I was bored last night. Television was horrible. I wasn't in the mood to sit through a 2 hour movie, especially, when all I have left on my shelf yet to watch is sad and sappy. So I decided to do some hand sketches. Ended up being a 2' X 3' drawing in the end. You know what they say about huge hands. Have ideas maybe of where this one will go, but I need a few more days of mulling it around in my head. Just thought I'd share.
I have to talk about gay movies for a moment. For the most part, I don't enjoy reading gay books or watching gay movies. Once in a great while, something will come out that has great reviews, so I'll give it a chance. Usually, I'm completely disappointed.
Last night after my hand started cramping from drawing, I watched Echte Kerle (Regular Guys). Overall it was a cute film, typical gay theme of gay boy meets straight boy. Gay boy seduces straight boy. Straight boy sleeps with gay boy. Straight boy freaks out. Gay boy has his heart broken. Straight boy realizes he's been gay this entire time and didn't know it. Gay boy and formerly straight boy, currently gay boy live happily ever after. Throw in a little mid 1990's AIDS scare into the mix and you've got a perfect gay movie. If someone actually dies from AIDS, a more dramatic approach is taken to produce some tears. Sound cynical? I am.
I came out during a time when every movie we had to watch was HIV/AIDS related. I remember having to be practically helped out of the theater because I was crying so hard after seeing the movie It's My Party. We had Philadelphia, Love, Valor, Compassion and And The Band Played On. All wonderful movies, but depressing. For a while, gay movies were something I decided weren't worth watching. Why subject ourselves to all that?
The movie Regular Guys that I watched last night was really a cute 'gay boy meets straight boy' type of movie. Until straight boy freaks out and wonders if he has AIDS and whether or not they really had sex their first night, blah blah blah. Gay boy is offended that straight boy automatically hands him a death sentence because he's gay and should automatically have AIDS. Luckily, they didn't dwell on this subject matter for very long. I was still irritated. I picked up the DVD box and noticed the movie came out in 1996.
Well, no fucking wonder.
Maybe I should give more current gay themed movies and books a chance. I just have yet to watch one that didn't dwell on the gay/straight relationships, addiction to crystal meth, someone dying of AIDS or drag queens.
The only movie/play/book which incorporated all the typical themes, yet I enjoy it each and every time I watch it is Angels in America. Maybe it was their approach. Who knows.
I need to go watch something mindless like Bring It On.
As I left for work this morning, I was immediately greeted with bumper to bumper traffic as I merged onto the highway. I quickly got pissed off and was grumbling under my breath. What a great fucking way to start off my day I thought. As we were stop and go all way past the first loop of the city, I finally saw the lights of 5 or more police and ambulance vehicles. Shit, it's a wreck.
My anger grew when I realized that it wasn't even on OUR side of the highway. The lights were flashing on the opposite side coming into Dallas. Our bumper to bumper traffic was caused by gawkers. I was appauled at how they were slowing down to almost a stop to see if they could get a glimplse of something. What are we looking for? Someone being pulled out of the wreckage? Blood? Body parts?
Sick bastards.
Then I got closer. I saw why everyone was almost at a standstill. On the other side were 6 cars and SUV's all smashed into one giant pile of accordian shaped metal. Perched on top of this pile was one lone demolished vehicle. Sitting there perfectly balanced.
How it got up there is anyones guess. I fell under the spell that affected everyone before me.
I became one of those sick bastards that had to stop and gawk.
After some of the horrible accidents I myself have been involved in, my heart still skips a beat whenever I come up upon one. I don't think that feeling will ever leave.
*
On a lighter note, I'll be guest blogging some over at one of the first blogs I ever started reading. Victor was my first blogger crush. Hell, have you seen him? Anyway, if you want, come by and say Howdy to me over at V-Hold this week. I'll be posting his drafts regarding Burning Man and throwing in a few post of my own into the mix.
Damn. Light a match around my mouth today and I'm likely to blow fire. Went out last night to throw back a few beers and spend time with friends. My tummy isn't to happy and I can't stop belching and my breath is probably rank. Sexy, huh? Yeah, I'm quite the catch. Brian's a lucky man. I can only eat so many altoids. If I could shave my tongue I would. I'm getting to the point where I can go out and have 2 drinks or 15 drinks and I'll have an upset stomach. The number doesn't matter. My days of drinking are dwindling folks. I see it on the horizon. Hell, I swear water gives me heartburn.
*sigh*
Thanks to those who've already donated to the AIDSWalk. After one day, I'm already at 25% of my goal. Not too shabby.
Other then that, I'm just going through the motions. Working, eating, sleeping and missing the boyfriend. Not necessarily in that order. Big chunk of my life isn't complete when he's not here. When he gets back, we're heading to Rainbow Ranch for the weekend to watch his friends Mama and Twyla Starlet do their comedy routine. It's a gay and lesbian campsite. I'm sure the showers are a festive place, right? Should be a great time. People don't believe me when I tell them I've never been camping. My idea of a vacation was flying to a new destination, check out the bars and go shopping. I might even throw in some sightseeing. Roughing it out in the woods just conjures up images of snakes, frogs, geckos and creepy crawly bugs. That, along with me running away screaming with my hands in the air all the time. I'm quite the little girl when it comes to that stuff. I'm not ashamed to admit it.
Images of the movie Deliverance come to mind also.
Wait, maybe camping won't be so bad. I can 'squeal like a pig' with the best of them.
oink.
I was diagnosed with HIV in 1992. I know the person who infected me and I also know when it happened. I remember the phone call. The doctor requested that I come in and have a 'long talk' with him. I asked him why. He told me that would be discussed when I came in. I made him tell me over the phone, as the person who infected me sat there watching. I remember hearing those words. The shock, humiliation, terror, shame, fear. I remember my first office visit. The 60 AZT pills I had to take a day. The first time I had to go into the hospital and my file being marked with an enormous red "X" to warn hospital employees of my condition. People wearing masks. I remember the first person I told and their reaction. Many tears were shed. I remember hearing the doctor say how many years I would probably live. I remember the first time I was discriminated against at work due to HIV. I remember the pain of having someone I had a crush on, turn away from me due to my 'illness'. This list could go on and on.
I consider myself one of the lucky ones. I haven't gone through a tenth of what hundreds of thousands have endured. I am truly blessed.
I will be walking in the 2004 Dallas AIDS Walk on October 2nd. Please help find a cure for HIV/AIDS by donating whatever amount your heart tells you. Any amount is appreciated. I will leave the link to the left up until then or you can just click here. Be aware that there is a small service charge to use the online payment service.
It would mean the world to many people out there.
Including me.
Mutt Entry - - A mis-match of stuff. It's what happens after you've been sniffing too many butts.
**I've decided to get off my ass and volunteer. I've raised money for AIDS Walks, bought and gathered toys for Brian's House and bought food for the AIDS Food Pantry. It was too easy to just give money or buy something. Now I want to volunteer my time and talents and give back to a community that's helped me. I've put this off for way too long. I take my first volunteer class in a few weeks.
**I'm also going to take advantage of some of the fitness programs the center has to offer. The guy at the center couldn't understand why I hadn't signed up before. I just felt that since I had a great job, wonderful insurance and a great support group of friends, that I would step aside and let those who may not have access to those things the chance to use the center instead. Immunocise is a program that provides strength workouts, aerobics, yoga and meditation geared towards people living with HIV/AIDS. I put my pride aside.
**I tried Genghis Khan Mongolian BBQ last night for the 2nd time. The first time was at a local street fair. The food looked and smelled like slimey cat food, but I tried it anyway. It tasted like slimey cat food. I'm sure local cats were in fear of their lives. Never buy food at a street fair. Nothing like picking out your own meats, veggies, sauces and spices, then giving it to a chef to prepare for you. Careful though, you can REALLY screw up a dish. I'll be going back this time.
**There's a girl here at work that has the scariest eyebrows ever. She looks like a Vulcan. No joke. They're coal black and shoot straight up into her forehead and don't arch at all. She has a permanent look of being surprised on her face. I was in a silly mood yesterday and created my own version of her eyebrows with paper, a black magic marker and scissors. Needless to say, I brought the house down with that one.
**Going to meet one of Brian's friends who's a local artist on Saturday. Maybe he can get me the hook-up with the Dallas Art Scene. I need motivation.
**Speaking of boo boo, I have to take him to the airport today around noon. He'll be gone for 10 days. Maybe he and Slate from Go Go Boy Diary can hang out some. Slate could even show him how to make a few extra dollars while he's away. Mama needs a new pair of shoes, ya know.
Mom: Thanks for sending me the pictures from the wedding. I took out all the pics of my sister and her kids and let them have them if that's ok.
Me: yeah, tha....
Mom: I thought they all turned out really great. I gave your brothers and sister the discs so they can make get their own copies made.
Me: Oh ok, that's...
Mom: Did you take a close look at the pics of my sister M?
Me: No, I.....
Mom: Did you see how she looks like death warmed over?
Me: Well, I kind of....
Mom: Well she does. It's horrible! She looks like Morticia Addams from the Addams Family. White face, dark lipstick, dark hair and NO eye makeup what so ever.
Me: Yeah, I noti....
Mom: I mean really, someone should say something to her.
Me: Why don't....
Mom: I know I probably should, but she would probably take it the wrong way.
Me: Sometimes when...
Mom: I think her kids have said how much she looks like your grandmother.
Me: She has the same....
Mom: Her mouth, the hair, just everything reminds me of my mama.
Me: Yeah I can kinda....
Mom: I mean I loved my mother, but my sister really should do something about the way she looks. She would be angry if I told her she looked like our mother.
Me: I would imagine sh...
Mom: It's just best that I keep out of it and let her look that way.
Me: Probably a g......
Mom: She said she can't put on eye makeup because her hands shake so much.
Me: That migh......
Mom: But if she can put on that lipstick as perfect as she does, then I'm sure she can take out the time and have a steady enough hand to put on eyeliner and eye shadow.
Me: Well, you would think.....
Mom: It's not easy being the pretty sister, right? **pee's herself laughing**
Me: **laughing** Well I would imagine that's not an easy thing.....
Mom: Well honey I don't mean to keep you from work, I know you're busy.
Me: Oh, It's no....
Mom: Love you! Bye!
*click*
Me: Bye mom....
Other news on the home front, I couldn't stand it any longer and I 'cleaned Brian's closet'. It has no relation to 'cleaning someone's kitchen'. It's not nearly as fun, trust me. I'm a neat freak and become anal as HELL when it comes to my clothes and the sacred ground we call a closet. It's my sanctuary. I bow down at the feet of Kenneth Cole. My closet is organized according to winter, summer, sporty and dressy. Within each sub category, each grouping is color coordinated. I can't help it. It's a sickness.
After taking one look into Brian's closet, I could no longer be responsible for my actions and I had to do something about it. He's been so busy with work, traveling and whatnot, so I decided to help him through this difficult time. Once I started digging around and organizing, I was amazed to find out the amount of clothes this clotheshorse has. I'm thinking 50 pairs of dress pants is a bit much, but who am I to judge. I'm just glad that it seems he might have a slight, although drastically less severe, Kenneth Cole addiction like mine. Did I tell you we can wear each others shirts?
I've just doubled my wardrobe.
*skips away happily*
The brain is a funny thing. I can hear a song on the radio that I haven't heard in over 15 years, yet the minute it starts playing, I'll remember every single word. I'm sure we all can do this with dozens of songs. Back in college, I could memorize a 30 minute long piece of music for the piano. Fast forward to today and I can remember the first few lines of music. Bible verses that I was required to learn as a child can be easily recalled. But God forbid I can remember where in the hell I ate lunch yesterday.
Brian and I were lounging in bed yesterday trying to recap what we had all done the past few days. It's been a whirlwind of friends, dinners, bars, parties and beer bust. As I laid there thinking, for the life of me I couldn't remember specific details. I would understand if it had been a "drunken holiday" weekend, but that wasn't the case. Those events are usually best forgotten.
The last visit home, my mother told me a story. One hour exactly she looked at me and started telling me the same story. I mentioned to her that she had just told it to me. She reprimanded me and proceeded to tell me the story again. I sat their as a good son should and listened with feigned interest. She does this frequently. Few hours later, she asked me where we had eaten lunch. We both sat with dumbfounded looks on our faces, trying to recall the events of only a few hours prior. Once we remembered, we laughed about it. My mother referred to it as a "senior moment". Not sure what excuse I should use. Anyone out there says it's my age and well.......
After picking up Brian at the airport, we ate dinner in the Bishops Arts District of Oak Cliff. It's a quaint little neighborhood full of unique restaurants, jazz clubs, coffee shops, antique stores and art galleries. Many places gay owned and operated. Careful not to walk more then a block or two out of the area though. Muggings, stabbings and shootings are a common occurence. After having a great dinner at Tillman's Corner and walking around the area, we stumbled upon a nostalgic, gourmet and imported soda and combination cigar shop called Ifs ands & Butts. Never thought those two items would ever be sold together in the same store. After having the owner spew forth so much history about every bottle you picked up, I settled on the oldest recipe of Coke imported from Holland and Brian picked a vintage spicy herbal lemonade. I'm sure we're going to be frequent visitors to this place. We ended the evening by having a few cocktails at Mickey's then over to The Round Up and danced our asses off. No we weren't two-steppin'. At midnight they switch to dance thank GOD. One more hour of twangy music and I was ready to slit my wrist.
Saturday was spent having breakfast with friends, shopping, movie, coffee and finally heading out to a friends birthday party. Straight people in the living room yelling at screaming at the Dallas Cowboys game, the homo's in the kitchen and the women outside on the patio. Could we have segregated ourselves anymore?
Sunday........well I can't remember where in the HELL we ate lunch or what we exactly did other then drinking 50 cent beers and jello shots at The Hidden Door that afternoon. We stood out on the huge patio underneath the shade of a blooming Magnolia tree, sipping our cheap beer and watched the bears, cubs and wolves move around in packs or herds sniffing each others butts and marking their territory. I never see more animalistic behavior then I do at The Door.
After a certain bloggers boyfriend, who SHALL remain nameless, had too much to drink and couldn't walk in a straight line, we retreated home for a bite of dinner and a good nights rest.
Amazingly enough he felt fine this morning.
I was chatting with Cheapblueguitar this morning when I got to work. I noticed it was 5:20am his time, and was like, Holy Mother of GOD man! No one in their right mind gets up at the butt crack of dawn. Turns out that he wasn't feeling well. I immediately turn on the baby talk. You all know what I'm talking about. You've used it at one point or other. Although portraying it in written word doesn't have the same effect. You need the sound and tone of voice to go along with it. Sounds slightly like Elmer Fudd now that I think about it.
Rather then asking him, "Does your stomach hurt or something?", I responded with, "....you tummy hurt?" When he said yes, I replied with a very child like, "sowwy" Do we honestly think that speaking (or typing) this way is magically going to somehow make the other person feel better?
I understand after having the number of nieces and nephews that I do, why I use baby talk. Each and every one of them couldn't pronounce their R's and L's very well like many children. My name always sounded like Unka Mawk. I found my self talking back to them in that same manner. I'm sure I was more of a hinderance then anything else. We all see a baby and immediately can't help it and start making complete asses out of ourselves in front of friends and family. It gets worse when we start making up words.....
I see a cute little puppy and my baby talk becomes even more pathetic. "Awwww, shuush looook at da cutie oodie woodie widdle puuuuppy!" "Ohhhhhh, come give your daddywaddy some puuuuppy wuuuppy kisses!" Complete with scrunched up face and pursed lips. I understand it gets a puppy or a baby to literally go berserk, but a grown adult?
Guess that depends on if you're using this talk in the bedroom, WHICH by the way I never have and will NOT be trying out this weekend. Honestly, I can't see this working while trying to sustain an erection. Producing giggles, yes.
Then again, what you do behind closed doors is nobody's business, right?
"Isshnn't dat wight? OOOH, yesh it IS! Dassa goood boy....."
I'm sitting here at work. All of the automatic inside lights haven't come on quite yet. It's 7am and outside the clouds are dark, the wind is blowing and the rain is pounding down on our roof and windows like you wouldn't believe. I'm the only one here in the area. I can't believe how deafening the silence is. Just the wind the rain and me.
I'm still amazed at what power the weather has over me. How it affects my moods. As I walked out to my car this morning, I looked up and immediately become melancholy and contemplative. My mind starts to wander and reminisce. All these emotions and feelings start stirring because of some rain, lightening, thunder and wind. I wanted to crawl back into bed and snuggle with the guy I love so much in this world and not ever leave. I'll have to save that until he gets back.
I'm still sitting here and it's now 8am. It's taken me an hour to get this far and to tell you how I feel. I'm just staring at the screen. Have I ever been at a loss for words? Usually you can't get me to shut up. People are coming in and saying good morning and I barely even acknowledge the fact they even said anything. I give them a muffled good morning and continue my blank stare into the computer screen.
Damn you Mother Nature......
It's 8:25am and I've wasted enough time.
Time to earn my keep.
I remember getting off the train early that morning. It was a long 10 hour trip. The only way I could get to school was by train or car. Why did I pick a school in such a remote far off place? I was finally ready to go back to school and finish my degree. I had packed up and brought almost everything I own. I remember walking around the campus, lugging my belongings, trying to find my apartment. I couldn't afford to live on my own, so I joined a community styled living arrangement.
I finally found the monstrosity that I would call home for the next few months and rang the doorbell. I was greeted by a perky girl who welcomed me with open arms. People were lounging around the living room, laughing, talking, eating and even a couple guys playing catch with a football. No one even noticed my arrival. I already could tell I wouldn't fit in.
She showed me to my room. The room had 4 twin sized beds that were up against one wall. I was going to share my room with 3 total strangers. The place was filthy and smelled like a musty old basement. I started putting away my clothes, trying to hold back the tears. I had made a huge mistake.
After putting my things away, I decided to get out of the house for some fresh air. As I walked back to the livingroom, I saw Paris Hilton sitting on the couch with her chihuahua which was dressed in a little pink tutu. She smiled, winked and gave me a little wave. Thank God I knew someone here I thought. As I walked towards her, I was given a huge a slap on my ass from someone behind me. I immediately turned around as Nicole Richey said, "Hey! There's my boy. We're going to get into SO much trouble this semester. Let's go shopping then stop off at a club for a few cocktails. Oh and by the way, you're staying in our room with us."
******
I have some pretty fucked up dreams y'all.
I'm here.
I'm alive.
Barely.
Word to the wise. Do not mix black martini's and white zinfandel wine.
Me no likey.
Too old for this shit.
After I booted Brians butt back to San Diego yesterday, I decided to get in some much needed shopping. Shopping it good for the soul. It's amazing how this homo can visit 6 different clothing stores each having a 50-75% off sales with an additional 20% off and I could only find one shirt. I felt as if I should be buying something, just because it was cheap. I wonder what's wrong with me?
I was exhausted and perturbed. I headed home to lay around in bed and watch television instead. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening glued to the set watching the Olympics. I've never been a sports fan. I occasionally go to a Rangers game only because the tickets were purchased for us here at work. I spend most of my time drinking beer and checking out all the hot men who like to go to baseball games and just get crazy. Male bonding at it's best I guess.
I wasn't a guy to play sports growing up either. After years of piano and drawing behind my belt, my parents left the decision to play sports up to me. I quickly said no. The thoughts of the locker room might have tweaked my interest, but that's as far as it went. We were required to take gym in Highschool for the first two years. I despised this class with a passion. I was always that uncoordinated kid who was picked by his classmates every single time to join their team.
First off, the teacher was a classmate of my oldest brother. His first name was Benny, so my brother had to call him Penny instead. He loved taunting him. They were always competing throughout their highschool careers from girls to academics to sports. Even my brother closest to me age wise, got into a bar fight a few times with my gym teacher. My younger brother, being the arrogant, feisty and all around tough son-of-a-bitch, beat the living crap out of him. Needless to say, my teacher didn't like anyone with my last name. I was doomed from day one. I got through most of my first year with him without any sort of problems. You could tell he didn't like me, but it was left at that. During my sophomore year, I went for a lay up (that's a basketball term for all you non-sports people) and tore a ligament in my ankle when I came down. My teacher came over, took one look and told me to run 10 laps and hit the showers. I told him there was no way in hell I could. I couldn't even stand up on my leg much, let alone run around on it. He continued to yell and scream at me then eventually compared me to my "pussy" brothers. That was the last straw. I hopped up and started walking out of the gym towards the lobby. He was behind me yelling in my ear, calling me names, telling me to run laps, etc. He finally tells me he's going to take me to the principals office if I don't do what he says. I told him that I would beat him there if I had anything to do about it. By the time we got to the office, the yelling had increased. I just stood there very calmly as everyone in the office was looking our way. After explaining my story to the principal and showing him my ankle which was 3 times its normal size and the beautiful shade of grape, the teacher was reprimanded and forced to take a few weeks off from work. I never was required to ever step foot in a P.E. class again.
I had a bad taste in my mouth for sports.
As I watched the Olympics for 7 hours yesterday, I'll admit that I was a tad envious. I love mens diving, swimming, waterpolo and gymnastics for all the obvious reasons. I'm a huge fan of womens gymnastics, synchronized swimming for obvious reasons also. Don't even get me started on figure skating.
I was never cut out for any type of sports. I guess I'll just stick to perfecting my 50 yard dash to the sales racks at Dillards.
It was like watching the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
After a morning of monkey luvin', which by the way I feel like I'm still recovering from, we decided to take a shower together. We like to conserve our earth resources and energy. Yeah, that's the reason. All of the sudden, the showerhead starts making this high pitched whistle to which Brian responds, "Well, guess my ass is ready".
He makes me laugh.
While standing at the mirror brushing my teeth, he asks me a question, and when I respond, tiny little bubbles come spewing forth from my mouth. I was a walking Lawrence Welk Show.
Guess you had to be there with us in the shower and bathroom this morning to understand my humor.
I've always been one of those people who never actually knows about this infamous day until someone reminds me of it. Usually after it's too late though. I've had a really shitty day and someone will say, "Well you know Mark, it's Friday the 13th, so you should have expected this". Well, if that ain't a load of donkey poo poo. I don't need a special Friday on my calander to cause me to have a crappy day. I can cause that on my very own thank you very much! I just have to laugh sometimes at how superstitious people are and how much stock they hold on a day like today. I honestly can't think of any tragic event that's happened in my lifetime which fell on the 13th. A shitty day, yes. Tragic? Not so much.
One of my co-workers just walked in with a plate of brownies (both male and female, aka with and without nuts) and in her grate-on-my-nerves perky fashion says, "Morning everyone! Happy Friday the 13th!!", as she bobs her head from side to side. I really want to slap that frosted pink lipstick off her face. She makes me want to puke. Really people, do we really need to make it a celebrated holiday?
Someone just brought muffins and another brought bagels. Guess I didn't get the departmental memo.
I won't let this day affect me. I have a wonderful day/night/weekend planned with someone that I possibly could have mentioned here on this site before, but I'm not so sure.
I'm off to go eat muffins and drink coffee in celebration.
*not going to talk about him, not going to talk about him, not going to talk about him, not going to talk about him, not going to talk about him*
Ah, fuck it. Brian's going to be home today and well....I'm tickled pink.
Anyhoo, since my mind is preoccupied, I was digging through some really REALLY old emails and found some stuff that I kept for some reason or another.
Some cute, some funny, some tacky.
*****
Everyone knows Barney, that cute purple dinosaur. But here is something you may have not known:
*****
What's the difference between a Northern fairytale and a Southern fairytale?
A Northern fairytale begins, "Once upon a time...", while a Southern fairytale beings, "Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit!"
*****
Did you hear about the dyslexic Rabbi?
He walks around saying, "Yo"
*****
How do you get a sweet little 80 year old lady to say Fuck?
Get another sweet little 80 year old lady to yell 'Bingo!'
*****
Two rednecks met in a bar and decided that they weren't going anywhere in life so thought they should go to the nearest college. While the second one waits out in the hall, the first goes in to one of the rooms and finds a professor who advises him to take math, history and logic.
"What's logic?", asked the first redneck.
The professor replied, "Let me give you an example: Do you own a weedeater?"
"I sure do", grinned the redneck.
"Then I can assume, using logic, that you have a yard", replied the professor.
"That's real good", the redneck responded in awe.
The professor continued: "Logic will also tell me that since you have a yard, you also have a house." Impressed, the redneck shouts "AMAZIN'!"
"And since you own a house, logic would dictate that you might have a wife"
"Betty Mae....this is incredible!" The redneck is catching on.
"Finally, since you have a wife, logically I can assume that you are heterosexual", says the professor.
"You're absolutely right! Why that's the most fascinatin' think I ever heard of. I can't wait to take this here lock class."
The first redneck grinning ear to ear with pride at the new world opening up to him, walked back into the hallway where his fried is waiting.
"So what classes are ya takin'?", the friend asked.
"Math, History and Logic", replies the first redneck.
"What in tarnation is Logic?", asked his new friend.
"Let me give you an example. Do ya own a weedeater?"
"No", his friend replied.
"You're queer, ain't ya?"
*****
Rejected Dr. Suess Books
Believe it or not, in many ways I'm quite passive. I'm someone who will not discuss politics or religion. If a discussion of this sort comes up in a group, I'm usually the one who just sits there quietly and listens. Taking everything in, formulating my own opinions and keeping them to myself. I'm highly opinionated. I'm probably not going to change your view and your probably not going to change mine. I think it's best to just agree to disagree in most situations and let things go. To me, it's just not worth the trouble to fight argue discuss it.
There are a few things that will make me hop up on that soapbox and preach like you've never seen someone preach before. There are a few things that I'm very passionate and protective. Obviously, anything regarding HIV/AIDS will cause me to get in your face and and tell you, as my mama says, "how the cow ate the cabbage" if I don't agree with you. I believe this is an area of discussion that if the person is ignorant, they must be taught. I see this up and coming gay generation and many of them scare the hell out of me. Issues regarding children are very close to my heart and I'll defend and protect them to my grave. My family and friends are so dear to me, that you better not say anything bad about them or I'll just have to go postal on you.
My passiveness took a backseat today. I was coming to work this morning and was listening to the Kidd Kraddick in the Morning Show on KISS FM 106.1 here in Dallas like I always do. I guess I've been making excuses for their homophobic remarks. I've had friends tell me they wouldn't listen to them anymore. I kept defending them for some reason. Not sure why. I kept giving them another chance to redeem themselves. They never did. Today the homophobic remarks and hate that was spewed forth sickened my stomach. I had enough. I stormed into work this morning, turned on my computer and started typing so fast that smoke was coming forth from the keyboard. I shot off a scathing email to the morning show, Clear Channel and our local weekly gay publication.
I'm not sure if any of this will do any good. More then likely, I'm sure it won't. I just decided enough was enough and I couldn't stay quiet any longer. I just felt ashamed that it took me this long.
I know Brian, who is my own personal litte Hellfire and Brimstone Preacher when it comes to politics and equal rights for gays and lesbians, must have rubbed off on me some lately.
What causes you to jump up on your soapbox?
Screw work. I'll put up the entry today instead.
Day One:
Brian picked me up at the airport around 5pm. It was sunny and around 78 degrees with a light breeze. I can't tell you how happy I was to see him. He immediately started driving me around the city. We headed out to Coronado Island so I could see the beach. We walked up and down the beach with our pants rolled, getting our toes all nice and sandy. The Hotel Coronado was a beautiful backdrop to my first walk there.
After driving around the city some more, showing me the sites, we headed back to the hotel to get ready. We spent the evening walking around the gayborhood called Hillcrest and had dinner at Margarita Mary's. Their banana margs are to die for, trust me. I saw a pretty cool place I wanted to check out. Didn't know if it was a club or some cool restaurant. It was neither. It was a Jack-in-the-Box. Hmmm, I am in California aren't I? It didn't take us long before we were a tad bit tipsy and tired so we went back to the hotel to sleep.
Day Two:
We were up early and raring to go that day. We headed down to Davids Coffee house in the hood then started shopping. There were so many different shops and restaurants to check out. The area really is overwhelming at times. We ate lunch at a place called Hash House A Go Go. My plate was 2 feet wide. That can tell you how much food we had to consume. Best part of the lunch was a fresh Kiwi Watermelon Lemonade with a slice of watermelon as a garnish. We drove and walked around one of the most beautiful parks I've probably been in. Balboa Park has enough museums and shops to last you an entire day. We even got to see a glass fair in the park and watched a couple blow glass for a while. I was even giving a play by play of what they were doing to the people around me since they didn't talk during the demonstration at all. Brought back a flood of memories. We eventually headed down to Blacks Beach later that afternoon. This is the local nude beach. I'm no longer a nude beach virgin. I did chicken out though. I stripped down to nothing on the beach and put on my swimming suit. Only about 30% of the beach was actually nekkid. After scaling down the mountainside and settling down, we got into the water. After being racked by the waves a few times and my balls completely shrinking up inside my body, I was done. I swear the temperature of the water was 50 degrees. How people actually swim in that stuff is beyond me. We headed back to the cliffside about 5pm to go back to the hotel. I wasn't a third of the way up when I had an asthma attack. I haven't had one of these since I was 15 years old. Have you ever used one of those coffee stirrers? It's like breathing through one of those. I honestly didn't think I was going to make it to the top after a while. I had to rest so many times. By the time I got up to the top, I wanted nothing other then to sit down in the car, drown myself with water and sit infront of the airconditioner. Took me a few hours to be able to get my breathing back in order.
We headed back down the hood for dinner and of course, more shopping. I think I've converted Brian to the darkside. We ate dinner at Hamburger Mary's then headed down to Bacchus House to meet the Infamous Blogger, Slate from Diary of a Go Go Boy before he had to dance. He was very hansome and sweet. We can't wait to come back and be able to spend some more time with our very own personal tour guide. We hung out and danced our little booties off then headed back. We were only in the jacuzzi for 10 minutes before security kicked us out. Bastards.
Day Three:
We had heard that the hood was having a City Streets Fair. Kind of a combo art, health, fashion and whatever else fair. We must wear more sunscreen. Or at least wear shirts and hats. After grabbing some local grub, we were off to the Bay. I was gawking the entire time at the beautiful massive ships. We decided to take a 2 hour Gilligan Cruise. This had to be the highlight of the entire trip for me. Beautiful ships, navy vessels, submarines and incredible views. We had dinner at a local seafood restaurant on the bay called Harbor House. We tried to get on the Midway but was too late. By this time, both our heads were completely fried. Yes mother, we DID put on sunscreen but obviously did not baptize ourselves in it like we should.
After crashing due to pure exhaustion (I'm sure Brian was happy for me to leave Monday so he could rest), we went back to the hood for one last walk around and to grab a latenight snack. They really do have a beautiful gayborhood. Friendly people, great shops, restaurants and killer shopping. Damn, I sound like a commercial ad for San Diego Gay Life, huh?
Putting all that aside though, the trip was all about seeing Brian for the first time in two weeks. I can't stress enough how wonderful it was to be experiencing the entire weekend with him.
I truly am a very lucky man.
After 4 timezones, transferring twice, 10 gates and 4 terminals.....I can verify that being on standby SUCKS ASS! I'm tired, cranky, stinky and ready to kick puppies.
The weekend with Brian in San Diego was pure heaven. Details will be posted along with a few photos tomorrow night. I need time to just get things back in order here at home and at work. In the meantime, you can check out the trips photos here.
I feel like I'm 8 years old. The first time my parents told me we were going to Disneyland was excruciating. I honestly don't think I had a good nights sleep during the 3 months leading up to our trip. I was a nervous wreck at the tender age of eight. What was I going to do when I got there? What was it like? Will I see Mickey? Are there fun rides? Is this place really magical like they say? How much should I pack? What should I wear?
Yes, I was worried about having the right type of clothing for my first trip to another far off land. My homo-in-training obviously started early. When the time came for us to leave, I was beat. I was packed and ready to go two weeks before we left. Everything was planned out, layed out, folded properly, bagged up, separated, strapped down.....you name it. It was done. We never flew anywhere on trips. My family has always been afraid to fly. We took road trips. We would leave Nebraska and head towards Washington. Drive the entire west coast all the way to San Diego then head east towards Odessa Texas to see my grandmother. Final leg of the trip was heading north back home. We stopped off everywhere we could think of to sightsee. I don't remember much of the actual road trip because I was sleeping soundly due to the fact that probably should have been on valium the three months prior to leaving. They would wake me up once we arrived at our next destination. I can't tell you how many pics there are of us standing in front of some dumbass sign, with me rubbing my eyes or yawning.
I'm still 8 years old. I spoke with Brian at 10pm and was so groggy. I surrounded myself with my 6 pillows, aimed the fan on me, pulled the blanket up tight and closed my eyes. Fuck if they didn't just spring right back open. I remembered something I needed to pack. I threw in a few more clothes to bring. I remembered my digital camera. Good, now I can sleep. Shit, I'm hungry. So I go downstairs for a bite to eat and a glass of milk. I laid back down again afterwards. I'm exhausted by this point. It's midnight. I look at the clock and I have to get up at 6am to get to work by 7am. Six hours of sleep. That's enough.
Well Jebus on a cracker, you think I could fall asleep. I'm going to see Brian. I'm going to California. I'm going to see the Ocean. My flight is already full and I might not get on this afternoon. I'm flying standby on an employee friends and family ticket. I'm not stressing about all this, honestly I'm not. Whatever happens.....happens. I'll see him Thursday when he gets home and we'll have four glorious days together if I can't go this weekend. I can use the flight anytime during the next year before it expires. No big deal.
Well, would someone tell my fucking brain that and tell my eyeballs to quit twitching!!! I fell asleep around 2am. You would think I'm going to Disneyland or something.
Now that I think about it, there is a ride I'm going on when I get there that's REALLY fun and exciting.
That must be why I couldn't sleep.
Seems I'm already there and somehow got out of hell on a day pass. I scored 170.
Are you going straight to hell?
Although we're going through some growing pains, the gay bloggers tribe is still going strong and gaining new members. We've had a few complaints, issues, problems and suggestions but nothing we haven't been able to handle. Basically, if you don't like the tribe you don't have to stay. There's a little red X in the right hand corner of your computer screen.
We have a few guidelines, but basically it's a place for us to meet new bloggers, share ideas, ask questions, post a thought, get an opinion and yes even flirt if your little ol' heart desires. The majority of us are gay men (but not all) so a little flirting is going to happen and it doesn't hurt anyone. We plan on using this forum as a place to possibly raise some money for national charities, organize future blogger meetings and maybe even a way to spark activism. Who knows. It's all up to us.
One of the recent topics was regarding who were our blogdaddy's. In other words, which blogger out there caused us to become bloggers ourselves. I have way too many bladdy's and blama's to mention. I was able to sire a blog son. After 3 attempts with various friends, one has sort of hung in there and is trying his hand at it again. My buddy Rusty over at Sex and the Country is in the process of writing about his trip to Ft. Lauderdale. Seems that the boy had a lot of sex interesting encounters last week. Check him out and give him a holler. His entry is a tad explicit (which we all love), but hell the title of his blog IS, Sex and the Country. He even posted a link to his profile on bigmusclebear.com so you can see what he looks like. He's gay, his twin is gay and even his older brother is gay. Please send all cute straight boys to Sherman Texas and make them drink the water.
Since I'm plugging a Dallas Blogger, have y'all checked out Boy and His Toy? Give us time and we might have to have a GB:DFW meeting one of these days. Maybe we can even convice Madlife to come out of hiding if we do.
Can you tell I don't have much today? *sigh*
There's something I forgot to mention yesterday. I've been with this company for over 7 years now. Over the course of time, many of the the gay employees here, including myself, asked for Sexual Orientation to be added to our non-discrimination policy. We were always told, "We'll consider it and get back to you".
Yesterday, all employees met with our HR Representative to be reminded our companies policies regarding this matter and others, and to sign a document stating we will continue to abide by these rules. They finally added Sexual Preference to our non-discrimination clause. Not orientation, but preference.
Hey, at least they added it.
Finally.
People have been asking a lot of questions about my mother and inquiring about what she looks like, so here's a pic of her for you. Sorry it's not a better one. She'd kill me if she knew I was posting a picture of her. She's 76 years old and all of the sudden she cringes every time a camera came near her last weekend. If you want to see more pictures from the weekend trip home, just click on the "parties and trips" on the left. Pretty much every photo is of a relative of mine. I've also added a few other albums from various other gatherings.
I truely am becoming my mother. Growing up, my mother was always the crazy woman with the camera snapping pictures left and right. You couldn't get out of the building without her snapping off a photo of you. It didn't matter what the occasion was. Church functions, family gatherings, birthdays, me mowing the lawn, me drawing, me blowing glass, me sleeping. It didn't matter to her. I think the only time she didn't bring along a camera was to a funeral. I remember my father grumbling about how much it was costing him for all this film and developing. She never had a hobby, so he just kept on forking over the money. She probably has close to 50 albums in storage somewhere on the farm. Not including the shoeboxes full of photos.
I was always embarrassed as a kid regarding her hobby. She would often hand the camera to me and tell me to take a few. I hated it. I wanted nothing to do with it. It wasn't until I grew up and started flipping through all the albums, did I come to appreciate her recording our entire lives. I've even taken many of the old black and white family photos and framed them. I find myself now that I have a digital camera, being that geeky guy at the party getting in everyones faces trying to capture a kodak moment. I carry it in my manpurse everywhere I go.
I don't have an "eye" for this like Corin or Aaron. I'll stick to drawing as an artform.
It looks like I'll be making a quick trip to San Diego to see Brian this coming weekend. I'm lucky to have friends who work for three different major airlines. Nothing better then a $100 round trip ticket, huh? We're both going absolutely nuts not being able to see each other, so I'm flying out Friday afternoon and come back Sunday so we can spend our 3 month anniversary with each other. (try to hold back the tears guys) Otherwise, it would be another 10 days before he'll be home. I can't wait that long.
It will be wonderful to see the ocean again. It's been way too long. I've always had a fascination with the ocean. You get me near one and I stop talking, ignore everyone and everything around me and just stare. I've been known to walk a beach for hours. I'll sit and listen to the sounds, watch the waves, take in all the smells and even get my feet wet for as long as I possibly can. I can't get enough of it. I become completely mesmerized. I find an ocean to be one of the most calming things around us. I'm afraid if I ever lived near an ocean, you would never find me anywhere else.
I'm looking forward to walking the beach hand in hand with Brian.
Nothing could be better.
While driving back and forth to town, my mother and I had long periods to talk. A car is a place where my family tends to become big story tellers more then normal. I love listening to her stories. She's 76 years old, so sometime she repeats herself, but I love to hear them again anyway. I'm sure I do the same thing, if not already. Here's a story as if she was blogging it herself.
It was 1939 and I was 11 years old at the time. The small town we were in was full of service men, the depression was still going on, yet the town was really vibrant and full of life. It was a place where you felt safe. We were pretty poor back then. The government paid for our clothing and shoes. You could always tell which kids were on government aid by the type of shoes they wore. Big ol' clunky black shoes. You were lucky if they were even your size. My mother did peoples laundry to make money to support us. When things were really tough, she would steal milk off peoples front porch and vegatables out of their garden to feed us. Honestly, I can say that we lived off nothing but milk and toast for days at a time. I think people knew how tough it was for mother trying to raise three children by herself, so they looked the other way when she would take things. How could they not know? People helped each other out during that time. People who probably couldn't afford to have someone do their laundry for them, would bring it to her anyway. Pay her 25 cents for a half a days work. Strongest vision I have of my mother during the depression is with her hands in a wash bucket. Remember, she washed everything by hand honey. She was always sweating, tired, hands were raw.
One morning we had heard about a movie that had come to town. Everyone was talking about it. Mother didn't want us to see it because it had a cuss word in it. Nothing like they have today. I can't watch movies today because of all that. That morning I woke up my two younger sisters and we headed for the cotton fields. I decided we could work to make some money for a decent lunch and a movie later on that evening. We got there around 6am. The local farmer would let us pick all the cotten we could and he would give us each 50 cents which would be plenty.
We were never very good at picking cotton. My 5 year old sister was probably better then either of us. After the cotten plant dries, it becomes very prickly. Picking the cotton bowl out of the bud would cut and scratch you until you were bleeding. We didn't have gloves small enough for our hands. Normally you would have to pick an entire bag full for a quarter, but after handing the farmer a half a bag, he paid us each 50 cents and sent us on our way. Eight ours of picking cotton and all we had was a half a bag. Again, I'm sure he was just being kind.
We found a water pump on the way back into town and washed up the best we could. Our dresses were dirty, our hair was matted and our fingers were bandaged up the best we could. We had 50 cents in our pockets so we felt like we were the richest people around. We headed down to the drugstore for a hamburger, fries and cherry phosphate. We hadn't eaten like that in a long time. Even at that young age, we ate everything on our plate. I don't even think I could finish off all that food today at my age. After lunch and buying a few pieces of candy, we headed to the movie theater to see Gone with the Wind. The reason my mother didn't want us to see it was because they said the word 'damn' in it. Funny, now that I think about it.
For only a quarter we each could see the movie and buy a full bag of candy. If you bought a ticket for an early show, you could stay and see the midnight show for free. Back in those days, you got your news from the newsreels that were shown before the movie started. This was the only I learned about a war that was going on. We couldn't afford newspapers. I knew we would be in this war ourselves someday. I'll tell you about what happened the day Pearl Harbor was bombed another time.
After sitting through a 4 hour movie, we stayed for the midnight showing of another movie. I'm not sure what was playing. At one point, the doorman had to wake us up and send us home. You didn't worry about anything back in those days. It was 2am and we felt safe walking eight blocks back to our home. You can't do that now.
Our mother was still up doing laundry. Seems like she never stopped. As we walked in the door, she asked us what we did all day. We told her. She wasn't to pleased with us going to a movie with cussing in it, but she leaned over and kissed each one of us on the forehead and told us to get to bed.
You know honey, that was probably one of the best days of my life.
Another Niece married off without a hitch. Another Uncle tired as hell. Another weekend full of drama. What is happening to my family? Don't get me wrong, I had a great time seeing the family. It was just a little stressful on the whole lot. My Sister's son is getting a divorce. She's stressed. One of the daughters of my oldest brother just told them they're moving to Montana. My oldest brother and his wife are not taking it well. My brother who just married off his oldest daughter is stressing because his baby is leaving the house. She'll be in the same city, but he's still stressing. My Mother? When your children are hurting, you hurt along with them. Everyones emotions were running high the past week. I'm glad to be home.
The bride was beautiful and so was the wedding. Simple yet elegant. I got to dance with her for a while as she cried on my shoulder telling me about how happy she was. She has a beautiful husband, an adorable healthy baby boy and a loving and caring family. She's truely blessed she told me. I would have to agree with her.
It made me miss my baby all the more.
First time I think I've ever posted pictures of my immediate family other then a great niece or nephew. Hope everyone had a great weekend. This boy's heading to bed soon.
