just like that

Driving south on Broadway, looking over the 640 interchange, over the ridge that ends right there, you can see the haze that is the air we breathe in this town.

It's one of the few truly hot days we've had this summer, not that we haven't had hot days, but most days have been unseasonably nice, even the days that were overcast, threatening rain.

The recycling has been taken and deposited. The dishwasher has been emptied and refilled and sits now full of clean dishes. A load of laundry is slowly agitating in the machine so that my pair of jeans will be clean for when I go see the boyfriend after work.

I'll wake up late Sunday, turn over and put my arms around him, knowing that he sleeps more than I do, and I'll lay there, slipping back and forth between nearly dozing and nearly awake. I'll slip outside before he's all the way awake and smoke a cigarette, and I'll then brush my teeth so he doesn't bitch about the smoke breath.

I should have stayed in bed this morning, waking only to still feel irritable from last night which ended poorly, me feeling a little taken advantage of, like everyone knew that I had control so they could all go and do whatever they wanted. I tried to make plans based on what people told me they would do, but in the end I was stuck at home because people knew I was stuck at home and had no need to concern themselves with what I might have wanted or needed.

That's a hell of a way to go to bed, trying to sleep but finding sleep as elusive as ever, the nearly angry mindset lodging in my skull and slowly growing into a headache that wasn't going to make anything easy.

I'm ready to be done with work, ready to clock out and speed west to his house, to feel his arms around me.

quibbling with my head

I miss my blog. I'm not sure what it's become. I know it's not the same, and I know that I enjoyed doing this at one time. I kinda don't lately.

Certainly it's changed as so much of my life has changed, but even while I write those words I have to admit to the places where I've not changed or made change.

And that sort of thought process nearly leads me into the sort of post I've written too much of lately, and the sad fact is that I've written so many bitching about myself and my tendencies posts that I've ended up deleting rather than post. I'm not getting anywhere with this nonsense, but I don't seem to stop it.

Perhaps I know the secret. Perhaps I need to go back and comb through the archives and find if I can remember what I used to write about that made me enjoy this damn thing called blogging.

Maybe I'm also too afraid to gay it up too much. I went and shared my location with more people than may be safe for my sanity. Mom and Dad, if you're reading this, I'm afraid I do mean you.

And that's why you sometimes don't hear from me for a week or more. I let this thing change too much, or maybe I let myself become too morose and depressive when writing. Maybe it's the whole fear of too many eyes. I've most definitely deleted too many craptastic posts that were just too full of woe is me.

But I do have an idea that I'm willing to play with, so if there's a new post showing up minutes after this one then I've done gone and done it as we might say down here in the south (or is that South?)

For now I'll just drop a nugget on you. The new boyfriend introduced me to Varla Jean Merman, and this song is just . . . It's called The Bearded Lady. Enjoy!

quickly now

Because I haven't posted in possibly ages I feel like I should at least check in. I almost posted a mile worth of update last night but decided I was sharing a bit more than I'm quite ready to.

Things are happening. My living situation still seems not to be going anywhere, but it's a problem needing resolution, and I've been forced to realize I've made too many excuses as to why I'm not doing more. I think tomorrow, since I'm off work, will be a great day, hopefully, to make some calls and maybe a visit or two.

The guy I mentioned recently is still cute and nice, but he and I aren't looking for the same thing. I think the incredulously pronounced, "Oh my god, you really are looking for a boyfriend," should have been clue enough, but the fact that I haven't texted him in two weeks and haven't heard from him is definitely the bright, neon sign pointing me away.

And in that same vein, I'm suddenly in a great place. There's a whole other guy with whom I find myself in the beginning of something. We do seem to be looking for something similar and get along great and have a lovely back story that got us where we are. I'm not sharing right now, though I'm not really superstitious, but I'm not willing to jinx it by discussing it. Weird of me, yeah?

And now I need to figure out what we're going to do about lunch and quick. I've renewed some of our library stuff, but everything else is due today. I have to be at work at four and have the kids to Momma's work so I can walk to my work in time. Unless it rains and runs us off, we'll spend the afternoon downtown.

That's what you get for now. I hope you can justifiably expect more posts soon.

begulba

I have 895 published posts. If this makes it through final editing, and very few do these days, I'll be a tiny step closer to a thousand.

I don't really think that means anything at all. It doesn't make my recent output less than suck, and it doesn't seem to have made anyone fall in love with me and want to take me away from all this.

What does it do? I can't say. It makes me feel like I can sometimes spit out something readable that isn't too cryptic or enigmatic. I can sometimes write things that make me smile when I reread them as opposed to the usual cringing and eye rolling I tend to do when faced with something I've produced.

It's late. The extra kid in the house is asleep on the sofa. I'll tell you her story one day, the family values that seem to have put her in a place better than her mother was/is able to provide, the stability she's been given, the love that surrounds her. But that's not for now.

It's late, and Momma is somewhere between work and here. I've got at least one more beer and a cigarette in my near future.

That wasn't even an update. You should feel cheated as a blog reader.

updatey

There's really nothing to post write now, but I find myself drawn to regardless.

Maybe it's just the laziness inherent in today, though most days are like this lately. I can only be so lazy, having to be at work at four. I have to close tonight and am curious currently about the weather.

There, a weather post. That's what we need.

Our local weather has been extremely odd this year, especially considering how far into summer we currently are. Our truly hot and humid days have been few and far between, and we've had more straight days of rain than ever since I moved here. We've been more worried about drought the last few years, though I don't know how we're doing currently I can't imagine we're doing bad in that regard. Today is cool and breezy and cloudy. We may or may not see rain which might directly effect the business I see tonight.

Either way it should be a fun night. Oh, maybe this is a post about my job.

From the front door of where I work I can see a new place, still under construction. There's a location of this business toward the western part of this town, and though I've never been I have heard nothing but good. I might end up out west soon talking to someone out west about an interest in a job on the square.

I don't entirely hate where I am, and there's potential, but a good portion of the current management could easily care enough to try harder, and it's sadly not something that should even be a try. I'm not going into it considering how I lost the last job, but I'd love this job but for a single horrible attitude so entrenched in this place that I doubt sometimes there's any getting rid of it.

And I guess I could say the same about me sometimes. I keep falling back into traps I keep setting for myself. Apparently recognizing them too late keeps being too late. Perhaps a complete change of direction . . .

Sure, maybe that's what the post is, annoying introspective post that makes you grit your teeth and want to scream at me, "Shit or get off the fucking pot already!!!"

Yeah . . .

no

unconnect

I spent some amount of time the last couple of nights severing connections. It's not as bad as it sounds as it was just the ending of some Facebook friendships.

When I got on the Fb I was totally doing it to connect with family who had also gotten on. Soon enough I started getting requests from and sending a couple to some old school friends. There were a couple of people on that list that I was never actually friends with, and there were even some that I can't say I even remember.

I wasn't expecting to be out on Fb, and I even mentioned that to a couple of people in the early days. But really it's just not worth it. I don't want to have to care what someone might think.

I'm sure these are all wonderful people, but I've come to realize I basically have nothing in common with them other than some amount of shared past, and that's really just not enough.

I suppose the clincher was yet another right wing, uber conservative sort of thing someone left laying around, and the option is ignore or bitch. It's not worth bitching when you will never convince people that there's even a chance there is another point of view. Some people can only accept their singular world view.

So now it's just family and actual friends or people with whom I would actually be friends, people with whom I could reasonably spend time and not have any issues.

backing down

There's every chance I mentioned with some amount of joy that I was finally going to be living elsewhere by now, and I sorta did for a minute.

I'll admit now that I saw issues that I ignored, and now that I stepped into the thick of it I'm having to back down, admit I was wrong.

It's mostly a kid issue. The only other place I currently have to live is just not good for the boys. There are a couple of different issues that aren't so much huge as much potentially huge and not worth putting them into or even around really.

The place is mostly safe, so that isn't the problem, and I'm certain all this sound cryptic and doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense. I suppose that's pretty much where I'm going to leave you.

So now the fun part is talking to the person with whom I was nearly a roommate. We discussed going in that there was a chance this wouldn't work and that I could walk away. That doesn't make me feel any better about having to back out, and given my non confrontational nature it's even more difficult.

And that's where I am now. I suppose it's late enough that I should just kick the shoes and belt off, empty my pockets onto the coffee table and fall asleep to some Tattoo Highway.

Damn I'm ready for my next tattoo!

dollar a pop

So now both boys are losing teeth. I suppose over the last couple of years I sort of forgot that losing all one's baby teeth meant losing ALL the baby teeth. Yes, this includes the ones in the back that I don't see and don't make your cute little six year old that much cuter.

The Boy has recently started losing teeth and finding money under his pillow, and just yesterday Big Brother lost another. He has one more that he's sure is going to come out soon.

I forgot to have Big Brother straighten his bed today and noticed while tucking The Boy in. While adjusting his pillow back to where it usually goes I found his most recent tooth and slipped it back under his pillow. I was tucking him in when he checked to be sure it was still there.

We've never been big on pretending the Tooth Fairy was real, but we do like the idea of buying their teeth off them. It is sort of part of being an American child, though I imagine many people likely draw a line and stop at some point.

I took his tooth after asking him if it was okay. I know he knows better than believing in the ol TF, and he certainly knows where the money comes from that he's found under his pillow over the years. There was a certain feeling of killing off some magic upon essentially buying the tooth outright, but he's a dollar richer, so I doubt he really cares. He's that much closer to a mouth full of regular teeth and that Nintendo DS he's been saving for.

A dollar a pop? I'm glad we never set the bar any higher than we did. I can deal with that price.

Frankencar

For my Facebook friends this is likely a second reference to my Frankencar, but it's such a lovely story that I surely must share it with more of you. It's great fun. Also, I'm not telling the whole story at Fb because that's not what it's for.

Though I haven't bitched online nearly as much as in real life about it, I have mentioned a time or two that my driver's side window in my car hasn't been rolling up lately. Sadly, due to the lazy nature of myself as well as other issues I use as excuses this has been a problem that's been long in need of a solution. That solution happened today.

Before I go further I'll share some of the joys of having a window that won't roll up. I've carried everything of value that generally lives in my car in an Army surplus gas mask bag. It's a great bag, and I actually have a female friend with an identical bag that she uses as a purse. It holds a number of cd's, the front to my stereo, the bandana I wear for work, my car phone charger, an extra lighter or two, my cigarette tobacco, a spare tshirt for post work drinking, sunglasses and some other something sometimes. It's a great bag that should also have been holding my auto registration, but as soon as I carry that to the courthouse I should be okay. Another joy is our mysteriously sodden spring and summer. It's rained most days for the past few months at least a little, and one day I even got to drive in a thunderstorm with pea size hail. The car is also very easy to spot with an orange bag over the window had I ever forgotten where I parked.

Pull-A-Part, as you may likely figure from the name, is basically a large junkyard. The cars are in sections and rows, a section for domestics and a section for imports, the rows all numbered. The place is automated which was certainly a help.

Step one upon entering PAP is to visit the computer and find the make and model of your car, and while you can't search by year it does list them by year. You can then print a list of each of those cars. Other info includes the row in which each car can be found as well as the date the car was brought in. It helps to know which year's parts will correspond with your car so that you can be sure the parts will work. I wasn't quite sure of this, but knowing I needed a power window switch and having looked at it a number of times I was hopeful I could figure it out.

I visited several cars, most of which had been visited before, and each one had already been stripped of the part that I needed. A final visit to the last Accord was nearly hopeful, but considering I'd seen ten or more stripped out doors already was endangering my ability to hope. This car was three years newer than my own and fairly different in terms of body shape as well as interior trim.

I approached the car and pulled the door open happy to find the door panel intact and holding the exact part I'd been searching for, though it was obviously going to not fit exactly as it should. I pulled the panel and had to remove six screws to get the switches off. There were also three metal clips that had to be pried off and sent flying. With a little elbow grease, a fair amount of swearing and generous bit of sweat I had this part off, a part I knew wouldn't fit exactly but hoped would work.

Eight and a half dollars later I was outside again, wandering happily-ish toward my car. I needed to move quickly to get home in time for Momma to leave for work, and I wasn't able to check the part at PAP, obeying the pleasant signs that suggested one should not repair cars in the parking lot. I had hope and Lily Allen blaring as I roared up and out of the driveway, onto the road and back home.

A quick bit of prying pulled my switches out of the door panel, and some squeezing and pulling got the wiring harnesses loose. I plugged the newer switches in, turned the key and perhaps giggled a little as my window finally worked again. The newer switches fit into the door panel while not actually fitting the door panel, but I'm quite certain that I don't care. My window rolls up.

imagine I'm doing this in a dress

What a day, gay pride in my little town. For me it was somewhat anticlimactic in so many ways, most of which I must accept the blame for.

I slept much later than I should have, and though I'm not going into it, I'm so tired of waking up in this living room on that sofa. That's almost at an end, which I'm sure I've been saying, but I totally mean it this time. What matters is the effect that has on my sleeping and the fact that I totally should have been up and ready to go.

We, myself and the boys, wandered out of the parking garage in time to see the tail end of the parade and wave at the float representing my own regular gay bar. I didn't put it to them like that and didn't actually mention that particular bit of info with them at all. They did meet the bartender that semi regularly feeds me High Life and almost met the local drag queens with whom I'm most familiar.

I also drank some beer when I shouldn't have and got a little pissy at the job from which I should have asked off for the night all things considered. But as the night progressed I came to accept my fate and deal well with the having to cook for people. I'm sure there were some amount of gays dining with us for pride.

I did get lucky enough during a smoke break to catch some of the drag show on the square which was so awesome to see happening there. I really don't know the beginning of the relevance of drag queens in gay male culture, and I will soon look into that. All I know is that I didn't used to think it was my thing, and really it's still not, but I've realized over the last couple of years that I can appreciate and enjoy it. Whether it's more proof that I'm gay or whether coming out has allowed me to accept a broader array of art forms is not the debate for this post, so we'll leave it at that, but it does beg yet another question. How does one explain to his children about drag? I'm not going to bother I think, opting instead for a wait and see approach, but the thought of it came up.

I did try to give them at least a cursory explanation as to where we were going as we left the house yesterday. It's the first time I've gone with the boys to pride, and I did want them to have some idea of what was coming, but the going about it without making it a big deal is the problem.

I just want the whole gay thing to fit seamlessly. I suppose that's what we're really going for in general as a people, to just be. I think we'll know we've arrived when Pride Day is to John Q. Public what that one Mexican holiday and that other Irish holiday are. I long for the day when douche bag frat boys spend June 27 downing rainbow jello shooters while wearing kiss-me-I'm-queer tshirts even though they aren't even a little gay.

Before this turns into a pride as new year's for gays post, which it almost did but for some timely editing, I'll try to figure out where I'm going to go to wrap it up.

It was a decent day, though I'd have preferred not to have to go to work at all that day. If I'd been able to work the day shift I'd have been happy, and things would have been cool. Things were cool, but the not gay wedding we catered, though I did a great job in my part of feeding them, sort of pissed me off. If you don't know why I won't bother you with the details. We'll just let it go.

And that't that. What will happen between now and next year's pride? I can only imagine, though it's fun to think of sometimes. Things are changing as I speak.

art shit somebody did

As happens in the area where I work I ran into a friend tonight. She was fliering for an art installation she's doing, and I realized as I talked to her something great about one of the new changes I haven't mentioned because I haven't been blogging regularly like a good blogger should.

Momma has moved back to her old job making sushi very close to where I work. She's close like we can walk to either restaurant in the time it takes to smoke a cigarette close. We discussed our schedules when she took the job and settled on three days a.m. and three days p.m. each so that we are still both off opposite each other for the kids but also in a way that's fair to each of us and the restaurants we work in.

The point of all the rambling above is that I now have Friday nights off work. I realized this upon seeing my friend's flier because it just happens to happen on the very next First Friday for my little town, our local downtown come see some art shit somebody did night.

And I haven't been off and able to go since sometime last year in that brief moment that I had a boyfriend, and we tried to go to First Friday, but he had to be a dick and make us so late that we couldn't actually visit any of the galleries really. We did make it to one, and then . . . I don't even know. The night ended somehow or other, but it wasn't the First Friday I'd envisioned.

So, yeah. I'm sorta happy about this.

oh no he . . . oh . . . he did

At some point you get to where you don't know what to think about the people you think you know. I refuse to give you too much information, but this is a comment left to a friend. This was left at the friend's Facebook page. This is a person who is sort of family and sort of friend but is also neither, more the mother of a friend who was related to some family with whom divorce makes us no longer family.

Does that make sense? I can't say if it will or doesn't, but given the shake up I'm working through I can't help but not bother.

Sit back and feel the dumb as the nonsense rolls over you. I really did just copy and paste some real person's jibber jabber, and keep in mind that I'm not arguing the point this person holds valid so much as questioning the round-the-bend assumptions and suggestions.

It's because vaccination is a religion, or a cult, if you like, and as such, involves irrationality. As Dr Herbert Shelton once pointed out:

"Belief in immunization is a form of delusional insanity."

When arguing with pro-vaxers, one therefore always needs to keep in mind that one is arguing with people who are insane, due to having been deluded into believing that vaccines prevent diseases.

Basically, they should be locked up for their own good, and for the sake of other people's safety. The way they're running around loose, at the moment, endangers everyone's sanity, health and well-being.

begin the dig

Edit number one of the night included a lot of drama that I'm trying to will myself from getting into too much. I've been accused of being dramatic lately, and I suppose it might sometimes seem that way. I don't see it that way. None of that is really the point.

I brought a couple of boxes in from the garage. They're sitting in the floor behind me. I had an idea that I was going to smoke a bowl, drink some beer and sit down in the floor and go through a couple of places where I have stuff I need to look at and sort through and pack or get rid of.

Then there are those other things and even more those different things. I think about the physical property I actually brought into a relationship that became Momma and me, and I think about the mass of accumulation that is thirteen years later.

What about the books? the cookbooks? the cd's? I can't find Rufus Want One, and I'm only listening to Rufus Want Two because only he is right right now and I can't find One. I'm not happy, but really, right this second, it's not my biggest concern.

What does it say that I feel a little bit guilty about feeling so happy at the prospect of moving out? I can't explain why I feel either way. It's a bit of a mental minefield if I start thinking too much about it, and given my disposal to dwell a bit much sometimes it's best left alone for now.

I do need to go, and I suddenly have a place to go. Some amount of getting-used-to is to be expected, but just knowing the weirdness to come, the getting-used-to I guess, but it's more such a huge step in a sense.

I guess that's really all I have to say. I brought a couple of boxes in. Momma brought them home about a month ago. They are not the usual tomato boxes we tend to salvage from work as recycling boxes, and the first time I saw them I wondered whether or not she was giving me a nudge, some boxes into which I could fit my stuff that needed to leave with me.

What of my salt and pepper shaker collection? my vinyl collection on which I'll soon have nothing to play those dear records I so seldom visit? Don't even mention pictures, the old kind on shiny paper. And the random objets de art? I so totally spelled that wrong, I'm sure, though without a huge heap of concern.

I just don't know. It's probably too late to start digging through those two cabinets tonight. I still have Facebook to check and my email and reader one more time. And I'm tired from being up early for work.

an answer to my last post

I hate that I feel I need someone. I want to be able to be me for a while, to figure out what I'm doing and what I want to be doing.

The idea of a relationship feels like a life raft, except that if I'd just try, I could swim to shore, though it might take some work.

Instead, I just seem to keep trying to find a boat to climb into, and I never even make it to shore.

I could have already been there, could already have found my way, but I just keep not.

p.s. the "boat to climb into" phrase is in no way intended as a sexual reference, though upon my edit reading I've made myself giggle a little.

p.p.s. even after reasoning it out and making actual sense of my mental nonsense I still want to be his boyfriend, even if just for a little while

The people that will read this won't get it, and the person who needs to see this won't, and he wouldn't necessarily get it if he did read it, but I have to say it.

I'm not being mean. I'm being confused, and you aren't helping. I almost think I know what I want, but when you call me on it I don't know what to say. If I say what I think I'm afraid it will drive you away, and I'm afraid to answer in terms that will tell you what I think you want to hear because it would be a lie.

Quit fucking with my head.

FUCK, are all boys like this? Are they ever just open and honest? Can I just get a straight answer? Can I give a straight answer? Can I just say what's on my mind without you rolling your eyes at me?

I just want to fucking cry sometimes because boys are stupid and don't tell me what they're really thinking.

FUCK!!!

an attempt

Because I like haiku and this poor version of one has been forming slowly in mind for a day or so . . .

shaggy white heads
the clover blooms throughout
the green grass lawn

quandary

Two sort of major events are taking place on the same night. One will require a few minutes travel, while the other over three hours. There is no way I can even imagine doing both short of winning the Powerball and renting a helicopter.

One of these is a derby bout, but it's not just any bout. It's Hard Knox's first WFTDA sanctioned bout, and it's kind of a big deal. I've been looking forward to it and even have a ticket, though I could easily pass it on to a deserving soul. I really want to be there for my team, cheering them on, smile plastered across my face as I see the league sporting their new WFTDA patches.

The second of these will take a drive to Nashville, and I've really wanted to make this drive for some time. One of my oldest and closest friends is having a birthday party that day. He's invited me as has his girlfriend who I've never even met in real life. She seems to have invited me without him knowing as she explained what a great surprise it would be.

The trip is really calling to me. I could go so far as to suggest that I almost feel I need to make this trip. I haven't seen this friend in too long, at least a couple of years. At the same time I know how big a deal this bout is too our league.

I guess I just don't know. I'm almost afraid that the main issue is finances because I'm just not making that much money, and I've blown too much the last couple of weeks hanging out with the guy I keep mentioning. Financially the trip will only involve gas money. I know that the friend and girlfriend will house and feed me. I'll have to make some token purchase as a birthday gift for the friend, though not because I'll have to so much as I'd want to.

I'm leaning toward the trip.

three shades

It happened on Friday night, sitting on the patio after work. I was hoping that a certain guy would text me and want to hang out, but I was also thinking it would be nice just to get some beer and go home and hang out with Momma.

Another friend came by to have a drink and hang out, and eventually a workmate finished closing the kitchen and joined us. A short time later another person came by though didn't quite join us so much as hang out on the square side of the patio to chat for a moment.

The workmate was the one non gay person there at this point. It's always nice to see the non gay person and recognize that they are the minority for once. This has some bearing on the point of the post as you will soon see.

A customer was leaving our patio about this time, and I noticed something as she pulled her sweater on. I commented to those around me that she was wearing three different shades of pink, and indeed she was. Her skirt, top and sweater, though all pink, were all obviously different shades.

The joiner, from his side of the fence commented, "That was gay." And I have to suppose that it was, my noticing her various versions on a single color theme.

Anyway, it's not much of a story, but now you know it, and you can carry it with you your whole life.

dudes and chicks

Any of my couple of readers that are friends with me on Facebook may have seen my profile lately and may have noticed a couple of quizzes that I took recently. They were both asking me how much I knew about men and women, two quizzes, one for each gender.

Do I have to preface the whole rest of what I'm saying by pointing out that I honestly do in fact know better than to rely in any way, shape or form with the results of a quiz at a social networking site? Do you perhaps please think I'm at least smart enough to get it?

I'll give you that the quizzes seemed to rely mostly on stereotypes. I get that. On some level though I do think that some basic stereotypes about gender differences have some bearing in the general neighborhood of truth, though given each individual person that claims one gender of the two is still only going to be somewhere on the spectrum that is gender differences. Think Venn diagram, people, with lots of circles. I get it.

I think that idea of gender spectrum is something that so many people fail to fully recognize, and I may have mentioned something along these lines in a past post even if vaguely. But none of that is quite the point, though it does have some bearing.

The only reason I'm sitting here now writing this is those two damn quizzes. And believe me when I tell you that I almost didn't bother because of the process. My computer and/or my internet connection and/or Facebook and/or anything else I might be leaving out seemed to conspire against me. The first time I tried to take the first quiz asking how well I knew men I kept getting sent back to home. The link to take the quiz didn't work.

I walked away from the Fb and had a beer and tucked some kids in bed. I lazed around a tiny bit and finally had nothing better to do. Dear ol' Fb was calling. This time I was able to go right to and then take the quiz. When I was completely done and leaving the end of the quiz page I saw a link to a different but related quiz asking me how well I knew women.

So on to the quiz results and the point of all this
How well do I know men? 25%
How well do I know women? 100%

Do I now need to point out that I didn't game the results? I didn't. I don't have time for that sort of thing. Okay, I'm blogging it now, so on some level I could have had time, but I'm not doing that. If I don't like a quiz result I just don't bother posting it. You can do that. I take the quiz and try to be honest, and if there's a reason to post the result then I do. I do also get that it's meant to be fun. I did also find out that Fb thinks I'm Frenchy from Grease, so please accept that I'm keeping this in the proper place in order of importance and accuracy as regards me and myself and my place in the world.

I'm really not going into the different ways my mind works to make a big deal out of something so pointless. I guess I do feel some need to point it out, that some nonsense social network site app tells me I must be a woman. It says something on some level regardless of how meaningless that is. Maybe it's just that nearly anything is enough to set my head off on a wild goose chase of nonsense considerations. Or maybe it says I might be a little bit gay.

That's all I know about the matter.

tiny balls

Given different circumstances my night could have turned out any number of ways. I'd gone to the gay bar to meet the guy I keep mentioning. We hung out for a bit, talked, laughed, discussed the drag queens.

He needed to get home, and I was getting texts from a friend wanting me to meet her for a drink. The guy and I left, walking to his car. We talked for another few minutes and admired the interior of a soon to be new restaurant that hasn't yet opened, though I'm not sure why. The inside certainly looked as if they were just closed for the night.

We finally parted ways but not before sharing a very brief kiss, a talk-to-you-soon sort of kiss. And then the car full of assholes ran a red light just behind us. They yelled something unintelligible at us, extended their middle fingers out of their windows and accelerated away.

It should have been more annoying that it was, maybe even a little hurtful that a car full of douche bags can't just leave people alone. I could easily see that the car was in fact full, four stupid heads bouncing around inside, but as they greeted us with their tiny little minds I realized that the stomp on the gas pedal really also indicated that their balls are also rather tiny.

Anyone can yell from a speeding car. Anyone can flip you off because they think they deserve to deride anyone they feel superior to.

Of course had they chosen to stop and do something more physical the guy and I could easily have made it back across the street to the bar which likely would have emptied somewhat in a cloud of fags and drag queens. And still nothing would have happened anymore than the tiny minds speeding off and away.

Yes, I know it can be dangerous out there and that I should be careful. I also know how fortunate I am that it's now and not years ago when I would have been even less safe. I get what has happened to too many gay people. But I also refuse to be intimidated.