I am not a hipster

To really describe the hipster is just too difficult. They are a seemingly less rare breed than I'd once assumed, but I also realize I'm not as up on what the kids are doing as I could be, though I can spot one when I see 'em. None of that is really the point, but suffice it to say I am not a hipster. The point really is a horrid, new trend I'm loathing lately.

I'm wondering how this happened, this new fashion I've seen too much of lately. It's not really new and certainly not a fashion I'd ever want to see back, but as summer winds to an end and the days become cooler and shorter, the shorts on the guys in my town have gotten noticeably shorter as well.

Honestly, it's been in the works for some time now I'm sure, and I can only assume it's some sort of nefarious plot the way I've suddenly seen this trend. I can honestly say that what wasn't really that cool in the early days of summer is upon us.

I can think of one guy in my town, not someone I'd really call a hipster as such, but in a sense he is, who was wearing the short shorts as far back as a couple years ago. I have to believe that he started it, though I must also admit that perhaps it's a universal hipster thing that he was only ahead of the curve on in our small town.

I think of these shorts as Larry Birds, because I'm always reminded of his pale self hanging every which way out of a green tank top and green short shorts. It's not a pretty sight, and it's not a pretty sight when some pale, local young twenty something with his finger on the pulse of all that's too cool for you and a scarf tied just so around his neck in ninety plus degree East Tennessee summer sports them with his beat up loafers.

I will not be wearing shorts that fall mid thigh. I really don't much wear shorts anyway, and I've always been able to prove I'm a dork in different ways. Besides, it's really too cool for me anyway.

contact

There's a closeness that I miss, a closeness that Momma and I shared even though I was so deeply in the closet throughout our relationship, a closeness that I miss, and I think sometimes that missing leads me to make decisions I wouldn't otherwise make. I think perhaps she has the same problem, but either I'm wrong or she's just unwilling to accept my view.

This is not meant to discount pure, animal horniness in any way, because that's there on some level. Like most humans I do indeed love sex. I can look at it from a distance, however, and wish for something more committed than just random hook ups. Hook ups I can get, but I've done well to avoid those situations and places that make it too easy, because it isn't really what I want.

But that idea of closeness also makes it difficult. It's so easy to confuse that closeness with sex sometimes. It's too easy to let sex stand in for the closeness I miss having.

Momma and I still have a great friendship and are closer than many people. I love her very much and am concerned for her and want great things for her. I'll hurt myself to help her. I'll fight for her. But there's a whole other level of whatever that we won't ever share again, an unexplainable thing I can only think of and describe as closeness.

I'm not sure that I really have a point in all this blathering. I sort of do, and it's between Momma and me, and you won't really get the point of this, and that's fine.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes fucking isn't the same as touching, though sometimes it is.

Also, don't read anything into this, because you're most likely wrong, because none of this is actually about me and Momma. It's about me and it's about Momma, she and I as individuals and not us as an us. We have our own issues separate from each other with randomly occurring Venn overlap.

p.s. no we didn't do it

p.p.s. it's also not about anything in particular as much as about attempting to do better for myself over a period of time

in the pines

Flipping through the channels out of boredom I stopped for a moment on the Biography channel. They were discussing Kurt Cobain. I held a certain fondness of Kurt and for Nirvana back in the day. That first video I saw featuring them in the school gym and Kurt in that green striped sweater was really powerful at that moment. It was one of the first songs that really shook me a bit and caused me stop and take notice. Before that I'd just sort of listened to music.

A little something in the way of background might be useful here. Given my upbringing I never had a lot of friends who were into whatever music was popular at the time. I was raised on some amount of bluegrass and gospel and Marian McPartland's Piano Jazz, among other things. So when I started choosing my own music it wasn't based much on peer pressure. There was the "classic rock" via Z93 if I remember correctly, thanks to a brother who may comment here and has, but there was also a lot of Billy Ocean and Rick Astley.

Of the tiny snippet of Kurt's bio that I caught was some discussion of Nirvana's MTV Unplugged appearance and their version of the song known by me as In The Pines. It's also known as Where Did You Sleep Last Night and even Black Girl. It's been recorded numerous times over the years and under an even greater number of titles than I've listed.

Regardless, it's a song I've loved for many years, and the reminder tonight caused me to look into it. I won't tell the whole of what I've found because someone already did a better job at Wikipedia HERE. What I will do is give a list of links to various versions of the song so that you can enjoy it too many times like I've done.

I enjoy The Stanley Brothers version a bit, traditional bluegrass style

Leadbelly did a great bluesy version of the song.

Who can argue with Dolly Parton?

And for a dose of OMG tragic with a taste of Rufus-how-could-you? also featuring some lesser people, and knowing my Rufus love . . . seriously, how?

Finally let's visit the Louvin Brothers doing a different song, the ever popular murder ballad Knoxville Girl.

alls I'm gonna say

Okay, we've all heard about the Balloon Boy kid and his parents worried sick about poor baby floating away in the UFO. I have very little in the way of opinion.

I do however have one question. Was America glued to this story out of concern, or did they just want to be watching when his little ass plummeted to earth?

takin the fam to the show-thanks Momma!

Tuesday night saw the whole family, me, Momma, Big Brother and The Boy, enjoying a night out at a local theater (or theatre as the Bijou prefers to refer to itself.)

We went to see one group but were mesmerized by the opening band. I have to admit to being proud of both kids. Big Brother makes me proud because he's open to new stuff and enjoys so much that kids aren't generally expected to like. To me it's not so much proof that my kid is special as much as it is proof that kids are cool. The Boy made me proud because he totally behaved in public even though he is what we might call in the south a bit of a fussbudget. That's a nice way of saying that he's ornery in his pickiness (bless his heart.)

We went to see Andrew Bird and were lucky to also get to see St. Vincent. I've included videos just down there a bit, and if you want you can skip ahead to the listening and not even bother reading anything else I've written. It might be your best bet actually.

First, St. Vincent, I had no idea what to expect. I'd read the blurb/interview in the local alternative newsweekly before realizing that they were opening for Andrew Bird who I'd been hoping to see for months since learning that he was going to be playing my small town. I have to admit that I went in with some air of impatience, looking forward to the band I wanted to see, assuming I'd sit patiently waiting, but St. Vincent put on a great show. Someone behind me, between songs, put it succinctly when he yelled, "We're enjoying your set!" Total Ktown moment that.

Part of my choosing the videos for the songs I'm posting is that I wanted good versions of live performances without having to use versions from talk shows (fuck Kimmel and Letterman in this instance.) I'm okay with at least decent sound and maybe a little crowd noise, but I really wanted to at least attempt to capture the feel of live, which of course isn't going to happen in YouTube videos in a blog post, but a girl wants to try.

Before we get to the music, set your television recording devices to PBS on 10/24 to catch both bands on Austin City Limits. You'll thank me.

So here is St. Vincent doing their song Now, Now.


Momma and I have been fans of Andrew Bird for a few years at this point. I was fortunate enough to see him in our small town a while back and loved the show. He's a great performer and is kinda on the hot side, which doesn't really mean shit in this instance. It's just an extra something.

Again, I wanted a video that at least nearly captured some amount of something you might get live, but having covered that as impossible already I'll just throw out the video. Actually, I'm giving you two Andrew Bird's. First is his song A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left which is one of his more popular songs. It's fine and all, but the second video is actually him sans band doing one of my favorite of his songs, Glass Figurine.

it's not a can of veg

Want some more advertising driven rage from me? I've got some. This time it's aimed at Chef Boyardee and their insistence that kids are too stupid to eat vegetables.

The first commercial that I noticed in this newish campaign involved a father absentmindedly reading aloud the label on the can of crap he was feeding his children. As he approached the part of the label that indicates the full serving of vegetables the mother began a cacophony of noises to make it impossible for the children to hear that dreaded word "vegetable."

In another ad the child is reading the label and reaches the word "vegetable" but has trouble reading it. I can't tell you how this or the previous ad ends as I either mute the tv or change the channel.

I'm willing, on occasion to feed my kids Chef Boyardee. I get that it's crap, but the kids enjoy it, and I'd like to think that we all eat well enough in general so that sometimes eating less healthful fare is quite okay.

Like most families, we have kids that are very different from each other. Big Brother is a much more exploratory eater, trying new things and gauging for himself whether he likes them. He's even willing to try foods he may not like to test his palate for changes or to try unliked foods in different preparations. The Boy is very picky and could exist on a diet of rice with butter and salt as well as cereal and peanut butter graham crackers and candy if we'd let him. He is willing to dislike food without really trying them.

The concept of vegetables is not something either of my boys has ever disliked as a general rule. There are few vegetables Big Brother doesn't like and few that The Boy does, but vegetables as a catch all for the food group isn't a particularly hated category.

Chef Boyardee, like other companies and like many people, parents and non parents alike, too often have this idea that kids just hate vegetables and that mention of the word will send them away from the table. I seriously doubt that any kid knowing there is supposedly a full serving of vegetables in the "pasta" would refuse to eat that can of gloop, though perhaps there are children who would refuse out of principal.

It really irks me that Chef Boyardee is willing to sell their product as a healthy alternative to real food, that they willingly suggest there is a serving of vegetables that is equal to an actual serving of vegetables. I get that some kids can be picky, as mentioned above. I get that kids can be difficult to feed. But to suggest that a can of tomato-ish sauce and overcooked "pasta" is a healthy alternative is just sad.

It reminds me of a Jay Leno bit I happened to catch a few years ago. He was discussing the Kraft Lunchables and had a spoof ad with a mother expressing joy over finding the new products, Breakfastables and Dinnerables and saying, "Now I never have to waste time cooking food for my kids again."

And yes, I did put scare quotes around "pasta." When discussing Chef Boyardee I feel that they should be required by law to use a different word to describe the noodle like things found in their cans.

hadn't seen that one yet

The culprit: our fairly small long hair chihuahua

The others: a full grown husky and other dog of uncertain breed (to me at least) of equal size to husky

The two dogs listed under other were being walked on the street in front of my house, both on leash, both really sweet and friendly dogs that I and the boys have met and petted.

Our dog was outside, not on leash as he doesn't tend to run too far even when he does leave the yard. I was finishing a smoke and getting the dog inside when he noticed the others and felt the need to run, barking, to within at least fifty feet at which point he turned, ran a couple steps toward me, then turned back to bark again.

He was feeling it, seriously, and as proof the line of hair down his neck and spine to his tail was all standing up in his tiny dog rage. I hadn't seen him pull that one before, that rough and ready to fight hair, that angry little mohawk of aggression.

Our dog really is a little sweety mostly. Of course there are also those times when he jumps on the sofa and finds my lower abdomen to be the perfect pivot point as he charges toward me then jumps onto my abdomen with enough force that I suddenly have to pee, only to leap back off on his way past. It's like someone bounced about five pounds of adorable little claws off me.

And of course as soon as those other dogs did notice his little ass he turned and ran right back to cower under me where I was squatting in the yard waiting for his machismo to run out. He's such a little badass.

smacks head with palm

I mean, I'd take a one percent improvement in my day, but this makes my life one thousand times better.

Seriously? Are you fucking kidding? Is your laundry sooo difficult?

Okay, a little bit of back story. I'm talking about a commercial. Haven't done this in a while, but this is the newest one to irritate the piss out of me, and I do truly hate this one.

It's for a new product, a laundry sheet that contains detergent, fabric softener and some sort of anti static substance.

And it really makes some dumb ass woman's life one thousand times better? I'm sure that's not even a little bit true. I can't imagine that measuring detergent is so difficult.

I've been sitting on this post, waiting to see the commercial again so I could call it out by name, but fortunately for my sanity, unfortunately for my posting accurately my hatred, I haven't seen it since minutes before I sat down to write this. I'm sure you'll see it and remember my vitriol, but I can't be bothered.

breaking up? not so hard to do apparently

This is exactly why I haven't really discussed my most recent "relationship." It ended the night of my birthday party, at least two weeks later than it should have if not more.

When I say I've been seeing someone it seems to create an image of sorts, but you can't really do justice to what it truly was.

Without going into too many specifics I was seeing a guy that a different guy had left me for. It was so random that we ended up hanging out at all, and things really seemed to fall into place indicating something possible as a relationship. There was, at the start, some mystic seeming, we found each other in spite of it all sort of bullshit.

I soon realized I was a distant second in favorite pastimes for this guy, and I just don't know how to compete with World of Warcraft. I'm not sure how many hours I spent sitting on his bed wishing he'd stop playing, feigning interest in some new nonsense or other.

The sex was really not good either. We all have our druthers, our needs if you will, and this guy was just too insistent on his way and an inability to go about it any other way. While the first couple of rounds were fun, I quickly realized that, like his WoW issues, there was this other thing that was never going to work. I will only try so hard if I'm the only one trying.

There were a couple of other things that I knew were signs, and to my credit (or not depending on how you see it) I really did try. I guess by try I mean that I gave in a whole lot when I didn't want to because I realized early on that I wasn't ever going to get my way. Having figured this out so early I should have walked away, as mentioned above, but part of me did like him, and part of me just hates the idea of being alone.

I think the extra couple of weeks I spent trying have cured me for now of that aloneness issue. I'm quite happy at the moment, relieved even, that this thing has drawn to a close. I do expect some minor amount of drama at some point.

One good thing was that this all fell out at my party. A few friends that thought he was cool were able to see a side of him they hadn't but that I had. When this all comes up in the next couple of weeks, and it will, I'll be able to remind them about that night, and they will remember. It's all kind of sad really and makes me feel kind of bad.

What else makes me feel bad? I didn't go home with him as he expected, and he didn't have any clue that my drunk ass was about to rudely break up with him. That wasn't really my intent, but it all just sort of fell out of my mouth, more reason I should have done this a different and earlier time. As it turned out he had one idea of how the night would end, and I had another. It was my party after all.

I'm pretty much done here. I didn't talk much about this before because I've come to realize how fragile each and every chance at love really is, and that's really what I'm after, love. I want to think I can just shelve these ideas of finding love, of not being alone. I want to think that this will be the time I take a break from boys and just look at me and where I keep fucking me up, because I could do a series of Sunday morning sermon blog posts on ways I could do things differently. Hell, maybe I'll get a mattock and a shovel and cut some stairs to climb out of this rut.

Dear commenting brother

I'm taking your last comment with a grain or two of salt. I realize you're being snarky, and I'm pretty sure you realize I talk out of my ass on occasion. It's possibly a genetic abnormality I share with a person or two or more, and though it isn't my best habit it's also not my worst.

I'd love to meet your wife. You and she should take a drive north. I'm going to guess your schedule is slightly more flexible than mine, and I'm going to assume that your car and finances are more likely to handle the trip than mine. I'm not holding it against you that you haven't made it north recently.

I do wish some family could have shown up, but at the same time I understand that a lot has transpired over the last couple of years that might make it oddish to actually see each other. I'm not holding that against anyone either and accept my equal share of whatever blame gets doled out for this. I'd like to think we have time while acknowledging that we can't know for sure.

As for the party, well it wasn't the sort of thing most of you would have been especially into. We nearly closed one bar down only to walk across the street and for real close another one down. We then stocked up on beer and drove to another friend's house. Also I made out with my wife for the first time in a couple of years as well as a wonderful lesbian friend. I may have forgotten more. I also am wearing a sharpie tattoo on my arm that is a heart with an arrow through it with the words MOM and DAD crossed out above the word PUSSY. It still makes me laugh even though it should have washed off by now. I don't remember now who put it there.

In closing, I assume a level of snark I hope you intended and hope you weren't actually upset by my poor choice of words. I do love you, and I do appreciate how available you've been. Also I do hope and fully expect that we will get to hang out fairly soon.

Regards,
your infinitely cooler and much, much younger brother

thirty is NOT thirty something

If you're a friend on Facebook then you may have seen my event invite. One does only turn thirty something about nine times, and I'm about to use up one more, and I'm nearing the limit.

I bought myself what I'm sure will be my only non alcohol gift, a sweet pair of sunglasses. A friend has the same pair, and I saw them recently and fell in love. I actually went to the evil Wal Mart for them. I suppose everyone does have their price, and mine involved a ten dollar pair of ladies sunglasses.

But I do look good in them, and that's really what matters. Some random person in China gets to pull a handle that presses plastic lenses into plastic frames all so I can look just gay enough.

I'd like to invite everyone to the shindig I'm making happen. I'm going to invite as many people as I can imagine I'd want to see to show up at my regular bar, and I'm going to drink beer and eat both wings and nachos. I may even see my way clear to some tequila.

Of course I know everyone won't be there, and I don't want them all there. The people that count will likely mostly be there, and that's what counts.

Did I tell you the story about how I never really made friends till I came out and then it was still weird but it's slowly becoming a thing I think I can do? It's a great story. It keeps going still. I think maybe one day I'll be good at it.

Anyway, that's all a bit more drama than we're going for here. It is true, but I won't allow it to bring this post down, so I'm checking out. It's time for more mindless BBC America.

not the pastry

For a variety of reasons the turnover in restaurant staff is really high. Of about eight people that I work with, in ten months I've gone from the new guy to number three in longevity behind the kitchen manager and some other kid who's mostly part time and a student. There's also the dishwasher, but he barely counts. And this isn't even a full staff, just a current estimate considering we're short a couple of people who are no longer employed yet not yet replaced.

In addition to the kitchen manager there are also two lesser managers who have power when the actual KM is not in house. Of them, one was a previous employee who is on a second tour. The next is a guy that worked there sort of before me. He worked one shift a week and the random oh-shit-can-you-please-come-in-today shift. He doesn't really count in my opinion because he just doesn't, which is not to cast any aspersions on him or his character. He's a good guy and a joy to work with, that isn't really any of the point though.

None of this really means anything anyway, as it's not the point. The point is the turnover. Pretty much the entire staff that were the regulars when I started are now gone. The front of house is not really any better, but they're front of house, and sometimes you barely notice when one of them comes or gos. And that's not meant to suggest any ill intent toward servers, but seriously.

I'm not going into the specifics of why I think it's been so bad where I am. I will say that it's an issue I've seen too many variations of in so many places I've worked. No matter how cool or how good a manager the person right above you is there's always someone above them that may or may not be as good a manager. At some point up the ladder you're bound to run into something.

And sometimes that's the one between you and an oven that actually works.

how to go about it

There is the whole thing about liking guys, and there are so many guys that I kind of find myself being friends with. Then there are the ones when I have . . . something I can't describe.

There are the not gay guys that I meet and have a moment with, those guys that I think, if only they were gay.

I can think of two right now.

It can be hard to deal with them, knowing how much I like them, and knowing I have no chance with. I want to be able to be friends with them, but it's hard to not think about the reality that they are guys that, if they were gay, I might could have a relationship with them.

But they are not gay, and I have no chance at this thing I think could be.

Sometimes it really hard to deal with, trying to force myself to just be friends and not have feelings. But when can we control our feelings?

nada, really

ugh, another wasted day. I won't admit to you what time I actually managed to wake up, but it was somewhat later than the time at which my alarm went off.

I didn't actually need to be up when the alarm went off, but it's the time I've set to not want to sleep past on those days I don't work in the morning. Today is a night shift day, so I don't work for another couple of hours.

Technically, I did at least wake early enough to accomplish a few things. I've checked my blog reader and Facebook and email. I still haven't taken the overdue books back to the library, but since I'm off tomorrow I'll likely just let them be another day late. I'd rather have time today for a shower and to finish my coffee.

So that's my morning/afternoon in a nutshell. Now it's off to smoke and read a bit of Hemingway. That's Momma's fault. She'd never read him, but for whatever reason she kept finding herself running into references concerning him till eventually she pulled down the one book we have, a book of his short stories. She left it laying out, and I find myself picking through it. I've always enjoyed Hemingway, so it's not hard to read him if he's just laying around.

hate at first sight

I am so tired right now and would like nothing more than to lay down and take a nap, but if I do that I ruin my night.

Have I mentioned that I hate naps? They just don't work for me. I wake up grumpy and a little disoriented and usually find I've slept longer than I wanted. Also, the only time I really feel like napping is when I'm consistently not getting enough sleep for enough days, and the nap only means I'll be awake later in the night than I want.

I have a whole pile in my reader that I'm not going to read right now. We went to Hot Springs NC for a quick camping trip this weekend, we being me and a a niece and the friend of said niece who drove up to hang out for the weekend. We met Momma and the boys there as well as some other friends and a couple of people I didn't know.

Of the people I didn't know, one was a cool girl and her daughter. I liked them well enough, but the guy she brought with her, a guy I can only assume is the boyfriend, was the reason my camping trip was completely ruined.

This guy was stumbling around in complete drunken black out mode, was going through people's things, stealing beer, playing his music too loud, falling into/onto tents and saying things that he would never have said sober. Apparently he's in AA, but if you don't not drink then AA aint gonna do shit for you.

In situations like this I tend to find myself growing protective of my people, and when the people present are family and/or younger people, I get more protective. I did what I could with the douche bag guy, but at that point there wasn't much I could do. I pretty much just had to hang out until he crawled into his tent for the last time

I'd arrived fairly late to the campground having worked that morning, and douche bag guy was well into being drunk, though at first it didn't seem soooo bad. He was obnoxious enough of course, but I didn't really get the full effect till a little later.

Anyway, not to go into the whole story, but the guy completely ruined the camping trip for me. Even the next day, when he was sober and hearing about what he had done the night before I still couldn't bring myself to feel anything other than desire for him to be away. His apologies for his antics sounded as if they'd been pulled out and used a number of times over the years, and I'm sure they have.

I've known people like this before, people for whom alcoholism is like a monster side of them that crawls out and takes their control. They act like fools and are annoying and offensive, and sometimes you can walk away and let them self destruct on their own. You can't help them because they aren't going to take help they aren't ready for, and they feel something like remorse when sober they are made to face their actions, but on some level it's still a sham. They are going to drink again, and they are going to be assholes again, and then they are going to do it again.

The next day douche bag guy hung back as the group that was going tubing set off up the trail. He acted as if he needed or forgot something. I was not tubing and was sitting away from the coolers watching random children. I heard a cooler open behind me and turned to see douche bag guy feeling around inside it. He didn't see me because his eyes were set on another of our group. Douche bag guy was watching the wrong person and continued to do so as he then went into my cooler.

I let him steal the beer and warned the friends that he was drinking again and stealing beer, and if I had animosity for this guy before it was all I had for him by this point. I decided it wasn't worth the trouble especially since I wasn't going to be there much long. Niece and niece's friend needed to get back to my town and their car and start their long trek back home.

And that's the story of my weekend mostly. I did go out for a bit last night, met up with some friends, played some pool and some foosball, lost all games played. It was mildly redemptive, if that's even the proper use of that, but it sounds good, so I'm leaving it. I know what I mean.

gays in sports?

Do gay people like sports? It seems like a silly question, but apparently even some gay people don't know any damn better.

Since I've been out I have not been personally involved in sports at all. I do enjoy watching MMA, and not for the gay, soft core porn aspect that has been pointed out to me often enough. I love soccer as well and played several seasons in a local adult rec league. I've also coached my sons' teams several times.

As mentioned, I've not been personally involved since coming out. When it was all new there was just too much going on, life sort of got in the way, and sadly, Momma and I both allowed life to get in the way for the kids as well. Big Brother is registered for the fall season, having missed a couple of seasons, and has his first practice tomorrow night, but I'm just not ready to be involved as a coach for a couple of reasons. One, I'm just not ready to do that, and two, I think he's getting into an age group that I'm just not going to be able to reasonably coach. Maybe that's my own fear getting in the way, but that's the way it is. I've always told myself that, as his coach and father, I needed to be able to recognize when it was time for me to step back, and I think now is that time.

None of that is quite the point or the motivation for this post, though my point does involve the gay and sports.

Reading at advocate.com I ran across a story that pointed out that there are gays playing college football and many of their teammates know that they are gay. There are no out players at the professional level just now, but there are a couple of players who've decided to come out after retiring.

And finally we get to zero in on my point, the comments to the article, the divide that still exists between gays, at some level, where we have to either be one or the other, flaming or macho. It's all in the comments, gays versus each other.

On the one hand we have the macho man that is soooo tired of the fact that all gays are seen as flaming and not into sports. On the other hand we have the guys who can't imagine that anyone would like such puerile pursuits as sports.

Pulling a couple of quotes from the comments will prove my point about this chasm.

-And, as far as being in the NFL and out, some players would prefer to stay closeted than to have gay fans swarming all over them-from Michael

-this sport has a built in macho factor that, hopefully, most gay men are intelligent enough to reject-from James

-Not all gay men want to play dress up and go shopping or tweek out on drugs-from Jon directed at James

I hate that, even among gays, we have to be one or the other. I'm certainly not the most macho guy, though I don't really feel I fall into a category that one would call flaming, but even if I did, that wouldn't effect the fact that I can appreciate perfect passes that set up a shot on goal or the skill it takes to work a good choke hold from a full mount. I can enjoy watching David Villa shake off a defender to put an impossible shot past the keeper and appreciate that he's one of the hottest guys in soccer. I can also enjoy looking at clothes and hanging out with a group of straight girls and giggle about nonsense.

We get enough stereotypes from outside of the gay community. Why do we force them on each other?

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.