, I don't like them. I don't like the sexual side-effects more than anything else, but I also hate the muted colour they help you see the world in. It took a year of suggestion from my doctor to get me to go on them because I just didn't want to. And I perish the thought of actually admitting to her that I've taken my own initiative to abandon them. I honestly think I'd rather drown in emotion than monkey around with different varieties as replacements or alternatives. I want to accept my sadness as a part of me that I can control and subdue and occasionally revel in when things get too hard to bare. It's one of my design flaws. Something I have to learn to love about myself.

Facing facts though... I'm crying... a LOT. Like every day. And that can't possibly be normal. In sticking with my cognitive therapy I do try to limit myself to a short period, and then just letting it go by rationalizing my grief and sadness, and countering it with gratitude for all I have to be thankful for. Gratitude is empowering and humbling. And I do have so much to be thankful for, that's it's really an exercise in blatant "assholishness" to dwell on everything that makes me miserable. My life is good. 'Better than good. I just have to keep my sight set on that.

I'm just so affected by people and things. I find it virtually impossible to not be. People are really awful to one another... and you don't even have to pay attention to the news to see it manifested in so many things. Malice and cruelty, selfishness and greed, fear, hate and just plain ol' apathy.

Of course that's not my only source of woe. I'm lonely. Mind-numbingly, aching for companionship, and someone to just take a genuine interest in me. But then, that could be labelled ego I suppose. Since this past 8 months has been the first time in so many years that I've actually been alone I think I'm feeling the isolation with a little more magnitude than I would otherwise.

Anyhow... woe is me... boo hoo hoo... just venting and giving words to some unexpressed thoughts. I will be ok. I always am. And with good reason. I am blessed and thankful. No more dwelling.

Incomplete - Alanis Morissette (live video in link)

One day I'll find relief
I'll be arrived and I'll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends

One day I'll be at peace
I’ll be enlightened and I'll be married with children and maybe adopt

One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

One day, my mind will retreat, and I'll know god and I'll be constantly one with her night dusk and day
One day I'll be secure, like the women I see on their 30th anniversaries

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous and torturous
But never done

One day, I will speak freely
I'll be less afraid
And measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art
One day I will be faith-filled
I'll be trusting and spacious authentic and grounded and whole

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time
Of being forever incomplete

Usher Blasts Chris Brown

2009-03-05T10:04:00.002-05:00

I am in no way condoning Chris Brown or domestic violence. I think his relationship with Rihanna must be very unhealthy and dysfunctional to say the least - BUT - the general public, including Usher... has no right to pass judgement on a suitable display of remorse.

Celebrities they may be, but again it falls on deaf ears that "they too" are only human. Flawed and prone to error. Rihanna's been pretty silent on this whole fiasco, and if she's willing to endure more abuse, one must also consider the possibility that "maybe" she doles out a fair share of abuse herself. Perhaps that's just how they function. There are many relationships of equally horrible calibre that aren't scrutinized under a lens we reserve for celebrities who are supposed role models because they've displayed a marketable talent the world wishes to consume. To be blunt: Chris and Rihanna are kids. They're not supposed to have everything all figured-out at their age. It's sad and glaringly obvious that they've got issues - but it's also "none of our business" to tell them how to live their lives. The example they set for others is determined by the morality instilled in us by our own circumstances. It's not their responsibility to lead a perfect life for someone else to emulate. They're incapable of it - just like the rest of us. To expect it of them is incredibly naive.

Breakin' Dishes - Rihanna (from "Good Girl Gone Bad")

I don't know who you think I am
I don't know who you think I am
I don't know who you think I am
I don't know who you think I am am am am am am am am am ow

He been gone (gone)
since three thirty (three thirty)
And coming home
lately at three thirty (three thirty)
I'm super cool
I've been a fool
But now I'm hot,
and baby you gon' get it (it it it)
Now I ain't tripping ah!
I ain't twisting ah!
I ain't demented ah!
well just a lil' bit uh!
I'm kicking asses
I'm taking names
I'm on flame
don't come home babe

I'm breaking dishes up in here
All Night (Uh-huh)
I ain't go stop until I see police n' lights
I'ma 'bout a man tonight
I'ma 'bout a man tonight
I'ma 'bout a man tonight
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an ohhhh

I'm still waiting,
come through the door
I am killing time,
you know bleaching your clothes
I am roasting marshmallows
on the fire
And what I'm burnin'
is your attire
I'm gettin' restless
I'm gettin' tested
And I can't believe he's always out all night and never checks in
Is he cheatin'?
Man I don't know
I am lookin' 'round for something else to throw

I'm breakin' dishes up in here
All Night (Uh-huh)
I ain't gon' stop until I see police n' lights (Uh-huh)
I'ma 'bout a man tonight
I'ma 'bout a man tonight
I'ma 'bout a man tonight

A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
Ohhhhh

I don't know who you think I am (I am...)
But I really don't give a damn right now
If you don't come I am going to huff and puff and
I'ma blow this blow this uh,
I'ma blow this blow this uh,
I'ma blow this house house down!
Dishes
breakin'
dishes
breakin'

I'm breakin' dishes up in here
All Night (Uh-huh)
I ain't gon stop until I see police n' lights (Uh-huh)
I'ma 'bout a man tonight
I'ma 'bout a man tonight
I'ma 'bout a man tonight

A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an
A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an

Breakin' Breakin' Breakin'...
Dishes Dishes Dishes...

Smucked in the Nose

2009-03-05T00:13:00.006-05:00

Well... the intention was there. Sadly, the timing was completely off. 'Didn't get to see "Poopie Pants" the movie, because it was overbooked. --No seats left when we got there-- Who knew??

Thus I have no recommendations, whether or not you should see it, 'cause I didn't. And... truthfully, I likely won't now. ...well, maybe when it hits DVD.

Instead I spent the evening drinking... and (as I usually do with alcohol) ...spiraling. Some friends are not good for the soul, the esteem or one's well-being. You can learn this lesson again, and again, and again... but in the end, sometimes even the superficial is preferential to being alone.

...Not to say it's better for you... but preferential none-the-less.

I am far too sensitive. This I know. This I know.

Poopie-Pants: the movie

2009-03-04T17:23:00.005-05:00

A matter-of-fact post about movies...

So, right now, I'm sitting at work waiting for 6 o'clock to roll around to meet some friends to have the most delicious burritos in the world from "Chipotle", and then hit the theatre at 7pm. The movie we're going to see is called "Pontypool" (so obviously all I can remember it as is "poopie pants"). I have to look at the voucher to remind me of the title every time I want to refer to it. It's a premiere screening, which means it's free. This alone makes me happy. "Pontypool" is an indie Canadian Zombie flick. My expectations are low. But as-always I'm trying to approach it with a willfully open minded attitude.

Last night I saw "Vicky Christina Barcelona" and LOVED it. Strangely enough, I'm quite convinced it was my very first Woody Allen movie. (no, he wasn't in this one) My friend Scott is quite the (W.A.) fan, and has been wanting to see it. I'm so glad he included me. The narration was a little distracting at first, but once I realized the director's commentary wasn't turned-on, (and yes, I was in need of convincing) I was quickly immersed in a brief patch of the lives of some very neurotic, richly envisioned (real) characters. And I could relate to almost every one of them in varying degrees. The male lead, played by Javier Bardem, was the most deliciously, well-rounded, loving, and wise character with the healthiest, most realistic view of life and relationships I've ever seen. And Penelope Cruz who plays his passionately unstable ex-wife actually managed to make me forgive her for "Vanilla Sky". She really is good in this film. At any rate, I loved the non-traditional theme and the cinematography, and music as well. I'll be purchasing this one to watch and share for sure.

More later maybe. If I'm not a zombie.

Sexy MoFu

2009-03-02T21:44:00.005-05:00

Oh alright, alright! I get the picture.

Evidently, the 2 loyal friends who still check to see whether I roll any bones in this graveyard are getting weary of my silence (to know what I'm referring to, please check the comments of my last entry). Shawn and Jerome, your wishes are my pleasure, though it certainly wouldn't seem like I've taken much pleasure in blogging for quite some time now to the casual observer.

I am adjusting. Adjusting, and hopefully growing as a human being, and striving for "unflappability" in the face of life's challenges. And to put such lofty thoughts into written words seems arrogant and overblown. But that is indeed, what I've been working at over the past few months. Attitude adjustment... positive thinking... best-foot-forward... gratitude... kindness. It all takes surprisingly little effort once you make it the norm, and not the exception. Kind of like recycling... people bitch and moan about recycling, but really... there's no effort in it once it's routine.
At any rate, the biggest problem with these kind of goals, is the lack of tangible evidence that you've been up to anything at all. And perhaps I truly haven't been up to much else, except trying to maintain some semblance of real friendship amongst a list of 200 or so people on Facebook. I'm now, quite thoroughly convinced it's possible to do, though one does tend to wonder where their evenings and pretty-much all other spare time goes in the process.

That's why Facebook has been put in the freezer for the month of March. And, for all intent and purposes, I feel a little guilty blogging and thus living more of my life on the internet. Somewhere along the line I'll put a little more effort into "living" life, than simply talking about it online.

Without further ado... let my bullet some stuff I've been up to... all Facebook-style... or maybe even "Twitter"ish for those who can no longer stomach nasty things like paragraphs.

* I have been dating boys like a Mo-fo. (why is it Mo-fo, and not Mo-Fu??) (see!! that's something I'd put in a Facebook status update - I'm chronic.) Amidst those dates, I've met some pretty wonderful guys and some spectacularly uninteresting/incompatible suitors. I'm sure that happens to everyone once they put themselves on the market. (ie: Bear411.com) (nsfw)

* I have stopped taking my anti-depressants. For 2 weeks now, I have been med-free and enjoying the return of regular emotions to be felt at will and whimsy. No, they're not all the plum, "tickly" emotions. But that, as they say, is life... and I've had enough therapy and done enough reading to know which trains of thought are healthy and which are a complete waste of time and energy. (That doesn't mean I don't still board the wrong train, but I tend to not ride it as long as I once would have.)

* The boys (Cole and Porthos) are doing really well. I think they've adjusted quite nicely to the alternating weeks between my place and Ted's place. Let it never be said, these two animals aren't loved and cherished by their daddies. All of the anxiety they initially expressed during the transition, seems to have been eased as they've grown accustomed to the new routine.

* I bought black leather jeans. Hee hee They're mail-order from "International Male" clothing.
And I got them for 89-dollars. They still need hemming before I erase any remaining doubt about whether or not I'm gay to the remaining 2% of people exposed to me that might wonder. And no, they're not tacky or cheesy. They're loose-fit, casual and cute. I like 'em.

* I'm currently working my way through watching all 6 seasons of Oz. (Season 4 as we speak.) It's amazing how, cutting-edge and risque I once found this show - and within it's own rights, it still is, but HBO certainly got a whole lot racier. Perhaps Oz can be offered gratitude for paving the way. Sadly, as much as I'm enjoying it... ...it's slipping further into the realm of soap opera with a shank-of-the-week (that would be "murder within the prison" for all you penitentiary virgins) and much repetitive dialogue.

...and on that note. I think I'll watch another episode before bed.

Song of the day, in honour of Facebook, and the frickin' temperature outside, and my whole philosophy about living my life online. I leave you with the lyrics to "Freezer" by Supreme Beings of Leisure. Lush, chillax, trip-hop electronica for those who don't know who they are. : )

I live my life in a freezer
I live my life like millions of people
I left my heart in a freezer
I left my mind and I don't even know

And I've turned to stone
Yes I've turned to stone
And I've turned to stone
Left out alone

I left my thoughts in a freezer
I left my thoughts where nobody goes
I lost my soul in a freezer
I lost my heart where it's forty below

And I've turned to stone
Yes I've turned to stone

Too many fissures in the same stream
Went bitter living in a hazy dream
Too many voices make an ugly scream
They're crowning me, I cannot see
Why must it be
I'm in a freezer

Free me from the freezer (x4)

Cause I've turned to stone
Yes I've turned to stone
Well I've turned to stone
Left all alone

Too many fissures in the same stream
Went bitter living in a hazy dream
Too many voices make an ugly scream
They're crowning me, I cannot see
Why must it be
I'm in a freezer

And I must be stone
In the freezer

Everything AND Poopie

2008-11-24T13:56:00.003-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEAh77W_1jE

Others embed media all the time. I however, seem to be incapable of mastering the steps it takes to do so. So... clickie-clickie on the link above to bask in one of the most horrific examples of human misery ever to be broadcast to the masses. Were I this gentlemen, I would be praying for the world to end, or at least a complete and utter annihilation of the internet and it's contents.

A complete "wipe" (if you'll pardon the pun.) from everyone's memory, including my own would seem to be in order. But instead, I shall laugh heartily and celebrate schadenfreude with the hopes that karma will overlook me for such cold-hearted mirth.

Hermititude

2008-11-10T14:46:00.003-05:00

The months just roll by don't they?

I think s'bout time I post a little life update.

The new apartment is just about feeling like a home now. I've got much of the unpacking done at this point. Barring a pile of luggage, doggie crates, 21" tv and stand, box of books/photos and various odds and ends banished not-so-inconspicuously to a corner of my bedroom. I've lovingly dubbed it "Madame Trash Heap". It's likely to be there for a while, til I can figure out how to sell some stuff on e-bay or Craig's List.

Porthos and Cole are with me this week, and I'm happy to have them. It's amazing how happy they are to see me after a week. They just overdose on attention for the entire first night, and then sorta settle into the routine much quicker than they did before. When they're with Ted, they've got him home all day, every day, but when they're with me, they have to adjust to my schedule of not being home all day. It makes me feel awful but I try to compensate with lots of walks. Oh... and peanut butter. And I pretty-much restrict myself to a life of "hermititude" in the evenings while I have them. Although.... now that my apartment looks like a home... I can have guests!

Anyone wanna stop by and see me? : )

Blah... not very interesting for a first post in well-over a month, but it's the best I can do for today.

Discovered a fantastic not-so-new artist recently: "Skye Edwards". She's the former lead singer of a band called "Morcheeba". Her solo debut is called "Mind How You Go", and I love it. It's acoustic, yet electronic, thought-provoking and tender. Her voice is soothing and emotive.
I'm posting the lyrics to one of her songs called "Stop Complaining", but if you'd like to hear her, I'd recommend clicking "HERE" to watch her awesome, awesome, awesome video called "What's Wrong With Me". I was going to post the lyrics to that, but they're really depressing and I didn't want to go there. : )

"Stop Complaining" by Skye

I don't know why but I can't seem to find the right melody today
I can't make the words fit how I feel
I don't know when was the last time that I slept the whole night through
And when morning comes around I feel tired

I woke up from the strangest dream
With a dancing dog and a beauty queen
They said nothing
Nada
Niente
I'm empty

But you're here and I'm here
so I stop complaining
It could be raining
And I see the answer in your eyes
You're here and I'm here
I keep on singing
Just keep on singing
Singing

Do you know why I can't seem to find the right melody today
Can't make the words fit how I feel
Do you know when was the last time that I slept the whole night through
Another morning comes around I feel tired

I drive down to the rodeo
Gonna ride a bull in a video but nothing
Nada
Niente
I'm still empty

But you're here and I'm here
so I stop complaining
It could be raining
And I see the answer in your eyes

You're here and I'm here
I keep on singing
Just keep on singing
Singing
Singing
Just keep on singing
Singing
Singing
Singing
Singing
Singing
Singing

Me with Martini, Jerome in Bikini

2008-09-09T19:17:00.004-04:00

Tomorrow night at this time I will be at a Sam Phillips concert with my dear friend Jerome. Hee!

I'm quite pleased at the opportunity to see both Jerome and Sam, having not seen him for probably a year or her... well... ever.

No, she's not a very well-known singer but I'm a fan from way back when she sang contemporary christian music under her given name: Leslie Phillips. What I didn't know, (thank you Wikipedia) was that she was marketed as the "christian" Cyndi Lauper back in the 80's. Whattayaknow 'bout that? No wonder I liked her so much. However... she evidently wasn't thrilled with that comparison. And I never made the connection on my own, nor had I read a peep about it since 1986 when I first became a fan... so how good was that marketing?

I had come to assume that she adopted a new stage name when she took a step back from her faith and began singing secular fare, but like I said, that's an assumption. She may very well still be a woman of faith. I have read some disparaging remarks she has made about the church and the gospel music industry... but that doesn't make her a full-blown heathen, like me.

Jerome is a much more loyal fan than I, I might add. He's kept up with Sam beyond the expiration of her contract with Virgin Records, whereas, I kinda let 3 albums pop up and pass me by without ever hitting my hot lil hands or gracing my eager ears. Shame on me. Of course, every time I saw one of her CD's released since 2001's Fan Dance... they were outrageously priced. That's the burden of being a lesser known artist I suppose though: music outlets don't buy your work en masse and thereby don't pass any savings on to your awaiting fans.

Luckily, Sam has had some success without fickle poopie-head fans like me, and gained a lot of exposure through the TV show "Gilmore Girls". Jerome enlightened me on that stroke of luck I might add, 'cause I'd never watched Gilmore Girls (still haven't, although I hear it was very good.) and never would have known otherwise. Yay Sam! Sell those records and keep spreading your brilliance!

Her latest album is entitled "Don't Do Anything". I vow I will own it... and Fan Dance and A Boot and a Shoe ...and then my Sam Phillips collection will be complete yet again. She really is a remarkable artist with very intelligent/insightful lyrics. I so recommend her quirky bad-self to whomever will listen.

Here's a really old song (not an actual video) from her first album as Sam Phillips: "I Don't Know How to Say Goodbye to You" from The Indescribable Wow.

And as long as I'm goin' nuts... the lyrics to one of my favourite Sam songs... "I Need Love" from Martinis and Bikinis.

I Need Love

I left my conscience
like a crying child
Locked the door behind me
put the pain on file

Broken like a window
I see my blindness now

And I need love
not some sentimental prison
I need god
not the political church
I need fire
to melt this frozen sea inside me
I need love

Driving into town
tired and depressed
Like a flare a street light
burst an SOS

Peace comes to my rescue
And I don't know what it means

And I need love
not some sentimental prison
I need god
not the political church
I need fire
to melt this frozen sea inside me
I need love

Broken like a window
I see my blindness now
And I need love
not some sentimental prison
I need god
not the political church
I need fire to melt this frozen sea inside me
I need love
I need love
I need love
I need love

Get Out the Way

2008-09-08T17:53:00.009-04:00

Mothers with SUV baby buggies are reaching epidemic proportions. I propose that both mother (or father) and child should be destroyed on sight if attempting to board public transit in/with one of these massive contraptions.

I know it's harsh, and it may take time to implement... but really... there is no alternative. A baby should not take up the space of 3 adults (in the aisle no less) on a bus. There is no room to get around them... It's frowned-upon to climb through them... And bus windows are far too small to heft these monster-truck-prams into traffic. (not to mention they're built for off-roading and would likely survive the ejection - so why bother?)

To sound more and more like an elderly person... when I was a child we had tiny strollers that did not impose on other people's rights or ability to utilize public transit. Admittedly inferior for lack of a roof rack, curtain air-bags and a place to stow all shopping bags... these strollers held their precious cargo quite efficiently so the parental figures pushing them did not have to. And isn't that the point??? You really just need your child to be on casters so as not to break your back carryin' 'em around all day right? And to my knowledge the average human infant is born no larger than the babies of yesteryear who weathered the hardship of a lowly stroller. But I suppose in the age of baby bling... one must consider the effects of not being seen in the stroller equivalent of a Hummer.

"Oh god, there's no place to duck in this thing... the other babies will see me!"

At least I can take comfort in the fact that these behemoth baby-movers don't run on fossil fuels. *sigh*

I understand the plight of mothers who must bring baby along on the bus and even that no one can truly silence a crying child if they really wanna cry. But don't tell me you need seating for five and space for a subwoofer to cart your little one to the mall... 'cause you don't... and if you do, you should be walking to the mall and utilizing all that provisional space, not to mention the CAA membership that MUST come as an added feature.

So parents.... get a small stroller for your transit rides... or be destroyed with the knowledge that your selfish life of excess cost your precious offspring his or her life as well ('cause we will be dicing up the baby while you watch). This is how it must be.

Ludacris - Move Bitch

Move bitch,
get out the way
Get out the way bitch,
get out the way

Move bitch,
get out the way
Get out the way bitch,
get out the way

OH NO!
The fight's out
I'ma 'bout to punch yo...lights out
Get the FUCK back,
guard ya grill
There's somethin' wrong,
we can't stay still
I've been drankin' and bustin' two
and I been thankin' of bustin' you
Upside ya motherfuckin' forehead
And if your friends jump in,
"Ohhh gurrlll", they'll be mo' dead

Causin' confusion,
Disturbin Tha Peace
It's not an illusion,
we runnin the streets
So bye-bye to all you groupies and golddiggers
Is there a bumper on your ass?
NO NIGGA!
I'm doin' a hundred on the highway
So if you do the speed limit,
get the FUCK outta my way
I'm D.U.I., hardly ever caught sober
and you about to get ran the FUCK over

[Chorus]

BITCH!
Watch out, watch out, watch out
BITCH!
Watch out, watch out, watch out, move

Silly Daikini, Hang Yer Damned Curtains

2008-08-25T17:19:00.005-04:00

Anyone who's been paying any attention to my Facebook silliness would know that I've been talking an awful lot about my lack of a phone... and my plans to hang curtains this past weekend.

Well... the curtains are still to be hung, but that's not to say I didn't have a productive weekend.

Among my discoveries... ...I can in-fact be a mister fix-it when armed with the proper tools, although I rarely ever follow paper instructions. I have a strange and meddlesome aversion to reading page upon page of diagrams and steps. Possibly because they're too concise??? I dunno... it hurts my wee man-brain to try to follow along. I need a video unless the instructions are put to an interesting story I guess.

Anyhoo... I'm quite pleased to announce that I installed a new deadbolt lock, and I drilled, and hung shelves and installed anchors for shelves... wait... switch those two steps... the anchors came before the shelves. And I did some serious closet organizing. (which won't likely last, but oh well, my intentions are golden.)

OH, and I cleaned a wall of windows, watched 2 movies ("Willow" & "The Italian Job"), ate a litre of Oreo ice cream, went to a drag show (Friday night) ("Mess In a Dress") and managed to get some major sleep time. OK, so maybe it wasn't an overly productive weekend, but I'm coping. lol And part of that coping is to keep telling myself that every little thing I do, contributes to the greater goal of setting up house. ...Something I'm very slow at under the best conditions.

It's insane how long it's taken me this time around to unpack. August is almost over, and I've still got a catastrophic living room and bedroom with boxes and displaced things just laying around. Expectations we put upon ourselves huh... Meh... I guess I'm just stressing it because it's unfinished business. I want to come home to a comfortable, livable abode and not estimate how much work is left to do. I much prefer maintenance to set-up. ...And cups of hot chocolate to refill-sized bottles of Windex... And surfing the internet for porn 'n stuff as opposed to feeling drywall grit on my bare feet upon stepping out of the shower. Of course, if it's not drywall grit, it's dog hair, or some other doggie ba'bit bi-product of half-chewed toy or treat. So I don't know why I'm complaining.

I'm getting there! I'm getting there.

PS. I love the book I'm reading right now: "The Time Traveller's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger. I just found out it's being made into a movie, starring Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams with a release date of Christmas day this year. Hmmmm... I hope they do it justice. The book is REALLY good.

PPS... I've been listening to a lot of Madonna lately, thus the lyrics to "Erotica" from the Confessions Tour. A really beautiful re-imagining of the song. (granted it wouldn't appear as such by just reading the lyrics lol - trust me on this one.)

Erotica

You are who you are
And I
Wouldn’t want to change a thing
In spite of
All the pain that love can bring
Tell me
What can I do
I’m so in love with you

You thrill me
Surround me, you fill me
You send me
You put me in a trance
You fill me
Inside me you take me
You thrill me
You put me in a trance

(Chorus)
Erotic, Erotic, put your hands all over my body.

You are who you are
And I
Wouldn’t want to change a thing
In spite of
All the pain that love can bring
So tell me
What can I do
I’m so in love with you

You thrill me
Surround me, you fill me
You send me
You put me in a trance
You fill me
Inside me you take me
You thrill me
You put me in a trance

The Quick Brown Fox...

2008-08-21T12:11:00.002-04:00

...Jumped over the lazy dogs.

'Just got an e-mail from my dear friend Jeff, who quite naturally wanted to know "who got the dogs?" in our separation. It's quite silly of me to not have mentioned it, but likewise one could assume that since I wasn't lamenting their absence that Ted and I had agreed on a mutually beneficial arrangement. We are doing the "shared custody" thing. One week at my place; one week at his, because really... the boys belong together no matter who they're with and both Ted and I would rather miss them both for a week at a time than to miss one of them all the time. Our babies are still our babies even though their daddies live apart. It's incredibly sad, and it brings up a lot of emotion for me. But Porthos and Cole are a comforting presence in my life when I have them, and hopefully equally comforting to Ted when they're in his loving care.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy... when skies are grey. You'll never know dears, how much I love you... Please don't take my sunshine away."

Who Y'Gonna Call?

2008-08-20T09:54:00.003-04:00

I didn't write about my move. But it was largely uneventful as far as moves go, and the only known casualties thus far (I say thus far, because I'm still not completely unpacked.) Were my Yucca Tree and the barbecue. Hopefully both are enjoying their new homes with new owners within the same building.

So in a nutshell, I'm pretty happy with my new place. I wish I could say the same thing of Primus Canada... the home phone/long distance and internet provider I've chosen. I signed-up on August 5th, with promises of 10 business days or less, and I still have no service and I've been greeted with really bad customer service in my attempts to report it, and investigate the problem. I really... REALLY dislike outsourcing. Whether it's to India, or the United States or Mexico... I have a working theory that people from another zip code, much less another COUNTRY or another CONTINENT do not have much more than a passing interest in my satisfaction. And that is being both kind and optimistic. Think about it. Someone from another country asks you a question you have no answer for, on behalf of a company that you don't even technically work for... do you care? Not likely is what I'm finding. And I'm a very patient guy, but a language barrier does not expediate any situation. I just want my phone to work, and I'm baffled as to why a singular new jack was installed in my apartment where 4 already exist, and none of these 4 work when a phone is plugged in. I was routinely told I'd have to call "Inter Connect" company by 3 different service representatives from India, when really, I just want to speak to whomever "Primus" called/requested to install my service, which they know nothing about. Well, "Inter Connect" company is very different from "AN" interconnect company (meaning "pick one and stop bothering me".) I'm seriously the width of a hair away from cancelling the whole thing and going with a different service provider. Go ahead punks... make my day.

Blah... I wish I could just stick with my cell phone and not worry about a land line, but my apartment seems to be a wireless dead zone. Ah well... happy, happy, happy... not going to let ridiculous particulars get me down.

Ghostbusters - By Ray Parker Jr

If there's something strange
in your neighborhood
Who you gonna call?
Ghostbusters!

If there's something weird
and it don't look good
Who you gonna call?
Ghostbusters!

I ain't afraid of no ghost
I ain't afraid of no ghost

If you're seeing things
running through your head
Who can you call?
Ghostbusters!
An invisible man
sleeping in your bed
Oh, who you gonna call?
Ghostbusters!

I ain't afraid of no ghost
I ain't afraid of no ghost
Who you gonna call?
Ghostbusters!

If you're all alone,
pick up the phone
And call
Ghostbusters!

I ain't afraid of no ghost

I hear it likes the girls
I ain't afraid of no ghost
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Who you gonna call?
Ghostbusters!

If you've had a dose
of a freaky ghost
You'd better call
Ghostbusters!

Let me tell you something
Bustin' makes me feel good
I ain't afraid of no ghost
I ain't afraid of no ghost

Don't get caught alone, oh no
Ghostbusters!
When it comes through your door
Unless you just want some more
I think you better call
Ghostbusters!
Ow!
Who you gonna call
Ghostbusters!

The Most Beautiful Light

2008-07-21T15:30:00.002-04:00

I am single now. I think it's starting to sink in. (it hurts, but that's part of the reason how I know.)

Last night I spent my first night alone (with the dogs thankfully). The sun still rose in the morning. And for the first time in a very long time, I played music while I got ready for work because I didn't have to worry about waking anyone up. That's a plus. Ok, so I'm not much of a rebel, it was classical music... but it was music none-the-less, and if I want to play it all the time, I can now.

I have learned to appreciate the peace that silence and quiet time can bring. But I think it's time to let my greatest joy in life carry me through the hard times ahead.

This weekend was disgusting-hot, which was an expected conclusion to a week that was scorching hot. At long last (although I haven't documented it at all), I have found an apartment in York. Elm Ridge Drive to be more precise. I'm going to be living on the 18th floor of a high rise. Facing west again; which I'm looking forward to, as I'll be able to nurture my all of my plants with hours and hours of sunshine, just like they prefer. My apartment opens to a dining room, kitchen to the right, and a sunken living room straight ahead (which I adore). It has a nice big balcony, a nice big bedroom and a huge walk-in closet with more space than I could ever use on my own. It's a pet-friendly building with swimming pool. And it's a mere 5 minute walk to the nearest subway station. So I'm quite pleased with my new digs. May they serve me well, and house my hopes and dreams for this new chapter in my life.

Anyone wanna help me move? lol

Not Now, But Soon - Imogen Heap

Not now, but soon,
The most beautiful light
Will wake us to pillow fighting excitement

Not now, but soon,
Bright into
Every corner,
Satellites manoeuvre in beams of change,

Standing by the best days of our lives,
Magnificent, the best days of our lives,
Big bang boom, the best days of our lives
They’re coming right up
If we can just get through this one.

Who said it was over?
It’s as good as it gets
Well we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves yet

If we swallow "it’s all over" and open wide on these make-to-believe
Sullen, chewed up, sodden soliloquies,
Oh, we’re sweet nothings anymore

Terrifying best, days of our lives
We’re hanging on the best days of our lives
No two ways about it, best days of our lives
They’re coming right up, if we can just get through this one.

I’ll hang on grab onto your feet
Someone else holds tied to my shoelaces
When their trouser leg tears, runs and stops at the seam to keep us
dangled together
Until help finds us here

Best days of our lives
Better be the best days of our lives
Bring on the best days of our lives
Coming right up, whoa
Coming right up
If we can just get through this one.

A Bookish Meme

2008-06-05T11:41:00.003-04:00

I have been tagged. Therefore I am "it". And never let it be said that I spoil all the fun. (I only spoil "some" of the fun.) This is for the beloved Misster Kitty, that rascally "tagger".

Here's how it works...

- Pick up the nearest book.
- Open to page 123.
- Find the fifth sentence.
- Post the next three sentences on your blog.
- Then tag five people (and don't forget to name the lovely soul that thought so much as to include YOU!)

The book I grabbed was "Magical Thinking" by my absolute favourite author, Augusten Burroughs. The 5th sentence on page 123 is:
"I mean, it wasn't like he was somebody I trusted who molested or betrayed me."

The 3 (o.k. 4 - sue me for straying) sentences after:

"He was a hunky young guy in the wrong career who got my rocks off. For a straight guy, it would be like being fourteen and having one of the centerfolds from Playboy step out of the magazine and hand you a bottle of mineral oil. Like you'd complain? Like you'd go, oh my God, you've damaged me."

This passage is from a portion of the book where he discusses his first (of a few) experience (at age 14), having sex with a Catholic priest. And no, his books aren't overtly sexual in nature.

Ironically enough, I have all of my Augusten Burroughs books with me today. I'm going to see him at a book store appearance tonight in Toronto. I brought all 6 with the hopes that he'd sign them - or at least one. Like the rabid fan I am.

I don't know who to tag really. Perhaps if you're reading this and feel inspired to do so, I'd love to know what you're reading. Let me know. : )

Pain

2008-03-31T14:58:00.007-04:00

Here folks, is how we spent most of our Sunday evening. ...Playing "Pain" for Playstation 3. It's violent, depraved and tasteless. But lordy is it funny. The goal is to inflict as much pain on your dude as you possibly can. They give you various targets to hit, and one can get into many a sticky situation. It's a complete time-waster, and so far, one of my favourite video games ever!

We did take a break to further our mind-gorging of season 3 of Battlestar Galactica. We sadly only have 6 more episodes to watch. Such a great show.