Wow.
Where have I been, huh?
Life didn't stop. I just stopped writing about it.
And if I'm honest, the greatest reason for me putting fingers to keyboard again is probably the fact that I finished a 365-day-sodoku-desk-calendar (for 2011) a week ago, and have very little to do at work some afternoons without it. Not so noble huh? 'Bet it makes you want to check back every day to see if I've written more.
The inner yearning to write is still there. I don't know what stops me. If you've been rooting for me to get my shit together and start living, you might find that I've done little to qualify. But hey! I have a new therapist and I'm seeing him twice a week in an attempt to find out what keeps me from living like a seemingly normal person. I've been seeing him since November actually, so he's new in my documentation, but not the actual "Johnosphere". I stopped going to see Dr.Truth shortly before one of my last posts here (though I can't say any factors are bound together with significance) and never went back. The new therapist was actually Poppycock's therapist, until recently when PC and Meaty moved to Kingston. (incidentally, weird that one of my best friends would end-up living in my home town). I'll call the new therapist "Sir K".
Bah... interrupted... I'll have to finish this later.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Thursday, February 03, 2011
New Project Idea
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.
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
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.
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.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Who'd You Rather Be; the Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
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"
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"
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Eak, Pugs and Windbag
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
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.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
A Scooter Tale
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
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
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Chocolate, Orgasms & Soothing Voices
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!
Ah! calling us
Together!
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!
Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!
Ah! calling us
Together!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Meaty Doesn't Know I Call Him Meaty
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
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
Thursday, January 13, 2011
January 13th 1992
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.)
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...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
6 am in Toronto, 12pm in Madrid
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.
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.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Stick Your Fingers Down Your Humility
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?
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
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
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
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Happy Birthday Idiot
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
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
Friday, December 31, 2010
At Year's End
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
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
Teacher be concerned
I want it so bad right now it hurts
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
Monday, December 27, 2010
Honest Uncle
"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.
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.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
I Feel You
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.
"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.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Perfect Winter Evening
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sheepless Goat
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
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
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Hello December
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).
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).
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