Here's what happened

Wake me up when September ends

2005-09-14T14:23:00.000-07:00

The funeral was today.

I found out yesterday that the Brookie I referred to in a previous post had killed himself on Monday. He handled some of my financial stuff, so we still spoke on the phone on a regular basis. It had been a couple of weeks since our last conversation.

I’m not quite sure what to say yet.

We hold these truths to be self evident

2005-09-08T14:22:00.000-07:00

“Don’t you know who I am? I’m blankety-blanks personal secretary.”

My cheeks flushed with the shame she projected onto me, the white trash bag-boy who filled in as cashier, when the store was busy. Blankety-blank was president of the grocery chain, now bankrupt, that his father had founded.

The check she had presented for payment had only her name in the left hand corner.
No address. No phone. Store policy required that I include a phone number. This was in the days before debit cards and before personal secretaries became executive assistants.

“No, ma’am. I didn’t know that. Can you please write your telephone number on the check?”
I asked again, politely, without a hint of the rage seething through my veins.

She called the manager over, holding up my line.
He performed his best shuck and jive routine, guaranteed to leave the customer with a smile as he okayed the check. And when he had finished, she turned that ice cold frigid dead eye bitch smile to me in victory.

I hated them both. I had been on my feet since 7:00 that morning. On Saturdays I worked from open until close to pay my way through the shitty junior college that I attended. I didn’t need her to remind me who I was, I knew already. I have been reminded all my life.

The declaration of independence may say that all men are created equal, but there’s not a damn thing in there about being treated equal. In America, the rich and the connected get the good stuff, and they get it for free. The middle class work to pay for houses and plasma TV’s that they can neither afford nor find the time to enjoy.

But the poor, well, we like them to remain invisible.
We don’t like to be reminded how dirty and despicable they are.

We avoid the places where they live, not just in the Lower Ninth Ward, but here in west Birmingham and south Atlanta and all those places in your own city.

I spent the three day Labor Day weekend, in Mississippi, cleaning up after the storm.
(That’s how we always refer to the latest hurricane or tornado around here… the storm.)

Today, a friend from New Orleans arrives. He has been in Baton Rouge since the storm.
He has his car and two pairs of jeans. That’s it. He doesn’t know what he has left “at home”.
It will be months before he can get back there.

Earth is hell. Hell is earth.

2005-09-06T14:47:00.000-07:00

I’m just pissed off. And frustrated. And full of hatred.

I hate that life goes on.
I hate stupid fake Christians who say that’s it GOD’S REVENGE.
I hate stupid politicians who steal our money and lie.

Give me a fucking break.
If there was a heaven and hell, don’t they know that they are already in HELL?THIS IS HELL.
You are in hell, you didn’t make it to heaven and you never will.
There is no heaven you fucking jackasses.

Hell is bodies floating down streets.
Hell is water full of shit and piss and blood and dead dogs and dead babies.
Hell is having your house smashed by wind to NOTHING.
Hell is having nobody care enough to save you because you are poor or sick or old.

The storm continues

2005-09-02T11:35:00.000-07:00

We are OK.
The storm passed through here on Monday, but had weakened considerably.

I have family in Louisiana and Mississippi and they are also OK.
Still without power, but safe.

I have friends who evacuated New Orleans and most of them are OK.
Some are still unaccounted for (phone service is spotty at best and non-existent most of the time.)

I managed to get through on Wednesday to one of them who had evacuated to Baton Rouge.
He broke into tears after he answered the phone. He has most likely lost everything.
He was lucky to survive.

I have heard secondhand of others who made it safely to Houston, Lafayette, and Atlanta.

JB and I are leaving today to patch the holes in the roof at my 75 year old mother’s house.
She lives in Central Mississippi. Two hours from the Gulf.

My heart is broken.

Our dear leader is a complete failure.
His incompetence doesn’t surprise me for we have known it all along.
Now maybe others will know.

Nero fiddled while Rome burned,
Marie Antoinette offered cake to the masses,
Our dear leader says, “If you don’t need gas, don’t buy it.” and held his dog.

Thankful

2005-08-09T12:52:00.000-07:00

One day, I will wake up and be fully contented…I’m getting closer every day.
Lately I’ve found appreciation in the smallest of things:

Dinner last night with friends and their two daughters, ages 2 and 5, the giggles we shared, and the joy on their faces as they hugged JB and me last night.

The way Claire, our cat, waits for me to settle in my chair and hops onto my lap for our nightly petting ritual, and the look of happiness on her face, as she lies, legs up, eyes closed, relaxed.

Cooking dinner for my husband on Sunday night, after he returns from three days helping his sister move, and having him fall asleep next to me soon after.

The pride of homeownership I feel when I have spent Sunday morning, sweeping the porch and walk, trimming the ivy, and raking and watering the front lawn.

Greeting the regulars we see each weekend morning at the neighborhood café.

Margarita Thursdays with the boys.

The beautiful man I met this weekend (in cyberspace) and the way he made me feel. (Thanks Jeff!)

My blogging buddies and the beautiful words they write, and the lives they share, and feeling that I’m not so alone anymore.

"I can't even ride a bike"

2005-08-02T12:28:00.000-07:00

Work has been a monster bitch lately and I only post at work.
Ipso facto No posts lately.

I admire those of you who can post frequently and remain interesting.
It’s not one of my talents. Most of my posts read like they were written by an unpopular twelve year old girl with boogers, braces and body odor, whose parents work late so they don’t have to listen to her, whose grandmother won’t let her come over after school anymore, whose brother tells people he’s an only child, whose cat leaves the room when she enters and whose dog goes next door to play.

I call her Kimmy.

Kimmy’s the little girl who lived in the apartment next door to me many years ago.
(Actual quote: “I hate myself. I can’t even ride a bike.”)

When the grandmother who lived with Kimmy and Kimmy’s mother (I never saw Kimmy's father), was returning to Michigan, Kimmy wrapped herself around her grandmother’s legs and carried on like a wounded animal. I stood just inside my apartment, watching through the curtains, and cried with her.

I don’t show my emotions like Kimmy but I wish I did. Emotional honesty has always been a challenge for me. I hide behind the curtain. I don’t let you in.

On a lighter note, JB and I went to a pool party on Sunday. The guest of honor was the guy who cuts JB’s hair. Most, well ALL, of the crowd was considerably younger than we, but we still had fun. At one point, some guy, (we didn’t know anyone there very well), yelled out that he was probably the oldest guy there. He was 33. I quickly changed the subject, (back to nipples, as it were) but everybody laughed.
With me. I think.

Later, no less than three of them, (THREE!), made what I consider to be inappropriate overtures towards me in the pool. It was fabulous.

The Brookie and me.

2005-07-15T14:55:00.000-07:00

When I first moved to Birmingham, many years ago, and was the new guy in town, I briefly dated a Brookie.

Brookies are from Mountain Brook, the exclusive (literally) Birmingham suburb for super-rich white people. (The high school girl missing in Aruba is also a Brookie.)

This Brookie pursued me HARD. He was relentless and so super needy that I eventually fell for him. Of course, as soon as I did, he dumped me. He was/is so messed up, that I thought I could “save” him. He didn’t want to be saved, he just wanted another conquest. A few months into our “relationship”, I found out he was an alcoholic AND a coke fiend, neither of which I had encountered before, a fact which EVERYONE IN TOWN KNEW, but me. (Hey, I had led a sheltered life prior to that.)

When I told him that I was in love with him, he told me, “We are all just ants.”
The fuck??

Though we have remained acquaintances, I went from love to shock to pity in about 30 seconds.
Now when I see him, it just makes me sad that I ever even went out with him. He’s gained weight and his teeth are more yellow than ever. (He still smokes.)

I learned, after we dated, that, as the new guy in town, I had damaged my fragile reputation considerably, unknowingly of course. But you never know who is watching and what they will remember about you. I was able to salvage my reputation pretty quickly by falling in with a great group of guys, some of whom are no longer here.

One of those guys who took me in was Scott.
Scott died ten years ago this summer and though I only knew him for a couple of years, I miss him every hot July afternoon.

Three times

2005-07-14T11:58:00.000-07:00

So, you see I’m trying to be more “in the moment” rather than the cautious self-doubter I usually am. And it’s working.

JB and I have had sex three times (THREE TIMES!) since we got back from New Orleans last week. That’s a modern record for us. Of course, when we met, three times would have been a slow day, but that was a long time ago. We are OLD so three times in a week is pretty good.

When we decided to stay together, I decided to leave the past in the past. It wasn’t easy at first, because I had made such a bad habit of living in the past, but now that I am getting used to it, I think it’s gonna work. It won’t always be perfect, but it shouldn’t be.

We sometimes need a reminder to let us know that we are still alive and sometimes those reminders are painful but sometimes they can be pure joy.

"I don't know how I got this way, I'll never be all right"

2005-07-12T09:17:00.000-07:00

I think it’s hugely important to keep an open mind, and easier to do the older I get.

When Linkin Park started their set on MTV’s rebroadcast of Live8, I didn’t change the channel, but let it play as JB and I were getting ready for Saturday night’s birthday party.
The song, Breaking the Habit sounded vaguely familiar, but I was totally drawn into the live performance.

I long ago threw out my pre-conceived notions regarding appearances, (I now find many types of men to be attractive, where in my twenties, I limited myself to certain age ranges, height ranges, and even body hair types! I missed out on so much.) and now I can listen to many types of music. Without prejudice.

As long as I can make some sort of connection, lyrically or emotionally on some level, then I’m happy. And isn’t that what we really want? A connection?

Through expression, pain can be shared, and once shared, relieved.
And pain relieved leads to growth.

Simple lesson, hard to learn, but I think I’m finally getting there.

I’ve decided to go to the Y more often. I had slipped lately to one or two visits a week and now I’m shooting for at least three. I’m satisfied with my body right now, but after seeing Eli in New Orleans, I think, with just a little push, I can be in even better shape.

Hurricane

2005-07-11T10:57:00.000-07:00

I’m feeling oh-so-fragile today.

I had a single margarita Friday night with dinner, and nothing at Rick’s birthday party on Saturday, (not by choice, NOBODY OFFERED us anything) so it’s not a hangover.

It’s so hard for me to take that leap of faith from the promised land to reality. The promised land where everything is just peachy, and everybody says what they mean and means what they say. The land without guilt, jealousy, insecurity and carbohydrates.

I have everything I need, but it never seems quite right.
My constant, doubting mind can negate any gain I might make in self growth.

I try to keep an open mind, but maybe it’s too open. I stray from whimsy to idea.
I wait for other people to define me. Maybe I need a path to follow.

I put too much weight on insignificant occurrences. I look for meaning in all the wrong places.
And when I find meaning, I gloss over it.

We spent yesterday preparing for the hurricane and watching the coverage on each and every channel that would mention it. We had some wind and rain but, thankfully, nothing bad happened to us. Others weren’t so lucky.

I don’t want to be scared into appreciating what I have. I’d rather learn that lesson the easy way, but I don’t know how. Maybe it’s right in front of me.

Sweet Home Alabama

2005-07-08T08:16:00.000-07:00

In my regular blog reading this morning, someone mentioned an upcoming cross country trip from NYC to Texas and asked for suggestions regarding his itinerary, mentioning Alabama. One of his readers made a jokey, disparaging remark about Alabama, my home state. I laughed along with him and posted a silly comment, but it got me to thinking.

I wasn’t offended at all by his comment, but that’s just a Southern thing, we are used to being the butt of America’s jokes. I don’t know why exactly it’s so easy to make fun of us, maybe because we are just so damn cute?

JB lived in NYC for a while before we met, and we try to go up there every other year or so for a visit.
I usually end up with another pair of shoes from Barneys, because everybody knows that Barneys has the best men’s shoe department in the world. In fact, I’m wearing one of those pair today. (Yeah, we wear shoes in Alabama. See. I can make a joke too.)

We stay in fancy hotels, eat good, shop at Takashimaya and usually see a show or two. Once we even got tickets to SNL (Derek Jeter was hosting with Shakira as musical guest) and it was fantastic. It turns out one of Lorne Micheal’s assistants is from Alabama, so we skipped the two-year ticket lottery and got right in. Another friend had called ahead and had the tickets waiting for us as a surprise.

We were on the same flight that trip with a couple of our friends who were going to the fresh market at Union Square to buy greenery for their Christmas party in their huge mansion that was built with steel money back in the 20’s and overlooks the city of Birmingham (we don’t call it Bombingham anymore) and had brought empty duffel bags with them, to carry the greenery home.

I love NY and Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New Orleans and even DENVER (but not Dallas), but they are not home and never will be.

The South is my home, and I love it.
It ain’t perfect, but no place is.

Eli's coming.

2005-07-06T14:56:00.000-07:00

I still have those “why the fuck do I get out of bed” days every once in a while, but I always get up.

When I was on anti-depressants two summers ago, I researched what they were supposed to do and how long you should take them. I decided to take myself off of them after about three months because I felt that they had done their job. I think my body believed that they were working, but that my mind knew that it was just a little pill. And if just swallowing a little pill could make a difference, then making a sincere effort could make a bigger difference.

I was taking Lexapro and having a weekly talk session with a psychiatrist.
She didn’t last the summer either (too expensive), but I definitely improved.

I realize now, two years later, that, in some way, my body/mind has learned to adjust itself. The lows are never so low, and the highs are just fine. If I catch myself feeling low, I’m able to analyze the whole picture better than before and realize that things are really OK.

JB and I spent the holiday weekend in New Orleans. We ate great, lay by the pool, and hit our favorite bar, the Bourbon Pub, every evening. On the third night, we met this guy Eli, from Dallas. Um. He was a real cutie. And VERY impressive. We ended up skinny dipping around two that morning. (We stay at this really small hotel and never run into any other guests).

One of my fantasies came true, and it was really nice.

I'm back

2005-07-05T09:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Kitty,
I hadn’t intended to take this long of a break from writing, but I did, so…

On the home front, JB and I are back together, recommitted, if you will, (maybe I’m the one who should be committed) by mutual decision. We are actually doing fine, maybe every longtime couple experiences these cycles. Of course, my constant self-doubt and perpetual defeatist attitude don’t help much, but I am working on it.

It came down to this; JB said leave if you must, but don’t leave your memories.
Don’t make our time together a void. I won’t let you do that, because I am not leaving you. You may be gone, but I am still there somewhere.

I even told him about baseball boy, but of course he already knew.

WORK, Turn to the left

2005-06-03T13:52:00.000-07:00

So I was walking to the office kitchen earlier today for a fresh bottle of water and I realized that I could see my reflection in the kitchen window at the end of the long aisle.
So I started practicing my RUNWAY WALK. Yeah, I watch way too much TV.

Between Project Runway, America’s Next Top Model (I’m still waiting for America’s Next Top) and this week’s new show, Kept, I am overdosing on bitchy faggy culture. But hey, I’m for anything that can foist tranny chic on an unsuspecting American public in the way that the deep-voiced, man-faced-fabulous Jerry Hall can. StripSearch was an expected disappointment though, I mean some of those guys are just SAD.

I’m glad that we gays have achieved such high influence, but people, if the show wasn’t meant for you, DON’T WATCH IT. The week after the finale of Desperate Housewives, I had to listen to a 60 year old co-worker describe the whole season to someone who didn’t watch any of it. It was EXCRUCIATING. It was like he had watched a complete different show. The show he had watched was a murder mystery ?!?!?! THE FUCK!?!? Maybe he misses Jessica Fletcher.

Oh and the red-headed woman (his words) had been poisoning her husband.

I was like, “Dude, I thought you went to church on Sunday night.”

Translation, “Dude, the jesus in the jesus lessons you usually shove down our throats at lunch wouldn’t approve of your watching such trash so SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Watch out for old ladies

2005-06-02T14:51:00.000-07:00

I will always remember the day Anna Frances Pittman’s mother slapped me.

I was probably in the second grade, an earnest, but quiet little boy. Our regular teacher was absent and there were only four boys in our Sunday School class that evening.

Jack, Bill, and Byron were running around “like wild Indians” and I was seated next to Mrs. Pittman, waiting for the lesson to begin. After several futile attempts to get the other boys to come over and sit down, the sweet-looking, soft-spoken, retired-from-teaching-to-raise-a-family old hag hauled off and slapped ME across the face.

This seemed to get the boys attention and they dutifully sat down for their lesson on Christ’s redeeming love. I couldn’t look any of them in the eye. I would have cried.
So I sat there, stoically seething, my head filled with a buzz that drowned out anything I might have learned about forgiveness.

She lied to my mother about what happened and avoided my father altogether.
(Nobody lies to the preacher! That would be a sin!)

I never again got within ten feet of her because I had learned my lesson.

It’s not always your fault, but that doesn’t lessen the hurt.

Just before the credits roll

2005-06-01T12:09:00.000-07:00

Driving over to E&G’s party on Sunday, Robs and I saw the most brilliant blue bird. When JB and I got home on Monday, I looked it up in my Sibley’s Bird Guide. It was an Indigo Bunting. I had seen Eastern Bluebirds before at the lake, but this bird was the most beautiful shade of intense, peacock blue from head to toe.

We took it as a sign, Robs and I, that all was well with the world. My friend Robs believes in signs and when I am with him, I indulge him. As expected, Mac and T provided the drama, but we didn’t let it bother us. The weather was gorgeous Saturday, but rainy and cool (for Alabama) on Sunday and Monday.

There were birthday parties on Saturday and Sunday night, so we saw many people (including the Huntsville boys!), but no skinny dipping. We didn’t spend much time on the water due to the weather.

Though Sunday's dinner was ruined by the drama (on our night to cook, of course), I somehow remained calm and relaxed. (Alcohol does help). Even at the parties, and there was another one on Sunday afternoon, when any of the drama started, I excused myself, and walked away. I like this new me.

JB and I got along great. I’m grateful that we haven’t allowed ourselves to involve anyone else in our own little drama.

You know that feeling you get watching the end of a movie just before the credits roll?
When everything has wrapped up nicely and the music begins to swell?

I had that feeling about JB this weekend. We were holding hands at one of the parties (his hands were cold and I was warming them up actually) and someone who we really don’t know very well approached us and commented on how nice it was to see a long-term couple still able to show affection in that way. We smiled and thanked them.

I still don’t know how everything will end, but I am finally feeling mature enough to trust myself.

The southland in the springtime

2005-05-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

JB and I fought until one this morning and then had mind blowing sex. The fuck?

Who am I anymore? Roseanne?

Anyway, we cleared the air about of lot of things and, despite the 3 hours sleep, I’m feeling pretty good today. We are heading up to our friend Robs' place at the lake for the long weekend. (their motto? Smith Lake… A lake for the gays)

I’m hoping to relax and have fun, but since the drama queens Mac and T are going also, (we’re going, we’re not going. we’re going, we’re not going.) it will at least be interesting. Or not.
I’ll be drunk anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

Ooh. I’m hoping those four Huntsville boys are gonna be there.
They owe us a skinny-dipping date.

Fiction: Hello, my name is

2005-05-26T12:12:00.000-07:00

I knew, through his friends, to let him take the lead. He was skittish, wounded. That was what had attracted me to him. It was important to let him know that I was available, but not easily. The first time I met him, I introduced myself and left. We were at an open house. Mutual friends of ours had renovated an old building downtown and made it their home. Most of the guys there had their shirts tucked in too tight, but he was wearing jeans and one of those zippered, hooded jacket things. I found out later it was cashmere. I still have it.

I saw him several weeks later, one Sunday morning. I was reading the paper and having a cup of coffee in the neighborhood coffee shop when he came in. I followed him with my eyes until he caught me, then returned to the article I was reading.

The following Sunday, he was there when I got there, seated at my table. When I walked in he smiled, stood, and said my name. He had on that same hooded jacket. I couldn’t tell if it was navy or black, but it matched his eyes. It didn’t appear as if he had pupils at all.
We laughed about the open house. We talked for an hour or so and he invited me to lunch, but I declined. He seemed more relaxed than the first time I met him. He asked for my number and when he called on Tuesday, I agreed to dinner.

We met that Thursday night at a small, local restaurant. I don’t remember what I ate, but I remember how time seemed to have stopped. He took my hand as I walked him back to his car and for two blocks, neither of us said a word. I kissed him, on the neck, as we said goodnight. He smelled like a puppy; clean, unspoiled and full of promise.

When we slept together for the first time, the following weekend, I knew that I would love him. We didn’t have sex that night, but slept spooned around each other, breathing together, heart beats synchronized. We slept late, much later than I am accustomed, and when I woke, he was watching me, with those deep, dark eyes. It’s hard to read his face so I asked what he was thinking.

“Good thoughts...” he said, “good thoughts.”

I laughed.

When we did have sex that morning, it was a little awkward, but ultimately familiar, as if we had been lovers who had been separated for reasons beyond our control and reunited.

I left without making plans to see him again and not knowing if I would.

Open the kingdom

2005-05-25T08:13:00.000-07:00

Ultimately it’s not the act of betrayal that is so unsettling, but the shattering of the carefully constructed wall of self-delusion. I squint when I look in the mirror, because I don’t want to see what a clear-eyed view would reflect.

I long for wordless conversations, satisfied gazes, and heavy, dreamless sleep.
Sadly, these things are probably out of my reach.
(Hey, I said probably, that’s a good sign, right?)

I worry that I am throwing away a perfectly normal relationship, as all relationships have their good days and bad. But I am convinced that with every small defeat I concede, a tiny piece of me dies and that there is a finite number of pieces, unknown, left inside.

And so I construct a wall, to protect the pieces that are left. And the wall prevents the pieces from leaving, but also from growing.

On a lighter note, I still get school-girl crushes on the most inappropriate people and it makes me happy to feel that way. I love getting crushed on bloggers.

Closer to fine

2005-05-24T13:41:00.000-07:00

“I’m getting a roommate.”

I think that’s what I told him. We were juniors in college. David was my first “real” boyfriend. (I know, David and David. How lame.) He had moved into my apartment just before the fall semester. I found out, when it was all over, that his parents still thought he was living in the dorm. He went home for Christmas break and again the following summer.
He called a couple of weeks into the summer to say he wasn’t coming back until fall.
I broke up with him on the phone.

“I’ve met someone else.”

That’s what Robert told me. He was the second guy that I lived with. We were together two years. I cried and called my sister. His someone else didn’t pan out.
Favorite Robert memory: going to see The Go-Go’s. Second row behind a bunch of mulleted (business in the front, party in the back) Lesbians WHO WOULD NOT DANCE.
Worst Robert memory: His friend Fred was the first person I knew to die with AIDS. He wasted away quickly. He was covered with Karposi’s. (This was the mid-80s.)

JB is only the third guy that I have lived with. Thirteen years.
I don’t know how to break up with him. It sounds so final, as it needs to be.
We have clung (is that a word?) too long to the memory of what we had.
I don’t want it to end ugly, but I want it to end.

I hate being such a wanh-wanh baby but this blog is my only outlet right now.
I can’t tell you how much it has helped, and your comments and e-mails mean the world to me. I don’t feel alone anymore. Thank you.

Like a straw in the wind

2005-05-23T11:50:00.000-07:00

At some point in your life, you must accept who you are. Yourself, on your own terms.

I guess most people do this rather early, but me? Fuck No.
I’m 45 fucking years old and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

I didn’t have a problem turning 20, 30 or 40.
Those big round numbers never bothered me.

But 25 was big. I couldn’t be a kid anymore, I had to be a grownup.
35 didn’t hurt, because I had the perfect life. Everything had fallen into place.
I felt older, but it felt right. I had everything I had ever wanted.

I turned 45 two months ago and my life is going nowhere.

I was in Michigan on business from Monday until Saturday last week.
JB and I talked every day and I actually missed him. I even felt that things might be different once I got home. Ha.

Within 30 seconds, we were back to our usual tension.

I am honestly trying.
I don’t say a tenth of the things that pop in my head anymore.
(Of course, now I get accused of not speaking to him).
I don’t fight back when he tries to pick a fight, it’s just not worth the trouble.
And I don’t care anymore who wins. It just doesn’t matter.

I am seeking peace, contentment, and sleep.

At the lake

2005-05-16T12:37:00.000-07:00

JB and I are headed out of town this weekend to visit his Mom at their lake house.
I am excited about going even though I found out Tuesday that I have to be in Grand Rapids, MI all next week for work.

His Mom is a sweet, beautiful lady, a true southern belle. In spite of the four years that I was “persona non grata” before his father died, she has gone out of her way to make me comfortable when we are together.

I tend to view these sorts of visits as “cultural exchanges”. It is always fascinating to me, to see how families interact, because my own family is so emotionally vacant. On the surface, we are always kind, considerate, and able to at least feign interest in each other’s lives, but if I fell off the face of the earth tomorrow, I don’t think it would be noticed for months. I’m not really sure that any of them would even care.

There is no bad blood or animosity among us, but no closeness either. So when I’m around other families, I feel like Jane Goodall among the chimps or Margaret Mead among the natives, taking mental notes, and trying to figure out how families are supposed to act. I don’t mean to actually compare anyone to chimps or natives, but to compare my own experience with something that is alien to me.

I am curious, not bitter.

Little white lies

2005-05-10T14:47:00.000-07:00

“It’s not you, it’s me.” / (It’s you. You sick fuck.)

“I think we should date other people.” / (I’ve been fucking your ex. And his boyfriend.)

“That haircut makes you look ten years younger.” / (Jesus Christ, you are so fucking old.)

“Call me later in the week, we’ll have dinner.” / (Lose my number, bitch.)

“It was so good running in to you.” / (Goddamnit, I wish I had seen you coming first.)

“How’s JB? I haven’t seen him in forever.” / (We fucked last weekend. Three times.)

“Did you lose weight?” / (You are a fucking cow.)

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” / (Ignorant fuck. He’s been running around behind your back for years.)

“Where did you get that shirt?” / (Remind me never to shop there.)

“It was delicious. I must get the recipe.” / (Got any Maalox? It’s gonna be a long night.)

Crushed

2005-05-09T13:52:00.000-07:00

I am the quiet boy who sat near YOU. The one you never noticed.
That was OK with me, I never wanted to be noticed, acknowledged maybe, but not noticed.

I was the one whose clothes were never quite right, I mean, I tried so hard to wear the right thing, but I was always a little off. It took me years to understand that the clothes didn’t make you cool, YOU made the clothes cool. I thought if I wore something similar to you, it would make us closer, but it made me look like a dork.

I wanted YOU to like me. I thought if you’d only take a chance on me, you’d see how much we had in common. It’s funny, now, how the mind can play tricks on a person.

That day you did notice me? Man. I was in heaven. You probably don’t remember it at all, it was just a throwaway line to you. Mr. Witty, throwing the dog a bone.
I didn’t care. I loved you body and soul at that moment.

You were just making fun of me, but not in a mean way, and I totally deserved it.
I’m sure you knew how I felt about you. My eyes never could lie.

Anyway, thanks for that.

And in time, we will all be stars

2005-05-06T13:26:00.000-07:00

I have a tendency to shut down during periods of crisis. It’s a coping mechanism I developed during childhood. I started to post Wednesday, but deleted it, and again yesterday, but deleted it, so I am determined to break the cycle and post today.

I feel as if my life has been on hold for some time now, as if I was waiting for something to happen, some impetus to get off my butt and move forward. JB and I haven’t yet talked about dates or possessions or pets, but we are getting along. I don’t really have much to say to him, but only because I think everything has already been said. We are still sleeping in the same bed, but there is a sense of quiet acceptance between us.

I do think it’s important to finalize the situation at hand before I begin planning the next phase of my life, but without a dramatic closing episode, it’s hard to believe that it’s over.
No doors were slammed, no vases broken, we just called it quits.

I’ve been struggling lately with self-esteem and self-confidence. I had been confusing one with the other, but I realized last week that I don’t have low self-esteem but I do have a lack of self-confidence. It’s plagued me all my life, so now I’m working on boosting my confidence. I had lunch the other day with a friend who works nearby and it turns out he works with a guy from my gym. Now when I see this guy at the gym, he smiles so big and speaks! Score! It makes me feel good, but not in a sexual way cause he has a boyfriend, but just the thought that he was glad to see me.

You must be my lucky starfish

2005-05-04T14:45:00.000-07:00

I am numb. Thirteen years.

I can barely remember the me from before.

Some starfish can regenerate a limb if they lose one, but I don’t know if I will ever feel complete again, because I feel so alone right now. I am considering a fresh start, in a new place, but I am not yet going to make a decision about that.

Thank you for the kind comments.

And so it goes.

2005-05-02T13:11:00.000-07:00

It isn’t a matter of trust. There is trust implicit in everything that we do.
It isn’t a question of freedom. We are always free to live as we choose.

The difficult part is recognizing the end, and accepting it.
There was BEFORE and there was AFTER,
But when the end came, I failed to recognize it.

We have started the process of breaking up.

And I am surprisingly calm.

I had sex with my husband last night.

2005-04-25T14:54:00.000-07:00

We spent the weekend apart. I stayed home to rest and put the house back together after our recent houseguests, and JB spent the weekend with his sister and mother. They met at his parent’s lake house for their first lake weekend since his father died. I had been invited (I am now part of the family, since his father died) but decided I needed the rest more (they were going to be working around the house all weekend.)

JB returned late Sunday afternoon and the time apart was well spent. We were genuinely glad to see each other. I prepared a simple meal of grilled steak and green salad and we went to bed around nine to watch Grey’s Anatomy. I woke-up around 11:30 to finish the sex we had somehow started in our sleep.

We may not have the perfect relationship (and I’ve not yet seen one that is), but what we have is ours. We may not be together next year or in five years, but the time we had is ours and that cannot be taken away. We may not be the same people we were when we met, but we have grown together and grown separately in ways I never expected.

No, take ME out.

2005-04-22T14:07:00.000-07:00

Although something may have been lost in the transition from Broadway to an amateur local production, I wasn’t very impressed with Take Me Out. The performances were OK and it’s always fun seeing naked men, but the play itself didn’t really have very much to say. I was a little disappointed considering it had not only won the Tony but the Pulitzer as well. Maybe I need to read it.

There was one particular MEMBER of the cast who really stood out though.
The guy playing Mungitt had a big ole dick.

I adore Shawn, our friend who was in the cast, but now that I have seen him naked, I can never look at him again in the same way. He was actually very good.

Things that make you go hmmmmmm

2005-04-21T15:00:00.000-07:00

We have had several people in the office this week from our offices in Wisconsin and Michigan and have been going to lunch together.

Today, one of the ladies mentioned watching Queer Eye last night in her hotel room and one of our guys claimed he had never heard of it. I can’t watch it because Carson makes my eyes and ears bleed. Anyway, this guy, whom I call Beau Hiney, has only been working here three weeks and he’s married and kinda cute.

Two sentences later he was talking about the episode he saw with Johnny Damon and some of the Red Sox. Hmmmmmm.

Tonight JB and I are going to see Take Me Out with our friend Robs. I have been wanting to see it since it played in New York. Our friend Shawn is in it.
I think everybody gets naked. Hmmmmmm.

Two Angels

2005-04-19T14:57:00.000-07:00

I’ve never told a living soul about the time I saw two angels.

I was about twelve and riding in the back seat of our car between our small town in Mississippi and a neighboring one. Later, I decided it was just the heat playing tricks on my eyes, but for years I have remembered them.

They were high in the sky, standing on a cloud. I know they were angels, because they were dressed in white and had white wings. I couldn’t make out their faces from so far away but I could see the glow around their heads.

I think they were learning to fly. One would hover slightly and then fly in a small circle above the cloud while the other watched.

My concept of angels has changed since then and now I believe that they take different forms.

Today, I was an angel.

Unspeakable Joy

2005-04-18T13:17:00.000-07:00

Our houseguests returned to Dallas this morning and I think everybody had a great time.
The party was amazing. We danced til four in the morning. Towards the end of the night, when the DJ played Unspeakable Joy, the party peaked for me.

Surrounded by friends and shirtless sweaty country boys? Priceless.
(And them country boys dance so cute.)

So many of these AIDS related fund raisers turn out to be just another excuse to drink and act silly, and this is one is certainly no different. We’ve been having them for so long, that the true purpose is forgotten. They have always seemed like celebrations to me, and maybe we are celebrating; celebrating our survival, our friendships and our memories.

I had invited Mac and T to our little pre-party knowing that they weren’t planning to go to the big party, but they had declined earlier in the week. I hadn’t seen them in several months and when they showed up unexpectedly about 15 minutes before we were planning to leave, I was excited that they had changed their minds. T has been sick recently and was visibly weak. They didn’t stay out late, but I’m glad they went.

Borderline

2005-04-15T13:23:00.000-07:00

“Wanna see something pretty?” she asked from the table next to ours.

We could only nod, a little shocked to have our lunch interrupted.
She flashed a diamond from her left hand at us.

“Wow.” was all we could manage.
She was probably as old as the rock the diamond had been carved from.

“Aren’t you a lucky young lady. Two fine gentlemen.” she said to Precious.

Presh nodded in agreement. Presh was our fag hag.
I always hated that expression.

I was 24, Trey was 18.
Borderline was “our” song. It was only Madonna’s second hit and we were smitten.

I heard it today during lunch. On the Oldies station.

I don’t even remember sleeping with Trey, (he still lived with his parents), but I must have because he broke up with me when I gave him crabs.

Before I met Trey, I had gone on a booty call for this full-lipped boy named Tony, but when I got there, he was passed out.

So I slept with his skanky friend.

Thanks for the crabs. Skank.

Rites of Spring

2005-04-14T13:50:00.000-07:00

This weekend is Birmingham’s 14th annual Rites of Spring.
(Our own little version of a small town circuit party. Scary, huh?)

We have five friends from Dallas staying with us so JB and I have spent our week getting ready:
Clean sheets Check
Clean towels Check
Snacks Check
Lotsa liquor Check Check and triple Check

I’m really getting too old to do it anymore, but it’s our one night a year to go out in Birmingham, so we usually have fun.
And besides, it's for a good cause.

I’ll be the one in the pink Jay McCarroll t-shirt.

Now I'm Sure

2005-04-13T13:30:00.000-07:00

I seldom have moments of clarity, so when they do occur, I don’t usually notice until sometime later.

I apparently had one last week.

I like to read the morning paper before work with a cup of coffee while JB irons his clothes for the day and I will often comment on some absurdity or other news item that catches my eye. This has always infuriated JB for whatever reason and I would try to stop doing it, but I could never hold my tongue for long.

Until last week.
I don’t do it anymore. I just read the paper to myself.

If I notice anything in the paper, I just smile to myself and move on, AS IF JB ISN’T EVEN THERE. It wasn’t a conscious decision, I just don’t care anymore.

I thought it was a way of bonding, a way of saying, “I am not alone. I have you.”

Or like Piglet said to Pooh, “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

Thank god I now leave the house before Katie Couric comes on.
That bitch can be so annoying.

Homewrecker

2005-04-12T13:30:00.000-07:00

I noticed a few days ago that it was taking our laundry a little longer to dry than usual. I emptied the lint trap and hoped that would solve the problem. The next day, when a load of jeans seemed no drier an hour after I had put them in, I decided to check the vent.

The flap protecting the output end of the vent had been broken off two summers ago by Billy the alcoholic painter or one of his crew and it had never been high on my list of Things That Need Replacing. The first sign of trouble was the string dangling from the opening. When I pulled on the string, a small, beautifully marked, brown bird rushed out and startled me. His mate rushed by my head when I reached in to disturb the nest they had carefully constructed just inside the opening. While the birds watched me from a few feet away, I pulled out their home. Inside were five speckled eggs only slightly bigger than the tip of my little finger.

With tears streaming down my face, I placed their nest on the woodpile I keep in the corner of my backyard. The parents scolded me and I knew they would abandon their eggs even as they watched me place the nest in a safe spot. I had wrecked their home.

I cried also for our home, for it has been torn apart too and only recently have I realized that the damage has been irreparable.

After we had tacked a piece of screen across the opening, we sat on the deck and watched the two birds make several attempts to re-enter their former home.

Eventually, they flew away.

100 Things About Me

2005-04-08T14:23:00.000-07:00

1. I have blue eyes.
2. I am left-handed.
3. I was a piano major my freshman year.
4. I have a grand piano.
5. I still play sometimes.
6. I changed to Business Administration my sophomore year.
7. My first boyfriend’s name was also David.
8. When anyone would call, they would ask to speak to David.
9. We always knew, without asking, which David they wanted.
10. I broke up with him over the phone.
11. I am deeply romantic.
12. But hopelessly realistic.
13. I am the 4th of 5 children.
14. I am 5 feet 11 inches tall.
15. I am the shortest male in my family.
16. I cried at my first Broadway show from excitement.
17. The show was Damn Yankees with Bebe Neuwirth.
18. I have never been to Europe.
19. I want to go to Venice. And Florence.
20. My father died of cancer when I was 27.
21. We were never very close.
22. He was a preacher.
23. My mother may be crazy.
24. She didn’t hit me physically.
25. She beat me up verbally.
26. I chipped a front tooth in a bicycle wreck when I was in the 3rd grade.
27. My mother made me return to the scene to find it.
28. I never found it.
29. I didn’t have my tooth fixed UNTIL I WAS 30.
30. I have known I was gay since at least kindergarten.
31. A girl named Hattie Hemmer gave me a black eye in kindergarten.
32. She thought I was trying to look up her dress.
33. I wasn’t, I was looking for a ball that had rolled in the ditch.
34. She kicked me in the head with her shiny patent leather shoes.
35. I have never had any desire to look up anyone’s dress.
36. That summer at the lake, I sat on the ground so I could look up a playmate’s towel after we went swimming.
37. His name was Lawton.
38. I am terribly naïve.
39. One summer in high school, I worked in the Jitney Jungle where Eudora Welty bought her groceries.
40. She was very frail and had a dowager’s hump.
41. She never bought much, maybe a cantaloupe or some lettuce.
42. Her short story, Why I live at the P.O. is my favorite short story.
43. My younger brother’s middle school English teacher pronounced her name EEDORA WETLY.
44. My family moved 100 miles away the summer after my 10th grade year.
45. I finished high school with strangers.
46. My parents fought most of that time until my father moved out.
47. They got back together.
48. I couldn’t wait to get to college.
49. This is fun.
50. I rarely have anal sex.
51. When it’s good, it’s good.
52. When it ain’t, it ain’t.
53. I was painfully shy growing up.
54. I have a Bassett Hound named Mabel
55. She is named after my fraternal grandmother.
56. I didn’t think any of my brothers or sisters were going to use that name for one of their kids.
57. I have 6 nephews and 2 nieces.
58. I love to read.
59. I read every article and story in The New Yorker every week.
60. David Sedaris is a genius.
61. Amy Sedaris is insane and I love her.
62. I wrote about a life experience for freshman composition.
63. The teacher read it to the class.
64. I was mortified.
65. Every word in the story was a lie.
66. I love music.
67. Beautiful songs make me so happy.
68. Even when they are sad.
69. I will obsess over a single artist and play them exclusively until I switch.
70. I will obsess over a single song and play it repeatedly.
71. I miss the sound of a needle dropping onto vinyl and the hiss before the music starts.
72. If fills me with longing for simpler days.
73. I still have boxes of albums in the basement.
74. I no longer have a turntable.
75. I no longer buy as many CDs as I used to.
76. I have hundreds of them.
77. I go to the gym three times a week.
78. Well, most weeks.
79. I have many casual friends.
80. I have very few close friends.
81. I was in therapy for a while for depression.
82. It helped somewhat.
83. Blogging has helped me sort things out more than the therapist ever did.
84. I don’t have trouble falling asleep.
85. I have trouble staying asleep.
86. I feel unfulfilled sometimes but abundantly blessed at others.
87. I am too cautious.
88. I am too practical.
89. I am too responsible.
90. I am too safe.
91. I can loosen up, but usually only in New Orleans.
92. I guess that’s why they call it The Big Easy.
93. I am seldom alone, but often lonely.
94. I have a huge crush on someone that will pass.
95. I love to kiss.
96. I don’t get kissed anymore.
97. Wow. I made it.
98. I want more.
99. I don’t want to be the life of the party.
100. But I do want to be invited.

Pieces of Me

2005-04-07T14:59:00.000-07:00

With my new sense of resolve, I faced several situations this week with JB head-on, rather than my usual avoid/defer/deny mode.

It’s been somewhat freeing and some of the fog in my head has lifted, but I realize it’s only a small start. He is now paying $1000 a month toward our expenses after a discussion we had several weeks ago. This week when he asked me why I was in a mad mood, I actually explained why, honestly. Whew. It felt good.
It didn’t change the situation, but it made my attitude better.

It is never easy to lose a family member, whether by choice or not.
Some part of you remains and pieces of JB will remain with me. I entered this relationship hesitantly but once committed, I gave my all and I have no regrets.

The struggle now is to separate gracefully.

I'm aware of how pathetic I am.

2005-03-29T13:06:00.000-08:00

I really don't mean to be pathetic, but I get so caught up in the minutiae of everyday existence, that it gets difficult to see the big picture.

The big picture is that I am involved in a dead relationship. There really is nothing left, but neither of us has the motivation to move forward. I should, but I don't. It's not that I am afraid because I know that I would be better off in many ways. I started this blog to help me figure a way out and it has.
I know what I need to do, I just haven't done it.

It just may be the hardest thing I've ever done. I don't want any more drama or scandal, I just want to be free. I will always have to live with the sadness of what happened, but I need to live again.

I'm working on a plan.

I read all these other blogs and I feel like I am missing so much but it inspires to take control of my life. It's not going to be easy, but it's going to be the right thing to do.

I want to fall in love with my husband. Again.

2005-03-23T13:29:00.000-08:00

I really do.

You know that feeling you get, when you are single and dating, and you meet a guy and he asks you out? Right away you make an assessment: Serious Fun or Fun Fun.

Is this guy gonna be just for fun or does he have the potential to be "the one".

When I met JB, I was casually dating some guy I had met at an AIDS Buddy class.
I knew right away that JB had "it" and I stopped dating Keith (I never even told him why, I just stopped) and started dating JB. Three weeks after our first date (we have been together 13 years now), I brought JB to my birthday party. Four other guys with March birthdays and I rented a skating rink for about 100 of our friends and had a big gay party. It was so much fun. After that, JB and I were officially a couple. I later learned that he had been a little frightened that day by the big gay group. (He hadn't been "out" very long.)

JB fell in love with me first. I was being cautious as I was usually the one who got hurt in relationships. He used to wake me up in the middle of the night, holding me, and asking me to never leave him, never leave him.
I promised I wouldn't.

We fell in love. Hard. Both of us. It was great and I miss it.

Back from New Orleans

2005-03-15T13:28:00.000-08:00

We got back from New Orleans last Wednesday and I returned to work yesterday.

New Orleans was great, as always. The food was excellent, the beer was cold, and the boys were cute. Sunday afternoon at the PUB is still my favorite place on earth. We saw some old friends and made some new ones.

At one point, there was a group of six or seven guys near us. Their numbers changed as they came and went, but eventually we noticed that they had noticed us. JB and I stayed put pretty much in one spot the whole day, from around 4 until god-only-knows what time that night. One of the guys, Jerry, on his way out the door one time, stopped by, grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear, "You guys are the cutest things in here, we've been watching you." and left.
That pretty much made my entire weekend.

When he returned, I went over and introduced myself and we all hung out the rest of the evening. Good times.

We stayed at The Claiborne, our usual place, and it was great as always. There are only about 6 rooms and most of those are enormous suites. The courtyard looked good, but it was still too cool to use the pool. Oh, Audrey Hepburn's son and his family were staying there too!

I'm ready to go back.

The Gay We Were

2005-03-03T12:57:00.000-08:00

Somebody needs to write the this love story:

Katie and Hubbell are two guys who meet, fall in love and don't live happily ever after. Oh, they try, but eventually they grow apart. But they still have these memories, (you know, those misty, water-colored ones?) and that keeps them somehow connected. So they remain together, unhappily.

Sigh.

I didn't have any good role models for lasting love when I grew up, so I chose to believe in music, and love songs were where I learned about love:

"How deep is the ocean, how high is the sky, how much do I love you?"

"It's very clear, our love is here to stay. Not for a year, forever and a day."

"Won't you take me to funkytown?"

But then, after the fireworks, the love settles down.
There's no more passion, I'm just comfortably numb.

I'm too comfortable and too old to make a drastic change, so we trudge along.

Sigh again.

Thank god we are going to New Orleans for a few days. I need it so bad.

Heading to New Orleans

2005-02-28T13:37:00.000-08:00

I'm taking next week off of work and JB and I are heading to New Orleans for a few days to celebrate my birthday.

We haven't been to New Orleans since last year's disastrous Memorial Day trip with some friends. I had quit my job at HELL on Thursday and had two weeks before my new job started and though JB and I have been to New Orleans many, many times, this was only the second time we had traveled there with friends. The first time had not gone very well either but this was a different group of friends, with one exception.

It's strange how traveling can bring out the worst in some people or maybe, just maybe, it's not the traveling, but the constant proximity. The OTHER couple needed a LOT of attention, or an audience, and by the end of the LONG weekend, many of my favorite places had been slightly tainted with the memory of their foul behavior.

The long, drunken, unpleasant dinner at Mona Lisa when one of them thought the waitress had been rude...

The long, drunken, unpleasant dinner at Adolpho's when they discussed, LOUDLY, and with ME between them, their just-announced plan to leave Birmingham and move to Dallas...

The horrible, horrible, scene at our wonderful small hotel in the Marigny...

Thankfully, there were no bad memories at the Pub, which is where I plan to spend most of my time this weekend. For some reason, they behaved there, maybe because we knew so many people and they would have been ashamed to behave that way in front of our New Orleans friends, or maybe I just ignored it, and focused on having a good time in my favorite bar.

JB and I may have our problems, but we do get along and we never air our dirty laundry in public. It's just not done.

I can't wait to get there.

Me, myself, and that other guy

2005-02-24T11:22:00.000-08:00

I'm selfish.

Having been "blessed" with an imperfect childhood and too many siblings, I decided as a child, that when I grew up, I would spoil myself. And I have.

I live in a beautiful house, filled with beautiful things.
I have a beautiful boyfriend/partner/husband.
I drive a beautiful car.

But I struggle with fulfillment. It's not that I want MORE, I have plenty, but I don't know how to be happy with what I have.

I know that part of the reason for my unsettledness is JB's infidelity.
It really shook me up, but after some therapy and some infidelity of my own, I haven't exactly reached nirvana.

Just what can the modern man expect out of life these days anyway?

Lil Kim Cartman

2005-02-16T11:26:00.000-08:00

So I was watching the final judging group in last night's Westminster Kennel Club and the winner of the toy group, a pekingese named Yakee If Only, was making his rounds and it hit me:
It's the love child of Lil Kim and Eric Cartman.

10 Reasons to stay.

2005-02-09T11:17:00.000-08:00

I have been reluctant to write this post.

I'm not sure I can come up with 10 reasons to stay. Though there are certainly valid reasons to stay together, I'm afraid that I made my mind up to leave long ago. It's been hard to determine exactly what has been missing from our relationship, because from the outside, we appear to be the perfect couple. Some friends of ours have even called us "role models for the community" whatever the hell that means. Of course, no one knows the truth.

I wonder how many other long term relationships fizzle into malaise? I understand the laws of attraction and I realize that physical activity slowly fades into a comfortable silence. What I didn't understand, until now, was how lonely it was going to be.

We tried the bringing in a third partner thing (fun but too much work) and the open relationship thing (too many rules) and now we are back to jerking off, but alone now, never together.

I can really only think of two reasons that actually matter:

1. I love him.

2. He loves me.

10 Reasons to leave.

2005-01-31T14:01:00.000-08:00

1. You cheated.

2. We don't have sex anymore.

3. You don't pay for ANYTHING.

4. I am running out of money (see number 3).

5. I'm lonely.

6. I'm tired of pretending.

7. I want to move away and start over. Without you.

8. It still hurts.

9. I'm stupid and I want to be smart again.

10. You have dick warts. (see number 1).

They are precious in His sight.

2005-01-28T11:40:00.000-08:00

Jesus loves the little children...

Vernelle was pissed off. Her panty hose were binding her gut too tight again.
Damn Wal-Mart. She'd been wearing queen size since middle school, but ever since Wal-Mart dropped the number of panty hose from five per pack to four, she swore they didn't have as much give as they used to.

All the children of the world...

Sitting in church wadn't helping anything either, but Sue Marie sure did look sweet up there singing with the rest of the kids.

"Shine Baby. Smile for Jesus today.", she'd told her this morning, pulling her hair back from around her face as best she could. Poor thing. The folks at the Baptist church really laid it on 'em thick at her age. Just wait. They'd turn on her soon enough.

Red and yellow, black and white...

Vernelle had asked Mrs. Tompkins one day why the First Baptist Church of Birmingham was actually in Homewood and not in Birmingham.

"Why honey, we moved over here back in the sixties, you know, after they bombed that black church.", Mrs. Tompkins had told her and walked away before Vernelle could ask any more questions, as if there had been an epidemic of god-hating church bombings.

They are precious in His sight...

The church was taking up a special collection today to send a team overseas to minister to those poor folks that got washed away. Sue Marie had been clutching her tooth fairy dollar all morning, just waiting to drop it in the plate. She had pondered for days what she should spend it on and her Sunday School teacher, Miss Linda, had made a big impression on her with her tales of the big wave. She even had the dollar with her now, in her sweaty little fist, standing up front, singing.

"All those pore heavens, them pore, pore heavens.", Sue Marie had come in from Sunday School last week saying. Vernelle finally figured out Miss Linda had been referring to those poor heathens, as she had called them to the children, who had been swept away or left with nothing.

Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Precious indeed.

Katie, Vanna. Vanna, Katie.

2005-01-25T08:36:00.000-08:00

R _ C K _ N _ H _ R S E

Pat Sajak: "Your spin, Katie."

(spin, spin, spin)

Katie Couric: "Um. Is there another N Pat?"

Pat: "No, Katie. The letter N has already been used."

Vanna White, whispering: "You should buy a G, Katie, it's ROCKING HORSE."

Katie: "Um, ROCKEEN HORSE? There's no G in ROCKEEN HORSE. What's a G?"

Vanna: "It's ROCKING HORSE you ignorant FUCK."

Katie: "Huh?"

America, all together: "Buy a FUCKING G already, Katie, you ignorant TWAT."

Greener pastures

2005-01-20T14:21:00.000-08:00

I realize that life is easy for some people and not so easy for others.
I'm probably somewhere in the middle, but I make things hard for myself.

I never really had positive reinforcement from my family, so I am not often satisfied with anything. I am sorry for that, but it is the way I am. Accept it.

I do have moments of happiness and memories of pure joy and I always strive to get those feelings, but I can let insignificant things overwhelm me. I'm working on it.
Understand me, tolerate me or ignore me, but tell me what you are thinking.
Otherwise my head will swirl with a thousand scenarios.

I know that we have a good life together and I wouldn't want to be with anyone else.

I always thought that if I held you tightly

2005-01-19T12:52:00.000-08:00

Relationships should come with mutually agreed upon expiration dates. None of this 'til death do us part crap for me. When you met someone, you could, after a few dates, pick the length of your commitment and when you reach the end of that time period, shake hands and go your separate ways. You'd be left with fond memories, mutual respect, and none of that bitter hatred stored up in your liver.

This way, you could see the end coming, and it wouldn't hit you, weeks, months or even years after everyone else already knew it. You could prepare for it, and there would be no more nasty surprises. I mean who really loves someone forever these days? Let's be realistic.

Hell, I'd even settle for an afternoon, as long as it was sincere.

Isolation

2005-01-18T11:40:00.000-08:00

I found solace in isolation. On some level, it is where I am most comfortable.

Maybe it's a result of growing up homosexual in a large family of heterosexuals.
Maybe it's because I see myself as a misfit, unable to really be comfortable anywhere.
Even alone, I'd rather be somewhere else, lost in a book or a well-made film.

When the call came on Saturday, we were at the movies with S&J. (Meet the Fockers).
M&J are hosting a dinner party around Valentine's Day (for charity). M&J really get on my last gay nerve. They are nice enough, but they are CONSTANTLY trying to impress us. And it gets really old. And we don't really need to be impressed, we liked you already. We have really tried hard not to let it bother us, but finally just gave up. So we never see them anymore. Maybe twice in the past year. So we are not going to their dinner, but I feel kinda bad. Not about the charity aspect, but about the lying. I mean, why don't they get it? Why even invite us?

Last year, there were five couples, M&J, us and three couples from J's office! What the fuck!
and they were all straight! (Not that there's anything wrong with that). It was miserable.

Survivor

2005-01-14T12:22:00.000-08:00

So I get this e-mail from Mo yesterday with the latest Survivor cast. (Mo is a former co-worker from my previous place of employment and a Survivor FREAK). I have been watching Survivor since Season One and have enjoyed it, even though it has gotten a little boring lately.

I click on the link, and immediately see Ibrehem, from my gym is one of the contestants.
Oh. My. God. JB and I had just seen him two nights before doing some cardio and we were mesmerized as usual by his AMAZING body. Yeah, I've even seen him naked and yeah, I am a total pervert but no, I am not a stalker. Yet.

We first met him when he did some modeling at Saks for a friend of ours for our favorite local AIDS charity, Rites of Spring. (Birmingham's backwoods amateur circuit party). He seems like a really nice guy. I hope he does well on Survivor. It should be fun.

I am NOT mad, and I will tell you why I'm mad

2005-01-10T11:39:00.000-08:00

I have an anger problem. There. I said it.

I don't break things. I don't yell. I don't hit. But, boy do I get mad.

I have always internalized my anger. Growing up, I realized that no one cared whether I was mad or not, and that my anger wasn't going to accomplish anything, so I learned to swallow it.
I became the good little boy who never complained. I wanted to be the opposite of my mother, for whom outraged bursts of venom were a never ending source of embarrassment to me.

I will never know or understand the demons that she has inside of her head, but I know the ones she put in mine. I know why I have no self esteem and I know why I hate myself sometimes, but I don't know how to love myself.

My anger is most always misguided. It erupts over things which I have no control, because the things I can control are sometimes too painful to face. It lets me release that energy before it builds inside and I say or do something I will live to regret. Since JB's infidelity, I have been able to face some of those things and say some of those things without regret. I am slowing changing, but a lifetime of habit is hard to break.

A few years ago, our home was burglarized and for several weeks afterward, we discovered more things were missing than we had originally thought. It was like being robbed all over again, and we would wonder what else was missing that we just hadn't figured out yet. What did he or she take that we had not used lately or hadn't gone to lay our hands on to reassure us that it was still there. Safe and secure. In its place.

When I first suspected that JB was cheating, I was driven to prove it and confront him even though I despise confrontation. He denied it, of course. But when I could prove it, he admitted it and we entered an ugly period in our relationship. When things settled down, I had forgiven him. But like the burglary, I later discovered that they were things I didn't know. Each was another blow to the gut, another reminder. I felt duped. I still do. But I made the decision to forgive him. And now my anger comes out in other ways. In my heart, I want to leave, but he is my family. I'm mad at him for many little things now and I'm not sure that I am still in love, but I do still love him.

I'm OK. Really

2005-01-05T14:21:00.000-08:00

Things are really not as bad as my last post indicated.
I was recovering from a long New Year's weekend with JB's mom and sister (rather than spending New Year's in New Orleans like I wanted to do.) We haven't been to NO since Memorial Day and I am experiencing severe withdrawal. (We normally go 5 or 6 times a year, but the past 6 months (new job/JB's father's death/no money) have been unusual.)

The gym was good last night and I only need to lose about 5 pounds! YAY!

Work was a bitch today, so I am headed home for a nice glass of wine. Cheers.

In the time it took the sun to set

2005-01-04T07:55:00.000-08:00

In the time it took the sun to set on Sunday, I was depressed.
I could feel the familiar sadness creeping in with the shadows.

Perhaps it's just post-holiday blues or the knowledge that this week, like the unnumbered weeks ahead, will stretch into a meaningless blur of weeks and months.

I'm just an old shoe, too comfortable to throw out, but not pretty enough to wear outside.

I'm going through the motions on the outside, back at the gym, back to eating healthy again, but I don't really see the point. My heart is still cold. I've given so much and I don't have any left to give. So now what? How do I recharge?

The last time I was depressed, the pain and anger were palpable. This time I am only numb.

Hey Jude

2004-12-28T13:35:00.000-08:00

Many years ago, when I was approaching 30, I learned how to love. Jude was 18 and approached me at the local gay bar in the small college town where I had been living for too long. He walked up to my group of friends, singled me out with a hug and jokingly berated me for having stood him up. I played along, but I had never seen him before. I learned later that evening, that he was trying to get away from some guy who had been bothering him. We dated for about 6 months.

It was the first time I had ever dated someone just for the fun of it. I had always been so serious before that, instantly creating committed relationships, one after another, because that's the way I thought it was supposed to be done, along with the inevitable, dramatic, never-gonna-speak-to-that-jerk-again break-ups. But Jude changed all that. We had so much fun, but because of our age difference, I never really took our relationship seriously. (Or so I thought). When his semester was about to end and he was going to be gone for the Christmas break, I spontaneously told him that I loved him. And I did love him. It was very freeing to realize that I could love someone without any expected return, but simply because that was what I felt in my heart. It was really the catalyst for me to leave that small town and move to Birmingham (well it seemed like a big city to me at the time) which I did 3 months later.

Four or five years ago, Jude called me out of the blue, from California. He and some friends had been sitting around telling boyfriend stories and he told ours. He told me how much our brief relationship had meant to him looking back, and how I had shown him how to be a gay man. So he called to tell me. Wow.

Hey Jude.

Santa was good this year

2004-12-27T11:30:00.000-08:00

JB got me everything I wanted this year. (Doesn't that sound selfish?)

I asked for a Bundt pan, Frank Stitt's new cookbook and The Simpsons Season 5.
He got me all that and a few other things. We had our "Christmas" Friday morning and then went out for pancakes. JB left for Atlanta after that and returned late Saturday.

I enjoyed the time off and I have another four day weekend this week. Yay!

I've been chatting with this guy online who lives nearby. We spoke on the phone Friday afternoon and I am planning on meeting him for a coffee or something soon. I'm kinda nervous, but he knows my situation. He's in his early 40's, handsome, and seems really nice. It would be nice to have an affair/one-night-stand/decent conversation, but I'm not sure how to go about it.
It seems like a lot of work. The funny thing is, I have the life I've always wanted, I just wonder if I made all the right choices.

If I go out and fuck around, will I be forgiven?
Will I be taken back? Is this a test?

I vant to be alone.

2004-12-21T13:09:00.000-08:00

I don't exactly HATE Christmas, but I don't like it. I don't like the forced celebrations or the false cheer. If you wanna have a party, have a party. If you wanna have a party because it's Jesus' birthday, that's cool too. But, if you want to make someone feel un-Christian because they would prefer to celebrate in their own way, then you are not really being very Christian, are you?

I am going to spend Christmas at home this year (by choice.) JB is going to his sister's and I would really prefer it if he spend as much of the holiday there as possible. I enjoy being alone.
I can do whatever I want to. It's not very often that I get four days off from work in a row and I intend to enjoy. (Of course, that means I will jerk-off as many times as humanly possible.)

Home again

2004-12-20T12:22:00.000-08:00

I got back home Friday night. JB and I went to dinner on the way home from the airport.
We were both tired. I really missed him. It's funny how we drive each other crazy but can't live without each other. Or can we?

Dinner on Thursday with Putter and his bf was really good. They live near Wrigley Field in a fun neighborhood.

Isn't it funny how the little choices we make become HUGE life decisions in retrospect?
(You know, the What If? game.)

I Heart Chicago

2004-12-15T08:22:00.000-08:00

Damn it's so fucking cold here, but man, I love Chicago.

Putter, (the friend I had not seen in years) picked me up and took me to dinner last night.
We had a great time. He took me around town. He's been here 13 years and loves it.
We are having dinner again tomorrow and I get to meet his bf. Yay.

One of his old fuck-buddies lives in the apartment building that they used to show as Bob Newhart's building on the old Bob Newhart show. Cool.

The people I am here with are so B-O-R-I-N-G. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I may sneak out tonight.

Out of town

2004-12-13T17:50:00.000-08:00

Good news: I'm in Chicago all week.
Bad news: It's work related and there are three other guys with me.

I'm going to meet an old friend for dinner tomorrow and get "caught up".
(Actually he's an old boyfriend.) I haven't seen him in years and I am excited about seeing him again. We didn't really date very long and he became a really good friend.

Actually, before JB, most of friends were made that way. You know, sleep with 'em first, then become friends and never mention the sex again. Good times.

Bite me, you fucking bitch.

2004-12-09T14:15:00.000-08:00

Please do your job bitch, I am doing mine.
Oh, and if you need my assistance? Ask. Politely.

Don't send me a fucking e-mail to call your boss and use the word IMMEDIATELY.
(The fucking red flag you put on the e-mail didn't help it get here any faster by the way.)

If he wants to talk to me, HE CAN CALL ME HIMSELF.
(Does his fucking phone not dial out?)

Oh, and when I wait 10 minutes and then call him. Have him answer the phone next time.
It was fun telling his voice mail that you wanted me to call him.
(It's been four hours and he still hasn't called me back. Am I supposed to keep calling until he actually answers?)

Please start READING your daily reports.
(Have someone read this to you if you don't know how to read. Don't be ashamed.)

And one more thing, you can't blame your failure to do your job on a report.

Thanks for wasting my day. Bitch.

Psychology 101

2004-12-08T12:14:00.000-08:00

I keep trying to figure out why I act the way I do and how I can change myself.

I am the fourth child of five. Some psychologists say middle children:

Feel life is unfair (Having neither the rights of the eldest nor the privileges of the youngest)
Feel unloved and left out
Feel that they do not have a place in the family
Become easily discouraged and elevate themselves by pushing down other siblings
Are adaptable

True, true, true, true and true.

I don't want to be the life of the party, but I do want to be invited.
I don't want to be sad, I want to be happy, but I don't know how.

I really can adapt to almost any situation, almost too well. I don't always think about CHANGING the situation as much as ACCEPTING it, but when I was a child, I didn't know that I had that ability.

My parents were miserable together. Five kids in ten years is way too many.
I know they didn't know better, but still. I didn't know at the time that my childhood was bad.
I thought it was pretty good.

Cold, distant father. Manic depressive mother.
Southern baptist household. Flaming, sensitive, musical fag boy.

But I survived, rather well I think. It wasn't until I found out the JB was cheating on me, that I felt (insert word for worthless, stupid, betrayed, angry, jealous here).

I really thought we had such a good life. Ha.

It really wasn't even the sex that pissed me off so bad, it was the loss of trust. and intimacy.
THAT is what I want back.

The one about the Christmas Tree

2004-12-07T13:13:00.000-08:00

We got a tree on Sunday. The biggest one we have ever gotten. 9 feet tall. Fraser fir.

It usually takes us days to decorate it, so this year we decided to be simple. Lights and tinsel only. JB finished the lights Sunday evening (a record). He mixed the mini-white lights with these big white blinking lights we got a few years ago when we sponsored a tree at some benefit.
The overall effect is CRAPTACULAR. We started adding the tinsel last night. (with the help of our good friend Ketel One). You remember that tin foil looking stuff? Tacky? Hell yeah!

We decided to COVER the tree in it. We found many boxes at some after-Christmas-sale last year. We only got through two boxes last night, but WOW. More boxes tonight!

The Baby Jesus will be SO PROUD.

Let it go, Let it go, Let it go

2004-12-03T13:40:00.000-08:00

It's hard to change lifelong habits.

I always wonder what it must be like for other people, people who weren't raised by wolves.
How does it feel to be confident? Attractive? Desirable?
Are you aware of it or do you take it for granted?

I've actually been able to release some things lately. I think it's because blogging is therapy.
And a hell of a lot cheaper than the $110 an hour I was paying last year. It's funny but the one thing I remember about therapy was the day she asked me if I wanted anything to drink. Coke? Water? Coffee? and I noticed she was drinking one of those cute little square bottles of nordic mineral water, so I said, "Water, please" and she went and got me a styrofoam cup of tap water. Gee, thanks.

I was too aware of how much the therapy was costing to let it be more effective, I mean, it was effective, but it would have been more effective if I could learn to be IN THE MOMENT.
And that's my problem. I'm always three steps ahead, two conversations behind, or still reading one of last month's New Yorkers. But I'm working on it. Seriously.

For instance, last night I stopped at the Pig on the way home and got a couple of bottles of Merlot and the ingredients to make a simple soup. I had a glass of wine while fixing dinner and another half glass with it. We watched some TV got to bed fairly early. It was nice.

Say, will you ever ever ever know

2004-12-02T13:13:00.000-08:00

Things are actually good with JB right now. We actually had sex this week.
OK, we had already gone to sleep and he wakes me up around 11:00 and we are doing it, but it's still sex. He brought it up a couple of days later, saying that I woke him up. Whatever. (I didn't). But its' still sex.

Last night, we had been home from work for about an hour and the doorbell rings. We NEVER have drop-ins. Ever. It's Calf-boy. As in Wow. Great Calves. We first saw him at the Y this summer and it turned out he lives in a loft next door to a friend of ours. So we hung out with him several times and even had him over for dinner and football one night. He's REALLY CUTE, REALLY INTELLIGENT, and REALLY REALLY YOUNG (23). and STRAIGHT.

He was in the neighborhood and thought he would drop in. We chatted for a while and made plans to maybe watch the Auburn-Tennessee game this weekend. I can' t imagine why he likes hanging out with us but it's kinda cool. I think we must remind him of home. When we had him over for dinner he said it was the first time he had been inside someone's home (other than an apartment) since he had been in Alabama, (he is from Minnesota). Sweet.

Russell. Mark. Tim. Bobby. Billy.

2004-12-01T08:31:00.000-08:00

It could have so easily been me.
Would people still remember me?
What part of me would they remember today? The way I died or the way I lived?

I remember the way you were always smiling and how happy it made people to be around you.
I remember that day in the pool. I will always remember that. Oh and that day I came home for lunch and you and David were singing. You had changed some of the words of a Rick James song to be about me. That made me so happy. It still does.

I remember going to New Orleans with the guys and you split from the group. As you left you made some comment about being pre-lubed, and I was so shocked.
I was so naive, but I guess we all were.

I think that is what spared me. My small town preacher's son naivete.

I remember you. I miss you.

Monday Monday

2004-11-29T13:48:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was good. Everyone behaved. That's nice.

JB got back yesterday afternoon. That's nice too.

I need to get back to my gym routine. I probably gained 5 pounds over the last month.
I just can't get motivated (although these tight pants should be a motivation.)

I still feel unfulfilled. Incomplete. Out-of place. Maybe I always will.
I never really feel comfortable anywhere. Or relaxed. I do try, but then it's such work and how is that relaxing? I should quit longing for the impossible and focus on the possible. I actually have a pretty good life.

Life sucks.

2004-11-24T08:25:00.000-08:00

If I can just make it through today....

We have had nasty wet weather for several days now, and I am sick of it. It took me more than 45 minutes to get home last night since the bridge is still out and NOBODY IN ALABAMA CAN DRIVE IN THE FUCKING RAIN. Argh.

On a lighter note, I will be off for four days. Yay. (Note to self, pack bottle of Vodka for Thanksgiving trip home.)

Hot Yoga was actually good, it just lasts too long. Some of the people were a little freaky, but not too bad.

It's hard to change. I'd like to be a "better" person, but it's just too much fucking work. It's so much easier to be me. JB gets mad at me when I point out injustices in the world, but I can't help it. Stupid shit makes me mad. I just wish he wouldn't get mad at me for being mad. He ends up telling me that I can't talk about certain topics, so I don't. But I really don't care any more.

He HATES when I read stuff out of the paper to him, and I need to learn to stop it, but sometimes I just can't. The other day there was an article about some big fat ugly stupid hag who wanted Blue Cross to pay for her gastric bypass surgery. It wasn't HER fault she was big and fat and ugly. There was even a picture of her. Horror.
It pissed me off because when I changed jobs in June, I started on a dental policy with Blue Cross. Now I had never had a dental policy before because I go to the dentist every 6 months anyway and it never really costs that much, so I had always paid for it myself. (Dental policies have always seemed like such a hassle. Too many rules, too few benefits, and too many procedures not covered.) So, this new job offers a 100% company-paid, all inclusive, any dentist, Blue Cross dental policy (believe me, I asked all those questions before I signed up, even though it is free to me.) So I go to my first appointment since starting the new job, and thrilled, tell my dentist that I now have a dental policy and they make of copy of my card, but explain that I still have to pay up front, and they will file my claim. Okay. (Standard visit. No specials. $75.00)

Weeks later, I receive my statement from the almighty Blue Cross with a check attached. For $4.00. Yup. They paid $4.00. I paid $75.00. Gee thanks Blue Cross. It costs me more than $4.00 to take the fucking check to the bank, you fucking idiots. I threw it in the trash. Stupid morons. Oh, I know someone who works for Blue Cross and he told me that they have a lot of rules. One of the rules is: No running in the parking lot. It seems that someone got hurt one day in the mad exodus to get to your car first at 4:30 and now you can be fired if your are caught rushing to your car. Stupid fucking money-grubbing morons.

Rufus and Chanticleer

2004-11-18T14:00:00.000-08:00

So when I got home last night, the CD's I had ordered on Monday were in. Yay!
Rufus (Want Two) and one of spirituals by Chanticleer. I have been wanting to get one of Chanticleer's for some time so I am excited. I listened to Rufus on the way to work today and at lunch. So far so good, but he always gets better with repeated listenings. I've not yet played the Chanticleer.

My job is so boring but I am getting everything done that I am supposed to be doing. And then some. I got some extra reponsiblities after a day trip with my boss, so that's cool.

I am going to Hot Yoga after work tonight with JB. Should be fun. I've never tried yoga, but I am looking forward to it. I'm sure I will look like a complete dork. But who's looking.

I was reading some guy's blog earlier and he is so cute and sweet and had recently broken up with a boyfriend. I know that must be so hard to do even if you both will be better off eventually. Isn't that what really matters? Isn't that love too? I do still love JB and I know he loves me, but I really think we would each be happier if we were not together. We have so much baggage now, and while we can try to forget about it, it will always be there. I know that no relationship is perfect and ours came pretty close. I know it's the best I have ever had and maybe the best I will ever have. But I don't really feel like working at it anymore. And it's sad that I used the word WORK. But that's what it is.

But the world goes round

2004-11-17T13:37:00.000-08:00

Wow. I am so addicted to blog-surfing. I hope I get bored soon or I will be out of a job.
It's kinda comforting to know that so many other people have an inner voice. It makes everyone seem so much more vulnerable. It also makes my life seem so mundane. Everyone else is out there living their life while I am just complaining about mine.

JB is facing his first holiday season since his dad died and that makes me so sad. It's going to be tough for his family. Big J was a really a good man and he is terribly missed. I hate that he was unhappy about JB's and my relationship. It was really so senseless. But in a way, I was more comfortable that way. My family taught me, 'tis better to avoid a situation, than confront it. Or acknowledge it. Or discuss it. I remember the time when I was sixteen and my mother and my sister found my porn stash. Gay porn. Straight porn. you name it. (Hey, I was 16 for chrissake!). They were looking for some now forgotten something and found a box full of magazines. My mother CHEWED me out something FIERCE but the incident was never mentioned again. But, a couple of years after, even after we had moved. I was snooping in my parents' drawers (they were back together by then) and found one of my magazines.
Penthouse July 1976. I remember that because it was the bicentennial issue.

I stole it back.

All we like sheep. (mmmmmmmmmm....sheep)

2004-11-16T11:48:00.000-08:00

So now it's time for another dysfunctional family holiday gathering. Can't wait.

I would so prefer staying home alone and sleeping/reading/eating/surfing/masturbating, but when the calendar says it's time to love one another, then that's what we do. I spoke with one of my sisters last night about the family plans and as usual, there is no plan. Oh, wait, there's a plan, but it's not finalized. And it's subject to change. And we really should have done it different this year, but anyway. At least this year I am working for a company that actually shuts down on Thursday and Friday, so I won't be pressured/rushed to get to my brother's and have to turn right around and come back. (It's a 4.5 hour trip each way.)

I remember the year I got up at 4:00am Thursday and drove over for the day, only to get there and find out that WE were having Thanksgiving on Friday because my other brother was going to spend Thanksgiving with his wife's family, (who live two blocks away from them) and they were not going to join us until Friday. I, of course, had to leave Thursday night because I had to be at work Friday morning. That year I had a sandwich with one of my nephews (not the one in rehab) for my Thanksgiving meal. My brother had a huge family meal Thursday and Friday. I got shit. Thanks a fucking lot.

Maybe this year, MOTHER will stay on her medication. I can't handle another tirade. Easter was a total nightmare. It's so sad to have a crazy mother and have nobody do anything about it. I'm planning on sneaking liqour in somewhere. (Baptists don't drink, ya know). I'm thinking vodka, because bourbon would be too strong smelling.

Come go with me

2004-11-12T11:39:00.000-08:00

So anyway at lunch there's this guy. 30-something. Blue-collar. Cute. Scruffy.
He's eating with the old guy he works with every day. They don't say a word to each other the whole time. Boring. Eventually they get back in the truck and finish their rounds for the day.

It just gets me to thinking. What if I could approach him. Hang out with him. Find out if his life had ended up like mine. (Working on the wrong side of town. Too many bills. No fun.)

So we have a few beers, watch some college football, and I find out he's actually pretty cool but has just made a few bad choices along the way (who hasn't?). And for a few hours or a few days or a few weeks or a few months we get to know each other and both of our lives improve. And eventually we move on. Or not. Nothing's really planned. Am i crazy?

I think it would feel more real than what I feel now with JB. Although I do love him. I just don't like how we have fallen into these "roles". I don't always want to be the responsible one. I like to have fun too. I'm glad you had fun at Hot Yoga last night and I really do want to try it. But somebody has to let the dog out, feed the dog, go to the grocery store so we could have dinner, take out the garbage, and wash two loads of clothes. And as usual that someone was me.

Stumble into grace

2004-11-11T07:44:00.000-08:00

Poor Liza. Will the madness ever end?

I remember being CONSUMED by a guy. Every minute waking/sleeping.
I remember how badly I wanted to be liked. loved. accepted.
Now nothing really matters. Once you get past the initial betrayal, what could possibly matter?
Now it's just work/eat/sleep.

"Do ya wanna do something? Watch a movie?" I say.
"I don't care", you say. "Doesn't matter", "You decide" So I do.
But I always make the wrong decision. I always pick the wrong movie.
Even when I try to pick the one you might want to see. Wrong.
A little feedback would be nice. But then you'd have to care.

I don't remember what it's like to have a sexual relationship and that's so sad.
I wonder if this happens to other couples. I'm sure it does.
I would love a weekend away with a compatible stranger. No strings. Just relaxing fun.
I've forgotten how to kiss.

Cheaper than therapy

2004-11-08T13:41:00.000-08:00

Blahg. Blahg. Blahg.

The Mayor's birthday party was great. Great group of people... Great food... Great drinks (Cosmopoliticians). We ended up going to the Station afterwards (awful) but we did hang out with J/J which was fun. Everytime we see Joe he is so sweet and we exchanged numbers this time. I don't know what he sees in us, but I like it. It just feels good. We also saw some of the lake lesbians. They are way into JB for some reason. It's kinda sweet, but I just don't have that much to say to them. I do try though. JB says I have a crush on Joe. Not true. It's just fun talking to someone that's so cute and friendly. Who wouldn't like that?

I am so unfulfilled right now and I don't know what to do. I've just been coasting for months. It was great to change jobs back in June and that removed a MAJOR stress cause. It felt so good to walk away from there. Some of the things that happened there still shock me. Unfortunately, my new employer filed for bankrupty two months ago and no one here talks about anything. I have no idea how long I will have a job here, so for now, I just come to work every day. Hopefully I would get some sort of advance notice or unemployment benefits if things don't work out. I really don't worry about it. It's beyond my control. I do think about moving away. JB and I talked about that this weekend. Of course we don't want to move, but.....you never know. It took months to find this job. I flirted with the idea of moving to a big city. (Birmingham is just a big town.) I think it would be cool to live in an urban neighborhood with public transportation and a gay community that doesn't hate itself. Think Chicago.

Go or go ahead.

2004-11-05T11:58:00.000-08:00

So I have been spending WAAAY too much time blog surfing and I have realized that there are some really smart guys out there. And the young guys are so freaking smart and cute. Not that I am a perv or anything, but they are just so much more AWARE than I ever was at that age. Maybe it's my small town background. Or the fact that we only had about 12 channels. Maybe I was working too much. There are just so many more options now than I had, and it makes me happy. Really. I never really knew you had options, I thought you just had to get through business school, get a job and pay some bills. Turns out you can also get something called "sa-tis-faction". Wow, who knew? Maybe it's not too late.

Sometimes life just gets too heavy. I never learned to lighten up. And by heavy, I don't mean DARK, I just mean WEIGHTED. I want to be more free. More spontaneous. Less responsible.

I had this boyfriend for a few months back in (I think) 1987. I had just gotten out of two year relationship and we were really just kinda fooling around, but this guy was/is SO SWEET. We got back in touch not long ago (He's in Chicago now) and that makes me really happy. He could be happy JUST BEING WITH ME. DOING NOTHING. Now there has to be a destination, a reason, a trip, something planned. And I have to pay for it. And that just gets old. And what happens when I run out of money? Which won't be very long now. Then what?

The Day After

2004-11-04T13:23:00.000-08:00

It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more" - Anne Frank July 15, 1944

Must. Defeat. Bush.

2004-11-02T08:23:00.000-08:00

It's Election Day. The Nazis must be defeated. I'm hoping Kerry/Edwards wins decisively even though a landslide won't change the haters.

JB and I went to Dallas for Halloween. It was a lot of fun. It was good to see our friends who moved there this summer. It was a quick trip, we left Friday evening and returned Sunday evening. The bars were fun, the booze was fun, the boys were fun.

I've been getting really short-tempered lately. I'm not sure why. I've always been slow to anger, but now I snap. All the time. We had to change planes in Memphis Sunday night and when we got off the plane we walked down the generic airport corridor several gates until we could find a monitor showing which gate we needed. Our flight was late leaving Dallas and we hadn't eaten dinner and now we weren't going to have time to find anything to eat in the godforsaken Memphis airport. The monitor for Arrivals showed a few flights, but the monitor for Departures showed ZERO flights. There are no flights leaving this airport. They had also failed to change the time on the monitor. (Daylight savings time ended that morning). We walked back to the gate we had arrived from and I very politely asked the clerk if she could tell me what gate our connecting flight was leaving from, giving her all the necessary information (airline, flight number, destination). You know how at most airline gates, there is board listing the flight number, time, etc. Her board was BLANK. Complete empty. Anyway, she told me that there was a monitor several gates down with that information. FUCKING CUNT. HATEFUL OVERWEIGHT DIVORCED HAG. BADLY MADE-UP SHREW HARRIDAN. FAT GREASY SKANK. I HATE YOU. I told her that monitor was not functioning, so she had to call someone and find out. Bless her heart. I'm so fucking sorry you had to DO YOUR JOB. The gate was about 3 miles way. We made it about 10 minutes before the plane left. But JB gets mad at me. For getting MAD. WTF?

I just don't fucking care anymore.

Ow, quit it.

2004-10-28T13:15:00.000-07:00

I wish I wouldn't think so much. Life would be so much easier.
Does everybody do that?

It's been really hard for me to get in a routine since I changed jobs in June.
I still feel uneasy. I need comfort. I want a boyfriend.

I think about breaking up with JB.

We have everything. and nothing.

It's so hard to end it. I hate messes. People are supposed to read my mind.
It's not that I want to be single again, I just want to be me again.
I love you, you pay my rent.

I want to be happy and excited and smiling.
Even for a just a little while.

So anyway, there's this guy I've phone-cammed with a few times.
He's about 25, has the body of an angel, and is sweet as, well, pie.
When we talk, he asks me to say, "I love you", and I do.
And when I say it, I mean it, but I only mean it for those few minutes, and he knows that, and I know that, and somehow that's enough. I really don't even want that feeling to last. I enjoy the ephemeral feeling... the moment...and the moments after, like now.

How did that happen?

2004-10-26T13:25:00.000-07:00

How did I ever become THAT guy? The dumb one. The blind one. The fool.

The guy who said, "Sure, I'll pay for everything until you can get established."
(Two years ago.)

The guy who caught you crying when your "best friend" moved to Dallas.
(Which was more emotion than you had shown me in about 6 years.

I don't know why we stay together. Wouldn't we both be happier somewhere else?
How do we get there? Are we afraid? of what?

We are not the perfect couple. Nobody really believes that.
That's why they say it. Out loud. So we can hear. They can see right through us.

It's a farce. a joke. a sham. a flibberty-gibbet. a will-o'-the-wisp. a clown.

So what happened? Boredom?