I thought I smelled gin and regret ...

2009-01-15T12:52:00.000-08:00

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...

2008-12-22T10:28:00.001-08:00

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

My favorite Christmas song, hands down.

Overheard at Woodruff Place Neighborhood sale

2008-12-02T21:53:00.000-08:00

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 ...

2008-11-30T19:46:00.000-08:00

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 ...

2008-11-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

... 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

2008-01-22T20:28:00.000-08:00

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?

2008-01-15T19:22:00.000-08:00

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...

2008-01-15T19:16:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-09-26T06:17:00.000-07:00

I saw a graffiti artist working on a cement wall the other day, and it struck me that it was the first time I'd actually seen someone "tagging" something. He was an average, nondescript guy -- probably mid-20's, white, average build, wearing a hoodie, and working on something I'm definitely going to go back and see. I thought about him all the way into work, knowing full well he was so overwhelmed with the urge to create that he just had to tag that wall. His art was bursting out of him with each creative angle of his can of spray paint. I used to know what that was like. There would be times at dinner with friends, or driving down the street, when a poem would just pop into my head ... and I'd frantically try to find something to scribble at least a couple lines on ... something to refer to later when I was ready to really write the damn thing. That hasn't happened to me for a while. Of course, there are many things going on in my life that might be contributors to this ... but I wish the muse would strike again soon. I miss it.

We drove out to the lot yesterday, and boy howdy -- they've got the entire place framed!! At first, I was looking at the wrong lot and was sure nothing had been done. Then Tony gently pointed out that we were two lots down ... and my gaze was greeted with a fully framed house. We took a quick walking tour and it made me all warm inside. I can't wait to move in.

My trip to Miami with Ms. Mary Jo was fantastic. I learned so much from her during our campus visits ... she's truly a trove of knowledge, and so easy to watch in action. We managed to score two new adoptions while we were at Miami Dade College, and that was a nice feather in my cap. One is a completely original manuscript about dreams and how to guide yourself into dreaming "positively." As new-agey as it sounds, I'm kind of excited to read it. The professor was a very, very interesting woman ... I'm sure she and I would spend hours talking about women in literature and other sometimes heady topics while sharing a couple bottles of wine. Maybe during my next visit...

There are so many positive things about my job, it's unreal that I still find myself somewhat overcome with malaise. I don't think it's just work. I feel pretty mentally exhausted lately. The financials involved with this house overwhelm me if I think about them too much, Tony is horribly unhappy at work (and I wish I could just afford for him to quit), I have 9412 things to do at the office but seldom feel like throwing myself into the task list, my Mom is still struggling with her recovery, Tony gets frustrated at my lack of libido, and ... I could go on and on. But I'm suddenly reminded of my grandma Lottie. When someone would ask her how she was, especially during her very nasty last few months, she'd always reply "I'm fine." When questioned why she wasn't more forthcoming with her ailments, etc., she'd always reply "No one really cares about that. Everyone has their own shit to deal with." And ... she's right, of course. So I'll try to vent less, even though I do look at this crazy blog as a sort of therapy at times. As I've said numerous times -- thank God or Allah or whomever for Xanax. I love that shit.

2007-09-11T20:18:00.001-07:00

Is it time for New Year's Resolutions yet? :-)

American Beauty

2007-09-04T12:31:00.000-07:00

Tony and I watched American Beauty last night. I love that movie. I want to hug it and squeeze it and smack it and throw it against the wall ... but I love the way it makes me feel. The sadness it brings about isn't an all-encompassing one ... and there's a certain sublime elegance to the last line of the film. I know I certainly sat back and thought about my life as the credits rolled. What a fantastic piece of cinema. I wish Wes Bentley made more movies ... or at least more movies that people actually SEE. He was perfect in AB -- that smoldering intensity, that rage kept just below the surface. As much as I love Spacey and Bening in the film, I think Bentley's character is my favorite. And yes, as Tony pointed out last night, the floating bag scene is somewhat self indulgent, but I am overcome every time I see it.

2007-06-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

We have much to discuss.

My Dad had a mild heart attack on (of all days) Father's Day, and ended up spending over a week in the Heart Hospital here in Indianapolis. He's now the proud "owner" of a pacemaker, and is doing really well at home. He has to take it easy for the next couple of weeks ... and we'll all end up pitching in a bit around the house. I say it's the least we can do. Dad has never been the type to complain of feeling poorly, so hearing him say "I think I need to go to the ER" was a big shock. I can't even begin to put into words how relieved I am that there wasn't a need for a bypass. He had a triple bypass in 1992, and thankfully, it's held up remarkably well. There was slight damage to his heart from the attack (and the doctors think he might have had as many as three other small ones in the past few months), but the pacemaker is supposed to be the "big fix." He already says he feels better ... so that's a big "YAY!"

My Mom handled the whole thing really, really well. She was, of course, frightened and worried at first ... but when she saw how at ease Dad was and realized just how close the hospital was to my office (less than five minutes), she calmed down somewhat. It was very sweet to watch them interact when she was finally able to get down here. She insisted on giving her "baby" a big kiss before sitting down, and I don't think she let go of his hand the entire time she was in the room. They truly are bound ... and I think each would be lost without the other.

I will say I was reality-slapped with Mom's growing frailty while helping her get from her wheelchair to the hospital chair, etc. She's just so tiny now ... and I kept worrying that I was holding her arm too tightly or being too pushy. Her spirits are still flying high and her silliness is still a joy to behold. But it was a real eye-opener for me. Had something happened to Dad, there would have been no way for her to live alone in the house. She requires too much assistance. Wow. Unreal ... but, such is life. They've both lived very full, rich lives and I certainly can't complain about THAT. I am going to treasure each remaining moment I have with them and enjoy them for who they are. I love them both madly.

Anyway ...

Work contines to be good, but challenging. There are days when I think my head is going to explode from stress, but then there are days when I think it's a breeze. I would imagine that's a pretty decent average ... so I should keep counting my blessings and learn from the situations that bring me stress. That's what I'm trying to do, at least. Thank GOD for Jessica and Carie.

Tony won second place in the IndyFringe contest, and I couldn't be happier for him. The BIG news, however, is that The Alley Theatre here in town was so enamored with his piece that they're opening their season with it!!! YAY!!! It'll most likely be in September, and rest assured, I'll keep this blog updated with all pertinent info. I'm so proud of him. And so happy that he's being recognized, again, for his abilities. He's a lovely writer and this personal piece, in particular, sings with the voice of his wisdom and experience. Go, baby.

Speaking of singing ...
It's well-documented here that I love me some Patty Griffin. Her "new" (it's a number of months old now) CD Children Running Through is another stunning gem in her crown. She's such a fantastic songwriter with a pure, true voice that makes me feel warm all over. Stand outs are "Heavenly Day" and "Up to The Mountain (MLK Song)." The latter was sung by Kelly Clarkson on the American Idol Gives Back fundraiser episode. Kelly did a really striking version ... but the eloquent restraint Patty exhibits lifts her into the pantheon of truly amazing singer-songwriters.

I think it's lunch time. Or at least it better be...

2007-06-05T06:29:00.000-07:00

Things that make me smile:

The way Tolliver comes running into the kitchen like a kitten when he hears the food bag or can opener. It's adorable.
How Tony turns into a strong black woman when Missy Elliott comes on the radio. Bitch even has a dance. Pretty fly for a white guy.
The fact that Jessica calls decaf "pretend coffee."
Carie's infectious laugh.
The mental image of Meghan conversing with a trash heap.
Jill asking a several hundred pound rhino, in her baby voice, "why are you so cute?"
April's rapier wit and knowledge of all things afro-centric.
Alcohol.
The way music reaches in and grabs my soul. It is almost a religion to me ... there's nothing I believe in more, and nothing that gets to me quite as much. Don't get me wrong -- my relationship is fantastic and I adore my husband -- but that's a totally different thing, a very special connection. My relationship with music is transcendent. Music makes my heart beat. It makes my mind race. It soothes me. It is truly nectar of the gods.

That's enough silliness for now.

2007-05-22T08:02:00.001-07:00

Again with the random thoughts posting...

It smells like pee in the office today, and I'm quite sure I did not soil myself. I wonder who did?
I hate it when people who will answer an email from you in a split second won't take the time to answer their fucking phone when you call them. You know their asses are there -- so pick up the goddamn phone and talk to me. Some things are just easier to explain on the phone. I love me some email -- but c'mon. Jesus tap-dancing Christ.
I like the groove I've gotten into at work.
I really have a huge crush on Milo Ventimiglia -- and it's kinda weird, because he's really not a "type" I usually like. But I heart him.
I'm very anxious for the Lost season finale. People have been vocal about the show supposedly losing its focus, yadda yadda ... but I still enjoy it every week. I just hope my future husband's character doesn't die. Matthew Fox -- you just don't know yet that you love me with all your heart.
I made Tinky-Winky my desktop image at work and I smile every time I look at it. :-)
Dad might have to have an angioplasty. He'll find out more Thursday. Send good thoughts. The last thing my folks need is more health drama.
It really smells like pee in here!

Ding Dong the witch is dead

2007-05-15T11:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm probably a horrible person, but I don't care.

Jerry Falwell is dead.

Here are some heartwarming, oh-so-Christian quotes from the late Reverend:

"AIDS is God's punishment to gays."
"Grown men should not be having sex with prostitutes unless they are married to them."
"AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals. To oppose it would be like an Israelite jumping in the Red Sea to save one of Pharoah's chariotters."
"The whole (global warming) thing is created to destroy America's free enterprise system and our economic stability."

and the classic

"(9/11 is the result of) throwing God out of the public square, out of the schools, the abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked and when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad...I really believe that the pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who try to secularize America...I point the thing in their face and say you helped this happen."

Did I mention the one about AIDS being God's punishment for homosexuals?

Yeah. Death couldn't have happened to a more deserving asshole.

2007-04-10T17:52:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about anger today, and boy am I full of it. FULL OF IT. I wonder how I can alleviate it best, without killing anyone? :-)

Again, I'm drinking. I'm bad. I don't care. I need the respite. Without the warmth of the alcohol oozing down my throat, I'd surely throw myself on the floor and wail like a two-year old child. Only my co-workers understand the frustration I feel at the end of each day. HELL, I feel it as I ride up the elevator toward cubicle heaven. I love the job ... the people are awesome, the camaraderie is bar none, the benefits ROCK, but I can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And today, I felt like a total dumbass. You'd swear I was Corky from Life Goes On most of the day. "Um, what do I do now?" "Um, what's a direct reprint?" "Um, what color is the wind?" It was ridiculous.

Thank GOD for whiskey.

Cocktail, anyone?

2007-04-02T05:33:00.000-07:00

Had a fun weekend.

And now it's Monday.

I love my job, but I'm not feeling it today. I'm not feeling much of anything or anyone today, honestly. I have a serious case of the "Monday blahs." Perhaps they'll fade away (much like the career of Taylor Dayne) as the day progresses. Lord knows I've got enough to do, workwise, to get my mind off this silly little ennui. I have many revisions I need to nail down and get processed. I have many contacts on which I need to follow up. I have many cups of coffee to drink.

For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about the movie Donnie Darko lately. It's a pretty fucked up little film, truthfully, but there's something about it that draws me in and fascinates me. I wish that time travel manual really existed. Boy howdy -- that'd be fun to have sometimes. Yes indeed.

Stolen from Joe. My. God.

2007-02-20T06:17:00.000-08:00

HILARIOUS.

"If you want half my money, you come in here and give half this blowjob."
- Emily, on the HBO documentary Atlantic City Hookers, explaining why she doesn't use a pimp.

BTW -- check out Joe. My. God. Very cool blog.

stuff

2006-11-14T08:40:00.000-08:00

So I figured I should give an update on Mom's condition, for those of you kind enough to read this blog and care about such things. :-)

She's doing better, much to my shock. I truly thought, as did most of my family, that she would never recover. I'm not saying I believe she will fully ... not by a long shot ... but she's definitely showing a determination to hang on. After much debate over pain maintenance, she was put on Oxycontin, and it's working wonders. She's been sitting up in the chair for extended periods, participating in physical therapy to get her legs back in functional order, and has even started making bathroom trips herself, using a walker for assistance. Big steps, most assuredly. I spoke with her yesterday, and she sounded more like herself than she has in a month. She has a tenacity by which I am both inspired and baffled. I honestly don't know where it comes from ...
There have been rumbles of a release within a week or so, but that brings more concern because I just can't see Dad handling her needs on his own. My sister Nancy is there for a while, but she'll have to go home at some point. It's the long-term considerations I keep mulling over. The cart before the horse, I suppose.

Work continues to be a challenge, as well. I was asked to stay ... and because nothing else was presenting itself, I accepted. There are days when I genuinely enjoy what I'm doing, and then there are days when I'd rather be anywhere else on the planet. I'm sure that's not an emotion exclusive to me ... but I'm having more of the "anywhere else on the planet" days than the other kind lately. The stress of my insane job on top of the stress with Mom is weighing heavily on me. Thank God, again, for Xanax.

As I always do when faced with "life," I've turned to music a lot lately to help ease the stress. I've turned to alcohol, too, but that's another entry. Hehe. I've found particular strength and joy in the music of Patty Griffin. If you haven't heard it already, do yourself a favor and get her Impossible Dream CD. I love the song "Top of the World" so much I can't even tell you. And "Cold As it Gets" is sheer brilliance. She should be a huge star.

In anticipation of the big-screen adaptation, I recently re-read Tom Perrotta's Little Children. I love that book. It's not exceptional literature or anything, and I'm sure my fascination with it stems mostly from what I was dealing with in my own relationship the first time I read it, but I devoured it on the second read. I feel like I know every single one of the characters in my everday life. I could have done without all the football stuff, but the rest of it just grabbed me and wouldn't let go. The film has an excellent cast (Kate Winslet, Jennifer Connelly, Patrick Wilson) and it's definitely one I'm very much looking forward to seeing.

mini vent

2006-10-30T07:08:00.000-08:00

Mom continues to improve, slowly. Her stay in extended care was brief -- the room was shared by another patient, and it ended up causing both of them more stress, having various family members here and there at all hours. So she's back in a private room, still trying to eat solid food successfully. Sigh. I have a horrible fear that she's never going to leave the hospital ... and it's weighing me down a lot more than I'd care to admit.

Something is "off" at home, too. Tony and I are growing less and less tolerant of each other. It's mostly my fault, I'm sure, because I tend to shut down sexually when over-stressed. He's just the opposite -- it's the ultimate stress buster for him, so he's really going insane. This causes him to make rough comments, which then causes me to get pissed and shut down even more. It's a hell of a cycle that I've got to figure out how to break. We had a rather ugly row Friday morning, but as the day progressed, decided it best to clear the slate and face the evening as if the morning hadn't happened. It worked, for the most part. There was a snide remark here and there (mostly by my ass, I'm ashamed to admit), but it was a decent night. The rest of the weekend was fine, too. Nothing to write home about ... but that underlying current of tension was there. I felt it this morning, too, but didn't say anything. I was very hung over yesterday and had a small sore throat, so I wasn't really in the mood for much. I was in bed with a book by 10:30, and I'm sure that wasn't the most popular choice with Tony. He didn't say anything, and neither did I, but on the way to work this morning I just felt tense. I hate it.

During Friday's row, he suggested I find a therapist to help me deal with my internalized anger and how I let my health issues interfere with what should be a normal, healthy sex life. I think he's right. I'm asking my co-worker today (a psychologist) for a referral. I hate feeling this helpless. And I have plenty to talk to a therapist about, that's for sure.

Whirlwind...

2006-10-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

WHEW! It's been a hell of a couple weeks...
My Mom went into the hospital way back on October 3 for pneumonia. She's 83, so I wasn't surprised -- she just wasn't able to kick it, and her breathing had gotten so shallow that her oxygen levels were totally wonky. We figured "No problem - they'll get her back on track." Not so fast...

She's had a chronic bellyache for a year or so, but has always had a less than stellar digestive tract, so she chalked it up to simple indigestion or irritable bowel syndrome. While in the hospital for the pneumonia, her vitals jumped all over the place and she began running a 102 degree fever. After numerous tests, it was determined she had a very infected gall bladder and needed to have it removed ASAP. My oldests sister, Nancy, a retired nurse living in Arizona, was dead-set against it and did her best to talk us out of letting it happen. But after talking to Mom's doctors extensively, it seemed inevitable. She was in danger of it bursting, which would have caused her to go septic, which would have been the writing on the wall. So ... she had it removed via laparascopic surgery, and it went very well. For a couple days.

The Saturday after her Tuesday surgery, her hemoglobin levels dropped drastically, and she had an excessive amount of blood in her bowels .. and it just got worse. The doctors weren't able to pinpoint exactly where the blood was coming from, and Mom was moved the the ICU. Tony and I rushed to Anderson to spend the evening with her, and in all honesty, things looked really, really grim. After an upper-GI and a colonoscopy, it was discovered she had numerous bleeding ulcers in her large intestine. Much consultation ensued and everyone tried not to panic. The surgeon assured us it would be necessary to remove part of her colon in order to prevent her from bleeding out. The doctors in our family (all spread across the country, naturally) conferred with Mom's doctors in Anderson, and the surgery was given the green light.

I could go on and on about all this ... and I have, pretty much ... but I'll sum it up by saying she had 1/3 of her colon removed, came through the surgery amazingly well, and is still recovering. She was moved to continuing/extended care yesterday, and the doctors anticipate she'll be released next week. I'm worried about that, because I can't fathom how she and Dad are going to manage when she gets home. He's not incapable by any means, but it's going to be a challenge for them both. I suppose I'll have to make more frequent visits. I should do that, anyway, all things considered.

I just got off the phone with Mom, and she's still doing well. She misses her bed and her chair, but said she's handling the transition to extended care just fine. Thankfully she's still able to get some morphine for the pain. I have to say, she's a tough ol' bird. I hope I have her gumption and fight if and when I reach her age.

2006-10-04T06:19:00.000-07:00

Here's what I learned the other night, waiting over three hours for celebrated DJ Paul Oakenfold to take the mic at Talbott Street:

I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
When a hot guy seems to be checking you out in the bathroom, he's really just waiting to ask you if you have any pot.
The metrosexual is alive and well and shaking his groove thing at Talbott Street, surrounded by girls full of wishful thinking and boys full of libido waiting to spray all over him.
Some queens even pose while taking a photograph.
I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
Glow sticks are fucking retarded...
...yet people are fascinated by them, and will stare at people wielding them for hours.
Most dance music is dull and soulless, yet twentysomethings of questionable sexuality will shake, rattle, and roll to it for hours. Non-stop.
I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
Paul Oakenfold is full of himself and thinks it's okay to show up for a 9PM show at Midnight.
The drinks at Talbott Street aren't very strong ... two of them did absolutely nothing for me, and if I'd have had two drinks at the 501, I'd have enjoyed my Talbott experience much more. Especially since I'd have been somewhere else.
Eating spicy Chinese food before going to a gay bar isn't the smartest idea in the world.
And ... I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.

2006-09-05T08:52:00.000-07:00

It feels like Monday.

My iPod has decided to freeze up again. I am so pissed. This is the third time, and now, of course, it's out of warranty. As much as I love the thing ... right now, I'd love to throw it against the wall. But that's too negative. I should be happy I've had it as long as I have, and just save the money for the repair and shut up about it. It could be worse. It can always be worse.

I think it takes a lot more energy to be sour, crass, and rude all the time than it does to simply muster a smile or "go with the flow." I'm not saying one has to jump and down with glee just because the hot water works in the morning, or sing a song of delight because one manages to make a perfect cup of coffee. Being around an overly cheerful person or someone very Kristin Chenoweth-like is enough to make me crazy, too. There are extremes, absolutely. I've been guilty of the frequently surly attitude, sure, but I can't imagine what it must be like to hate everything and everyone in the world ... just "because." It must be exhausting. Not to mention lonely and disillusioning.

I've been really tempted to call my "friend" and say "What the hell is going on -- are we really going to continue not speaking?!?" but ... I just can't do it. I apologized, at the time of our conversation, for what I had supposedly done "wrong," and I don't think the ball's in my court on this one. And I'm stubborn. And still hurt. So ... to hell with it. Harumph.

Jill called this morning just to chat. She's really wanting to go on another "getaway" soon, and I'm all for it. We keep talking about Vegas ... and I am so there. We have to figure out a way for Shel-Ho to join us this time, though. With the lodging issue taken care of thanks to the Fletcher's timeshare, we're just talking plane tickets and "mad money" here. If we plan far enough ahead, it is a definite possibility. We'll probably have to wait until after the first of the year for this trip ... and hopefully we'll be able to make it work for everyone. I miss Shel and her big big titties.

I have a million things to do at work today, but, like most days, I'm just not motivated. It's a hard place to work sometimes ... very little recognition, lots of responsibilities, and a rather psychotic owner make it a giant headache, most days. But I don't want to dwell on work -- that was one of the things I was accused of doing by my "friend," and I certainly don't want to alienate the three or four of you who actually read this blog. Just send good vibes my way and continue hoping, along with me, that something different presents itself soon.

2006-09-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

As much as I miss the friend with whom I've fallen out of contact ... I'm not sure contacting this person would be the best choice for me right now. I'm still very angry. And hurt. Mostly hurt. I was rereading the email I received from this person, announcing the intention of "pulling away" for a while ... and the pain was just as sharp. I'm still trying to pretend it didn't happen...

Anyway ...

Yesterday was my Mom's 83rd birthday! GO MOM!

2006-08-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately.

I've always considered myself a loyal, true, and honest friend ... although I'll admit there are times when I don't always follow through, or I'm a bit more "fair weather" than I should be. But on the whole, I think I'm a pretty good friend. When push comes to shove, Jason's a damn good ally and a solid source of support.

I wonder, then, why it seems I attract people who view friendship as a more fluid entity ... people who place unnecessary or inconsiderate conditions on their friendships. I hate to use the term "judgment," because I don't think the friends of whom I'm speaking judge me, really. But I do think they view decisions I've made in something of a harsh light.

It's indicative of all friendships that the individuals in question discuss both successes and failures, positives and negatives, joys and sorrows. Sure, there are undoubtedly times when the darker aspects of life permeate (to use one particular friend's favorite term) conversations ... but isn't it the job of a friend to listen, support, encourage, and weather those times? That's what I've always thought -- and how I've always behaved. But to be told the "negativity and pain" associated with discussions of late has caused one to distance oneself from the friendship because it has become too taxing or too much work ... well, I think it's bunk. It's human nature, perhaps, to pull away from situations that cause us distress ... but when your friend, a person who lives in your heart and shakes hands with your spirit, is in distress, is it really the "right" thing to do to call them out on what you perceive as "self-involved" behavior and pull out of the friendship simply because you're uncomfortable? To say you can't be around them for a while because it's too taxing? If that's the case, hell, I'd have no friends. I think gently reminding them that you're there for them, offering them alternatives to stressful situations, and perhaps explaining that they should take some time for themselves to re-evaluate and re-focus would be much more beneficial in the long run than saying "see ya, this is too real."

What my recent experience has taught me is that, in reality, we really are basically alone. Sure, we've got friends who won't treat us this way ... but ultimately, decisions are personal and no one can make them for us but us. What it's also taught me is that I refuse to let it alter how I view friendship and how I treat the people I'm oh-so fortunate enough to call my friends. They are my family, and I've more than got their backs. I just might look over my shoulder a little more often...

TGIF

2006-07-21T06:45:00.000-07:00

Contrary to what my co-worker says about it not being possible to wake up on the wrong side of the bed because "wherever God touches you to wake up is the right place," (what-the-fuck-ever) I woke up on the wrong side, fo shizzle. So ... I'm in a bitter mood. Shit happens. Just ask Dubya.

Here are some things that drive me fucking crazy.

When people prostitute themselves in an attempt to garner compliments. If your ego is so fragile that you can only feel better by saying "I'm ugly," only to have me (or whomever) say "Oh honey, no you're not," well ... guess what? You probably are. I'm usually just trying to be nice -- and so are most of the other people you bother with the same petty bullshit. But I've got my own bullshit to deal with, so take your poor body image and your poor self esteem and go to a psych clinic. Leave me the fuck alone.
I hate people who think their destinations are infinitely more important than anyone else's, so they'll drive like madmen and give everyone in their way all kinds of shade just to stay our of their way. You know what? In the morning, most people have places to be. Your particular path is no more important than anyone else's. So slow the fuck down and stop glaring at me, you ignorant fuck, or I'll pluck your eyes out and feed them to the abundance of sparrows in the city. Let's see how fast you can drive your car without eyes.
If one more person tells me "You have such a nice face," and then proceeds to look my plus-sized body up and down and make a half grimace, I'll end up in jail for assault. We all have different bodies. We all have different bodies to which we're attracted. I'm lucky enough to have someone who doesn't mind my extra insulation - who even finds it beautiful. (Which, I'm proud to say, it totally is.) And yes, I would feel better if I managed to lose a bit of weight, and yes, I'm working toward that goal ... but the last thing I need is Malibu Barbie and Earring Magic Ken telling me how inferior I am because I had the audacity to have seconds at the buffet. Fuck you and your bony asses. Eat a bagel with real butter and throw your Trader Joe's Protein Shake in the trash. You'll feel better with a little sugar coursing through your bile-encrusted veins.
Gay men who go out of their way to say they're "masculine," but fail to notice the faux Prada purses that fly out of their mouths when they speak -- listen to me: There's nothing wrong with being who you are. Acting in what society deems is a "masculine manner" doesn't make you any more of a man than the so-called swishy queen who walks his featherweight dog on a rhinestone-laced leash. You both have penises. You're both men. You're just different types of men. So take your so-called "masculine energy" and devote it to broadening your knowledge bases, you arrogant pricks. How masculine are you when some other man has his cock up your ass? I'm betting the swishy boy winces less. Where's your masculinity, now, Moses?
And all you online princesses with "versatile" or "top" in your profile? How about posting more than pics of your scraggly faces and saggy asses? And bottoms? I have no desire to see pictures of your penises. If you're advertising as a bottom, show me your ass, for Christ's sake. And if you really, honest-to-God, are not looking to hook up -- take the naked pictures out of your fucking profile. Common sense? Ya think?!? Dumb asses.

Okay, okay. Enough. I need to have more coffee and shut my own damn mouth. :-)

Oh Lord help me...

2006-07-18T09:42:00.000-07:00

I was listening to Sarah McLachlan's cover of XTC's "Dear God" earlier, and my co-worker was doing something near my desk. She asked me to increase the volume - something had caught her ear. So I did. Big mistake. (Here are the lyrics, for those of you unfamiliar with the song.)

"Do you like that song?" she asked.

"Well, yeah, I do ... quite a bit, actually," I replied. She furrowed her brow and put her hands on her hips.

"Don't you realize that the only way to guarantee salvation is through Jesus?" she started, obviously ready to give me the proverbial what for regarding religion. I let her say what was on her mind, and then I replied.

"I respect you and your choices. I respect your faith and what it does for you. But you need to remember those choices and beliefs are yours, not necessarily mine. I don't agree with your religious convictions, but I would never expect you to believe any other way. I don't malign you for believing what you do about Jesus, religion, salvation, or whatever. I would appreciate the same courtesy."

Her reply?

"So you don't believe in God?"

ARGH!! SO not my point.

I don't know what I believe, honestly. Well ... that isn't true. I don't believe there's an old, bearded, gray-haired man in flowing robes sitting on a golden throne in "heaven" who is all-powerful and all-knowing. I just don't. I do believe there's something "else," though. I have no clue what it is ... but trust me, after 9 years of Catholic school and a pretty rigid Catholic upbringing, I'd bet good money it's not that particular dogma. I think most Catholics get wrapped up in the comfort of the rituals, the patterns of behavior, and the safety they perceive as coming with adhering to those rituals and behaviors. And that's fine. My parents find much solace in their beliefs ... and at their age, I'd never give them grief for it. It's actually comforting to me, as well, knowing they feel safe and secure. Good.

I think a lot of people who grow up in very religious homes, or who attend parochial schools, find themselves doubting those teachings when they reach adulthood. My doubts started as far back as the fifth grade. There's just so much out there ... so many different teachings, paradigms, dogmas, faiths. I tend to tell people I'm spiritual, but not religious. I like the idea of a higher power, but I can't wrap my brain around it being something sentient and humanoid. I don't know. It makes my head hurt. But I can say with certainty -- there are moments of bliss, moments of despair, and moments of uncertainty in my life that convince me something else is out there, in some way or another. There's too much beauty for it all to be a cosmic accident.

I wonder, though, why some people find it perfectly acceptable to judge others and, for all intents and purposes, demand their beliefs are the only "true" ones? It's nothing new, however. And I doubt it will ever change. But I'm pretty sure my co-worker will look at me differently from now on, and that saddens me a little bit. But hey -- it's her loss. I'm pretty fabulous ... religious uncertainty and all.

sigh

2006-07-13T09:05:00.000-07:00

I love Project Runway.
Okay. There. I said it.
I have never felt more gay than I did last night, watching the casting special and first episode of season three. Seriously. I've felt less gay in the middle of torrid gay sex.
Quick thoughts:

Laura is very, very talented for a person with no real fashion design experience. She draws on her architecture background ... a "problem solver," so to speak. The coat she threw together was really quite lovely.
Robert from Mattel is just adorable. Well, okay, adorable might be overstating it a bit -- but he's a cutie and is also quite talented. Had it been up to me, his fabulous little dress with the gorgeous back would have won the first challenge.
Keith, the winner of the bedsheet challenge, has more attitude than I do ... and that's saying a lot. This should be interesting.
Alison is a total cutie. She models her own clothes! She reminds me of a little sprite.
Kayne, the pagaent gown designer, surprised me. Tony liked his dress the best, and it was a close second for me, too. Apparently, all those "Sparkle, Neely, Sparkle!" moments have helped shape him into a damn fine designer.
Vincent, the Daniel Franco of this season, is just a mess. My my my. It's too bad he cashed in his 401K for this ... because, honey, that basket hat with the Joan Jett chains? Hail naw!!
Jeffrey, also known as "Santino's friend," is a boorish freak. I can't stand him. Oh how I absolutely hated his piece. He's also got this smarmy thing going on that makes Santino look generic. I have a feeling he's going to be the one that breaks rules and is asked to leave. I can totally see him going all Jennifer Jason Leigh and stabbing someone with a platform heel.
Malan. Oh. My. God. I hate the way he moves his mouth when he speaks. I hate the pretension that oozes around each word he utters. I hate his product-heavy hair. But most of all ... I hate that accent. It has to be fake. I refuse to believe otherwise.

And Heidi Klum gets more gorgeous with each baby Seal.

2006-07-11T05:54:00.000-07:00

Tony has really been kicking ass with the packing. He has no idea how much I appreciate his drive. This week, each night after work is devoted to packing/purging. We've got a lot to do, but he has been successful in getting a lot of the "grunt" stuff done ... so kudos to him, my hero. We'll need more boxes ... and I'll need some serious nicotine to get through it. But we'll manage. We're good that way.

We schlepped some art over and Tony hung it with care and aplomb. He's got a much better eye for that sort of thing than I do ... and even though he was ready to pound his fists into the near impenetrable walls, I think he likes to do that sort of thing, too. The front entrance room will be adorned with more "pop" and "fun" art ... his Roy Lichtenstein print, my Jimenez Donna Troy poster, the original comic art pages I own, etc. It already looks great. The other super-hero prints will adorn the hallway up the stairs and down toward the bedrooms. A good, solid plan. It's going to look fantastic. So much more "us."

We were riding with David to get some grub, and he (David) was listening to a folk music compilation of his own creation. As he sang along to each tune, I was overwhelmed by a memory I hadn't thought of in quite some time...

When I was about 12, my mother and I vacationed in Utah with my brother Johnny and his wife Kathy. Johnny, an avid fisherman and lover of the outdoors, rented a large camper/van and planned to take all of us to Montana for a week of camping, fishing, and camaraderie. I wasn't thrilled about the idea, but I was 12 -- what could I do? Anyway ... Johnny's Air Force buddy Al Domini and his family were accompanying us. I was assigned to drive the distance with Mrs. Domini and her 11 year-old daughter Heidi. I remember my sister-in-law going on and on about how cute Heidi was and how much fun she and I would have. It was an obvious attempt at preteen matchmaking. I was surprised to discover that Heidi actually was cute and sweet ... and we did hit it off in a very friendly way. No surprise, really, because most of my good friends had always been girls. I very vividly remember Mrs. Domini turning up the radio and singing along, in loud voice, to "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" by Peter, Paul, and Mary. She commented that it was one of her favorite songs, and said to no one in particular "It's part of the soundtrack of my generation." I was mesmerized by her voice and even more intrigued by her comment. Would I have a "soundtrack of my life" when I got older? What songs would be on it?

The Montana sky was just amazing. I was in awe. At night, the sky seemed to have hundreds more stars in it than what I was used to back in Indiana ... and I spent a lot of time just gazing, losing myself in the splendor. Mr. Domini showed up on day two with a surprise -- his 14 year-old son Seth. No one had mentioned another boy would be sharing the adventure, and I was, of course, both instantly smitten and terrified. Heidi who?!? Seth was "all boy" -- he brought a Nerf football with him, for God's sake. It took him a day or two to warm up to me, and I'm sure it only happened because he was bored and had a passing interest in the Justice League of America comic I was reading.

He plopped down next to me outside the camper and grabbed the comic from my hands, his curly hair backlit by the bright sun. "Does this have Aquaman in it?" he asked. I mumbled something about Aquaman being a founding member of the JLA and tried not to stare at Seth's face. And it was that simple -- we were "buds" from that point on. We played catch with the stupid football (yes, I was that much of a skeez), took off our shoes and waded in the amazingly cold creek, picked on poor Heidi, ate entirely too many hot dogs for one sitting, and because we were both wrestlers, practiced "moves" a lot. That, of course, was my favorite part.

I could tell by his level of excitement during the wrestling tumbles that Seth was enjoying himself. I'd tackle him from behind and we'd roll around under the trees, laughing. He'd grab me around the middle and try to toss me, forgetting my weight advantage and never quite succeeding. He was a strange combination of wiry and thick that I found intoxicating. Nothing explicit happened that summer, but Seth and I kept in touch. His letters told stories of girls, his parents, and wrestling, and always ended with talk of that week in Montana. When I told him I'd be back for another week the next summer, his letters doubled in frequency, and we graduated to having pages-long "conversations" about which superhero would be able to best whom in a wrestling match. Dammit -- was it summer YET?? When we did go back to Utah the following July, Seth and I picked up right where we left off. That story, however, is best saved for another time ... and it's a good one ...

Catching up ...

2006-07-05T11:10:00.000-07:00

I spent the better part of the long weekend in Gatlinburg, TN with my best friend, Jill. It was a really nice getaway for us ... and a wonderful time to just be together. Her parents have a time share there, but were unable to use it this year. We jumped at the chance. Our friend Shelly was originally supposed to accompany us, but that didn't pan out (much to our chagrin -- but we understand), so we made the trek alone. The "suite" was nice ... a bit country in its decor (quelle surprise), but very roomy and comfortable. We did a lot of mountain sight-seeing ... lots of eating (damn they have wonderful fudge and candies there) ... entirely too much walking (hehe)... and a LOT of talking. She's still going through a lot with her husband, and I did my best to offer sound advice. By Sunday night, however, I was all out of "it's going to be ok" speeches. She knows they're both miserable ... and it doesn't appear things will ever mend themselves. It's hard, sure ... but she's going to have to take that major step and move forward with her life. She knows it. It's just a not-so lovely combination of sad, painful, and scary. She's a tough girl, though. She's going to be just fine.

Saw The Devil Wears Prada yesterday, and loved it. It's funny, bitchy, and just a solid little flick. Nothing groundbreaking. Meryl is fantastic. Emily Blunt, as one of Streep's harried assistants, is also a delight. I think Adrien Grenier looks like Chester Cheetah. The movie made me long for the passion I used to feel for journalism. What a different person I'd be had I just followed through with that in college.

Wasn't feeling especially patriotic this year, so we sort of cocooned last night. Ang came over and we had some KFC, ate entirely too much candy, and watched the director's cut of Donnie Darko. It's definitely a bizarre little movie ... but I really really like it. I had trouble sleeping because I was mulling so much of it over in my head. And please -- it has that wonderful Gary Jules cover of "Mad World" in it. Bliss.

We found an apartment. Half a double. Cute. It's going to be a rough August financially, but I think everyone involved will be much better off. I need to shake my fears and get excited. It's a really nice place.

This is all not to say that I don't still dream of packing our shit and disappearing into the night. I sometimes think there'd be nothing more delightful.

Superman Returns ...

2006-06-28T05:39:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me undoubtedly knows how anxious I've been to see Bryan Singer's Superman Returns. To say it did not disappoint is a huge understatement. Is it perfect? No. Is it what I expected? Well, yes and no. Yes, it's a lovely "renewal" of the franchise. Yes, the characters are intact and their "histories" are honored. Yes, Brandon Routh is an admirable Superman and particularly charming as the somewhat bumbling Clark Kent. Yes, Kevin Spacey owns his role and brings a deeply sinister vibe to Luthor that can't help but smack the viewer in the face. And yes -- the classic theme music is there, woven throughout Singer's celluloid tapestry in a majestic and reverential way. But no ... I truly did not expect to be so touched, moved, and wrapped up in the human foibles of the character I've loved for most of my life.

I won't get into plot specifics (there are myriad sites out there for that kind of thing, if you're interested) ... but Singer and company obviously love Superman and his world very, very much. The characters are front and center here, and I think this more than anything else helps make the film work. It's a gorgeous looking movie, too. Eye-popping effects are effectively balanced with sweet (and sometimes, bittersweet) character moments. And that score! John Ottman deserves high praise for his work here. He's taken the very best of the classic John Williams score and created something very special. The subtle hints of "Can You Read My Mind?" are especially powerful when they appear.

Brandon Routh should be very proud. He evokes the late, great Christopher Reeve, of course (in fact, there are moments when he sounds and looks so much like Reeve it's eerie), but he inhabits the role with power and an admirable grace. I was damn impressed. As Superman, he's earnest and heroic. As Clark, he's dutiful and sweet and ... human. In direct contrast to Batman, where the costumed identity is the true identity, Clark Kent is who Superman really is. He's bright and funny and talented and genuine. That's always been one of my favorite aspects of the character -- this alien from another world who is truly more human than any Earth native. Singer must agree with me, because it's readily apparent in his film.

I could go on and on ... but I'll end with this:
The flight scenes are fantastic ... truly thrilling. Watching this man zoom through the skies of Metropolis performing truly superheroic deeds made my inner fanboy burst with pride and comfort. But unquestionably, my biggest joy came while watching Superman land. There's a grace and majesty to his movement that touched me deeply. All this power ... all these amazing abilities ... and it's his gentle touchdowns that speak volumes.

I loved this film.

2006-06-15T06:38:00.000-07:00

It's been an interesting week. I'm glad it's winding down, because we have some potentially fun things planned for the weekend ... and everyone who knows me knows I enjoy the fun. It's not that the week has been horrid or anything - just a little "out of synch" with the rest of the month, thus far. I'm chalking it up to work stress, money stress, and just plain 'ol general stress. Things have calmed themselves and as I said -- the weekend is in sight.

2006-06-12T06:09:00.000-07:00

The Indianapolis Gay Pride Parade and festival was this past weekend.
For the first time, the parade itself was actually pretty good. I would like to see a bit more diversity in floats and presentation, but I think we're getting there. It's only a few years old ... and it has most definitely come a long way since its inaugural run.
Of course, the Indianapolis Star could only manage to print pictures of the drag queen floats ... and barely mentioned the diversity present. I shouldn't be surprised ... what garners the most attention is what gets the most media coverage. And I'm a firm believer in visibility at any cost ... but it sure would be nice to have a larger picture of the gay community pictured. Don't get me wrong -- I love our drag queen sisters just as much as I love our PFLAG family members and everyone else. But perhaps a picture of one or two families, the older lesbian couple who mentioned they'd been together for 42 years, or the openly gay civic leaders in attendance would have been a nice touch. Just a thought.

Julia Carson gave a fun speech. I wouldn't exactly call her articulate, but she does stick strictly to her core belief system in pretty much everything she does. And her Shirley Q.-isms only endeared her more to me.

Our friend Waylon is just as cute as a button. I don't think he even realizes it.

I overheard a young gay kid (and by kid I mean early 20's - hehe) talking to his mother. The mother said "It has to be hard for all these people to just be themselves all the time. It has to be tough." She gestured toward the drag queen onstage and said "That has to be the hardest kind of life." The kid sort of verbally agreed with her, but his body language told a completely different story. I thought about what I had overheard (and watched) for a bit, as I walked through the crowd looking for Tony and our friend Adam. I guess I'm lucky -- after making the decision to come out, I've never struggled with being myself. It's not hard for me to present myself as a gay man ... because it's what I am. No, it doesn't solely define me, but it damn well plays a large part in the overall mixture of who I am ... and it's never been something that's bothered me or caused me shame. That kid's mother has taken an important step, attending the event with her son and showing her support that way. But she also has a lot to learn ... and I hope some serious lessons seeped into her as the day progressed.

2006-06-09T07:41:00.000-07:00

Do you remember what it was like to be in high school? Well, Curtis Sittenfeld does ... and her (yes, she's a female) novel Prep is pretty damn good. I'm only 100 or so pages in, but I'm captivated. It isn't that the story is particularly gripping ... but the author's grasp of the high school experience is intoxicating. I came across a passage last night that made me stop ...

But I was living my life sideways. I did not act on what I wanted, I did not say the things I thought, and being so stifled and clamped all the time left me exhausted; no matter what I was doing, I was always imagining something else.

Wow. Simple, brilliant, and really, really telling.
I still feel this way ... and that saddens me a little. Those who know me will probably read this and scoff, thinking "That bitch tells it like it is -- always says what's on his mind." Well, not so much, really. Sure, I comment on everyone else and the choices they make ... but when it comes to my personal life, well ... I'm still guarded. One of the greatest gifts of fiction is its knack for mirroring "real life," and Sittenfeld all but slapped me in the face with this passage. Today has been a day of self-reflection. That's not so bad.

2006-06-07T07:35:00.000-07:00

My birthday was wonderful. Thank you to all my friends who took the time to celebrate with me ... and for all the goodies that ensued. I treasure each and every one of you. I really do.

35 is weird. I'm not flipped out, really, but it has given me even more reason to conduct some serious self evaluation. This is absolutely NOT where I expected to be at this age ... although I don't think I'm doing horribly. But I do think it's a good place and time to gear up for bigger and better things.

Okay?

2006-06-02T12:28:00.000-07:00

One of my co-workers told me this morning that he can't listen to music because it makes him feel "scattered." He went on to say that, because I had played several different songs during his visit to my area, he'd have a difficult time concentrating on his paperwork when he returned home. "It's an honest to God truth," he said. "I've been that way my whole life."

I think I'd put a bullet in my head if that happened to me.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that music is like mother's milk to me. Hell, it's like Holy Communion, to the nth degree. There isn't anything else in the world that speaks to my spirit the way music does ... and I'm so thankful that something stirs me the way it does. Sure, I'm moved by beautiful art in any form ... but music -- there are no words. Music is sweet honey, bitter ginger, rich chocolate, warm tea, and cold beer. Music is air conditioning. Laughter. Tears. Sex. Passion. Satisfaction. Pain. Sadness. Glee. Determination. It's perseverance, tenacity, dogged resolve. It's ennui, ambivalence, acquiescence, and defeat. And it's success, pride, spirit, and realization of potential.

Play what you like, and listen to it often. Hit random, repeat, or just play it in album order. Who cares? Much like your personal relationship with your own spirituality, your musical preferences are all yours. What you like or don't like is entirely objective. And that's part of what makes it so damn beautiful. So turn it on and turn it up. And soak it in.

2006-05-31T07:04:00.000-07:00

I love coffee.

I love me some angryblackbitch!

2006-05-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I totally totally totally stole this from angryblackbitch, but I thought it was fabulous and needed to be seen by my peeps. And angryblackbitch -- will you be my new best friend???

ABB's Bitchfirmations...

When faced with crisis…
You are the shit and you know you are the shit. Pull yourself together! For every crisis there is a solution. Work the problem, bitch…work it! And then, once the dust has settled, you will take the time to examine this shit so that the fuckeduptitude does not happen again.

When faced with confrontation…
Bitch, you know damned well that (insert offending asshole) is the one who should be worried. Are you in the right? Okay. Do you have your facts straight? All right then! Shut the fuck up, put some lipstick on and get down to bitness!

Everyday when this bitch is about to walk out the door…
Oh shit!Look at you!Mmmmhmmm…you know you are a too bad for words (wink).
***Fluff afro***

Behold the woman you have become.
***apply fantabulous signature MAC lipstick shade (Underworld Satin)***

Go forth and discover the woman you have yet to be…you sexy assed smart talkin’ Hershey chocolate diva bitch!
***blow kiss at reflection***

And proceed to keep it real.

Bear Pride

2006-05-30T08:05:00.000-07:00

Wow -- I freakin' love Chicago. I really do.
Bear Pride was a fun time, indeed. Apart from a couple hiccups with a potential bedmate, I had a pretty fantastic time. How could I not? Chicago is amazing.

Friday night was fun ... meeting up with Jason G. and hanging out before the dance party was a lot of fun. We ate at Noodles in the Pot when we first arrived, and that set the stage for the rest of the night ... great food usually brings about great times. At least for me. Tony had a fab time Friday night as well, with two conquests and a host of extracurricular activities. Woo hoo!

Saturday --- more hanging out, walking around the fantastic city, eating great food, and preparing for the night's events. The one "conquest" I was looking the most forward to never did pan out ... and the story is way too convoluted to get into ... but, suffice to say, I skulked back to the hotel around Midnight and ended up meeting a lovely young man from San Francisco. Of Spanish descent, his skin was beautiful, he was nicely sculpted, and we enjoyed each other's company for quite some time that evening. Just what I needed.

Driving back Sunday was on the verge of becoming a nightmare, as a mythical wailing banshee inhabited Matt and a totally surreal screamfest nearly wrecked the entire day. I think all parties involved realized the necessity of "letting it go" for the time being ... but I must admit, it will be interesting to see how it sours the remaining time we have as roommates. T and I were still a bit shell-shocked, so we went to the 501 for some chat and some winding down. Our pal David was there, and it was nice to catch up with him and watch the men. I just wish that hottie Randy would either put up or shut up. His shy routine is wearing thin. And after the weekend, I am no longer tolerant of that "is-you-is or is-you-ain't" kinda stuff. But the rum helped. It always does.

Spent the holiday doing absolutely nothing ... and it was just what the doctor ordered. We slept late, watched movies and TV, and just relaxed after the weekend. It was very nice. And I really really do just enjoy hanging out with the hubby. So comfortable. So real. So us.

Now I'm back in Hell and doing the best I can to scour the Internet and all relevant publications for employment in the Windy City. Yeah. It just makes sense. If T can work through the stage managing thing, and we squirrel away the right amount, I totally see us in Chicago next Spring. And I bet we'll open one of the best chapters in our lives there...

"Soul Patrol," indeed...

2006-05-25T06:08:00.000-07:00

So ... Taylor Hicks. Who'da thunk?
But that's not really important. I think I witnessed the absolute gayest moment ever on network television last night. The producers of Idol were cruel enough to bring out that horrific Clay Aiken wannabe boy (gurl) and give him a microphone ... and there, lurking in the shadows (like I'm sure he's done most of his life) was Clay himself. Ah, Clay. A bit puffier than usual, Clay emerged from the dark looking frighteningly like the love child of kd lang and Chris Gaines. I'm not sure what Ms. Aiken was thinking with that hair, but the new "pseudo-goth" Clay gets a huge thumbs down from me. Of course, I've never really liked Clay that much, but my GOD! I can't fathom what she's thinking. Is she trying to "butch it up" as a result of that gay web site scandal? Did she think it was lesbian hairstyle night on Fox? Who can say? All I know is, with one bad 'do, the Gayken supplied Kathy Griffin with at least a year's worth of new material.

2006-05-23T07:35:00.000-07:00

So I had a crazy plane crash dream last night.
I'm not sure where I was flying from, but it was obvious that I was flying to California. The pilot mentioned LAX a few times ... I just emptied another small bottle of Bacardi into my tepid Coke and waited for something to happen. I was talking to the person seated next to me ... very animated, very in the moment ... but I have no idea who that person was. That bothers me, but try as I might, I can't picture his or her face. When the first wave of turbulence hit, there were lots of screams as passengers were tossed around the plane like rag dolls. I remained seated, drinking my cocktail, and I closed my eyes. I heard a tearing sound, but I still didn't move. I felt air rush past my face and the drink fly from my hand ... but I still didn't move. I bowed my head and started humming "Amazing Grace." The plane slammed into a body of water, and I felt the liquid swirl around me. It was only then that I opened my eyes ...
Of course, that was also when the alarm went off, and I was dragged into reality.
So strange. One online dream dictionary I consulted says that a plane crash symbolizes unrealistic goals. I don't buy that. I don't think I'm unrealistic at all ... overwhelmed by unavoidable decisions, maybe ... but unrealistic? Not so much. I know I'm talented, I know I'm good at what I do, and I know I can and will succeed when I finally put my mind and efforts toward that desired success. Maybe I'm just thinking too much about Lost... :-)

2006-05-19T07:37:00.000-07:00

My hubby is getting a cold. Ugh. Poor guy. He's had a rough week. I hope the stuff he bought at CVS helps him conquer this before it really gets started.

I had a really weird dream last night about a long-ago ex, and I'm still pretty disturbed by the whole thing. He just showed up at my door, had a long conversation with Tony, and stared at me. I kept asking "What?" and he continued to stare at me. He never spoke ... and his gaze never faltered. And for some reason, it was totally creepy.

Will & Grace signed off last night, after eight seasons. I think the show ran maybe three seasons too long ... but in its heydey, it was really smart and funny. Some truly classic television moments abounded, and I'm especially fond of season two. I hope all the cast members go on to continued success ... especially Debra Messing. I think she's really the unsung heroine of the show. She's hysterically funny ... always a joy to watch. A modern day Lucy, in her own way.

I have a couple friends who, to borrow from Celeste Holm in All About Eve, tend to think of themselves as "one of the world's neediest cases." How does one gently inform said friends that the constant "woe-is-me" attitude is probably a big part of why they always feel so freakin' woe-is-me? I know depression sucks ... depression and I know each other intimately ... but my GOD! I truly care for these people and would love to help them feel better, but I'm not sure how to approach the subject without coming off as a huge bitch. Of course, I pretty much am a huge bitch, so nothing I say or do is probably out of character...

I'm very excited about our upcoming Chicago sojourn, but I wish my freakin' health stuff would iron itself out ASAP. It's exhausting. When I get frustrated like this, I tend to go back to my "it's better than the alternative" mantra, considering everything my poor body has been through. But it doesn't just affect me ... it affects Tony, which makes me feel even worse. I hate that it seems to be a lingering issue. There's great hope on the horizon, though ... some stuff will happen after Chicago that should bring about the cessation of this crap. Fingers and toes firmly crossed!

I need some book recommendations. Anyone?

Just be...

2006-05-16T07:42:00.000-07:00

A friend sent this to me this morning ... and while I usually delete crap like this without reading it, this one struck me. It could be the Xanax. hehe

I'm not sure where this originated ... so all props to the original author(s).

JUST BE
Be strong enough to face the world each day.
Be weak enough to know you cannot do everything alone.
Be generous to those who need you help.
Be frugal with what you need yourself.
Be wise enough to know that you do not know everything.
Be foolish enough to believe in miracles.
Be willing to share your joys.
Be willing to share you sorrows of others.
Be a leader when you see a path others have missed.
Be a follower when you are shrouded in the midst of uncertainty.
Be the first to congratulate an opponent who succeeds.
Be the last to criticize a colleague who fails.
Be sure where your next step will fall, so that youwill not stumble.
Be sure of your final destination, in case you are going the wrong way.
Be loving to those who love you.
Be loving to those who do not love you, and they might change.
Above all, be yourself!

2006-05-16T05:59:00.000-07:00

Ever have one of those days when it probably would have behooved you to pull the covers over your head, ignore the alarm, and sleep until the next morning? Yeah, me too.

Do you ever wonder, sometimes, why you say things you say? Why you bother? Or why you can't keep your big mouth shut? I've been feeling that way a lot, lately. And it's never intentional. I'm not vindictive -- I wouldn't intentionally bring grief upon myself or loved ones. It's not how I am, contrary to what many believe about me. I wonder sometimes if someone, somwhere, is playing a big cosmic joke on me ... manipulating me like a marionette, chuckling with glee everytime I throw a huge monkey wrench into an otherwise smooth-running operation. "Let's have Jason say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time. EVERYDAY!!!" I'm fucking sick of it. Thank God for Xanax. Although I think I need a stronger prescription.

After the president's speech last night, I'm even more convinced that he's a huge moron. Gigantic. Gargantuan. Mythical.

I have unfortunately developed a "tolerance" for over-the-counter sleep aids. They didn't do squat for me last night.

I can't wait to get the hell out of town next weekend.

Now that the rumors of the Toad the Wet Sprocket reunion tour have proven to be true, I need to get my ass in gear and get tickets.

I'd really like to see more live music, in general.

Turning 35 this year has kind of fucked with my head a little bit. Weird.

The Xanax is kicking in. I couldn't care less now...

Oy Vey!

2006-05-08T21:49:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I love me some rum.
However -- I might have gone a bit overboard tonight. It's a bit scary, because, truth be told, I can really see why alcoholics find the "release" of drunkenness appealing ... but I'm going to reel it in and get on top of this latest "trend." I can't do this much longer. It's not fun, really. Sure, it masks the BS for a bit ... but it's all going to be there tomorrow, as I face it with a headache and a mood even more sour than usual. Ugh.

Happy Birthday David (so I'm late -- typical)

2006-05-08T11:00:00.000-07:00

Last Wednesday was my nephew David's birthday. He turned 15. I can't even believe it. Wow. So ... 15 years ago (give or take a week - hehe), I had just walked into my apartment after acing my Classical Culture final exam. My roommate, Adam, had just gotten up and was groggy and bitchy. That was nothing new -- we were quite the groggy bitches in those days.

"Your Mom called," he said, pointing toward the flashing light on the answering machine. "I didn't get up in time to get it, but she says your sister is in labor."

"WHAT?" I shrieked. "She's not due for another month!!"

"Well, your Mom says she's in labor. She's at St. John's."

I bolted for the door without even taking a sip of the coffee I had just prepared. I had the rest of the day free and I knew I had to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. As the birthing coach, I should have been there already, but we didn't expect the kid for another month. In fact, Kathy wasn't due until June 6, and I was really hoping she'd drop on my birthday. What a nice little present that would have been...

Amy Grant sang "Baby Baby" over the airwaves as I lit a cigarette and pulled onto old SR 32. I couldn't believe she was ready ... and I was worried that it was too early. Kathy had been plagued by a very difficult pregnancy. She had lost a baby only a few months before finding out she was expecting *this* one, and her doctor advised her it would be highly unusual for her to carry the baby to term. She was receiving shots weekly and had gained a large amount of weight ... but because her marriage had fallen apart, I really think she was determined to have a healthy baby because she needed something to give her a reason to smile. I was honored when she asked me to be her coach, and it was a truly eye-opening and special experience. I sang along with Amy Grant (now I shudder at the thought) and made my way to Anderson.

Mom was in the lobby, talking to my sister Carolyn, who was visiting from Missouri. We made the requisite greetings, and I headed upstairs. After my scrub down, I wrapped the mask around my face and entered the room where Kathy was preparing herself. She was doing well, but really ready to have it over with ... but the doctor told us that the baby would be born butt first. Argh. Kathy was given some more pain medication, and as we worked on the breathing, I heard the nurse say "She's going to rip!" SLAM! I passed out cold.

I woke up in the chair next to Kathy's bed, and she was laughing at me. I missed the whole damn thing! The baby was so small he was dressed in a Cabbage Patch doll's onesie (is that how that's spelled?) and he was the reddest little thing I'd ever seen. The nurse looked at me and said "Do you want to hold him, Daddy?" We all laughed at her mistake, but I have to admit, it was the one and only time in my life I was a bit sad that I won't ever be anyone's father. That somber thought only lasted a second, though, because as soon as I held that little baby, all I could do was stare at him. Wow. I'll never forget that as long as I live. I *can* be sappy at times, everyone...

Narnia

2006-04-25T09:52:00.000-07:00

Tony and I watched The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe last night. I enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than I thought I was going to, that's for sure. The Christian symbolism was all there, but for some reason, it didn't grate on my nerves very much. Maybe I'm just feeling more spiritual lately, I don't know -- but I found myself smiling at each symbolic scene, quietly praising the filmmakers for being so surreptitious about their execution. I thought the movie was very fun. The kids were a hoot, I loved the beavers (no comments, please), and the witch was creepy as all get-out.

It made me wish I had a magic wardrobe (or something) to walk through and leave this dreary place behind. I'd go in a second. And I'd never look back.

2006-04-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

There's a 20 year-old girl working my office who takes herself entirely too seriously. And she's an idiot. The things she's asked me to explain -- you'd think she'd never left her house in HER LIFE. Unreal. And this is the person the big boss has decided to make his personal assistant. So yes, she's in charge of the company checkbook, paying bills, and coordinating payroll. I cringe each day because I'm sure she's going to fuck something up. And she does. Daily.

This morning, she brought a nice big pile of paperwork to my desk and said the boss wanted her to tell me to make sure it was all completed and taken care of properly. Nothing major -- just boring stuff like license renewals, current TB test results, and other crap. I almost threw it at her. I've been around the block a few times, and I have a real issue with a 20 year-old who doesn't know what "fax" is short for delegating work to me. I need a cigarette.

2006-04-22T17:54:00.000-07:00

I AM: still reeling from the atrocious Silent Hill movie. Good GOD it was awful.

I WANT: chocolate cake.

I WISH: I could eat anything I wanted without having to worry about how it will effect my tummy.

I HATE: current MTV.

I MISS: Sex and The City.

I HEAR: the Dixie Chicks's slammin' new tune, "Not Ready to Make Nice."

I WONDER: what happens after THIS.

I REGRET: not taking the job in Denver, all those years ago.

I AM NOT: Rapaport.

I DANCE: occasionally.

I SING: loudly and poorly.

I CRY: most likely too much.

I AM NOT ALWAYS: polite.

I WRITE: poetry.

I CONFUSE: my partner -- he thinks I'm somewhat crazy.

I NEED: to stop smoking.

I SHOULD: start walking.

I START: at least one new book a week.

I FINISH: last. ;-)

2006-04-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

This is the kind of day that makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs.

Every five minutes.

Repeatedly.

I just feel like something major is bubbling under the surface. Honest to God -- it's tactile. The hairs on my arms bristle and the air seems to pop. Something is most definitely coming. And damn, I hope it's good.

Memoirs of ... something

2006-04-09T21:15:00.000-07:00

Memoirs have always interested me. I think everyone has a story to tell ... and having read a number of memoirs over the years, it's unfortunately obvious that not everyone needs to tell his or her story. I've heard many different things regarding Jeannette Walls's The Glass Castle, both good and bad, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. Nothing like making up one's own mind, don't you know.

Oh my.

I think Walls is a good writer. She's concise, interesting, never too flashy or too simple. There's a smoothness to her work that's gratifying. I've never liked reading "easy" stuff. Well, that's not entirely true. I've been known to read some fluff and/or trash now and then ... but I do primarily like books with some meat to them. I like to be challenged ... to have to think and digest. I consider myself a voracious reader. It's nothing for me to read more than one book in a week ... but I do go sometimes for a couple weeks without reading anything new. Reading is quite simply one of the lovely pleasures of life for me ... and it helps foster my love of words like nothing else. But back to The Glass Castle.

As I said -- I don't discount the author's ability to spin a yarn. I just don't believe 80% of what she says she went through. Maybe I'm being too judgmental ... but I just can't buy it. I won't go on and on about the absolute insanity of her childhood, but suffice to say she's painted a really grim and, in my opinion, highly improbable existence. Was I entertained? For the most part, sure. But I have to say, my disbelief and skepticism colored the book for me quite a bit. If it's true, bully for her for pulling herself up and making a success of her adulthood. And how sad that it took all that misery, poverty, and downright abuse to get her where she is today. If it's bunk ... well, she sure has cashed in on pressing all the right buttons. I don't know whether to applaud her or throw shit at her. It also makes me want to write about my childhood -- cuz honey, I've got some stories that'd spin just about anyone into orbit. But Walls ... well, hell. I've not been so divided about something I've read since college.

And I suppose that makes the book perfect for me. It certainly challenged me. I certainly had to give it thought, consideration, and let it "gel" in my head. It made me think about my crazy brother, my crazier sister, my alcoholic father, and my "whatever gets you through it all" mother. Hmmmm. Self reflection. Coming to terms with weird shit from one's childhood. Therapy via memoir. Damn! Maybe Jeannette Walls is brilliant...

4 Things ... thanks to Shel

2006-04-08T14:54:00.000-07:00

Four jobs I have had in my life:

Pizza maker at Little Caesar's Pizza
Deli worker at Pay Less Supermarkets
Proofreader/Editor at Macmillan Publishing
Manager - Downtown Comics, Inc.

Four movies I would watch over and over:

Tootsie
The Empire Strikes Back
Clueless
Broadcast News

Four TV shows I love to watch (pick your current faves):

"Lost"
"Desperate Housewives"
"American Idol" (I admit it -- I'm a junkie)
"Jeopardy!"

Four places I have been on vacation:

Cancun, Mexico
Yellowstone National Park
San Francisco, California
Denver, Colorado

Four websites I visit daily:

Four Favorite Foods:

Italian
Greek
Thai
Chinese

Four places I would rather be right now:

Greece
England
Hawaii
Australia

Four things I always carry with me:

Keys
Wallet
Burt's Bees Lip Balm
My eyeglass cleaning cloth

2006-04-03T07:14:00.000-07:00

Random stuff ... lots of nothing to chatter about ...

Sunday was my "friend" Anita's birthday. I haven't spoken to Anita in well over a year ... hell, it might be two years. I'm not sure what happened, but we just drifted apart. Yes, she lives in Denver, and that doesn't make it easier to stay in touch ... but I keep in touch with friends and family all over the country, so that's really no excuse. And I have to say - this one isn't my fault. I've tried and tried ... but Anita just doesn't seem interested in maintaining the friendship. It stings a little, because when we were kids, we were damn near inseparable. We were friends when no one else would be a friend to either of us. Jill, Anita, and I would spend 90% of our free time together, watching movies, hanging out, complaining about our horrid lives (or what we considered horrid at the age of 14). I was determined I wasn't going to call her cell phone and wish her happy birthday, regardless of what my gut was telling me to do, because dammit, she didn't acknowledge my birthday last year ... and I didn't even get a Christmas card from her, although I sent one to her address. So I struggled with it all day: Do I call or not? I decided not to ... and, when I was chatting with Jill while driving back from the grocery store late in the afternoon, she told me she had called Anita and left a message. Dammit! I knew she'd cave! But I was determined. Not going to do it -- no thank you. So of course, on my way to the theatre to collect Tony, I called. I left a singsong message, trying to sound breezy and unbothered. And I know I won't hear from her. But it did feel good to call.

So my iPod decided to freeze up and act like a petulant child last night. I tried everything to reset it, unfreeze it, power it down, and/or fix it ... but nothing worked. So I let it stay stuck overnight. The charge ran down, of course, so I thought I'd bring it to work and see what happened. Well, it's unfrozen ... but all my music is gone. So hopefully, it'll be as simple as connecting it to my computer when I get home so it can update itself. Sheesh. I've been lucky with the thing -- most people I know with iPods have had numerous problems, but this is the first issue I've had in the almost-year I've had it. Tony hates when I talk about it (for obvious reasons), but I really do fucking love the thing.

Watched "The Flavor of Love Reunion Special: After the Lovin'" last night ... and while it was quite enjoyable, it wasn't the ghetto trash spectacle I was so hoping it'd be. I do love me some New York and Goldie, so they were worth watching for, most assuredly. It was all obviously a big set-up for another season ... so boo to VH-1 for that, but really ... it was a big ratings hit for them, so who can blame them? They KNOW what time it is.

If I hear that damn James Blunt song one more time, I swear I'm going to cut someone.

I spent a bit of time this afternoon updating my DayPlanner. I'm such a geek about stuff like that, but it really made me feel good. It's fun. Does that make me weird?

I need to find time to watch the first few episodes of "so noTORIous," which I DVRed. I know I've spoken ill of Tori Spelling in the past (and really, who hasn't?), but she's actually gotten some fun reviews for this little vanity show. I still think she has deformed cleavage and a nose only a plastic surgeon could love, but I must give her snaps for being perfectly willing to poke fun at herself. Although I don't suppose her willingness to embararass herself should surprise me any. We are talking about the star of "Mother, May I Sleep With Danger?" here. Agreeing to a script with that dumb-ass title certainly took guts, so why not a mock-reality show? :-)

What's that smell?

2006-03-31T06:30:00.000-08:00

Sense memory is a strange and wonderful thing.

When I was a little boy, my mother used Pacquin Hand Cream all day, every day. Mom has always had a problem with dry skin, but her hands, which she used all day at the factory, and then continued to use at home while cooking dinner and cleaning, would particularly suffer. Pacquin had (and I'm sure still has) a very distinct fragrance. It's medicated, so the perfumes mix with the menthol oils and form something wholly unique. Unfortunately, I've inherited Mom's dry skin issues, but that's another story. Anyway ... Mom would buy Pacquin in bulk ... 6 or 7 tubs at a time. There would always be unopened tubs in the linen closet, just waiting for their chance to medicate and soothe. It's really thick stuff, too ... almost like paste.

My brother Michael and I would lament dinners with salad served as a starter, because when Mom would toss the salad, she'd use her bare hands. And more often than not, those hands had just been blessed with the medicinal goodness of Pacquin Hand Cream. I'm not sure about anyone else, but Michael and I were never able to develop a fondness for Pacquin salad dressing, so we'd cringe when we'd see the salad bowl in the middle of the dinner table. We'd always cut our own slices of bread ... pretty much always do anything for ourselves that would otherwise require the Hand Cream Queen to touch something. Don't get me wrong -- my Mom was a bang-up cook and we always loved dinner ... but those salads! ACK!!

So this morning, my co-worker stopped by my desk to chat, suss out the day, and gather things for her first appointment. She was wringing her hands together, and I could tell she was simply rubbing in some lotion ... working with paperwork all day has a tendency to dry out one's hands, and I do the lotion thing a lot, myself. As we were chatting, I caught a whiff of her hand cream, and was instantly transported back 20-odd years to my childhood.

"Are you using Pacquin Hand Cream?" I asked.

"Yeah ... it's the only thing that works for me," she replied. "It's lightly medicated, so my hands don't crack."

I laughed and told her my story. She laughed along with me and then slowly developed a quizzical look, tilting her head to one side and sighing.

"I always make salad with my pasta dishes, and of course, I mix it all up with my hands. And now, my daughter won't eat her salad with dinner anymore!" she said. "I wonder if it's because of the hand cream?!?"

I tried to muffle my guffaw, but it didn't work.
"It doesn't have a particularly pleasant taste," I said, and we both laughed again.

Mom has since moved on to other hand creams ... Bag Balm, Udder Cream, and other such greasy concoctions she swears by, praising their therapeutic values. I tried the Bag Balm once, and maybe I'm just a perv, but it reminded me way too much of wanton nights with an industrial sized tube of lube. I'll stick to my Aveeno, thank you.

2006-03-30T09:38:00.000-08:00

My favorite spam email of the day:

Extraordinary Tranny GangBang!!!

Masterful.

2006-03-23T06:40:00.000-08:00

Some random bits of goodness:

Goodbye, "Chicken Little!" I'm so glad Kevin Covais is gone from American Idol. Buh-bye, Kev. Miss you already. Not.
My sister Julie finally sent me her recipe for Chicken with Rose sauce ... and I'm a happy boy. It's a tasty concoction that brings joy to all who consume it. I'll be making it next week.
It's come to my attention that no one is more self-righteous than a former sinner who has found his salvation in the Lord ... except perhaps for a former smoker who is now "smober." Yes, we all know smoking is bad for us. Give it a rest, and shut the fuck up already.
I've developed a small crush on one of the maintenance workers at the office. He's nothing spectacular, looks-wise, but he's definitely attractive ... and his sweet nature and boyish grin only make him moreso. Sigh. The triangle of furry goodness that protrudes above his undershirt doesn't hurt, either.
Have I told you lately that I love caffeine?
My sister-in-law, Kathy, is having a rough time following her latest chemo treatment. For some reason, I'm finding it difficult to make myself call her and chat. First of all, I don't want to tire her, because I know how exhausting the chemo experience is on its own. Secondly, and most disturbing to me, I'm tentatively terrified to hear her in a weakened state. For as long as I've known Kathy, she's been a powerhouse of feminine energy and stamina. I'm dumbfounded that this has happened to her ... and I just don't know how I'll handle this, emotionally. And how fair is it to her for me to fall apart, you know? So I've been sending cards on a regular basis ... even though I feel more and more ashamed of myself with each envelope I seal ...

catch up

2006-03-21T05:49:00.000-08:00

So I was felled last week by a killer bout of laryngitis-coupled-with-a-head-cold. It was NOT pretty ... nor was it fun. With that in mind ... the Idol recap isn't happening. It's too late now, anyway. I'll just throw my votes behind Mandisa and Chris (yummy) and let it go this week.

Saw V for Vendetta over the weekend. I enjoyed it. I was especially impressed with Natalie Portman. I've always liked her. Most people discovered her in The Professional. I didn't see that movie until years later. The first time I noticed Ms. Portman was in the vastly underrated Ted Demme gem Beautiful Girls. She was (and I sound like such a cheesy gay man right now) incandescent in that flick. All of 15 and captivating -- it's my favorite performance of hers. Anyway ... Vendetta was a bit all over the place, but I liked it. Interesting, for sure.

There was an older couple sitting behind us who really just about got bitch-slapped. They'd take turns sleeping ... and SNORING ... throughout the movie. I have a very very low tolerance for such bullshit, but when I first noticed the snoring serenade, I thought it might just be "me," and I was going to ignore it. Then I noticed Tony noticing it ... so I breathed a sigh of relief and thought to myself "This is why I'm starting to prefer to watch movies at home." A total of three different people complained to the manager, but it did no good. People suck.

Matty is doing well following his appendectomy.

I had a great job interview last week and am just waiting for some good news. Keep those fingers and toes crossed for me.

I hate James Blunt. And that Daniel Powter song makes me want to retch, as well.

mea culpa

2006-03-13T07:59:00.000-08:00

I've been working on an American Idol recap for entirely too long, now, but I just can't get to it today. I'll work on it tonight and post it before the new episiode airs tomorrow night. All apologies.

2006-03-07T22:12:00.001-08:00

I love Southern Comfort.
I love music.
I love comic books.
I love Audrey Hepburn.
I love Vivien Leigh. I think she's the most stunningly gorgeous woman to have ever lived.
I love the temporary feeling of euphoria one gets from drinking a rather substantial amount of Southern Comfort on a week night. :-)

2006-03-06T19:01:00.000-08:00

Man, depression is a BITCH.
I've felt so down tonight. I can't shake it. And oddly enough, I can't put my finger on what's causing it. I just want to crawl into bed, cover my head with the blankets, and sleep until 2009.

2006-03-06T05:46:00.000-08:00

So how 'bout that Crash? Wow. I'm still speechless. What a huge, huge upset. Don't get me wrong -- I love the movie -- but I can't believe it swiped the top award. Of course, the Oscars are a very Hollywood affair ... and Crash is a very Hollywood movie. It has a massive number of speaking roles ... it's a film that holds a mirror up to the LA scene and shows a very unflattering image ... and it's well-made, well-written, and a top notch production. So sure ... give it the Best Picture Oscar. But I guarantee you that in a few years, people will call its win over Brokeback a "fluke" and maybe even a "travesty." I won't go so far as to say I feel it's a travesty ... but I still think the wrong film won.

Elsewhere -- no real surprises, except for "It's Hard Out Here For a Pimp." Are you KIDDING me?!? I loved Jon Stewart's commentary: "For those of you keeping score -- Martin Scorsese, zero Oscars. Three-6 Mafia, one." Unbelievable. How "hip" of the Academy. ;-) And you KNOW that's what they were all thinking when they checked that box on their ballots. Honestly, though, there wasn't a really memorable song in the bunch ... hence the three instead of five nominees.

Yay for Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Wonderful actor. Solid performance. Not the best of the year (that honor belongs to Heath Ledger), but the perfect type of role for which to award the Oscar. His body of work is very admirable. And he has that "aww, shucks" factor when he speaks that's very endearing.

Reese Witherspoon looked gorgeous and gave a lovely acceptance speech. I knew she'd win. I recently watched Walk the Line at home on DVD, and it convinced me that she deserved to win. I'd seen the flick on the big screen and came away from it thinking "nice work, but not so sure if it's Oscar-worthy." Totally changed my mind during my second viewing. She comports June Carter with dignity, vivacity, charm, humanity, and skillful wisdom. Her June is truly torn over her failed marriages, her growing love for another woman's husband, and displays a humble grace when dealing with her own talents. I loved her performance.

Okay, so I still have a little crush on George Clooney. He's the Cary Grant of his time... without the bisexuality. :-)

Rachel Weisz looked radiant and was gracious and lovely at the microphone. Haven't seen her film, I'm sorry to say, but from what I've heard and read, she's apparently the best thing in it. Here's hoping the award brings her more screen time. I could listen to her speak for hours.

I thought Jon Stewart did a fine job as host. The Bjork/Dick Cheney joke was priceless.

Dolly Parton, whom I adore, looked like a weak facsimile of herself. Lay off the botox and plastic surgery, Dolly. Geez.

I noticed a real trend toward very glamorous, "Old Hollywood" gowns ... and it was nice. Cream and/or nude seemed to be the color of choice. Standout females for me were Jennifer Garner (whose breasts looked fabulous, thank you very much baby Violet), Reese Witherspoon, Zhang Ziyi, Sandra Bullock, Michelle Williams, Keira Knightley, Felicity Huffman, and Nicole Kidman.

Until next year ...

BTW

2006-03-03T07:16:00.000-08:00

What in the name of MC Skat Kat was wrong with Paula Abdul last night on American Idol??? Sure, no one's ever accused Ms. Abdul of making sense, but ... WTF?!? All I know is I want whatever it is she's taking.

What? I've been gone for a while, you say?

2006-03-03T06:23:00.000-08:00

Bless me bloggers, for I have sinned ... it's been entirely too long since my last blog entry, and for that, you have my apologies. Things have been insane at work (par for the course), and just about as insane at home (ditto). Excuses excuses ... who needs 'em?

Anyway ... some rambling thoughts:

I was surfing Billboard online yesterday, checking out the singles charts, and was pretty shocked that I recognized maybe two songs out of the entire top 20. Who ARE some of these "artists," anyway? Someone -- or thing -- called D4L had a number one hit at one point. Names like Dem Franchize Boyz (featuring Da Brat, of all has-beens), Daddy Yankee, T-Pain, Ne-Yo, and Cascada were attached to tunes all over the Hot 100 ... and I don't know who the hell any of these people are. Of course, I've not listened to "popular radio" for years ... but you'd think I'd have heard of at least a few of these acts just by accident. I'll stick to my iPod and pray for the day all this rap nonsense goes away. I'm sure I'll be praying a very, very long time.

I think I want to have Chris Daughtry's babies. Jesus Christ that boy makes my pants pound. And he can sing, to boot. As much as he turns my crank, I think I'd go with Mandisa if I had to choose my favorite Idol this season. But damn -- Chris just keeps getting better ... and you could bounce a quarter off that ass ... and get back two dimes and a nickel.

So there are numerous reports online and in tabloids that Clay Aiken has been engaging in cybersex for quite some time. One of the rags is even running what appear to be screen caps of Clay on his webcam, along with some raunchy chat exchanges. Who gives a shit, right? Right. While I do think it's kinda sad that tabloids have a field day with this kind of crap, I have to say ... did he actually think no one would NOTICE? Please. Sounds like Mr. Clay really wants to be outed to just get it over with. But please ... no one should be even remotely surprised that Clay is a big fag. He irons his spiky hair, for Christ's sake. And all one has to do is watch a Kathy Griffin special to hear some fabulously faggy bon mots about the Gayken.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Santino is going to win Project Runway. Argh. He's evil. Well, okay, maybe not evil ... but he's definitely a tit. I can't believe I'm addicted to another fucking reality show. At least it's only got one more week. And regardless of her snub of Jay and his Emmy dress, I still worship at the feet of the gorgeous Heidi Klum.

Even though I'm not overly psyched about the Oscars this year ... I still freakin' love the Oscars. I wonder if Reese will cry when she wins?

Check out this blog: angryblackbitch.blogspot.com. I so want to be her friend.

7 things ...

2006-02-21T09:13:00.000-08:00

Matty B. tagged me with this meme. She is wrong for that.

7 Things To Do Before I Die

Figure out what I want to be when I grow up :-)
Pay off my debts
Visit Greece (if not MOVE there)
Stop smoking
Lose weight / get healthier (durh)
Visit England
Attend the opening of Tony's first Broadway show

7 Things I Can’t Do

Drive a manual transmission
Stop obsessing over things I can't control
Find a foundation that matches my natural skin tone
Eat pussy
Deal with voluntarily ignorant people
Perform auto maintenance, other than changing my oil
Climb out of debt

7 Things That Attract Me to Europe

The history
The culture
The romance
Being out of the USA
Most of my favorite literature originated there
The mystery
Observing the different ways people live

7 Things I Say

"How you durrin'?"
"Gurl...."
"Whatever."
"Really, Tolliver?"
"Wanna go smoke?"
"Shit." (my favorite curse word)
"You know ..." (I start numerous sentences that way...)

7 Good Books

The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
The World According to Garp by John Irving
Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
John Adams by David McCullough
I Know This Much is True by Wally Lamb
Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin

7 Good Films

American Beauty
The Women
High Fidelity
Batman Begins
The Empire Strikes Back
Tootsie
The Ice Storm

2006-02-21T05:59:00.000-08:00

Again with the whacked out dreams!
First ... I dreamed that my friend Jill and I were walking up a huge, steep hill. One of us would falter, and the other would help, pushing and assisting, until we finally reached the summit. At the top, we danced a little with glee, having been successful in our journey. Almost magically, a stream appeared before us, rippling and rushing past, making that trickling noise only a stream can make. Jill became panicked, pointing to a large rock in the middle of the stream, and insisting that we had to clean the layers of algae and moss off it immediately. I tried to reassure her, telling her I'd be happy to help, but she was still manic. We rolled up our pant legs and waded in, and began removing the overgrowth with our hands. As soon as we'd clear the algae from a section of the rock, it would instantly grow back, and it wasn't long before we were both frustrated and frantic.

This one isn't too difficult to decipher, really. Jill's going through some major turmoil, I'm her confidante, and am very protective of her. The walk up the hill must signify the journey she's on, and I obviously see myself as being a part of that, somehow ... support, whatever. I've always been highly protective of her, so maybe that's it. I have heard that water signifies life, and dreaming of clear water is a good thing. It symbolizes being in tune with one's spirituality, life, wants, and needs. So maybe the clear water here means that she's making the right choice. The rock is obviously symbolic of cleaning the nastiness away -- making life cleaner and less polluted. I think it's a good dream.

The second dream actually woke me up. I was standing outside with a group of people (I'm pretty sure Tony was there, and Matt ... but I can't remember everyone), watching it rain. It was windy. We weren't outside the place we currently live ... it was a much more open area, lots of trees and flowers. Someone said they thought it was turning severe, and I laughed, taunting the sky to throw a tornado in the mix. My wish was granted. Suddenly, five funnel clouds dropped from the sky and danced across the landscape. We watched houses explode, get thrown around, crash into other buildings, and even watched some lucky ones miss the fury entirely. My group scattered, running either into their homes or homes of friends, doing what they could to avoid the unleashed force of nature. I just stood there, watching ... mesmerized. The tornado I was enamored by was all white and seemed very ... focused. It kept to a straight path and didn't do much damage to property or plant life. I felt the wind on my face and I smiled. And then I woke up with a start.

Think of THAT one what you will. I have 9412 ideas.

Shower the people you love ...

2006-02-20T07:04:00.000-08:00

The weekend was good. Very nice. T and I rented some movies, did some shopping, made some dinner, and basically just enjoyed each other's company. I worked at the shop on Saturday, he had a pitch meeting with another local theatre company, and then we settled back into our DVD groove. Don't listen to the critics -- Elizabethtown is signature Cameron Crowe; beautiful moments, a moving story, and an entertaining piece of cinema worth your time investment. The man is a lovely writer. The Brothers Grimm, however, was beyond awful. What a misfire. Yikes. But ... all said, a very nice, relaxing, low-key weekend. LOVE those.

I had a dream last night that our shower was outside, in a garage, and everything was covered in ice. I saw my breath as I made the trek from the house to the shower, I felt the chill on my skin, and I longed for the warmth of the water. I could really feel the longing, like a hunger. While I was standing under the spray, I realized I was going to have to turn the warm water OFF at some point and brave the cold to walk back toward the house. But at that moment, all I cared about was feeling the water glide over me. I watched it slide across my skin, clearing the soap and taking the grime with it. I saw the steady trickle of water melt the ice under my feet, and watched the warmth spread so the glass-like sheath covering the entire floor of the garage began to disappear. I felt powerful. In control. Strong. I began kicking the water around, flailing somewhat, and splattered the walls with droplets, hearing them crack as they slammed against the ice on the walls. I was mesmerized -- watching icy strips fall around me, disappearing as they dissolved, and swirling into the drain. Gone. Washed away. I began to cry, happy that the cold was dissipating, joyful that the water was cleansing not just my body, but my surroundings. And then the damn alarm blared and I was shocked into the reality of my Monday.

I wonder what that was all about?

Lean, green fantastic lovin' machine...

2006-02-17T12:12:00.000-08:00

Your Heart Is Green

Love completes you, but that doesn't mean you seek it out.When love comes your way, you integrate it peacefully into the rest of your life.
Your flirting style: Laid back
Your lucky first date: Walking around aimlessly and talking
Your dream lover: Is both enthusiastic and calm
What you bring to relationships: Balance

What Color Heart Do You Have?

I really want to know ...

2006-02-13T07:09:00.000-08:00

Does a person who is having a nervous breakdown KNOW he is having one? Is he that acutely aware of what's going on with him emotionally that he understands he's cracking up? I think I'm cracking up, but I wonder -- because I think it, does that just mean I'm a bit overwhelmed by stress, and not really losing my mind? Because, if I'm able to process that I'm losing my grip, doesn't that mean that I actually have a relatively decent grip? ARGH!

There's something of a history of mental instability in my family ... but I don't think of myself as mentally unstable. At least not to the degree that my sister and brother are mentally unstable. Carolyn is one of my favorite people on the planet, but she's unquestionably challenged in the area of mental health. Bi-polar and not medicated most of the time, she's a true original, all right. I could -- and should -- write a book. And then there's Michael. Also bi-polar, but mostly medicated, he's just a sad, desolate person. I think he's so medicated that he's out of touch with everything. I have mixed feelings about all that, but that's a story for another time.

I've benefitted from psychotherapy in the past. There have been times when it really helped pull me out of whatever pit I had managed to fall into ... and other times when it was just a chore and not helpful at all. I don't think my "issues" have really changed, which is most likely the root of my "problem," so I doubt therapy is going to do me much good this go-round. Ho hum.

There's really no choice: There's absolutely no time for a breakdown. None. So ... I will continue to trod on, going where I go, finding where I'm headed as I "get there." That makes T crazy, but ... I do my best. Just like a Boy Scout, I really truly do my best. What more can I say?

You can talk to me

2006-02-08T05:57:00.000-08:00

Tuesday was the day of big "reveals" from friends.

My dear, sweet Jill has finally come to the realization that her marriage is unfixable, and after much discussion with her husband, they have decided to separate. She is so lost and I wish I could do something for her, other than listen and encourage. They began dating when they were 18, and she has never known anyone else. I think she's more frightened of being alone and having to start "over" than she is of being without him, because, sadly, they've been unhappy for quite some time. It's a long, convoluted, and all-too familiar story ... but as sad as it is for her at this moment, she's really doing the only thing she can to further her own positive development. I hate feeling so helpless, however. She is truly a part of my soul (I feel that way about so many of my friends) and it pains me to "see" her in such turmoil. I know she's going to find her strength and conquer this with grace and aplomb. And I've got her back, now and always.

Tony and I had dinner with our friend from New York and he, too, decided to drop some revelations our way. He has been married for over 30 years, leading the stereotypical double life for most of that period, burning his candle at both ends. He's always stated that he's "happy" with his life ... he likes his family, his home, and genuinely loves his wife. But, of course, he enjoys playing around with men from time to time ... especially when he's out of state for work. Anyway, he told a lovely story about casually meeting a guy at a bar not far from his home in New York, and how the two of them really strummed the same chord together. They met for dinner a couple times, played some pool, and then our friend invited his new fella to accompany him on a weekend work trip a few hours from the city. Their evening was filled with wonderful conversation, continued camaraderie, and the gnawing sensation of a growing connection between the two of them. The new fella asked where his older paramour saw their "relationship" going, and our friend replied with his stock answer: nowhere. He reiterated that he's "happy" with his life, isn't willing to give it up for something else at his age, and all the other requisite statements he's been making to men who have fallen for him for over twenty years. Now, a week or so later, our friend is struggling to accept his latest predicament. It seems that the new fella did more than strike a chord with our friend ... he cleared a space for himself in his heart and moved right in. So -- the dilemma. He asked our advice, saying he really wanted to call this young man and meet with him once more, just to "say goodbye in person" or "hold him one more time." I don't think he liked what we had to say (at first), but I'm pretty sure he knew we'd say it even before we actually did. "Let him go," we said. "Allow him to grieve and move on. He wants something you aren't prepared to give him, and the only fair thing to do is say goodbye." Our friend was crestfallen, but finally realized how right we were. When we parted ways that evening, he thanked us for our honesty and shuffled toward his hotel, his head hung somewhat and his burden no lighter.

Both situations make me happy I have what I have, in all its dysfunctional glory. So I say a silent "thank you" as I fall asleep each night and another one each morning as I wake. In the grand scheme of things, it ain't so bad from where I sit...

Are you in, or out?

2006-02-06T11:09:00.000-08:00

I have officially become addicted to Project Runway on Bravo. My friend April has been after me for months to watch the show, but I kept putting it off ... primarily because I didn't want to end up addicted to another freakin' reality show. American Idol, love it though I do, is enough. Or so I thought ...

Matt and I were flipping channels the other night, and we caught the last 40 minutes of the then-current episode. Heidi Klum, still pregnant with Seal's baby when the show was taped, looked absolutely stunning. It's a cliche to say pregnant women glow, but Heidi ... Heidi wasn't just glowing. She was shimmering. She really took my breath away. I've never really given much thought to her one way or another, but wow. Knockout gorgeous. And, judging from the show, a sweet and genuine person. Snaps to her. But I digress...

I love the different attitudes each designer displays with pride. I love watching them create their "fashions." I love hearing them bicker amongst themselves, then make up, then bicker some more. I love the snooty but fun gentleman who informs them what their project is, when the judges are ready for them, and all the other incidental things. I especially love it when they get snippy about their creations. To hell with a woman scorned -- hell hath no fury like a fashion designer on a tirade, gurl. I love the bitchy comments of the judges -- except for last season's winner, Jay. That bitch gives me a rash in the worst possible way. And she's apparently going to have her own show, Project Jay. I've got a little project for you, Jay: DISAPPEAR FROM TELEVISION FOREVER.

I think Daniel V. is going to win. I also think he's probably the most talented of the bunch. I didn't really care for his Audrey Hepburn-esque orchid dress, but it was put together beautifully and the model "worked it" flawlessly. His stuff does look like he considers what a woman's body is like ... and how his creations will look on a real body. Nick is my personal favorite ... but that's just because I think he's thisclose to being cute. I think Chloe is talented, Santino is a mess, and Kara is just ... ugh. I just don't like her. She did design a very pretty "garden party" dress, but something about her makes my ass itch.

So now I have to wait for a marathon of the episodes I missed ... and I'm already looking forward to it. Damn. Another reality show!!!

2006-01-26T07:13:00.000-08:00

I've been debating lately whether or not to hang up my blogging "duties." There doesn't seem to be much point. I seldom have anything to write about, and when I do, it's usually a bitching and moaning session. I know how old those can get ... so I'm trying to decide whether or not to continue with this little venture. It's therapeutic for me, to vent here ... but I also hold back sometimes, for fear of hurting someone who might read what's within. I shrug and press on.

It could just be the general "blah" I feel. It seems every time I take one step forward, I take the proverbial two steps backward. Work is a drag, my professional life "on hold" and in a daunting state of limbo. I fear that the 8 to 9 months I was "promised" will turn into 8 or 9 more -- and that makes my head hurt. My personal life is good, for the most part. There are things that T and I can't seem to see eye-to-eye on that bring about what, at times, appears to be insurmountable stress. And we're both stubborn enough to stand firm and think we're absolutely right, regardless of how the other is feeling. I'm very comfortable living where I live, but at the same time, feel like something of a failure that I'm renting from a friend and not making headway on my own condo or house payment. That just brings my debt to the forefront of my mind, and I get overwhelmed, thinking how incredibly messed up it is that I'm still paying for a surgical procedure I endured over 7 years ago. The same surgical procedure, I might add, that has inadvertently brought about a drastic change in my demeanor and physical "being" -- and is, at the root, the cause of the malaise that drapes itself over my relationship. And I honestly believe that we both truly do the "best we can." There are times when that's just not enough, I guess. We're left with the task of persevering, which we've come to do with aplomb. I try to tell myself they're simply bumps in the road of life ... and that things could be infinitely worse. It's small comfort, however, when I find myself worrying that I'm an unsatisfactory life partner.

My mother's health is failing, although she seems to be holding steady lately. I remind myself that she's 82 years old and has lived a rich, full life. Sure, there have been stressors and moments of utter lunacy -- but those are the interesting strands in her life's tapestry. She's a pretty amazing woman ... quite the survivor. I should draw strength from that, and apply her "let's just get through it" attitude to my own life. I think I do, whether I realize it or not, and that does bring me some comfort. Hell, if she can do it, I can do it. And I will. It's just a weird, "off" day. Yeah. That's all.

I'd like to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press ...

2006-01-17T07:41:00.000-08:00

So ... The Golden Globes.
"Globes" was the theme of the night, apparently, as numerous actresses decided to go braless ... a trend I just don't understand. When your breasts are pancake-like, it's never wise to display them unsupported. I adore Drew Barrymore, but she looked just awful with her pendulous mammaries flopping beneath her classy gown. And Emma Thompson? Oh, badly done, Emma ... badly done. Her introductory speech regarding Pride and Prejudice was very fun, but the braless look did her no favors. Goodness.

Queen Latifah opened the show with a nice speech about Martin Luther King, Jr. I thought she looked quite nice, her dress a lovely complement to her bright complexion. It was a bit tight around the middle, but there's something imminently likeable about Latifah, so all is forgiven. She looks so much more comfortable with her new, smaller breasts. U-N-I-T-Y!

There were some surprise winners (Rachel Weisz, anyone?), but overall, the Globes skewed just about how I assumed they would. I think the wins for Philip Seymour Hoffman and Felicity Huffman pretty much cement their Oscar chances, and that's okay. I would personally choose Heath Ledger's performance over Hoffman's, but I think Hoffman's strong body of work will push him to the top. Haven't seen Huffman's flick yet, but the previews and clips I've caught certainly look promising for her. She's the best part of Desperate Housewives, so yay for her.

Random Globe musings:

Kate Beckinsale is stunning and looked fantastic.
Evangeline Lilly looked pretty, but her dress looked like a nightgown.
Mariah Carey seems to think she's about 60 pounds lighter than she really is. I'm convinced she has Glitter playing on a loop somewhere in her home, a la Dorian Gray.
Can someone please explain to me what Pamela Anderson was doing on this program? And what in God's name was she wearing? It looked like she robbed Celine Dion's Vegas show costume department.
I truly loved S. Epatha Merkerson's speech. She's very deserving.
Geena Davis looked lovely, as always. I'm still not entirely convinced that she isn't a drag queen, however.
I have a burgeoning crush on Heath Ledger. He seems so happy and in love with Michelle.
Steve Carell is hilarious and I loved his speech. He's kinda sexy, too. (ACK!)
Jason Lee, although I know he's in character for his show, really looked like a trailer park resident who had accidentally crashed the party.
I do not like Penelope Cruz. At all.
Who would have thought Melanie Griffith could pull it together and look a bit more than decent? I could do without the tattoo, but she really did seem proud of her daughter. The daughter, however, looked less than interested in being Miss Golden Globe. SMILE, BABY!
I would have to be forcibly removed from Matthew Fox if I ever met him in person. Woof.
I adore Virginia Madsen. She, too, should have worn a bra ... but I just love her.
Joaquin Phoenix always looks like he's forgotten to take his anti-anxiety medication.
File Laura Linney under the "doesn't get enough recognition" category. She's pretty much always the best thing in every movie she's in.
Hilary Swank looked very pretty ... I didn't see who her date was, but I know it wasn't Chad. Boo. :-(
The Desperate Housewives all looked lovely, but Teri Hatcher was a bit frenetic on stage when the show won a surprising Best Tv Series - Comedy Globe. I think my favorite part of the broadcast was the look on Felicity Huffman's face when Hatcher grabbed the mike and spoke before the show's producers. Mrrrow!

I tried to save my life and it didn't work...

2006-01-16T12:45:00.000-08:00

Here's Monday, again, and it's time to get back into the groove of a regular week. The weekend was nice -- not much happening, really ... or at least not much that I want to talk about in great detail. Suffice to say I'm sitting on a very wonderful opportunity and am hopeful that things continue to progress toward realizing it to its full potential. Yay for me. :-)

We watched a couple Star Trek movies on DVD over the weekend, and I'm happy to report they still provide me with as much enjoyment as they did when I saw them originally. I'm especially fond of Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country. It's the sci-fi geek in me, I guess ... but I'm a sucker for a good Trek adventure. It's too bad Enterprise never caught on ... it's somewhat strange for there to NOT be a Trek series in production. I've heard rumblings here and there that some plans are afoot to revitalize the film franchise. I hope the rumors bear fruit. I'd love to see something new. Get some fresh voices in there and really shake things up.

We also watched a very strange, unique, and ultimately captivating movie called Me and You and Everyone We Know. Wow. It starts off very strangely ... but before you know it, you're caught up in these characters and what they're going through. There are definitely some whacked out scenes that I didn't much care for, but there are a couple that are so breathtaking in their beauty and honesty that they more than make up for the oddities that are sprinkled throughout. One scene in particular hit me forcefully. Watch the movie and ask me which one. We'll talk.

Golden Globes tonight. They're really not as much of an Oscar predictor as they used to be, but they're still fun to watch. As always, I'll be judging what everyone wears ... with commentary to come tomorrow. And by the way -- BOYCOTT E! Don't watch their coverage. They were stupid enough to fire the blisteringly brilliant Kathy Griffin and replace her with ... get ready for it ... Ryan Seacrest. I could just vomit. Anyway ... to hell with E! And even though I've finally decided that Brokeback Mountain is pretty over-hyped, I still bet it takes some top awards. Enjoy.

2006-01-10T14:23:00.000-08:00

I had a dream that I was living somewhere new ... different ... away ... and no one knew who I was. No one. It was exhilarating, scary, weird, creepy, and strangely appealing. What does that mean?

restless

2006-01-10T06:07:00.000-08:00

So I woke up about 15 times during the night last night, even though I took some over-the-counter sleeping pills. I feel groggy and a little abrasive, which is never a good thing. I wish I could control my bestial temper sometimes. I know it's over-the-top and dramatic when it's really loosed ... I'm glad it's not happened in a while. I'm trying my best this year (so far - hehe) to just breathe when things torque me off ... three or four times, if necessary. I'm all for avoiding confrontation. I've got that much of my mother in me, for sure.

I had this wacky dream the night before last that a group of people, myself included, were boarding a plane to travel to someone's wedding. It was a small plane with huge windows. They were almost like full-length picture windows on both sides of the aircraft. There were compartments above and below the seats, and each person who boarded ahead of me stored his or her carry-on luggage and other bags snugly in all available spaces. By the time I boarded, they were all full, so I had to stash mine under my feet. The pilot was told to follow a specific route, and it ended up being very close to automobile traffic. There were a couple close calls ... almost clipping a bus with our wing, nearly taking the top off an SUV with our wheels. Eventually, we were gliding high in the clouds, zig-zagging back and forth, watching the world zoom past. I remember being upside down a time or two, and then feeling my stomach drop when we did a loop or two. I was conversing with a fellow passenger (who seemed very interested in pursuing my sister, Carolyn, romantically) when I overheard the flight attendants freaking out because we were nearly out of fuel. Word quickly spread and nearly everyone on board began to panic ... except for me. I was the picture of cool, calm, and collected. What's hilarious about that is that I would most definitely be the one freaking out if I heard such information while flying. I attempted to calm the other passengers ... and then I woke up. I have no idea what this dream means, if anything. I truly enjoyed the sensation of flying, though. And the big windows on the plane made it even more enjoyable.

My! People come and go so quickly here!

2006-01-05T11:02:00.000-08:00

I received the very last of my Christmas presents the night before last ... shipping delays and all that, of course. T bought me the new spruced up, restored DVD edition of The Wizard of Oz. I've always loved the movie ... myriad reasons, most of them the same as everyone else's. The most exciting part of this particular DVD, however (besides the absolutely resplendent restoration), was the plethora of new bonus material included. The old Angela Lansbury-hosted 50th anniversary retrospective was included, but I've seen that 9412 times. Three new features were included, all of them co-produced by Turner Classic Movies. One focused on the tribulations of bringing the classic novel to the big screen, another focused on the detailed work that was brought to the production (art direction, costuming, color-checking for the then-relatively new Technicolor process), and the last one focused on people's individual memories of the film. Some surviving munchkins talked about what it was like for them and what it's meant for them. Liza Minnelli and Lorna Luft talked about the often exaggerated tales their mother would tell regarding the munchkins and the general atmosphere of the set. But the part of this feature that spoke to me the most was the section devoted to average, everyday people telling their stories about Oz, what it means to them, and what it was like seeing it for the very first time.

The first time I saw the movie, I was 6 years old. It was during "tornado season," because I remember my Dad saying he thought it was appropriate the network was airing the movie at that time of year. Both my parents had talked about it for months, apparently deciding I was old enough to sit still and watch the entire telecast. I was already a TV junkie, so that wasn't going to be a problem. That was an eventful spring/summer for me, because it was later, while visiting my sister and her family in California, that I saw Star Wars ... my first big-screen experience, and one that very positively shaped a lot of my childhood. But that's another story. We're talking Oz here.

Mom explained that it was one of the best, most successful, and beloved films of all time -- and I think CBS might not have shown it for a year or so, because I seem to remember her saying it was nice to see it airing again, or something like that. Dad was obsessed with the film's switch to color after Dorothy lands in Oz. He talked about it and talked about it, telling me how mesmerized he was as a kid, and how excited he was for me to see it for the first time. So we settled into the family room, in front of the huge Zenith floor model TV recently purchased (and that my parents still have, in fine working order, to this day), popcorn in bowls and lights dimmed. And, of course, I loved every second of the movie. Like me, Dorothy had a less-than satisfactory home life. Like me, she longed to be somewhere else, where it was brighter, nicer, and more exciting. And like me, she sang fabulous show tunes in her backyard. Of course I loved it.

It became a tradition to watch the movie together, each year. We did it for quite a few years, too. I never really outgrew wanting to watch it with my folks, but I remember thinking that when I was ready to enter high school, watching some silly kiddie movie with my parents (of all people) would be ultra un-cool. We did watch it together one more time, though, the summer before I left for college. Although it had been available on video for a little while, MGM and Turner re-released it in a then-state-of-the-art remastered videocassette edition, complete with fold out cover and shiny storage box. I bought it, told them we'd watch it that weekend, and even made the popcorn myself. Dad fell asleep, Mom cried, and I just looked around the family room, knowing full well that I'd be going away to college that fall, leaving them behind. I was certainly ready ... ready to blossom, grow, change, and become me. College wasn't necessarily "Over the Rainbow," but it was definitely the place I learned to fly, just like those happy little blue birds Judy sang about.

2006-01-04T05:51:00.000-08:00

Tony and I were watching Jeopardy! last night, and the returning champion was, in my opinion, a total cutie. He had that all-American, everyday, boy-next-door look ... boyishly handsome, strong jawline, good hair. I didn't care for how his mouth looked when he was speaking, but that's beside the point. Tony didn't see my attraction at all (and he doesn't really get my almost total obsession with Matthew Fuh-Fuh-Fox from Lost, either), but I didn't expect him to. We don't cross hubba-hubba paths very often, although I will say it's happened a lot more lately than it ever has before. Later, we were watching the much-delayed season premiere of Scrubs. I've always been a fan of the show ... T just sort of tolerates it, having never really "gotten" the appeal or gotten into the characters (although I think he chuckles most at John C. McGinley). ANYWAY ... all this got me to thinking about attraction ... what makes each of us, individually, attracted to people, places, things? What flips those proverbial switches?

There are so many different types of people in the world ... and someone finds each one attractive. I wonder if it's something that happens when we're young ... an overly friendly mail carrier, or a charming sack boy at the local A&P, that shapes what we're drawn to as adults. Tony mentioned once having a big crush on Dan Haggerty as a kid ... and if you look at the type of men he's attracted to now, you'll see the major similarities. I wonder what sparked that gravitation toward bearish men?

My personal taste in men is all over the place, really, so it's not as easy to discern reasons for my attractions. Although I wonder -- my first "real" experimentation with another boy happened when I was about 11 or 12. The boy was Kevin ... maybe 16 ... the younger brother of my brother's best friend. Everyone from my brother's "group" was hanging out in the garage, smoking, drinking, whatever ... and I somehow weaseled my way into the sea of boys for the final moments of that particular day of delinquency. There were moments, now and then, when my brother's friends were nice to me. His best friend, Alan, especially, had a way of treating me like a normal kid, and even bought me birthday presents. They were never nice to Kevin, however. And Alan was particularly brutal to his little brother. They'd been berating him about something, and when that finally got old, they left to carry on in someone else's garage. Kevin was always the good kid ... he started cleaning up, throwing away discarded soda cans, Suzy Q. wrappers, and other such trash. I started to help. We talked. Definitely the typical "all-American boy," Kevin was also a bit of a nerd. He had an obsession with outer space ... ships, aliens, and the promise of exploration. I think he was wearing a Star Trek t-shirt that day, actually. He seemed to like me ... he didn't yell at me or anything. He shoved me around a little, playfully, and then started rubbing his crotch. I remember being a bit terrified, but also quite excited. He locked the garage door and turned out the light, the switch making its patented "click" just as he started unzipping his pants...
"All-American," indeed.

2006-01-03T07:04:00.000-08:00

Ah, another year ... here it is, and we can't do anything about it.
New Year's Eve was fun. Angela had a birthday/New Year's party ... had a nice time there, especially during the wacky White Elephant gift exchange. I can't decide if the cat/squirrel made entirely of shells or the travel-size Charmin was the best tacky gift. I think I'll go with the cat/squirrel. It was really quite frightening ... and something I would have seen adorning the knick-knack table at my Aunt Lois's swanky apartment back in the late seventies. Lois had a curio cabinet full of tacky figurines. She collected thimbles (don't ask me why -- she never sewed a thing, as far as I know) and small plates honoring each individual state. Talk about ugly -- those plates were downright hideous. The state's outline was always front and center, but the items chosen to exemplify the "spirit" of the state, usually situated around the state's shape, were often puzzling. For instance, the Indiana plate had an Indian headdress, the IU and Purdue logos, and a cardinal dancing around its circular edge. No Indianapolis 500 reference, no mention of the monument ... no Pacers paraphernalia. But, as usual, I digress ...

After Ang's party, we made our way to the bar. Having been happily introduced to Glenfidditch Scotch earlier in the evening, I was already well on my way to a nice buzz by the time we arrived at The 501. It didn't take much for me to get myself good and drunk, and of course, I did. I remember having a great time hanging out with Matty, Andy, and Andy's friend Kevin. We were dishing on L'il Kim's incarcerated ass, making catty judgments about Pariah Scarey, and having a gay old time cracking on the foolish clothing choices of numerous bar attendees. Ah, it's never dry in that particular desert. One fella in particular chose a NasCar theme -- and looked every bit the redneck he truly was. Laughable. Painful. And just wrong.

I was a little peeved that the bar management didn't do anything to "ring in" the new year. They made a casual announcement that it was "one minute to go," but that was it. No noisemakers were passed out ... the video screens didn't take us LIVE to Times Square (they continued playing the same boring porn they've played for years) ... the DJ did no counting down ... nothing. NOTHING. It probably wouldn't have been so bad had the doorman not been a total bitch ... but the tired ass queen was hateful. Sigh.

We ended up sleeping WAY in Sunday, which was great. I think we both needed the rest. We did some shopping here and there, had some grub, and settled in at home with more of Nip/Tuck Season Two on DVD. Can I just say how much I adore Joely Richardson on that show? She's amazing.

Sorry for the boring post. Nothing exciting or noteworthy has happened lately, really. I'm auditioning Thursday night for the role of "obese young man" in a PSA. Chalk it up to another bit of self-flagellation. :-)

2005-12-30T11:20:00.000-08:00

Saw Brokeback Mountain last night. I don't really know what to write ... yet. I have a lot to process, and a lot to coalesce. It wasn't as fantastic and wonderful as I had hoped it would be. Heath Ledger is phenomenal ... a true revelation. But there's something amiss ... I can't put my finger on it, but I'm confident I will, with some time. So more on that later.

I've been in a pretty nasty funk for the last couple days, but I feel it lifting today. I'm going to make damn sure that 2006 is an infinitely better year. I'm going to do my absolute best to avoid making the same mistakes ... I'm going to really try to "re-focus" and find what makes my soul sing. Hyacinths for the soul, as the wonderful Dr. Maude Jennings from Ball State said to me once.

I'll do it, too.

Dashing through the snow, to a padded-room wonderland...

2005-12-27T06:22:00.000-08:00

Ah Christmas! As much as I love the holiday, I'm glad it's over and done with this year. A short play-by-play:

Christmas Eve, T and I went to Ms. Gayle's, like we always do. This year, we asked Angela to accompany us, and her presence made the entire evening more tolerable. It's not that I didn't have a good time -- I did -- but it was a bit odd this year. The tradition has morphed into something very different the last few years, primarily because there are three grandchildren present. What used to be a refuge and gathering of camaraderie for those who really weren't up to spending the time with their birth families has changed into that group of us hanging out with Gayle and her family. It's still great food, lots of laughs, and nice festivities ... just not the same as it used to be. So maybe next year, we'll do something on our own? We shall see.

T and I spent most of Christmas Day in Chesterfield, with my family. My Dad was somewhat under the weather, felled by some flu bug. It's a rare thing -- the man is almost never sick. Mom was the most mobile she's been in quite some time, although she was a bit worried that we'd all notice she hadn't felt like going to the beauty shop earlier in the week. She's had a standing appointment for Friday at 1PM for as long as I can remember. It's always a big deal to her when she's unable to keep her appointment. She looked fine and shouldn't have worried. She also has an issue with allowing others to see her using her walker in the house. I finally got through to her and told her no one thinks "less" of her for using it! In fact, we all feel a little more secure with her mobility when she has the walker (or her cane) to help her. It was good to see my sister Terri (although, the on-again, off-again, and on-yet-again girlfriend was there, and I just don't get that entire mess), and I always enjoy spending some time with my niece, Heather. And Tony and I were both taken with how cute Heather's boyfriend is. They've been together for years, but there was just something about him this year that I'd not noticed in the past ... quite yummy. My other sister Kathy was fine, but a bit on edge, what with all the insanity surrounding her oldest son. Suffice to say -- he's on house arrest for writing bad prescriptions, just had a nasty car accident, and will most likely be paying some heavy consequences for his actions. A very Jerry Springer Christmas, folks.

At least my nephew David, Kathy's youngest, was still sane and, in fact, quite grown up this year. He's 14, but acts older ... probably because he's been around older people his whole life. Sometimes, he's so much like me it's scary. He's had a really nice growth spurt of late and he's really "filling out." He's a cute kid ... and I find it very easy to believe his claim that he's popular in school. He's funny, smart, and adorable. I just feel really, really old. I was there the minute he was born. That's just all kinds of wrong.

Last night, Tony, Matty, and I had some friends over for games and frivolity. It was a lovely time. Angela and I spoke our patented shorthand while playing CatchPhrase ... and I love it when people think we have our own special language. I guess it comes from knowing each other for so long ... but, yeah, we really are on the same wavelength most of the time. I mean, please -- who else but Ang would have been able to guess "psychiatrist" from my clue of "It's where you go when you're down?" :-)

OH!!! Tony got me the most fantastic present this year: a digital camera! I am so not worthy. But, I'm geeked because I'll be able to flex that creative muscle again ... and I can start posting fun stuff to flickr. Woo Hoo!! He was really too good to me this Christmas.

Now I'm ready to just coast into New Year's. Here's hoping it's a low-key, low-stress, relaxing week. We can have the blow-out behavior on New Year's Eve, sure ... but this week, I'm all about the chilling out.

Jrc's picks

2005-12-23T08:19:00.000-08:00

Taking the cue from Tony, here's my list of 2005 faves.

Music:

"I May Hate Myself in the Morning" by Lee Ann Womack
"Breathe (2 AM)" by Anna Nalick
"Mushaboom" by Feist
"Landed" by Ben Folds
"In the Yard, Behind the Church" by Eels
"All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands" by Sufjan Stevens
"Feel Good, Inc." by Gorillaz

Performances:

Film:

Gwyneth Paltrow in Proof. She was sublime. My favorite performance by an actor this year.
Philip Seymour Hoffman in Capote. The film is so-so, but I have a feeling that he (and, from what I'm hearing, Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain) will be the one to beat come Oscar time.
Dakota Fanning in War of the Worlds. She's damn good for a munchkin.
Shirley MacLaine in In Her Shoes. Probably the ultimate chick flick, but MacLaine is fantastic in it. Fun, sassy, and honest. Love her.
Matt Dillon in Crash. The best thing he's ever done. And it's a great movie, too.
Christian Bale in Batman Begins. He's my new hero. I wonder if he'll marry me?
Cillian Murphy in Batman Begins. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Wonderfully creepy.

TV:

Matthew Fox in "Lost." Sigh. I'd eat him with a spoon. And I love his character.
Jason Bateman in "Arrested Development." Who would have thought that Mr. Bateman would have grown into such a brilliantly subtle comic actor? He's flat out fantastic on "AD." God I hope Showtime grabs this show.
Mary-Louise Parker in "Weeds." Like buttah. Tony always calls her an "interesting actress" because of her process or whatever ... but she takes my breath away. There's a scene in an early ep of the show when she's watching a video of her late husband. You can read all 9412 emotions on her face. She's perfect.
Elizabeth Perkins in "Weeds." I'm convinced she's me, as a woman.
Debra Messing in "Will & Grace." Yes, the show is tired and well past its prime. We all know that. But I don't think Messing has ever gotten the respect and accolades she deserves for her work on this show. She's so damn funny.
Kathy Griffin in "My Life on the D-List." I have no words. I shall simply bow to her biting wit and scathing truth. And then I'll laugh my ass off.

Live music:

Melissa Etheridge was amazing on the Grammys, performing "Piece of My Heart." Brave. Crazy. Spot-on.
Trisha Yearwood's "Live By Request" concert on A&E was stunning. And she sang "Midnight Train to Georgia," so I nearly peed in my pants.
Kai Mwaafrika's performance of "Trouble in Mind" during the Phoenix Theatre's production of "Further Mo'." I used to think the song belonged to the one and only Dinah Washington. I was mistaken.

Experiences:

Seeing Marc Broussard with Tony. What a great show. And Marc is ever-so sexy.
Seeing Eels with Timmy. Fun to hang out with Tim, after far too long, and very very fun to see a great band perform in a totally different way.
Seeing The Finn Brothers with Ang. I was more familiar with their pre- and post-Crowded House work than Ang, but we had a lovely time. And the boys were great.
Opening my digital camera earlier this week. Sigh. "He knows me so well...."
The "bonding night" with Matty when the three of us laughed our asses off all night like schoolgirls.
I had a really fun weeked at Bearfest. Lots of reasons why ...
Seeing Tony onstage again was lovely.
Reading Infinite Crisis #1. Total geek, yeah ... but this book is so fun and is shaping up to be the catalyst for big changes in the DC Universe. I love feeling that old anticipation for each new issue. And my buddy Phil is doing a bang-up job on the art.

I'm going to stop now, because if I don't, I'll go on forever. Merry Christmas!!

I can only imagine ...

2005-12-22T08:29:00.000-08:00

... the comments I'm gonna get for this one:

Your Elf Name Is...

Flakey Sugar Butt

What's" Your Elf Name?

Boring tidbits

2005-12-20T06:29:00.000-08:00

Today was the holiday luncheon at my office. It was nice enough. My co-worker's sister made some homemade fried chicken, spaghetti, and garlic bread that was all quite tasty. We had the standard "Secret Santa" event, and I got a nice gift card from Best Buy. Now I just have to decide what to get with it ... I have tons of things I want, but am going to be a good boy and wait until after the holiday. I hate having to return shit.

I'm working on my annual "Jason's favorite songs from the year" CD tonight, and it's fun. If I start in on music and what it means to me, we'll be here all night, so I'll spare the gory deets. But I would be lost (LOST, I SAY!) without it. There were some truly lovely songs this year, so it makes me happy that I'll be able to share them with the people that matter most to me. I've already sent Jill about six CDs throughout the year -- she's come to expect them, now. I'm glad. We've always bonded over all kinds of things, but never music ... and now we have. A lot. She's going to be in town Wednesday night to see Tony's show, and I'm so glad. I was afraid I wouldn't get to see her before Christmas.

Tolliver is getting old. He thinks it's time to eat anytime I'm anywhere near his food dish now ... and he didn't used to be that way. He's still pretty spry, though. He bolts up the stairs rather well, and it's nothing for him to hop up on the end of the bed and settle in for the night. He's a good kitty.

I've grown really really fond of the taste of whiskey.

I don't "get" hip-hop A.T. A.L.L.

And I think it's time to stop this post before I "say" something I'll regret ...

Bearfest stuff

2005-12-20T06:18:00.000-08:00

So the Midwest Bearfest was pretty fun. Meeting Jason from Columbus was a joy, and I'm glad he's just as cool in person as he is online. I love new friends. And he's cute, to boot. Woof.

Greg's was way too crowded on Friday night. I don't think the regular crowd there realized how many guys were going to be in attendance for the bearish festivities. It got to the point where you could barely move through the crowd, and that just made me crazy. We all decided to spend as little time there as possible on Saturday so we could get to the 501 earlier. I really had a great weekend ... very fun, very silly, and a much-needed respite from (as Tony calls it) the "Holly-Daze."

Be sure to ask Matt how much fun he had this weekend. :-)

Someone must be kidding!

2005-12-16T06:59:00.000-08:00

So I’ve been sitting here this morning, waiting for some information packets to copy for a staff meeting this afternoon, and instead of doing busy paperwork while the copy machine whirs and clicks in the background, I’ve been reading an old National Geographic magazine. The cover asks “Was Darwin Wrong?” and that’s enough to pique my interest. My brother Mike used to have a subscription to NG when we were living at Mom’s, and in rare acts of kindness, he’d pass the issues along to me when he was finished reading them. I used to be something of a science geek when I was a little kid. I imagine it was my fascination with the physics behind superheroes. I really wanted to believe that it was possible for people to have superhuman abilities. But I digress …

The Darwin article (by NG writer David Quammen) is a great read. It is, of course, exquisitely written, perfectly documented, and a pleasantly straightforward piece on how the evidence supporting the “theory” of evolution is overwhelming and nearly unquestionable. I consider myself a bit of an evolution buff, but I learned a great deal from the article … and I certainly love learning new things. Acquired knowledge is a huge turn-on for me. Hehe. The article never downplays the importance of evolution as a concept – in fact, it points out rather persuasively that the idea is crucial to human welfare, medical science, and to the basic understanding of the world. My favorite quote from the piece:

“…the supporting evidence is abundant, various, ever increasing, solidly interconnected, and easily available in museums, popular books, textbooks, and a mountainous accumulation of peer-reviewed scientific studies. No one needs to, and no one should, accept evolution as a matter of faith.”

Here’s the thing that almost blew my brain apart:

“According to a Gallup poll drawn from more than a thousand telephone interviews conducted in February 2001, no less than 45 percent of responding U.S. adults agreed that “God created human beings pretty much in their present form at one time within the last 10,000 years or so.” Evolution, by their lights, played no role in shaping us.

Frightening, huh? It gets better.

“The most startling thing about these poll numbers is not that so many Americans reject evolution, but that the statistical breakdown hasn’t changed much in the last two decades. Gallup interviewers posed exactly the same choices in 1982, 1993, 1997, and 1999. The creationist conviction – that God alone, and not evolution, produced humans – has never drawn less than 44 percent. In other words, nearly half the American populace prefers to believe that Charles Darwin was wrong where it mattered most.”

I can’t even wrap my brain around that. Of course, I guess given the very scary wave of conservatism sweeping the nation, I shouldn’t be too surprised. What is it about nearly indisputable facts that frightens Americans so much? I just don’t get it. I doubt I ever will.

King Kong

2005-12-13T06:51:00.000-08:00

Saw a sneak preview of Peter Jackson's remake of King Kong. It was pretty spectacular. Clocking in at a hair over three hours, the movie is big, bombastic, and loaded with grin-inducing special effects. Essentially a love story (seriously), the film captures the spirit of 1933 masterfully. The opening shots establish the US in the throes of the worst year of the Depression, and really grabs the viewer with its exquisite imagery. It's a fun (albeit flawed in parts) script, with some sly and clever nods to the original masterpiece. Kong himself is fantastic -- everything I thought he'd be, and more. It seems trite to say he's very human, but he really is. The anguish he feels, the confusion and uncertainty, are all displayed beautifully. The film's running time does it a bit of disservice, I think, primarily because I could feel the audience get fidgety during the second act. Skull Island is appropriately creepy and mesmerizing ... the natives are frightening, living in fear of the "monster" who shares their forgotten island home. I was a little shocked at the violence portrayed on the island -- but it makes sense, in the big scheme of things. The creatures therein are pretty great, as well. The film definitely earns its PG-13 rating.

The final shots above the beautifully recreated New York City of 1933 are truly awesome. Suspend your disbelief early, however -- there's much in the final act that requires the viewer to take those giant leaps right along with Kong. But the payoff is really fun cinema. The Empire State Building looks lovely ... the cityscape is breathtaking ... the affection between Kong and the lovely Ann Darrow (a spot-on Naomi Watts) is real and honest and vivid. I loved this movie. Haven't had as much fun at a theatre in a good long while.

Technologic

2005-12-12T11:45:00.000-08:00

From Matty, via Steph.

I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter...

2005-12-06T19:43:00.000-08:00

I was sitting on the porch this evening, having a cigarette (yes, I know they're bad for me -- New Year's resolution and all, so lighten up), when it hit me: I really kinda dig winter. I know, I know ... it's cold, the snow and ice can be nasty and hazardous, it's cold, and the wind can cut right through you worse than a bitter queen's fashion commentary at the gay bar, but I can't help it. I've always sorta-kinda liked the cold. And when I was done smoking, I took a couple really deep breaths, soaked in the crisp air ... and it just felt clean. Brisk. I hesitate to use the word "peaceful," because it doesn't really seem to apply to the sensation I felt ... but that's the best I can come up with. I was calmed and soothed and comforted by the wintry breeze. Am I a freak? Maybe. But I don't care.

Quick thoughts

2005-12-06T06:15:00.000-08:00

Happy Tuesday.
The weekend was nice ... Tony's show opened and was a big hit with audiences. That makes me happy. It's a big, silly, fun piece of holiday cheer ... and he's a freakin' riot, especially as the Grinch and the Crocodile Hunter. It was a true pleasure to see him on stage again, and I hope it's the beginning of a new trend.
And it was just fantastic to see my dear friend Jessie Mae and her handsome husband. We don't see each other nearly enough, and it was comforting to find her the same sweet, funny, and charming lass I met all those years ago. She and Jeff complement each other so well ... and they're obviously still very much in love. Yay!
My friend Tony (yes, another Tony) and his wife Dawn were there as well ... but managed to sneak out after the show, so I didn't get to chat with them much. Curses!
We went out with our friends Adam and Angela afterward, and again, fun was had by all. Ang felt the warmth of a few Stoli and cranberry cocktails and ended up planting wet ones on both me and Tony ... and I couldn't help but giggle. She also got a bit frisky with our cute new friend (yet another Tony) from Muncie. Ang is such a great friend ... and I had a blast playing "three favorite songs by this band" with her. Good times.
Did some shopping and had some dinner on Sunday. Of course, the Chinese restaurant where we ate failed to mention that mushrooms were an ingredient in its beef with broccoli dinner, so when the smiling server brought it out just littered with nasty shrooms, I had to send it back. And in true Jason fashion, I think some "remnants" of fungi were present in the replacement dish, because I ended up getting that tell-tale scratch and swell in the throat ... and felt pretty crappy for about two or three hours after eating. Thank God for allergy meds.

Things that make me happy today:

Starbucks chocolate-mint doughnuts
Tony (whether the bitch believes me or not - hehe)
The thought of Christmas shopping tonight -- and hopefully getting a lot of it finished
The Christmas music swirling through my iPod
My desk fan (hot flashes? me?)
Watching the stack of "to do" stuff slowly (and I mean slowly) dwindle on my desk
Tomorrow is new comic book day
Did I mention Christmas shopping?
Dan Renzi's blog (Dan was the funny guy from one of the Real World seasons on MTV -- his blog is a freakin' riot most days, and I always have fun reading it)

More later. :-)

ho-hum

2005-11-29T17:08:00.000-08:00

I think I'm about to give up trying to "help" my best friend. As I believe I've documented before, she's been going through some rather heinous marital strife, and it just continued to escalate during the recent holiday. She sounds so world weary and exhausted when we talk. And, I could be wrong (but I know her pretty well, so I'm guessing I'm right), but I think I detected a bit of bitterness in her voice when we were chatting about the state of things this afternoon. I don't think she thinks I'm meddling ... quite the contrary, considering that she calls me and asks me advice all the time ... but I think she's just getting tired of talking about it. It's my guess that she knows where this whole mess is inevitably heading ... but she's too afraid to face it. There's nothing I can say or do to make it "better" for her ... and I feel like a broken record. So, as of today, I'm done. I won't bring it up again -- washing my hands of it and offering it up to Buddha or Allah or Aphrodite or whomever. For now, anyway. :-)

Had my bi-monthly check-up today, and apart from a tiny little inflammation, my doctor continues to tell me I'm one of his biggest success stories. That makes me feel really good ... and makes dealing with this temporary thing a bit easier. I'm pretty adaptable when it comes to these sorts of things, anyway. I tend to go with the flow ... see what happens ... where the day takes me. All that nonsense. I feel really good lately. I'll keep knocking on wood each time I say that, however.

My roomie just screeched at me to come upstairs and watch a clip from "The Daily Show." Apparently, on Black Friday, there was a stampede at a Wal-Mart store when the doors were opened ... and some poor woman was knocked down so hard that her wig flew off her head. You know it wasn't even an Eva Gabor wig.

I really want to decorate the front of the condo for Christmas. Matt doesn't seem to care one way or the other, but I know Tony really wants to ... and so do I. It doesn't look like we'll be having a tree this year (cue the "Awwwwwwwws") so some festive lights out front and maybe a wreath will do wonders for my mood. I love Christmas. I can be such a kid at this time of year. I can be a big kid most of the time, actually ... but Christmas makes me feel like Ralphie Parker. I don't give a damn if I'll shoot my eye out!

525,600 Minutes...

2005-11-27T20:57:00.000-08:00

Saw Rent this afternoon. Hmmmm. Kind of a yawn, sadly. It's destined to go down in history as one of the nobler failures of the transition from stage to screen. The movie isn't awful ... it's just sort of flat. The stage show is full of zip, bang, energy, crackling intensity, and great urgency. The movie just isn't. I've read numerous reviews that call it a directorial misfire ... and I have to agree. Chris Columbus was simply a bad choice. This film should have been directed by someone more gritty and "streetwise." Spike Lee was attached to it for years, and although Spike makes my ass itch, he would have been an infinitely better choice. The performances are all very good -- most notable Jesse L. Martin. He's flat-out fantastic. I knew he could sing, of course, and he's been very good on TV over the years ... but he just sizzles in this movie. Rosario Dawson comports herself nicely -- I've grown to like her a lot lately. She was fun and sassy in Sin City, and her Mimi here is appropriately sweet and tragic. Tracie Thoms is another stand-out. She's a wise Joanne ... and the girl can SING. Her "Take Me or Leave Me" with Idina Menzel (who we all know can sing) is fun and defiant. I liked her a lot. It's too bad the movie as a whole wasn't better. The film does point out the flaws in the script pretty distinctly -- the third act is a rambling mess, with little to grab or keep our interest, and Angel's death plays so much better on stage. But ... "oh well." I enjoyed seeing some of the great songs on the big screen and it was fun to see so much of the original cast intact. A curious misfire.

Over the river and through the woods ...

2005-11-25T06:26:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was, I think, a resounding success. My very first "on my own" turkey turned out quite well ... even though I spaced it and left the giblets pack inside the tail end. Tony even warned me that I might do it ... and of course, in true Jason fashion, I did. But that faux pas aside, it really was a juicy and flavorful bird. Yay me! :-)

Had a truly lovely time with T, Angela, Cheryl, and Matty. It's always so comforting to be around friends that you adore ... easy, painless, effortless, and sweet. I'm truly lucky to have the great friends that I do. I wish I was able to spend more time with those that live far away, but I'm sure most people have others in their lives that they wish were geographically closer. Ang kepy saying that we were all family -- and she was so right. We really are. One of my favorite things about my life is the family I've forged out of the people that matter to me. I treasure them more than any material possession.

Speaking of family -- I received a lovely email from my niece Ana this morning. She lives in France (she's been in France for at least 7 years), so our correspondence is a bit more limited than I'd like it to be. I haven't seen her in person for maybe 5 years ... but she's always been a special person to me. She's grown into a truly beautiful young woman, inside and out. She was always a strikingly attractive youngster, but she's damn stunning now. There's a bit of American Indian blood in our line via my mother, and it seems to have manifested in Ana. She looks nothing like the rest of us in the family. She's very dark-skinned and exotic ... gorgeous black hair, and legs up to her neck. The rest of us look like Krauts and potato eaters. As white as white can be. She's supposed to be back in the States after the holidays to spend some time with her mother in Missouri. Come hell or high water, I'll be seeing her while she's here. We used to have such fun as kids ... sneaking cigarettes behind the pool house, shopping for hours and hours, laughing about silly teenage stuff, and ogling boys. She was one of the first in the family that knew I was gay ... and she was like "Well, duh, Jason." In fact, the big reveal made us closer ... and she's been my most vocal cheerleader ever since. Her email this morning brightened my day. I can't wait to see her again.

BTW -- It's too cold outside.
Have a lovely day! :-)

Sometimes...

2005-11-23T12:31:00.000-08:00

It's been an interesting half week, so far. I'm suffering from a general malaise that is really getting old. I need to snap myself out of it. We're supposed to hit the bar tonight, so perhaps that will help. I am lethargic and just plain "blah." It isn't that I don't feel thankful for the good things in my life ... I do ... it's just a weird, nagging sense of "harumph." It will pass. All weirdness does, with me.

In keeping with the spirit of tomorrow's holiday ... here are some things for which I'm quite thankful:

Tony.
My Mom seems to be feeling better, and her medicine seems to be helping...
I see a light at the end of the financially crazy tunnel we've been in for a couple months...
I still tear up at the beauty of a good song...
Tony's onstage again! (Well, he will be soon ... go see it, won't you?)
I have some pretty rockin' friends. They're more than that, really -- they're my family. So a big "I love you" to Jill, Angela, April, Jessica, Shelly, Philly, Matty, Tony-O, Mike, Bryan, David, and anyone else I might be too stupid to remember.
I don't love my job, but the pay is good enough that I'm feeling a bit more comfortable where money is concerned.
Reconnecting with friends from yesteryear.
My silly kitty.
When poetry comes to me in a rush ... that's an amazing thing.

I'm also thankful for morning coffee, pretty snow, diet soda, Aveeno hand lotion, citrus-flavored mouthwash, Uncle Ben's Ready Rice, Jolly Rancher candy, new comic book day, iTunes, fresh fruit, big belly laughs, Margaret Cho, Post-It notes, chamomile tea, Dolby Digital sound, Cleo the Sutherland Place kitty, oversized paper clips, green traffic lights, Patty Griffin, and being able to try new recipes at home.

Some of my siblings are upset that we're not venturing to the happy hamlet of Chesterfield for Thanksgiving, but I couldn't care less. It's not like ANY of them have made the treacherous one hour drive to visit ME in Indianapolis. Not. One. In fact, I don't believe any of my "local" siblings have ever been to one of my residences since I've lived in the Circle City. I've lived here since 1993. Hello! Perhaps it's because I'm the baby of the family, but I'm always expected to be the one to make the trips, the sacrifices, and the time for everyone else in the family. Over it.

Anyway ... rambling mode off. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

Three Things ME

2005-11-21T05:44:00.000-08:00

I promise to NOT make these thingies a regular part of my blog ... but this came from my friend Shelly, and I thought it was fun.

Three Names you go by
1. Jace
2. Jasper
3. Nilla

Three Parts of Your Heritage
1. Scottish
2. Dutch
3. German

Three Things That Scare You
1. Snakes
2. Conservative Christians
3. Shakira

Three of Your Everyday Essentials
1. Coffee
2. My cell phone
3. My iPod

Three Things You Are Wearing Right Now
1. Khaki cords
2. My glasses
3. My ring

Three of Your Favorite Songs (at the moment)
1. “Hung Up” by Madonna (I am so embarrassed)
2. “Twenty Years and Two Husbands Ago” by Lee Ann Womack
3. “Dare” by Gorillaz

Three Things You Want in a Relationship (other than Real Love)
1. Honesty
2. Trust
3. Respect

Two Truths and a Lie (in any order)
1. I have a secret “crush” on someone I know socially.
2. I recently told a friend I’d support her decision, but I really think she’s making a huge mistake.
3. I tell everyone I’ve quit smoking – but I’m still smoking occasionally.

Three PHYSICAL Things About Other Menzes that Appeal to You
1. Laugh
2. Chest hair
3. Butt

Three of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Reading
2. Collecting comic books
3. Surfing the Net

Three Things You Want to Do Really Badly Right Now
1. Take a weekend getaway with T and just relax
2. Take a long nap
3. Lose weight

Three Places You Want to Go
1. Greece
2. Australia
3. Great Britain

Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Take an extended vacation with my girlfriends
2. Publish a novel or two
3. Live in a big, big city

Three Ways You are Stereotypically a Girl/Guy
1. I cry very easily
2. I love to gossip, even though I know I shouldn’t…
3. I fantasize about not having to work

Movie Magic

2005-11-18T05:45:00.000-08:00

So we're all a bunch of geeks. Tony, Bryan, and I went to the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last night. It was fantastic -- a truly stirring, stunning, scary, and well-made film. I feel like the franchise really comes of age with Goblet ... both in terms of the acting (the kids have really settled into their roles nicely) and the story (things move at a brisk pace, and it all seems natural). It's a very fun movie.

Gay bar, gay bar, gay bar, gay bar! Sigh.

2005-11-16T07:08:00.000-08:00

So we were at the bar this weekend, and I got all pissy because the DJ showed his lack of creativity or risk-taking chutzpah by playing pretty much the same songs we've been hearing for the last couple months. I know that it's important to play popular music ... drunk ass bitches are comforted by it ... but does it always have to be thump-thump-hook-up-at-the-club crap? I swear, if I hear that damn Pussycat Dolls song one more time, they'll be singing "Dontcha Wish Your Boyfriend Wouldn't Have Gone Psycho?" Hands down, my least favorite song of the year. Ugh. Utter tripe.

Of course, I could be considered something of a music snob ... I like to think my tastes are eclectic ... but that's a fallacy. Sure, I tend to gravitate toward the folky side of things, getting lost in the sounds of Patty Griffin, Bettye Lavette, or David Gray, but that's not all there is to me. I have some guilty pleasures buried in my collection. I groove with Justin Timberlake and Kylie Minogue occasionally, and I'm only slightly embarrassed to admit it. But there's got to be something else. You can't tell me these DJs don't have some gems they're dying to play, but don't, because the queens will get their wigs in a snit if they don't hear Daft Punk or Madonna. It's always dull, soulless dance music. Always. Remixed Jody Watley croons to me damn near every time I'm in that place. And this is supposed to be the leather bar we go to (and if I start in on that ridiculous claim, we'll be here all day)!!

Our friend David always talks about wanting to open an alt-country/folk gay bar. If I had the money, I swear I'd be right there with him, spinning the tunes and drinking my rum and Coke. You can't tell me we're the only ones sick of the shit that gets played and played and played. Instead of boring "amateur" gay porn, we'd show music biopics. Can't you see a gaggle of queens drinking mint juleps and quoting Coal Miner's Daughter? Or Sweet Dreams? (However, I draw the line at made-for-TV crap like Big Dreams and Broken Hearts: The Dottie West Story, Get to The Heart: The Barbara Mandrell Story, and Stand by Your Man.) And our bartender, decked out in requisite western gear, would spin on his Dingo heel and shout "Y'all stop fightin' and listen to me sing!"

Happy Birthday

2005-11-14T05:49:00.000-08:00

My mind has wandered a lot, of late, to topics that are a bit more serious than "Who's gonna win this year's Oscar?" or "Why did she wear that outfit in public?" I'm sure part of the reason is the season ... I always get even more introspective than usual when the holidays are impending. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because that's how my Mom used to always be, and I've adopted her behavior. At any rate ... I've been thinking a lot lately about love. It's one of the most difficult words to define, because, ultimately, its definition means different things to different people. It's been driving me crazy today, and until about ten minutes ago when I checked my email, I wasn't sure why. A bit of backstory, first, though.

My best friend, Jill, has been going through some major turmoil in her life the last few months. She seems to have reached a decision regarding her future (or, rather, her husband reached the decision and Jill, as always, decided to go along with it, not giving her own feelings credence) and that's brought her some tentative peace. I still hear uncertainty in her voice when we chat ... and doubt is a terrible thing when it permeates the fabric of your life. She kept saying "I've only loved one person in my whole life," and that made me take a look at myself and my love affairs.

I think I've truly been "in love" with four men. I've dated many more than that, sure, but only four touched me enough to get my love. That might seem like a lot to some ... but I don't think it is. The first one was ... well, today isn't the day to talk about any of them except the second one. It would be his birthday today, if he were here. For some reason, I thought his birthday was November 25, but I received an email this morning from his partner that reminded me it was indeed the 15th. So ... Stephen, then.

Stephen was ... sigh ... he was a surprise to both of us. We started as friends, wisely, and were both taken in by the other's ways and means. He was my polar opposite in nearly every way ... and I was drawn to him like nobody's business. He just crackled with something ... and it was like mother's milk to me. Our affair was brief and chaotic and passionate and mystifying and frustrating and over way too soon. We kept in touch sporadically -- he'd call me when he was going to be in town and we'd go drinking, or I'd get a rambling email sent at some ungodly hour, or I'd throw caution to the wind and call him just to see what was up in his insane world. The last time I saw him, he promised me he was quitting drugs. He told me nothing was more important to him than getting back to school, making something out of the nothing he'd already made. And I believed him, I really did. Then again, I always believed him. I remember when we were leaving the restaurant that night, we stopped by his rental car and had a smoke. We laughed. I told him I was glad he'd found happiness with his new love, that he deserved it, and that he should run with it. He called me a "stupid git," flicked his cigarette at me, and drove away.

Stephen died last year, a victim of his own excesses. His fiery personality got the better of everything in his life, apparently. I don't think I really realized that I loved him until he passed. I used to think "oh that one, well, he was fun," and leave it at that. Silly me. He stitched himself into the fabric of my being with his typical tenacity, and I wasn't even aware of it until it was too late to thank him for it. Hopefully he's singing with Janis Joplin somewhere. He always talked about Janis.

Busy busy

2005-11-12T15:33:00.000-08:00

So there's some crazy high school band competition in town this weekend, and my friend Stew said he heard there are four million kids in downtown Indianapolis. Good GOD. I worked at Downtown Comics today, and was very busy. I LOVE it when it's busy ... not only does it make the shift go faster, there's something invigorating about selling fun comics to fun people. Luckily, I don't get many "un-fun" people in the shop, so that makes me smile. There was a really nice family from Merrillville that ended up spending close to $100 on their son. I was my typical supportive self, giving them the spiel about how reading comics as a kid is what fostered my love of reading. I do my part. hehe

My roommate is in St. Louis being a brazen hussy, and I hope he's having tres fun. I'm kinda jealous, but as much as I say that, I don't know if I'd have the chutzpah to actually *attend* a big bear event like that. Sometimes, I'm way too Catholic for my own good. And I know Tony will agree with me wholeheartedly. Kudos to Matty. I can't wait to hear his stories.

My dear friend Angela wants to host a Thanksgiving dinner for her close friends, and I'm betting it will be fun and festive. I have so many things I want to contribute. I should take a cooking class or two ... I enjoy it tremendously, but don't seem to make it a habit of actually *doing* it very often. Although I have made some pretty fab chicken noodle soup a couple times here lately. I'm going to "expand" and make beef and noodles one night this week. Mmmmmmm.

random

2005-11-09T11:20:00.000-08:00

Some things that bother me:

U.S. Government

People who don't wash their hands when they're finished using bathroom facilities

Raisins

The Black Eyed Peas

The general state of radio ... I long for the days of adventurous DJs and unique listens

Voluntary ignorance

Toby Keith

When men sing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" (It's my favorite Christmas song, and it just doesn't sound right when boys sing it!)

People who have nude pictures of themselves in online profiles, but cap things off with "Not looking to hook up." Umm ... then remove the photo of your ass, 'kay?

Some things I like:

Fall weather

The way you can hear Mama Cass Elliot singing her heart out on the "and no one's gettin' fat except Mama Cass" line in "Creeque Alley"

The drop in George W. Bush's approval rating

Joely Richardson on Nip/Tuck

Patty Griffin

TV series on DVD

Infinite Crisis by DC Comics

That my cat is now sleeping in my roommate's cat's bed at night

Furry menses

Strawberry Pop-Tarts

The fact that I'm starting to like the taste of bananas

"Hung Up" by Madonna

Reese's NutRageous candy bars

That people will read this blog entry and think "Does anyone really care?"

turn that frown upside down

2005-11-07T09:05:00.000-08:00

Went to see a little film called Loggerheads yesterday ... part of the local Gay and Lesbian film festival. I'm glad we did our part to support the event ... I always mean to attend these things, but invariably end up not doing so. So a big kudos to Adam for suggesting it (not to mention funding it - hehe). Now, the film. Sigh. It was "okay." There was something sweet about the performances -- including a standout Bonnie Hunt -- but the film was riddled with cliche after cliche. There was an AIDS angle. The men were unfulfilled. There was religious oppression. Homophobia. Posturing and judging. As I said .. "sigh." I wish someone would come along and surprise me ... make a gay-themed film that's actually GOOD. Loggerheads wasn't BAD ... but it wasn't GOOD, either ... if that makes sense.

Of course the argument can be made that cliches are present because they exist and are all around us. I suppose that's true. I know a lot of unfulfilled people, though, and they aren't all gay. I think the biggest reason that happens to someone is they end up placing all their ideas of happiness or fulfillment on one person. All their eggs in one basket, if you will. The older I get the more I realize my happiness is mine to control, and no one else's. It isn't anyone else's job to make me happy. It's mine. And even though I feel like giving my two-week's notice a lot of the time, I'm accepting my job responsibilities. I do think I'm getting better about realizing the power I have over my own mindset. There are years of bad conditioning to get through, but chink by chink, I'm destroying those layers of "I can't." I'm the quintessential "work in progress." I'll get there. I know I will.