The Gay Guys

2004-05-05T00:50:00.000-07:00

A Sleepless Spring

Sleep has been coming very slowly as of late. The haze between consciousness and dreams wavers as I swim beneath the sheets. They grow warm from my body, too warm in fact, and I throw them off of me, but then fuzzy bumps form on my legs from the air pouring from the vent. In frustration I rise from my bed and seek solace in text.

Perhaps the sleepless nights are coming from all of the thoughts that parade through my mind. Stress always peaks at this time of year, spring, the rebirth, but as a gay man, the rebirth I see in the world, never hits me in the way that I think it should, in the way I want it to. Thus, an unsounded restless enters me, and I face mismatched schedules for the sleeping and waking worlds that I keep.

It's time like this that I appreciate the solitude that I keep, for if someone were here my restless-ness would only disrupt and cause me feelings of guilt, and eventual resentment. Yet it's also times like this that I find great trouble with my solitude for the burning desires of spring create overpowering chemicals within myself to seek another. It's no wonder that I cling to my solitude though, for the rift between the desires of my mind and the temptations of my flesh seperate me and I must choose sides. We all must choose sides at times, we all must.

Happy Cinco De Mayo

2004-03-25T19:26:00.000-08:00

Imagining

The music of Adam Fields playing Track 2 rolls over me, sliding around my skin, careening over the caluses and scars that I have gotten in the world. I close my eyes and I imagine... I imagine.

There is a warm feeling in my stomach, something that I haven't felt in a long time, a very long time... the feeling that everything in this world will be okay. The feeling that tomorrow the sun will shine, the wind will blow, and that I will be able to continue to breathe in and out and thank God that I am still alive.

I have been in a dark depression since Dallas. Dark days created by my mind's eye, and I have sought refuge in the most lowly of places... self delusion and imprisonment. Yet, as I sit here the solitary sounds that Adam wields bring forth a solace that I have needed, the breath that I have wanted, and the peace that I longed for.

Slowly I am reopening that prison door and gazing upon the world, not like a child with innocent eyes, but as a veteran returning from a bloody war. I know beyond my own presentment that nightmares of destruction will plague my sleep, that demons will still possess me, but the knowledge of new days, new ships, new lives, bring forth the Spring of my being... and thus I weep.

But then, like all that is and must ever be, I stop imagining, and return from the warm feeling in my stomach to my reality. A lonely guy that only finds comfort in his shadow.

Fortune Cookie: Never overanalyze a smile

2004-02-15T11:45:00.000-08:00

Mileage May Vary

In a conversation last night someone told me that my eyes were different, they didn't have that light they once had. In truth I don't know this person very well, but the comment hit home. I am different. I am much different. Looking over pictures, I can see a difference in my smile, my eyes, and through internal recall, in my movement and speech.

It's so difficult to know why I am different though. Time changes, that's a fact, but is time the cause of my disilluisionment with the world? Is time the main factor. I have nothing to compare this life to, nothing to hold it up against to see how I measure, how it all measures. Thus, I am left at a complete loss on what to think and how to feel about my current situation and the predicaments it holds.

I had a conversation with my best friend last week, and he told me that I cannot compare myself to others. I cannot judge what I am and where I am with the content and places that others are experiencing. While his speech held true, as is often the case, my world is a world of comparison and constrast, yet I know within myself that I don't need anyone's validation but my own. Holding true to this statement is obviously much more difficult than reciting it. Isn't that always the case?

2004-02-13T08:19:00.000-08:00

My State Showing Off

Twiggy, billed as the world's only water-skiing squirrel, performs to the delight of onlookers at the Tulsa Boat Sport and Travel Show at the Expo Center in Tulsa Wednesday. (AP Photo)

Sometimes people ask me what there is to do in Oklahoma. What magnificent sights or attractions we have. Well we have the normal things, malls, bowling, and dance clubs. However, this week we had the honor of having a patriotic skiing squirrel.

Have a good weekend everybody.

jOSH

2004-02-12T13:08:00.000-08:00

Me, Myself, & I

Her eyes glazed up at me. Motionless and light-less they stared, and I stared, befixed with a horror that I had never felt, never seen, never encountered. Her life was a shell, and whatever notion that set me into the motion of being in this class, at this table, made an echo in my mind. Politely excusing myself from my group, I walked to the bathroom to gather my reserves and to call upon my inner well to hold me together. A tear ran down my cheek, but I returned to the table and was able to continue with my assignment.

It has come in waves this week, like the ocean's beating upon the beach. I am hit, hit, hit, hit, by the crashing of depression's surf upon my shore. My sanity tightens, holds, and I bare the force of nature with all that I can muster. I must remain, I must refrain, from perishing within the proximal fall. I must.

Salvation is never close enough. Solace is ever far, and comfort is unbeknownst to my stirring soul. Thus, I keep those I love at a distance, touching their hearts and minds whenever it is safe, but never for too long, nor too much. While this practice has retained much of my valued solitude, it inevitably brings forth akward moments when I am asked to give, and I cannot, or when I am asked to provide, and I am unable. I have learned to live with the labels that this brings, but if only they knew what the corners of my mind hold. If only they knew, then perhaps the existence of my solitary habits wouldn't bring as much resistance, nor cause as much trouble.

Yet my heart ever beats and sounds, and it is difficult my blogger, very difficult not to lose myself within the solitary world that I create. I longingly send out my faith and hope on unfettered wings that I will find another to share with, to care with, and to create with, but for now I remain close to the fall, but unwilling.

2004-02-10T22:22:00.000-08:00

Picking your Paths

It seems the last few years (or even the last few weeks) of my life have brought so many changes upon me that sometimes I wonder how I manage to deal with them. Granted, many of the changes have made my life so much richer and fuller, but at the same time so many things have happened that haven't been quite as positive.

I was recently re-reading one of my favorite books, and as usual, a chapter of the book took on a whole new meaning for me. It is one of those dreaded "self-help" books, but this one is different than most. Instead of making me feel bad, and therefore want change in my life, it actually makes me feel empowered - reminds me of the good. (If you have problems with yourself, the book is "When you eat at the refrigerator, pull up a chair".) The book was really written for people who eat too much, but the author says at the beginning that you can exchange almost any problem with her problem for food; that the answers are almost universal. Strangely...she's right. The chapter that particuarly had so much meaning to me this time around was a chapter about the paths you take. It said that no path is right for everyone, and no path will get you to the same destination every time. Some paths work for a while then stop working, and thats alright too. But when the path stops working for you, or stops moving you in the direction you wish to be moving, recognize that it did get you to where you are, and then start looking for the next step.

I guess this really spoke to me because I've come to a fork in my path of life. I am one of those people that on the outside seems very whimsical and "fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants" about how I live my life. And that is very true for some aspects of my life, but not about my career plans. I have planned out every minute of that for years. Now, after college, I'm at that point where I had planned to get the perfect job and then just coast through the rest of life. But now I'm going in a different direction, that I'm not even sure is the right direction some days, but I am sure it isn't the wrong direction. Forward movement is just more comfortable for me than standing still.

I also recently came to realize that sometimes I really don't even know what I want. I have thought for the last couple of years that I was really ready for a serious relationship. Ready for that one guy to come into my life and stay forever. Ready to find love. Ready to have that permanent Valentine's Day date. Then yesterday I found myself breaking up with the guy I had been dating for a little over a month. I really started questioning my reasoning for doing so last night (and as an effect of that found myself getting very little sleep). I thought I was breaking up with him because I didn't feel the spark with him - that he just didn't light my fire. But after questioning it all, I'm not sure that I'm ready to have my fire lit. That maybe I'm not on the path I thought I was, or maybe I was on that path, but I had to leave it because I wasn't ready for the steep walk and rough ride the path had ahead.

It all reminds me of the quote from "Alice in Wonderland" I stole from Josh's away message one day because it just made so much sense to me. Alice comes to a fork in her path and asks the cheshire cat which way to go. The cat then asks her where she is going. When she responds that she doesn't know where she is going, the cat then tells her that it doesn't matter which way she goes if she doesn't know where she is going. I guess it is just something you have to make up as you go along. Roll with the punches, follow your path, then find a new one.

For me, I just have to be moving, making something happen, seeing something new, or doing something different to be happy. I'm starting to realize that. I'm also realizing that maybe I'm not doing anything wrong. Maybe the reason that I'm not reaching the end of the path I'm supposed to be on is that I changed paths somewhere and didn't even know it. Realizing this has helped me open my eyes and see that there are many good things in my life right now, not the things I had planned, but good things nonetheless. Maybe that is a blessing in disquise because not all the paths we plan in our life are for the best. I guess the question of the day is "If I'm not on the path I thought I was on, what path am I on, and where is it taking me?"

2004-02-10T00:24:00.000-08:00

Untitled

They were loud. Not the kind of sound that is produced by the clanging of objects, or the kind that is felt when the music volume is too high. They were just loud. The kind of sound that weighs heavy on your skin, pressing in between your pores. The kind of sound that hangs in the air even after the source is gone. They were loud.

It's Monday night and my best friend and I are nesting at our IHOP, pouring over books and notes. It's difficult for me to focus. Difficult to put letters into words, and words into meaning. Some of this stems from my entire lack of motivation. Overwhelming amounts of incomprenhensible work, and yet some of this is the result of being indunated by the season signs.

V-Day nears and everything in the universe screams red hearts and pink roses. Conversation hearts, love notes, and the ever evil pink-hued peeps dance across my vision. I filail and turn the channel of my mind. Back, back. Minutes, hours. The commericial of cheerios wedding strawberries... even a cereal has found solace this valentine's. Cereal. Cereal has found love!? Is this event only ludicrous to me?

Damn cupid and his winged-self. Damn the arrows that streak by into the hearts of others. Damn it all.

I sip my coffee, brown nectar of the gods, and imagine hiding myself away. Away from the upcoming holiday. Away from the ever present, never distant loneliness. Hide away...

2004-02-08T14:01:00.000-08:00

Keep This Between You and Me

We put a new product on display a few weeks ago, but it sat lonely without power for many days. One fine afternoon I arrived to see the SleepMachine functioning with perfection. Thus the story begins.

Everyone has secret pleasures, things that they do only in solitude. I like to listen to Mariah Carey when I'm alone. (Yes I am a closet Carey fan). I also like to call up those dating lines that you see on late night television. Listening to another voice looking for love, somehow it comforts me to know that I'm not alone in my search (I should note that I do not pay for this, nor have an ad, I just listen). I have countless other habits, quirks, whatever you will, but my new found secret is the SleepMachine.

While I must confess that I do not own one of these products, mainly due to a horrible incident with a sleep sounds cd I purchased in my dorm days, I am entranced by this product. At the touch of a button I can close my eyes and instantly be transported to the side of a bubbling brook, be alone in the evening on a sandy beach, conjure up a gentle rain or wind, find myself in the middle of a nature filled forest, or be on a train ride to a destination that I will never reach.

What power it gives me! Oh what magnificence to be able to take myself to any of these destinations at my every whim. At night when I close the store by myself, I turn off all of the electronics, the lights, and then my trip begins. I slowly ease the knob on the SleepMachine, sending power rushing through it's body, push a button to bring forth my desire, and close my eyes.

Today ocean mist hit my face, spraying salt water in my eyes and on my tongue. It reminded me of a trip in my youth with my family. I couldn't have been more than ten and my sister was barely able to walk. Both of us were wading in the ocean, our first time to see the vast expanse of water that fills this earth. It was cool upon our bare feet, a sharp contrast to the burning sand. I remember that day like it happened yesterday, but it seems so far away to me now.

So far away.

2004-02-04T21:22:00.000-08:00

D Day

It's funny how it can side swipe me. I can be perfectly fine for days, weeks, and months, and out of no where I take a hit and fall. Depression is alot of things, most of which I cannot begin to describe to someone that doesn't suffer from it, but most of all, it is debilitating.

The past two days I have been ill. Nothing serious mind you, just a stomach virus. The fever broke this morning, my headache has dimmed to a lulling pain at the back of my mind, and my muscles don't ache as much as they have been. Yet the illness in my mind rages. It leeches all motivation, all energy, all of the schedules I have been on, out of my body.

I just don't understand. A switch was flipped and I went from okay, to definitely not okay. Nothing monumental happened, nothing significant at all. Perhaps I'm just exhausted. Yes, perhaps that is it.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Wear warm socks.

2004-02-01T13:49:00.000-08:00

A Rain Drop

I'm falling. Formed in the heavens I am rapidly descending upon the world. Air streaks by me, curling my sides, whipping my shape. The world below grows more and more visible with each passing moment. I keep falling.

Others pass me and I pass others. The descent urges onward and things within me form and dissipate, form and dissipate. I move, fluidly through the grey and blue hue. Temperature changes, and my sides grow solid. Temperature changes again, and my sides fluidly stretch. I stretch and the world stretches. I keep falling.

Vision grows blurry as I pass through the mass. I cannot see, but I descend. Urged on by an unknown force, growing, growing, growing, ever stronger around me and within me. Visions of the world begin to dance ever below me, and I try to force my direction. I force but nothing. I turn, but nothing. I flail, but nothing. I keep falling.

Speed grows, while time slows, and the ever ceasing rush passes over me, around me. It whips me into different forms, different apparitions, but I remain me. I remain and I refrain from screaming. I refrain, and I restrain, while I keep falling.

Faster, faster, faster it approaches, like Crane's dreaded horseman. I have no choice but to fall. I was created for it and for it I was created. I am life, but the life that I give means death for me. Life, death, life, death, the cycle of all. The ground grows closer, ever closer, and I fall, ever falling. Faster and faster yet. I keep falling.

And quite suddenly... plop.

2004-01-23T09:54:00.000-08:00

Thou Shalt Stop Smoking

I stared at him as he bent over and sat down his book bag at the elongated table a few feet from myself. He wasn't amazingly attractive, but something about the light and his eyes, struck a chord within me. He had dark hair, the color of the night sky, and skin that was untouched by the harsh rays of the sun. He wasn't cute to all, but to me he was amazing.

Slowly he pulled off his coat, and in doing such, his shirt lifted just so much that I could see the feint outline of back muscles, and the skin just above the place where underwear and pant meets waist became clearly visible. The trigger within me was pulled, and raging hormones set forth. I was an animal within myself creating carnal dreams of sweat and groan. I longed for him, I lusted for him, and in that sweet moment before reality sets in, I had him.

I continued to use my peripheral vision to glance at him. His body movements, his touch, it all seemed so perfect, so real, yet even I cannot deceive myself for more than a few moments. I went back to reading. I crawled between the lines and sought solace in the print, in the story that was unfolding in my psyche.

Finishing my pizza, I packed up my items and began the trek to the library. As is common after a meal I decided to light up a cigarette before coming in to spill forth my lusty desires. This cigarette was different, though. As if by some invisible sonar, two people descended upon me as I pulled the white stick from its Marlboro boxed home. Wearing name tags and suits I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they were representing a religious organization.

"Can we talk to you for a moment?" said one?" Thinking to myself I screamed forth a silent, "Oh please God, please." all the while realizing the irony of invoking His name to ward off His followers. They were cute though. I must mention that. It seems as if all of the overly religious Mormons are amazingly attractive. And thus, with the hormones still flowing through my veins I found myself having affairs with both of these young gentleman. Guilt set in. Here I was imagining playful forays with two young Mormons, while they are asking me personal questions.

"Have you thought about stopping?"
"Do you go to church?"
"Where?"
"How long?"

My reactions at first were playful. Of course I've thought about stopping, but the excuse that I use for the time being is related to my hectic class schedule. My answers to the other questions was shocking. As if said aloud by me, but not spoken by me. I professed that I faithfully go to church, and have for the past three years, which is an out and out lie. I haven't attended church regularly in at least three years, if not four.

Yet I lied, I lied, and I lied some more, all the while gazing upon these two with unclear motives. As they took leave, I felt something I haven't felt in a very long time. I'm not sure if it was an overwhelming sense of relief, or perhaps it was something more, something heavenly. My self-created philosophy is very founded in not ignoring chance, for if I ignore that, then I deprive my life of a dimension of beauty.

So what was the purpose of our encounter? Is it a divine desire for me to stop smoking? I guess I shall see.

2004-01-20T10:36:00.000-08:00

Trans-CrAzy

The gate that I use to control the flow of my thoughts has run amuck. The dendrites and synapses have shorted with the introduction of so many foreign terms in anatomy. Words twirl, spin, and jump quite laborously as I type, as I think, as I move. It's difficult to describe.

The easiest explanation is that something in my mind catches a prefix or suffix and I quickly work through all of the words I know that contain the specific phrase. It's much like clicking on search and typing in something random on a pc. On my way to the library I heard someone say transduce. Thus I was stuck on the "trans-" prefix. Translucent, transdermal, transthermal, transition, transmogrify, translate, transpond, transcidental, transfix, transcontinental, transfer.

The list continues, and the pathways to my vernacular shortcircuit. This happens to me on an irregular basis, but once it begins it is a bitch to stop. I remember in high school laying awake one night during a storm. With the crash of thunder and the flash of lightning, the word l-i-g-h-t-n-i-n-g floated into my brain. Forever since I become transfixed when I see it in text. Light-ning.

I love words, but please, please, please, JUST STOP!! AHHH

2004-01-20T05:00:00.000-08:00

My Five Secret Lives

As I was skimming through web pages tonight I found myself intolerably bored. Staring at the screen I opened internet explorer and decided to see if I could find material to make my blog writing a bit more interesting. Wading through various pay and donate sites I came across a writing exercise. Thus, today's blog results from my findings.

Synopsis: The basic premise to this exercise is to look inside myself and find "my five secret lives". The goal is to write from each perspective, in hopes of improving my awareness and imagination.

The Five: 1) The Thinker 2) The Lover 3) The Melancholy 4) The Smile-Maker 5) The Runner

Thoughts from The Thinker

The resonance of Plath's "Bell Jar" still rings in my ears. I finished it last week, but the vivacious images that spewed forth from the novel, hit me right between the eyes. I have never read such an astute story that detailed the thoughts of someone that was mentally disturbed. It was frustrating at times. I wanted to fall into the past and slap the living day-lights out of her. She could have been happy, so sickenly happy, yet she denied herself. She denied her life of joy so she could write. Yet her writing didn't seem to bring her joy. She chronicled her frustrations, but there were very few elations. It's ironic.

Thoughts from The Lover

I miss the touch of a loving hand upon my flesh, the electricity that sparks forth from a gentle kiss, or the tenderness of warmth next to me. It's odd when you have someone. The long conversations you have on the phone that seem mindless and point-less, yet when you don't have them, you fully realize the magnitude and beauty that they provide. I miss love, but I miss companionship more.

Thoughts from the Melancholy

It's a lonely night, filled with cold shadows and colder blankets. The darkness that the sun has left fill me with despair. Something has spoon fed me with misguided dreams and given me unfounded faith. Perhaps it's me. Perhaps I feed upon the forbidden fruit of desire, or perhaps I'm becoming bitter. An accusation from someone I know last night has caused doubts about my motives, and my actions speak even less in favor of who I want to be. It's not that I have assailed my morals and overthrown my conscious. Nothing of that sort. It's just that I have been looking for a loving relationship, and I probably don't even need it at this point in my life.

Thoughts from the Smile-Maker

Our cat has been so demanding as of late. He meows at the slightest interaction. He's not really my cat, per se, but since I live here I do take on a small role of part-time, care-taker. (Wow two hyphens in two consecutive words). I have now discovered yet another gay rule. Never go to the mall an hour before close with money in your pockets, frantically trying to find something cute to wear clubbing. Never, ever. I spent considerably more than I've budgeted, but the shoes are so damn cute!. I think that puts me up to gay rule number eight thousand four hundred and thirty one. Tonight I spent my free time vegged out in front of the television. I feel like a reality junkie. American Idol, Who wants to marry my fat and gross fiance (that poor, poor girl), and Average Joe were on. I watched three consecutive reality hours, yet they were unlike any reality that I have seen before. (aside from American Idol, I sing horribly in the shower all of the time.)

Thoughts from the Runner

I ran from myself today. I ran from the responsibilities of studying for a test that is nipping at my heels. I ran from my feelings of despair and lackluster. I ran and ran and ran. I keep going to the army's website. Creating visions of how enlistment for me would go. I could hide my sexuality. I do it around my parents. The thought of joining an organization that would dictate my behavior is appealing at this point in my life. They would pay me to do exactly what they say. It would be like high school, with minor twinges of difference. It's not that I am irresponsible, but I get caught up in so many responsibilities. They take hold of me, and I put on my running shoes and make a break for it.

2004-01-19T00:29:00.000-08:00

Sleep-less Slumber

I crave sleep. My body silently make's the lack of rest I have garnished over the past week well known, as my muscles give a gentle prodding pain. It's an odd thing... sleep that is, for it usually comes quick and easily, but tonight it is slow and I must force it. Slipping into the easy darkness I try to plunge. Headforth into the abyss of my dreams. I jump, I fall, but I do not land, nor emerge in the fantasy that I create within my head.

Sleepless slumber is the worst. Normally it does not ocurr for me after I have been drinking. The alcohol often squeezes into my veins, providing a nice, simple sedative. I'm not sure why tonight is different. I'm not sure why it is hardly ever different. Yet tonight is different. Perhaps something is happening at this very moment that calls for my lucidty, and through some subconscious psychic awareness, my mind screams to attention. Or maybe our dreams are just another reality in which this waking life is but a dream, and thus, in that life I've decided to sleep in. Or perhaps, and this being the most likely, I'm lonely and the thought of sleeping alone hauntingly dances across my vision.

Perhaps he said, Perhaps it's true, or perhaps he said, Perhaps it's you.

The door is there dammit... open!

Today's Fortune Cookie: "Close your eyes, Make a wish, Count to three

2004-01-18T10:43:00.000-08:00

People School by Pets

In homes around the world people train their pets. Through the use of a reward/punishment system animals learn what actions effect them positively, and what actions effect them negatively. Consequently, through the miracle of nature animals differentiate between actions that have brought them pain, and actions that have created pleasure. Fatty, my roommate's cat, knows that if he meows enough he will be fed. Deeogee, my mother's chihuahua knows that if he looks sad he will get attention.

Why can't I take a tip from the pet camp and do the same? I continually go through certain actions, that always cause pain and regret, and I still do them. Time and time again I go through them. Perhaps the only sound argument that I have for myself is that my thinking is of a higher order (as compared to dogs and cats), and thus I can thnk things out more thoroughly. I can go out on dates that are nearly always bad because I know that they could be good. I can go to the bars, drink and dance, and know that the possibility of fun exists.

I still cannot explain over half of the things I do in my life that have, and always will, bring about more pain than pleasure. It's very reminiscient of that song on the radio by Liz Phair that says something about there's gotta be more to life than chasing around the next sip, the next high. I know there's more, why can't I see it??

2004-01-18T10:10:00.000-08:00

The Hellish Hangover

We reap what we sow and then we resow what we've reaped, and thus a viscious cycle begins, unless the resolve is present to change.

I stand here at work, typing, listening to an older gentleman that has suffered from a stroke, thus he only speaks with one side of his mouth, tell me about the 60's, dubbed by him as the "Age of Rebellion". He said thngs were different then, and I can only imagine they were. The time of love and removal of old stereotypes has been replaced with a time of possession and seperation.

I can only imagine what the days would have been like back then. I can only imagine.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Don't blog while drunk

2004-01-18T01:16:00.000-08:00

God's Honest Truth

I hate being ugly. It's probably the worst thing in the world. To know that you are unattractive, to know that whatever you may do, you will never catch the one that you want. I suppose it's much like a fisherman trying to land the big catch in his life, but knowing that his pole will never suffice in the attempt.

I hate the way I make myself feel. I hate the way others make me feel. I hate the way I really feel. Sometimes I can't take it, I snap, and I just cry and cry. It's unbearable really. To be ugly is to be excluded from everything and everyone. If I could have on wish, it would be to be attractive. I don't care about money, I don't care about fame, but I do care about love, and it seems to me that the only way to find it in the gay community, is to be attractive.

Please God, please, let me wake up and be cute. Please....

2004-01-18T01:10:00.000-08:00

Drunk Ramblings

Alchol flows through my veins and I sit here sad and lonely. It's awful to be alone. Probably the most tragic thing that one can know is the truth of loneliness. The brain seeks comfort in the understanding of another, yet it cannot find the thing that it seeks. In a world of perfection everyone would be happy, but we all know that perfection is something that does not happen, something that we cannot find. So we seek.

We seek the comfort of another, we seek the warmth of a body close to us, we seek for someone to "complete" us. With every effort of myself I try to console the part of me that seeks. I try to say, "Self don't worry you are only twenty-three," yet the sadness that is within me overtakes and I am consumed. I cannot continue in this weariness, I cannot believe in a life of happiness while I continue to be unhappy.

I've never known what it's like to be truely happy. I've never known, and I long for that. I long...

Today's Fortune Cookie: Don't blog while drunk.

2004-01-16T11:16:00.000-08:00

Thoughts on Rain

The rain has ran the sun from the sky today. Some would say that this is dreery weather, but to me it is comforting. I have always enjoyed the misty rain. This morning the clouds hung low in the sky, close to the earth. I diligently tried to scoop pieces of one into my hand, yet they escaped my gentle grasp. How wonderful it would be to have a cloud of my own. To carry the heavens in my pocket, and joy in my soul.

Everything is different when it rains. The sounds that children make while playing are muffled, the passing of wheels on pavement whishes instead of hums, and the sounds of sunlight make no heavenly noise as they shoot towards the earth.

The miracle of mother nature doesn't fall enough, at least not here, and thus the cleansing that it brings is always welcomed with open arms. Without soap or chemical additives, it washes away the dusty layer that has gathered on us, and it gives graceful life to every-thing.

Drops of life falling round,
Heaven scattered, earthward bound.
Clean me, wash me, make me whole,
And parch my very weary soul.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Laugh really really loud at least once today

2004-01-15T20:17:00.000-08:00

The Bad Blog

Ben Folds fills my ears, and cigarette smoke fills my lungs, as a deep exhaustion settles into my body. It has been a long day... a very long day. I have committed myself to classes this semester at 8:30 every morning. 8:30 isn't that early, right? Well it isn't, yet when you figure in time spent in the shower and preparing myself, at least thirty minutes in the car to get to a parking spot, and then another fifteen minutes getting to class... well 8:30 easily turns into 6:45. Still not too early... right? Well it's not, but then you must account for me waking up at 6:45, and not returning home until 8:30 or 9 every night.

It seems though, that this new found laborous schedule is a blessing in disguise. For the past two years I have spent a considerable amount of time in self reflection and solitude, and from this I have grown up. Looking back, I am now more apt to deal with difficult situations, and have a much more distinct and familiarized self concept.

Some would call this long amount of time spent on myself, as a waste. I am apt to agree with them in some points, yet I cannot change the past, only the future. How is this a blessing though?

So far my schedule leaves me extremely weary. Everyday I return home with enough resolve to type up a blog, chat a bit, and then read before bed. Thus, I am not left with time to think about my life, how things might not be going my way, or how I might not have all of the things I desire. So I am inclined to believe that through a busy, but orderly schedule, I can reduce the amount of unhapiness that I experience.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Ignore the post because it isn't one of my better ones

2004-01-14T22:04:00.000-08:00

The Beautiful Scenery

The study of anatomy is giving me a headache. Naming each muscle, each bone, and then repeating them out loud. All of the names slip off of my mind. The names make me sick. Distinguishing each item, separating it from the whole. I feel as if I am ripping apart a wonderous creation, and with each part I demystify my life.

I've always been like this. I like more words, more sentences to describe, and make up a whole. I like novels instead of short stories. I like long hand division, instead of short. Shortcuts are a means to an end, and while they often get you to your destination more rapidly, they detract that which makes life beautiful... the scenery.

Yet everyone is required at one point in life to take a shortcut and miss out on something wonderful. Thus, I will cut the scenery from my life and memorize these damned terms. Send good thoughts and wishes my way.

Daily Fortune Cookie: Close your eyes and take a deep breath today. You will need it.

2004-01-14T15:03:00.000-08:00

Fiction About My Fiction Class

With a heavy accent she discussed the story, and slowly, her opinion began to sweep around the room like an infection without a cure. Pausing she said, "Iz it pozzible to be happy, content, and to be totallee alone?"

The question hung in the air, like an ugly sweater in the closet. The class, despondant from the gentle hum of the air conditioner and trickles of light flowing from the grey sky into the windows, shuffled to attention. A dumpy girl with freckles spoke first, "Of course you can be happy without being with someone," A guy from the back chimed in, "I think so... yeah you can be happy without being married." Thus, the general consensus of the room was voiced. Nodding in silent agreement, I too felt that one could be happy without companionship. Surely it is easier to grow a garden if you have help, but nevertheless, a garden can be grown by one individual.

Yet the question set within me, working its way into my skin and settling into my marrow. Could I be happy by myself? Could I be happy for the rest of my life being alone? I didn't know. I didn't think so. It wasn't that dying alone scared me, for I had rather die alone than have someone mourn over me. It was the middle that mattered. Buying my first house, adopting my first child. These were the things I couldn't see myself doing alone, yet these were some of the most important goals I had.

As the buzzing of her accented words continued in my ears, I slowly glanced to my left to see the cute guy sitting next to me. Perhaps he would be my mate. Perhaps he would notice me sometime this semester and speak sweet somethings into my ear. Perhaps he would and perhaps he wouldn't. Either case, I left that class knowing that I couldn't be alone forever. I just couldn't.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Wear comfortable shoes

2004-01-13T20:13:00.000-08:00

Day of the Corpse

Today was my first day of Introduction to Human Anatomy. Walking up the long cement ramp I came upon a heavy metal door marked, "Authorized Acccess Only." Authorized for who I thought? Those that wish to see the dead? Those that wish to wallow in the aftermath of life?

Gathering up myself I slowly pulled the rusty handle, and forced the door to myself with a hesistant smile. Upon entry I noticed other students standing in the entry, the rest filling a small room in front of the foyer. I gave a sheepish look and silently held my inner self as I awaited the class to begin.

From a book case filled room, adjacent to the others, spilled a middle aged woman with graying hair and a nose ring. With a jovial look about her face she glided into the main room and began to quiet the students with her expected arrival. As a hush fell upon the body she began to welcome us to the class and discuss what is was like to see a dead human for the first time. She was brief... very brief in fact. I thought she must imagine us to be stoic and reserved, yet the faces around me were those of other normal students... youthful, hopeful, and untouched by the ravages of time. I wondered how many had really seen a dead movie. I wondered this for a long time.

As class progressed we were herded into a room littered with sinks and podiums, more long than wide, allowing all of us to encircle the eight gurney's that filled the space with a loud silence. She smiled, a toothy smile, and then began again on the lecture, this time filling our minds with terms and phrases of science, all the while imparting the serious habits that would be required of each in the class. I thought it must be a devious plan to distract us from the bodies, to take our minds off of death. How could we though? We were standing around eight dead bodies.

Quite suddenly we were instructed to depart from the room and gather in the foyer to be separated into groups, and assigned our bodies. Body assignments, that was a first, and hopefully last. Walking back through the door into the room reeking with formaldehyde, I let it fill my nostrils. So this is what artificial death smells like, this is ode de death. Group 8 she said as I shuffled into the room, group 8, body 8.

Inwardly trembling I glanced around to see nonchalant faces, masks of indiscretion. How could they be so casual about this? And why wasn't I let in on their technique? I slowly reached down and read the note tagged to the gurney. "Body 8. Age 86. Died of Cancer." An epitaph that I did not envy, the last words to describe a left behind shell. How disconcerting.

As people finished filing in, lecture began one last time as we were instructed on the proper etiquette to view and study a prosected body. We could probe, but not cut. We could pull, but not tear. My eyes raced and my mind reeled... Quite suddenly I was brought back to the room when the sound of plastic moving against plastic pounded in my ears. One layer peeled back, and then another, and then the final layer...

There it was. Death. A dead body. My first time to touch one, but not my first viewing. Less than a decade before my grandmother, great grandfather, grandfather, and great grandmother had silently passed from this world. I was no stranger to death, but then again I had never shaken it's hand, and here I stood, peeling back the skin and examining the muscles of a dead woman's back.

It struck me as quite ironic that while I often think of death, I never envision myself being dead. Youth does that I suppose, but the means sometimes doesn't open up visions of the end, or at least not the realistic ones. Thus my morning was spent with a corpse I named Esther (for the name Sylvia Plath gave herself in A Bell Jar).

As I left I realized that only through study of the dead, can the living be helped. Perhaps it's the same in all aspects of life. Does study of heartbreak allow for a better understanding of love? With that in mind I set off down the long, cement ramp to go about my day.

Today's Fortune Cookie: You will cry and hurt, but every storm must end.

2004-01-11T22:18:00.000-08:00

Fed up with Fetters

Inconsistency and doubt plague my mind. They roll with me as I move, an indescribable feeling to those that have not been touched by it, but one that follows every step, every breath, every beat of the heart. Like fetters in prison they hold me... but they ground me as well.

It's unlikely that many will find what I say to be true for them, but sometimes I think insecurity brings a humble aura about a person, and within that humility there is an opportunity to see a person for whom they really are. At least in my experiences, I find that I am much more capable of glimpsing into the window of someone if they lack the air of confidence that many are attracted to.

I don't really know how to go about removing those chains though. Sometimes I think that I need to fling open my "window" and just let it all move about freely, and in theory I consider someone with an open heart to be in the right state of mind. With unguarded love, you have the ability to give freely and purely. With guarded love, you carefully monitor the intake and release, choosing that which you deem worthy to be viewed.

Which is better? I just don't know. Maybe I should do a pro and con list, perhaps that would help. Yet it seems utterly ridiculous to me to dicate who I am, who I want to be, with a list of the positives and the negatives. I am who I am, good or bad, and while I can certainly change that, should matters of the heart take a consciousable screening?

Today's Fortune: Sing in the shower and you will pro-gress.

2004-01-11T16:47:00.000-08:00

An Image I Imagined

Walking out the open door, the wind and sun hit me in such a way as to make me think that I should be somewhere else... someone else. Perhaps in a home walking out to my seaside deck, the salty breeze chilling my body while the winter sun desperately tries to warm my face. And maybe then I would sit down and drink lemonade with my friends, all of them dressed in white sweaters and navy pants, because all people with sea side vistas wear white sweaters, navy pants, and drink lemonade on Sunday.

Sitting there overlooking the ocean we would talk about Tim and Bonnie, and their new house on the Cape, about how cute the carpet is, or how stressful work has been, all the while skirting around any issue of depth, except for politics. We would always discuss politics, which was due in no small part to the fact that most of us had politicians in the family.

It was always the same, except for when someone brought an outsider in. Captured, but unknowingly so, the unknowns would usually have names like Rex or Margaret. Pretentious names for pretentious people and their friends. It was in our blood, flowing there before anyone alive could remember. It had always been this way, and always would thus be.

The salty sea and us in our white sweaters drinking lemonade. Could life be any less real?

Today's Fortune Cookie: Let your imagination run wild for a few moments.

2004-01-11T01:37:00.000-08:00

Death of a Frienship

Wouldn't it be nice if we could stop time. If at any given moment we could pause whatever thing we are busying ourself with, to just sit back and reflect. I can't imagine what could happen if people could pause their own actions to see how they affect other people, to see the ramifications of a seemingly insignificant act.

It's hard for me to admit, but I lost a good friend today. He slept with my ex. I say that casually, but it hurts. How could someone that I love, betray my trust? How could someone that I share things with, someone that shares their life with someone else, betray so many things just to get off?

I don't pretend to understand why people do the things they do, but I do know why I do the things I do. If for some reason you are reading this, I won't curse your name, or spread things about you. I will remove you from my life. It's sad for me...

it's just sad.

Today's Fortune: Keep your penis in your pants.

2004-01-09T00:06:00.000-08:00

Somewhere Around My Rainbow

Sometimes I fancy my journey from home being like Dorthoy's trip into Oz. On sunrise of that fateful day, some four years ago, I set out in my fanciful machine onto a road that was paved gold by the fresh light of a new morning. Moving much faster than Dorthy's ruby slippers could carry her feet, I set forth onto a journey into the heart of the Emerald City, seeking knowledge, and love, and always a bit more courage.

Yet my entrance onto that golden path wasn't quite as magnificent as her transcendence from the dims of grey, to the brights of technicolor. Or perhaps, my eyes have yet to see the transformation that continually changes my horizon. Whichever the case may be, as I move along the way, I meet people and find, much like those fateful companions, that they too are looking for something different than I, yet each of us is going the same place, forward on the golden road to a place we have never been.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Walk ever onward, and sometimes backwards, but never wear ugly shoes

2004-01-07T21:31:00.000-08:00

Where am I going? Turn left here?

Today as I was speaking to Clay on the phone he distressed because he doesn't know where he is going. He doesn't know what he wants to be, he doesn't know where he wants to go. Yet does anyone really know what they want? A perfect example of this is exemplified in the everyday occurence of the restaurant game. We've all played it, with ourselves, and others, while searching for a place to dine. "Where do you want to eat? I don't care. Where do you want to eat?" and so on and so forth ad nauseum. If trying to satisfy such a "common" desire can become so difficult, how much more difficult are the "not-so-common" desires of love and life.

Kundera said that "We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives." And while I would be apt to agree with Kundera for I see his philosophies as generally sound and knowledgeable, I find his thoughts on the matter.... well rather disturbing.

Of course I know what I want. Of course I do. Well, maybe I'm not exactly sure, but I think I know. I want to teach. Where? Well I'm not quite sure. What grade? Well I'm not very picky. What subjects? Oh it doesn't matter (aside from physics because I just don't feel the need to explain a plane flying east while a bullet is shot and going west... honestly worry about the bullet in plane, not the speed or velocity).

Kundera's point should be considered though. With one life we cannot know what to want, but we can want it. We cannot perfect it, but perfection should not be our aim. Aside from being unattainable, it is rather boring. Something that doesn't break, is something that will be taken for granted.

So want what you want, and try to know what you want, but don't fret if you can't want what you don't know you want. Understand? I thought so.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Carry chapstick tomorrow. You will need it

2004-01-07T19:53:00.000-08:00

The "Official" Day

So I enrolled in school today, and it was one hell of an adventure to get there. First off I had to print a few things from the internet, easy ....right? No, my printer went crazy and after uninstalling and re installing it 3 times it finally decide to work right. Okay so once I fill out all the paper work, I drive the college, and stand in line for about 20 min to get to the admissions desk, where I am told in a matter of moments that I have to "official" transcripts to enroll. Okay that's not a huge deal; I assumed I would have to get them at some point. So I call OSU (the school that's about an hour away from where I am) and they tell me they can't print a transcript because "they are out of toner". WHAT THE FUCK, out of toner?!? How does a major university not have toner for their printer? I know how much money those people charge; they should have a room of toner, and back-up room of toner. After I yell at the lady for a few minuets, she tells me to call back in awhile, because they might have found some. Not wanting to be wasteful of my free time I go have the oil changed in my car. While waiting on the VERY CUTE wal-mart guy to change my oil, I call a past job about my W2 for 2003. They told me the cut off date was in October to my address changed. Once again this is something I can not understand. A major company with stores around the world, that can overnight ship and XXL pair of water resistant khakis, yet they need 3 months advance to change an address. These are they ways of the world I will never understand. Oh well to that, I can get the w2 online at the end of January, that's about when I will be able to file anyways.
After that I make the return call the transcript lady, where she informs me they have moved onto a back up printer (because this MAGIC TONER could not be found). So I drive to Stillwater and get the "official transcript". Wow here I was holding an "official" piece of paper that had printed on it a list of all my fuck ups and mess up in Stillwater. Walking through the school almost made me sick to my stomach. It hurt know how much I did wrong and that this place is a reminder of that, a reminder of my messed up life.
Once I finished there I then start on the return home to get the other transcript from another school. Since I had to drive another hour back to Edmond, I barely make it to UCO in time to get the transcript, but luckily I do. A short while later, I speak with a few nice folk at the OCCC, choose a class or to, and for the first time in a long while... I am a student. God that scares me soo much, what if I can't do it again? What if I fail like I have before? I can't go through that again. I keep telling myself this time if different, that this time I will do better, here's hoping I believe myself.

Song of the day: Point Of View (Gabri Ponte Vs. Molella Remix) by DB Boulevard

2004-01-06T22:33:00.000-08:00

Some Days
Some days it doesn't come easy, and some days it doesn't come hard. Some days it doesn't come at all and these are the days that never end. I am not sure how to classify today, it's somewhere in-between hard day and nothing day. It all began as I rolled over this morning and Ryan was laying (and snoring) next to me. This is where the nothingness of the day is starts. I don't know what the deal is with him and me. In my heart I know I love and want to be with him, but in reality I know that is not happening. He it seems as if we are better in the "not dating" category, but still acting like we are dating. Now the question of the day is, what does that equal up to? Instead of spending my days looking for a boyfriend, I spend them wondering what the status of my relationship is.

Along side that I had to deal with money (or the lack of money as the case may be). Money is my arch nemesis, the Joker to my Batman, the Magneto to my X-men, the fucking pain in my side. The cable company turned off the internet and the cable today. Now I know that internet is not necessary for my life's continue but it is something that does make me very happy. It's like it never ends though, I finally seem to get one thing paid off, and then another thing is just about to be shut off.

We can add to the day's trouble the looming fact of school. I don't think anyone realizes how scared to go back to school I am. As of now the only memories of school I have are negative ones. It seems to only be a reflection of what I did wrong, and how messed up my life is. So tomorrow I go to face all this as I enroll for the spring semester (yes yes very late I know). I really hope I have the strength to do it and not mess up like I have before. I am not sure if I can do it.

Well I do have to admit today was not all hard and not all nothing, I did go see my mom and she paid my late bill and gave me a home cooked meal and made my life a bit happier! She really is my rock right now, and I don't think she has any clue.

Song of the Day: Kosheen - All In My Head (Substance and Decoder Mix)

2004-01-06T21:21:00.000-08:00

I HATE STUPIDS!

"Another day, another dollar, and you're deeper in debt." That's pretty much the story of my life lately. I'm not exactly sure what redneck song the line is from, (I actually think it is a song about driving an 18-wheeler) but some days it rings true for me as well. You see, the biggest problem with working in a retail store where you love everything you sell, is that you love everything you sell. And when you're around a shirt you want for eight hours every day, you don't quit wanting it, you actually start to want it more. Thus starts a viscious cycle in my life. It starts with wanting something at work, yet because I work in a retail store I make no money, so I don't get to buy anything. I then start getting depressed because I don't have the money to purchase my heart's desires. For most normal people, the cycle would end here. But, no, not me. What do I do when I'm depressed? I shop. Most days I can usually just shop while I'm working and never really purchase anything and soothe the shopping beast that lives within my very soul, other days this doesn't work as well. Today was one of those days.

Other than not making enough money at my store to actually buy things in my store, there is one other thing that I absolutely hate about retail. The mass public. The problem therein being that I cannot stand stupid people. . . and there are so many of them out there. The strange thing is that they all seem to pick the same day to go to the mall. Today was a "Retard Tuesday." One of those Tuesdays that every person that walks through the door will inevitably ask one of the stupidest questions that has ever been uttered. Today, if one more person had asked, "Are these sweaters REAAAAALLY $19.50???" or somethign of the sort, I probably would have lost it. I always want to answer, "No, no they're not. We just like putting up signs with numbers on them for the shits and giggles of it dumbass!" but i refrain only because I need the meager income generated by the job to keep my electricity on.

So, because of the onslaught of stupid people today, I ended up actually shopping and spending money that I should not have spent after I got off work today. I blame it on the stupid people. In fact, I think the government should make everyone take some test to find out if they are stupid or not, and then charge stupid people higher taxes, then give the excess monies generated to me to help pay for my shopping excursions caused by the stupid people. Either that or someone should make "Stupid Repellant." Like "OFF" for stupid people. I guess the question of the day is, "Is there some form of stupid repeller out there that I'm not aware of, and if so, can someone please ship some to me???"

2004-01-06T20:19:00.000-08:00

The Fool Moon

Today has been one of those days that consists of blunder, after incident, after nonsense. It all began this morning when I abused the snooze, which I randomly blame for this day that doesn't want to end. It's crazy, but days are like that aren't they? Some slip through your fingers like sand on a windy day, and some are as slow as molasses in cold weather. Anyway, as I abused the snooze I didn't have my "pre wake up" time, and thus had to rush to work. Work consisted of replannograming merchandise, which in my opinion is needed, but not all at once.

Then from the backroom I hear the noises of a print off... a fax is being sent. Oh the useless drivel that administration sends us. What declaration from the divine has been bestowed upon my place of employment. What message will I read that will further the day's lack of pleasantness. Let's see:

"All stores need to cut hours. The amount of hours that need to be cut is next to your store number. I will check this so you must comply."

We must comply, eh? Great. Who gets cut, who? ME ME ME I scream in my brain, but alas I am the only one closing our store so my time card will not feel the pressing of ink upon it's skin, and my skin will not feel the relief of a warm bath with bubbles. Damn.

So the day continues to move slowly, one minute, one minute, one minute. Then a break in the clouds? Oh wait... no. You are the Asian lady I sold a phone to yesterday. What's this? You've come to yell at me in a foreign tongue. It's amazing how explicatives can be uttered, but when they are in an unknown language one becomes more frightened and curious, than urged on and furious.

I settle that battle. The score: Asian Lady = Happy, Me = Relieved. Yet the day continues to send me the rejects from the happy farm, and thus I deal with complaint after misunderstanding, after disgruntled.

Finally I'm off work and I'm on my way home. I called and ordered a pizza, forget that health kick I'm on for the night, I deserve to pamper myself. I come home and lo and behold, Lance is on. The mysterious guy that I've been chatting with that hasn't kept in contact well enough for my liking, but as it is just an electronic bond, there's not much for worry.

So we idly chat and I sit and try to think of witty thing, yet nothing comes out. Nothing. How boring am I. So I do what I do when I can't think thoughts worth thinking, and I retort the adventure that I lived for the day.

How humdrum.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Do not anger any old Asian ladies

2004-01-05T21:39:00.000-08:00

The Dish On R

Well, guys and gals, here it is. My first post. I guess to start out I should let you all know just a little about myself. I'm the odd man out of sorts. I'm the friend that moved to another state on a whim. (We'll get into that mistake later I'm sure.) After graduating from college in May, I moved to Dallas, Texas with two of my best friends from college, and left my boys back home. So, here I am. Lonely and career-less in Dallas. Which is much like "Sleepless in Seattle," but I do get a lot of sleep and there's not nearly as much rain here.

I'm sure by now you're wondering why I sound so bitter. Its not really that I'm bitter (although I do get precariously close to bitter at times), I'm more just non-happy. I say non-happy because I'm not really unhappy. To be honest, life really isn't all that bad. It's just not really all that good either. I've been living in Dallas for seven months now, and things still just haven't started falling into place for me here. On one hand, I want to move back home because most of my friends are still there, but on the other hand, my life is here now. I have a job that I love despite the fact that I'm only making a fraction of what I expected to be making at this point in my life. I live in an apartment that is cute, but has a closet that barely starts to hold my wardrobe. However, the biggest problem I have with Texas is the lack of friends I've made in the months I've been here. It has actually become quite a dilemma for me. I guess the question of the day for me is "When do you give up and just go back home?"

2004-01-03T18:27:00.000-08:00

Angry Post

I'm so tired of this. The ever constant looking, looking, looking for that someone. I'm so fed up with coming home from work, making dinner, and signing onto the internet in hopes that I will find someone to date. Fuck, it's ridiculous. What am I supposed to do in this backwater hellhole for homosexuals. I can meet guys online, at the clubs, or through my friends. Since I've came out I've met two guys through my friends. The first did not work out. The second was a joke because he was still in HS and VERYimmature. If you meet guys on the internet it's a very mixxed bag. You get the nitwits, the sexwits, and the unattractivewits. Fuck wits, I just want a normal guy.

I'm tired of going to the clubs, too. I don't go there to meet someone, I go to have fun, but how can I have fun when I am always wondering if I look cute or if I look slutty or if this and if that. Not to mention I see all of these cute guys either whoring around or holding hands with their boyfriends. Shit, I'm sure there are other guys out there like me, but where in the fuck are they? I'm tired of this mess, this cylical situation that I consistently find myself in. Really damn tired of it.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Karma will bite you.

2003-12-30T19:30:00.000-08:00

Senseless Sounds

Ahh the familiar sound of the drums of rejection... boom, boom, boom... filling my ears, filling my brain. All too often have I heard the beats drowning out all of the positive voices. All too often have I been in this place, and with every visit I lose something... I feel less.

I presume that it is only right that I feel this prickling as often as I do, for goodness knows I've been the one to give it to others. Yet... with every note that it sings, I am lulled into a spiraling despair. How many times will it come to me before I give up? How many times will I be able to care again?

It's so difficult to find someone that tickles you on the inside, and while it was only one date, one chance encounter, it leaves me at a loss. So I do what I always do... hide. Deep within myself, trying to cover that which hurts. Television, yes that will make it all better. So I plopped down in front of the tube and lost 2 hours to "The Simple Life". Perhaps two rich girls dropped into a rural genre would make me feel better. Perhaps not. Thus, I moved on, trying to cover the beats of the drum with the sounds of music. Diving in I played mp3's... Evanescence, Bjork, Norah... all of them comforting me in different ways (electronic beats, eerie trance, soothing vocals) yet the reverberating sound from the drums echoed in the distance. It would not drown, it would not die.

Thoughts play across my mind, should I go out? Should I get drunk? Should I, Should I, Should I? Will a club full of old men oogling at me distort the drums into senseless sounds? Will alchol release me?

Save... drums...Me...drums.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Consume less, gain more

2003-12-29T21:25:00.000-08:00

Funny Honey

The art of dating is one that I am not very versed at, and in fact I would go as far as saying that I really stink at it. While I am not a novice in this area, I just can never seem to be sure enough of myself to know whether the date ended well or poorly. Thus, when I leave it is usually briskly with a dumbfounded look and a tongue full of knots, and consequently, I never know how to act with the person in our next encounter.

Take tonight for example, I went on my first movie date with this really nice guy (cute even), and we went to see a really touching film entitled Mona Lisa Smile. It was an endearing film concerned with a teacher who wants to change student's lives, and thus it is something that I can take to heart. During the movie, there was a light touching of the elbows, and it sent those tingle sparks down my spine. On the other hand, there was no hand holding, which may in part could have been because it was our first date, because I told him I wanted to take anything I ventured into slowly, or because he was not interested. By default, I assume the latter, and inherently instantly discard the relationship into a vast wasteland of resentment and broke-en-ness.

Why do I do this? Who in the world knows?
Will I call this guy? I will.
Am I pessimistic about the future concerning this matter? Why yes I am.

Today's Fortune Cookie: When asked if this seat is taken, say yes even if it is not.

2003-12-28T23:12:00.000-08:00

THE Look

Obviously in a world dominated by appearance, the look of a blog is of utmost importance. Couple that with three gay men, whom all have different opinions on style, and a difficult situation is born. Throughout the coming week, I expect the look and feel of this site to dramatically change, while we all collaborate on formatting and color.

If you happen upon the site, please feel free to leave a tag board note letting us know your opinion on the current skin.

Today's Fortune Cookie: Pay close attention to your shoes.

2003-12-28T01:43:00.000-08:00

Welcome :)

Blessed fortune thou has bestowed upon the world the wisened words of three homosexuals, and from their lips shalt drip words of beauty and grace. The time has long been coming when the prophecies would be revealed, the foretelling come to pass, and my readers... that time is nigh.

That which follows is the uninhibited, uncensored, uncontrolled, views of three gay friends. May our words be a light unto your feet, and a guide upon your path.

Today's Fortune Cookie: You will be very brave