Dear people of the world who are unfortunate enough to listen to or buy music by The Pussycat Dolls:

Please stop immediately.
Thanks.

Love,
Jason

A Merry Little...

So much to write about, so little time right now...

My favorite Christmas song, hands down.

Overheard at Woodruff Place Neighborhood sale

One 10-12 year-old black girl to another:
"Yo Mama a BITCH!"

Other girl:

"At least MY mama didn't take it up the ASS last night!"

Day after day, I'm more confused ...

It's funny how small things can stir up large memories.

I was supposed to visit my folks today, but they've both been battling a bit of a head cold the past few days. I called Mom this morning and she could barely talk. We decided it was best if I let them rest today, and perhaps visit one night this coming week. She seemed so tired ... and her voice sounded like a scratchy 78 rpm record, like the ones my Dad keeps on the shelf in the basement -- Old recordings by Eddy Arnold, Fats Domino, Nelson Eddy, even Bessie Smith ... records that belonged to my Great Aunt Lois. Dad would dig through them gleefully and find ones that made his heart sing. He'd lower the needle gently, and I'd hold my breath with anticipation. Who would it be that night? He'd sing along, or sit back in his chair with a beer and soak in the sounds. I learned that from him -- the appreciation of music. The love of sounds and melody. For some reason, hearing Mom croak like a newborn frog reminded me of those times with Dad, in the living room with an RC Cola and a bag of pretzels. I miss those days. It's hard not to, now, when he asks me to make sure I visit this week so we can go over "some things." He's embracing his mortality and is doing so very bravely ... I wish I could purloin even a fraction of that steadfast courage. But I'm terrified. I can't let that show. And I won't. At least not publicly. I'll save my breakdowns for those stolen moments I have when I can turn on my "records," nurse a cocktail, and get lost. Dobie Gray sang "Give me the beat, boys, and free my soul ... I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away..." I love that song.

Oh I've been away ...

... and it's really unforgivable. But, shit happens ... and it sure has happened to me over the last few months. Nothing has killed me, obviously, but damn have I been tested. But, like Doris Mann, I'm Still Here. So ... onward.



I'm thrilled with the election results. How could I not be? I really didn't think I'd live to see the day, but it's fantastic to be wrong. Change has come, sure, but not for everyone. Still. Prop 8 passed in California. Gay marriage was effectively banned in Florida and Arizona. So ... two steps forward, one back. But I'm Still Here.



My parents have struggled with some major health issues, on and off, for the past two years. Dad has been especially tested of late. Their tenacity is inspiring, their drive determined and robust. Even though I hear the tinges of melancholy and fatigue in their voices, they're putting on a brave front. I continue to be thankful for each moment with them, and call at least once a day. It's a shame that it takes something so inevitable as aging to make me actually cherish them. If for nothing else than being lucky enough to be their son, I'm beyond fortunate.



I have tons of stuff to catch up on, blog wise. I'll do my best over the next few days. As a parting gift for now ... here's Shirl.

RIP Heath Ledger

Heath Ledger is dead.

I am still, 8 hours after first seeing the news on cnn.com, in shock.

I can't really explain why this has affected me so much, but I have been a mess all night. Is it Brokeback? Is it the tiny crush I've harbored since A Knight's Tale? Or is it just the overwhelming sense of melancholy that seems to have permeated my life? I can't really explain it.

Ledger's performance in Brokeback is one of my all-time favorites ever captured on film. Tony doesn't "get" that. Well, I shouldn't say that. He doesn't "get" the movie's impact ... he's never doubted Ledger's exceptional work. But... it's that performance that seems to haunt me tonight. The character Ledger played, Ennis Del Mar, was a tortured and troubled soul. Was Heath? Is that why he was so able to capture Ennis's pain? When Ennis collapses in the "tunnel" after Jack Twist leaves the first time ... I can so relate to that feeling. I remember the weight I felt when I was parted from my first lover for the very first time. Better yet -- I remember the pall of fear I felt burdened with when I first realized I liked my friend Roger a bit more than I probably should have at age 13. There are so many moments in the movie that touched me immensely. I am, as I said, overwhelmed with grief, disbelief, and dread. I'm not ashamed to admit I've cried numerous times this evening. I find myself putting off sleep. I am bereft. Does that make me silly, seeing as how this was simply an actor, not someone I knew? It's a weird feeling. I hope he is at peace. I hope he knows how much he touched people ... ALL people, not just people in my community. I hope I feel better tomorrow...

Rest in eternal peace, Heath.

What's your flavor?

I think rum is the best tasting alcoholic beverage on the planet. If you challenge me ... I SAY THEE NAY!!!

I have developed, over the past few months, a very distinct pattern of behavior. I will cringe and moan and gnash my remaining solvent teeth and gripe about work ... and then I'll come home and drink. Copiously. Anyone who knows me can attest to my love of all things rum.

I am growing scared.
Am I simply repeating/replicating the pattern with with I grew up? Wasn't Dad "three sheets to the wind" by the time he arrived home each night from the factory? What is wrong with me? I swore I wouldn't become my father. I took oaths.

Then, reaching adulthood and realizing the searing humanity displayed by my kick-ass Dad throughout amazingly turbulent times, I decided being like Dad wasn't so fucking bad.

The drinking, however ... not the smartest choice.
I fear I am becoming powerless. I fear my actions should I not end each night with a lil nip.

If nothing else, I am resilient. This, too, shall pass.

Bring on the hooch, muthafuckas!!!

I erased all your old voicemails...

There's a change coming. It's a ship. It's sailing. The course? Unknown. Is it going forward? A distinct possibility. Is it sinking? Sometimes, the most logical assumption. It is treading water? The unfortunate truth. Hang on. The ride will be bumpy ... turbulent ... fraught with uncertainty and disdain ... but it might just rejuvenate your spirit.

I hate trying to be both philosophical and fatalistic. May I have the rum, please?