homoSEXual

Here's the latest thing I've been thinking about. One of the greatest things that defines the life of a gay man is what happens behind closed doors. It's an odd thing, because straight guys aren't usually defined by the fact that they boink women. That's why I don't understand the 'separate but equal' concept that exists.

More than anything else, I think it's the sex thing that upsets those who are opposed to the gay marriage question. My take on it? I could care less. I'm a fan of domestic partnership, but the only advantages to marriage are financial/tax benefits and of course the legal benefits enjoyed by the next of kin. A properly drafted DP bill would assure that, and the onus of marriage would be removed.

Of course, there are purists who feel that marriage is the only way. Obviously, I'm not one of them. All marriages are domestic partnerships. By the same token, all domestic partnerships are not marriages. The difference? Religious sanction. We all know what the religious right (also called the Republican Party) thinks about that. (apologies. I couldn't resist the poke.)

Prezznunt Chimpy isn't going to sleep until the constitution is amended to specifically deny a right to a group. That bothers me. I don't feel that anyone regardless of their protected status should be denied a right. I know, I know...radical fag spouting the liberal adjenda.

Anyway, a random thought. Meanwhile in Bobland....

The quest for dateable men in this area code continues, and it continues to this day! I'm having a nice time with the Snowhater (the guy I wanted to make out with on the sofa earlier.)

(...and yeah, we made out on the sofa) Snow has various issues, though. I know that everyone has issues, but the trick is to define issues that are compatible. It's the whole "Baggage that goes with mine" thing. He's an interesting bloke, though and certainly one to know better, if for no reason than to make a friend. He's a lot like Peron in some ways, namely my comfort level when we're around each other, and the ability to pick up on conversation. That's becoming a more important feature as life goes on.

Also heavily featured in my personal life is a self-destructive individual which is quite trying. On one hand, I want to be a supportive friend, but I also really REALLY can't condone self-destruction. I've always had that strange tic. I know my own lifestyle has it's various self-loathing aspects attached to it, but none of them are life-threatening or even have the potential to be arrested.

Not so close in (and in fact, I don't even know the guy because I didn't crash Boatboy's birthday party--Damn you Fuckquita!!) Todd has hopefully had an amazing meeting with his chum from California. With my own issues about not being able to date within one's area code, I can empathize with him. He posed a question, "Is it possible to fall in love over the internet?" My answer is "sure!" I'm meeting every interesting person via the internet, so it's a viable method for falling in love as well. It also has a filtering effect which makes the bizarre seem normal and balanced. That's from the anonymity of the thing. Of course, I wish him well. We've chatted back and forth (Todd and I) so I believe that he is walking in eyes wide open. I just really hope it works for him.

Everybody needs happiness in Bobland. Haouli makahiki hou!

Urgence de neige!

I can't emphasize this enough:

INDIANAPOLIS HAS THE WORST SNOW EMERGENCY PLAN IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE.

It's just insane! People here have difficulty coping with precipitation to begin with, but when a couple of inches of snow fall, people become positively paralyzed. Circle City has a very comprehensive snow-removal plan that apparently is a classified document. It is highly touted on the county/city websites, and discusses how primary arteries will be cleared with the utmost urgence, with lesser routes being tidied when time permits. Well, 48 hours post-event, one of this cities most notorious routes, 38th Street is still covered with a packed snow floor for a great length. Road salt here is coated, so it turns the snow an ugly brown where applied--no sign of that. I'm lightly pissed because I had to sit through 20 minutes of SUVs driving inappropriately over two lanes of traffic.

Oh well...

I enjoyed the day, despite it's horrid traffic. It's very pretty out, so I took newspapers out and read along the river. I secretly wanted to purchase a sled and be a fool on the levee, but cooler minds prevailed. Partly because I'm a tad fried still from last night's events. I went out with my dear friend Peron and shook my bootie a tad violently. It was a good time, though. At one point, we sat up on the balcony, and looked down and tried to decide who would suffer from the pain of waking up next to a truly unlovely boy the next morning. We even went so far as to befriend a very cute lesbian, and her not-so cute gayboi chum. Of course, the night isn't complete without drunk dancing queen pouring half of his $.50 draft beer down my sleeve.

In all, a good time was had by all, and we managed to escape before the fluorescent lights came again. That's never a happy moment, even when you are out with someone, so I really try to avoid it whenever possible.

Tonight, or actually last night/this morning, I met yet another internet chum, for dinner , polite conversation and telly. The sad thing about Indianapolis (but it's not terribly surprising) is that all the 24-hour establishments shutter for Christmas Eve. We drove aimlessly through the tundra looking for coffee, but found none. Eventually, we settled on Speedway coffee and came back to watch several episodes of a favourite Brit sitcom, "The Young Ones."

No snogging on the sofa, dammit. *sigh* Would have liked to, in a way just for the physical contact aspect (not the sexual one.) I try to remain conscious of the perceptions that people make when you suggest such things. For a lot of guys, making out is simply a prelude to sex, rather than a close contact activity. For me, making out can just be making out. It's fun--I like to do it, but it doesn't always mean that boinking will occur. Besides, it can be a public activity, where sex really isn't.

Enough of that...for them that subscribe to the Judeo-Christian-capitalist belief system, Happy Christmas!

She's So Unusual

Odd times, these.

Right now, I'm listening to Cyndi Lauper tell me "And once we start, the meter clicks, and it goes running all through the night. Until it ends there is no end. Keep forward with me all through the night.

It seems an apt metaphor right now. I'll not discuss why, but maybe it's good to be melancholy every now and again. Also, I'm really random today for various reasons, so if I ramble more than usual, my apologies.

I think my ill thoughts started yesterday (Saturday) when I went on an exercise in futility to do a bit of shopping. I realized I had committed such a HUGE error in judgment when I couldn't get into a parking lot that was normally empty. I should have cut my losses, circled the lot and left, but I didn't. I did find parking, and I did actually manage to get into Cost Plus. My goal was to buy a "tasteful gift in glass" for two parties I was attending that evening (More on that morose subject later.)

I wandered around and looked at the various wine bottles, and I realized that I was really in over my head. When did "Fine wines from Australia" overrun the market? They do have pretty labels and competitive prices, but are they really good for anything but cooking? I didn't know this bloke well enough to gift him with Veuve Cliquot, besides, I figured it would be unappreciated. The first of that evening's engagements would (and did) appreciate an old favourite, Moet White Star, so I hobbled out with at least one gift.

Baffled and frustrated, I jogged into Osco, found a nice bottle of Skyy (which is still sitting on my table) that I would fit my host more appropriately, and came home to make preparations.

First party was believed to be a dinner engagement because it started early. Well there were some nibbly things, and some very nice people, none of which I knew, so it balanced. In all, I enjoyed myself, and pressed on, as many of the attendees were going to a concert. I should have gone with them in retrospect.

Enter the hinterland. I apparently didn't write down the directions properly, because I was hideously lost. I called everyone I know in Fishers in an effort to get turned right, but since most of Hamilton County is a mess of new housing, each with a name more pretentious than the next, my "Bradford Knoll" fell upon unknowing ears.

I finally found a road that appeared on maps, and made tracks to the big city, just in time for the Bingo Parlour to let out.....ugh! I don't know when I've seen so many slow-moving people in my life. In all, it turned into a really lousy evening. I made dinner out of a beer and some polite conversation with the lads online, which explains why I'm so voracious now.

So, here I am today. As promised, the "mild spell" did end with just a bit of snow on the ground this morning. Not a great deal, but just enough to make things look pretty, which is brightening my spirits somewhat. That said, I'll go find a nice cup of coffee somewhere, read the morning papers, and press on.

If this world makes you crazy and you’ve taken all you can bear you call me up because you know I’ll be there.

Goober weather

BARTHOLOMEW-BOONE-BROWN-CARROLL-CLAY-CLINTON-DAVIESS-DECATUR-DELAWARE-FOUNTAIN-GREENE-HAMILTON-HANCOCK-HENDRICKS-HENRY-HOWARD-JACKSON-JENNINGS-JOHNSON-KNOX-LAWRENCE-MADISON-MARION-MARTIN-MONROE-MONTGOMERY-MORGAN-OWEN-PARKE-PUTNAM-RANDOLPH-RUSH-SHELBY-SULLIVAN-TIPPECANOE-TIPTON-VERMILLION-VIGO-WARREN-

340 PM EST THU DEC 16 2004 ...

CENTRAL INDIANA WILL GET COLD...WIND...AND SNOW...THIS WEEKEND...

A STRONG COLD FRONT WILL MOVE ACROSS CENTRAL INDIANA SATURDAY NIGHT ANDSUNDAY. THE FRONT WILL BRING THE LOWEST TEMPERATURES SO FAR THIS SEASON.STRONG WINDS WITH THE FRONT WILL GREATLY ACCENTUATE FALLING TEMPERATURES.THE FRONT WILL BE LIKELY BE ACCOMPANIED BY SNOW. ACCUMULATIONS ARE CURRENTLY FORECAST TO BE AROUND AN INCH. THE FORECAST MAY CHANGE AS MORE INFORMATION BECOMES AVAILABLE.

STRONG WINDS WILL MAKE SNOW BLOW AROUND AND REDUCEVISIBILITIES. RELATIVELY MILD WEATHER IS FORECAST FOR CENTRAL INDIANA INTO SATURDAY.

HOOSIERS MAY WANT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE MILD SPELL BEFORE CONDITIONS TURN MORE WINTRY SUNDAY.

Hoosiers may want to take advantage of the mild spell? The NWS actually said this.

...In which the wife sends candy

Topic of the rant today is friendship, and it's effect on our lives. I've wondered from time to time if having a monogamous relationship is an appropriate thing for me. I've mentioned it before, and I think it bears repeating. I'm fully capable of maintaining a relationship with another—in fact I think my track record is not too shabby in that respect. RR and I were together for 13 years, after all. Traditional heterosexual relationships with their legal ties and mortgages etc. are lucky to exist that long.

In between that and the real shortage of men that meet my admittedly high standards of dateablility, I'm starting to shift my paradigm of what makes me happy in terms of long-term relationships. Don't get me wrong, I think there really is a boy out there that would rock my world, but identifying him has been problematic.

Last night, I was in a chilly mood. My thermostat giving me attitude, and the aforementioned lack of cute boys to curl up on the sofa with forced me to wrap myself in a bulky sweater, and park my ass in front of the computer with a box of maple candy (more on that subject later.) I started my usual chit-chat with various people, and eventually narrowed my conversations down to two—Pianist and another friend, (who isn't blessed with a nickname yet.)

Pianist and I have been engaged in a game of 20 questions over the span of the last couple of weeks, given the fact that we've only whittled away 6 questions thus far, we're not taking it much in earnest. Fact is, other subjects keep distracting us. One of those things was this whole 'not religious yet spiritual/agnostic' commentary. It's a difficult thing to pen, but it's one of those things that just exist. Some people feel a need to place a face on their deity (Jesus, Allah, Buddha, et. al) but I shrug it off as something that exists. I know I'll never understand it or how it works, so I just move on with my life, comfortable in that knowledge.

One of the conversations that Pianist and I had was about how shit just falls into the lap. To a great extent, I believe it to be true. For him, it was a building that "winked" at him, and a feeling that money would come from it. Sure enough, a job came up, and cash flow ensued. Opportunities have traditionally sought me out, and when the "gut instinct" makes me feel comfortable in making the leap of faith, I do. Rarely has it steered me wrong. In fact, I've met some remarkable people and I've done some incredible things based on instinct, and encountered 'nouns' that I might have normally passed by, which is always fun.

In fact it was instinct that prompted me to first say hello to Pianist, so if the karma thing plays out, there is something that will come from our association. Who knows what it might be—friendship, romance, maybe he'll break my heart, or maybe he'll eat my spleen sautéed with fava beans and a nice Chianti. *shrug*

This "Karmic instinct thing" also is protective in a way, and it's kept me from doing some destructive things in my past, and for that I'm eternally grateful. Otherwise, I'd probably be pushing up daisies with my collection of friends from the early 80s.
One thing that the protection thing isn't doing is keeping me from snarfing down this damned box of maple candy.

Once upon a time, I mentioned to my wife that I did indeed love me some maple candy. Since said wife is in Canada (thus the reason I call him wife, and he calls me husband) I figured that he might just make his way down to Eton, The Bay (or whatever) and grab some of those delish maple leaves from the True North. Yesterday, the package arrived with not one but FOUR boxes of maple candy from Vermont, with a card indicating the significance of each box. (I'm not complaining, though by the time this is through, my ass may begin to resemble Vermont and New Hampshire.)

I started thinking about my wife, and the relationship we have. He's a pretty special fellow, but he's most likely never going to be a romantic interest in my life. There are various reasons for this, the most obvious being the fact that he already has a boyfriend. By that same token, he's also one of those people that I just can't imagine being without. That's odd, because I don't really know him very well. Still though, I think time will draw us closer, and I can easily see us as old men on a beach wearing Speedos, sipping martinis, and bitching about men.

The more I thought about wife and this totally unsolicited gift, the more it became clear:

I got my 'damned flowers' (see the previous entry) but they just came in the form of candy.

The point is it's not flowers I want, or frankly even a gift. It's a friend that thinks enough of me to do something sweet and something totally off the cuff. Perhaps it's not a boyfriend/husband that I want, but instead just a tight circle of friends, with an occasional one with "boinkability" to satisfy the more prurient needs.

As gay men, we don't develop traditional familial ties, because our associations aren't blessed by the usual protections of law and convention. Many times, we lose track of our traditional family ties because of that same gay thing. As such, we develop a 'family' of friends that better suit our unique circumstance. I really felt it in Hawaii with the various people we associated with, and to some extent I'm developing similar ties here. There are those who I associate as "brothers and sisters" and of course "wacked-out cousins" galore ?

So in the futurescape of the Pianist, wife, FXB, and whoever else might be tossed into the equation…who knows? I'll just coast along and see what is dropped in my lap. Karma takes good care of old Bob, and I hope I'm taking good care of my karmic bank account so my next life will be as a lap dog to a wealthy daughter of the Revolution.

The relationship question

I say this a lot. "There are no datable men in Indianapolis." To a certain extent, it really is true. I'm kind of striking out in the "normal guy that i want to grow old with" department. I'm meeting some interesting people, but they have faults that are difficult to get around.

Admittedly, most of these character flaws are items that I personally find difficult to deal with. Like the line from Rent sez, "Everybody has baggage. I'm just looking for baggage that goes with mine." That's true. I've got this small set of Samsonite that I carry around, and wouldn't you know it, all I find out there are either these damn Louis Vuittons, or some skanky Goodwill pressboard bags in blue.

*sigh*

Re-enter FXB. Remember him? I was all hot and heavy over him last month, and in the interim, he's faded into quiescence. He's as good an example of my schema in dating recently, and in reality he's pretty typical. The fatal flaw with this young man is the fact that he's a classic case of unrequited love. For the longest moment, I built up a relationship with him in my mind, but it wasn't reciprocated.

I'll speak very candidly about FXB, because I don't believe he reads this. Another reason is his relative anonymity. Nobody that I know seems to have an idea of who he is, and he's been insulated from just everybody I know. That's unique, because Indianapolis has this whole 3 degree of separation thing going on. Eventually everybody knows everybody.

So the reason I thought FXB was doable from a relationship standpoint is he ranked highly in the triad. At one point, I thought he was a 3/3, but it turns out he was a 1/3, which is why I don't dote over him in the way I did. I call it the triad, and it works like this: In every gay relationship there are three factors. In a perfect universe, they are all equally weighted, but in reality, they are far from balancing themselves. First is the social aspect. Is there the ability to share common interests with others? Is this a guy that is hesitantly invited to social functions because "he's your boyfriend"? Then there's that whole friendship/trust thing. Why have a boyfriend who is a schmuck?

That leads into the intellectual aspect. If you've been hanging around, you know that I value it highly. I prefer men that are on my same level of intellectual curiosity or above. It's not even a matter of that curiosity being in the same subject, it's the fact that it exists. My man has to be well-read, but at the same time not arrogant. A man who teaches, or would feel comfortable expressing ideas and opinions to different audiences would be nice.

Since we're discussing a triad, there should be a third point. I call it sex. Being a fag, I have sex with men. I'm rather fond of it, but in the same measure, the fact that I boink boys plays a fairly small part in my life as a whole. Nevertheless, it does play a point, and one that i can't ignore. I'll admit it. I like sex. I've been called a slut from time to time in my career, and that's fine with me. In the same vein, I don't fuck anything that moves, much to the chagrin of more than a couple boys in this town. For instance, I was told the other night "Man you are so hot. I wanted you to fuck me right there in the bar." How do you respond to something like that? On one hand, it is very flattering, but on the other hand, it's less than thrilling to realize that people just want you for a physical attribute. In the relationship thing, sex becomes more important, because it's assumed that the individuals engaged in a relationship are only having sex with each other.

Now, back to FXB, I thought we did really well in the social aspect, fair in the intellectual, and truthfully, the sex wasn't shabby. Nothing that left me breathless (on any of the three) which is why I always took the idea of having a relationship with him with a big ol grain of kosher salt. With FXB, however, I do have to say one thing. He didn't associate sex with love, which is a very good thing. A lot of people do make that association, but I don't. Understand this--sex is a dandy way of expressing love for another, because it's a very intimate and sensual expression. But in Bob's Big Book of Answers, sending flowers is a far more effective way of showing me how much you appreciate me. It doesn't even have to be flowers, it can be a phone call to say hi, or grabbing a bar of good dark chocolate and port for dessert.

ummm...notice the first thing I mentioned. I WANT FLOWERS DAMMIT!

One last comment to my flamer of the previous post. If you don't have the common courtesy to offer a constructive criticism, don't. Also, if my words are so offensive, don't keep looking for more of them. As Nancy Reagan sez, "Dior!" (and just say no)

After all, you never know who might be logging IP addresses.....

Thanksgiving Chicken

This will basically comprise 2 posts in one. Don't you feel lucky?

I do. Truly blessed, for I see the light at the end of the tunnel and for once it's not a 99 car freight train coming at me. This afternoon I had the first solid meal I've had in a six days. So, what did I have? Steak and Shake with an egg nog milkshake. I figured all the fat would help it slide down my throat, as well as provide my bod with some much-needed calories. None of my clothes fit anymore, and for the first time in many years, I feel skinny.

So, this flu-thing has kicked my ass. I started illin' on Monday night, and woke up with the first of a chain of fever spikes and drenching sweats. Needless to say, I've sucked down a lot of ibuprofen/acetaminophen and whatever else I have been able to swallow.

I'm feeling much better now, though. And before I continue more, for thems of you who knew my home phone number--it has changed. I'm now a happy VoIP customer. The evil empire that formerly served my telecom needs is a glimmer in my rear-view mirror now, the final argument with them being "Can I have my telephone number?" They wanted to charge me, and came up with various stories for why they needed to do so. I asked why I was charged a "number portability" fee each month. I was referred to another number to call to inquire about that. To cut the story short, I told them to bite my left ass cheek, and they could keep their precious number. So, if you want some digits, show me some love.

backing up now to Thanksgiving. I was sitting on my robust butt, and not particularly wanting to do anything. I had a little community service/volunteer project with a friend in the afternoon, and I just wanted to cruise until then. I phoned the kind friend who had offered her family in a sympathy gesture (I thought it was quite kind though I did feel like a "token.") While on the phone, she asked about different troubles she was having in the kitchen, told me that though she had set out alcohol, nobody was drinking, and that besides, she had someone she wanted me to meet.

Swell.

I prettied myself in my little doctor-y scrubs and set off to Carmel to get the party started. I smiled, laughed, and made everyone French 75's, which greased the affair quite a bit. The person I was supposed to meet was a child attending school who had just come out to his parents. Like all good academians, he was a tad nebbish, a bit spotty (19, after all) and never left my side. I guess I was supposed to be the mentor or something. Whatever. I had blood pressures to check and flu vaccine to administer later. We ate a passable meal, and I came back downtown to discharge my volunteerism. Yay me!

I've decided that should I find myself in Naptown next year, I'll sponsor my own "rogue fags alone in the city" dinner, in the way we did in Hawaii. I enjoy the camaraderie, and the ability to share with friends and drink to excess. Then again, that's a full year away. Who knows what a year may bring?

Now, moving from reasons to stay in Indiana to reasons to get the hell outta Dodge......

The list keeps growing daily, the longer I stay here. They just didn't know when to stop when they started jotting down laws in this silly place. The blue law that irritates me the most is the "Dry on Sundays/Holidays" law. That one slays me for so many reasons, mostly because I tend to forget to buy beer on Saturday, and I want one on Sunday. Yeah, yeah I know that we're all supposed to be good law abiding Christians, just like the forefathers instructed us to. I can't complain too loudly, because the fine individuals that penned that law also included a clause that allows alcohol to be served to patrons "either sitting or standing" I think that's very liberal!

My legal forays began with a conversation that we had about age of sexual consent. There's a fascinating site that digs deep into that oft-asked question, complete with excerpts from the individual countries/states asserting those numbers. We shuffled about that age being 16 in Indiana or 18. I was right, of course because the bill that was introduced to bring the legal age up to 18 didn't actually make it to being a law. I found that odd, given the conservative demeanor of this state. One would think they would do anything to protect the young firm parts of their own daughters. Guess 48 months doesn't make a difference after all.

Of course the most HEINOUS of the code violations is the infamous Indiana Boner Law. Section 1D states:

As used in this section, "nudity" means the showing of the human male or female genitals, pubic area, or buttocks with less than a fully opaque covering, the showing of the female breast with less than a fully opaque covering of any part of the nipple, or the showing of covered male genitals in a discernibly turgid state.

Oh, yeah....love me some discernibly turgid genetalia! What it means, of course is you have committed an act of gross sexual indecency equal to whipping your schlong out and slapping it on the hood of a police cruiser if your pee-pee is visibly even the slightest bit happy in it's cozy basket of underoos and Levis.

Heh. Think about that when you go to bed tonight.

Not surprised by the GG....

You're Blanche!



"I'm single, I'm free on Saturday night and I can arch my back until my head touches my heels." You're Blanche Deveraux -- that's French for "Blanche Deveraux" -- the round-heeled daughter of a moonshiner named Big Daddy. You've done every AARP-card-carrying man in Miami and have have a handcuff-endurance record ("My personal best was 32 hours, but then I had a playmate.") Your best line: "You know what goes great with Champagne? Me!"




Which Golden Girl are you? Find out now!

Reading is Fun and Mental!

Today's show is brought you by the latter J, as in Jaded!

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am essentially a lazy person. I do throw passion and effort into things that are important, but on the whole, I'm not one to throw a lot of time into mundane tasks. As such, I'm not a particularly tidy person. Pair that with a roommate who is also not so tidy, and you get a messy apartment.

But that's not what I'm wanting to talk about. It's about me! It's all about me. You don't like it? Get your own fucking blog! The whole concept of putting thoughts onto the internet is one of self-absorption to start with, and in my case just a little organization. I've said all this before, so it doesn't bear repeating.

I'm going to use this particular post to point you in the direction of a few things that I read on a regular basis. We'll start here, with this particular post. If you don't look at another link in this entire entry, just read these words. I think it's one of the more elegant things that I've read. It's about the reality of the lifestyle as a whole. He hits on a lot of truths, and I did feel a bit of a sting when I read it the first time, because there was a lot of application in my own life. Above link is to one post; the whole shee-bang is here: IMNOT2BZY

Todd kinda rocks--I admit it, I'm a fan.

Another person in my list is Riley. I like Tom's journal because it's a summary of his day. It's like reading an autobiography in a way. People that allow others to enter their lives are pretty special, and earn my admiration. Although I don't know him particularly well on a personal basis, I think Tom has the potential to be the most "real" person I've encountered.

Moving along in the lists of people that I actually know that might be of interest to others, there's the dynamic team of M&M Mike qualifies to be my oldest friend. I've talked about him earlier, and I just love the boy! His charming wife Monica has also moved into my collective conscious as a dear, dear friend. Of course by listing them here, I'm hoping to shame them into writing more. It probably won't work, but what the hell. Can't blame a boy for trying.

In Rent, Mark Cohen laments, "How do you document real life when real life is getting more like fiction each day?" My dearest friend Arion does a fair job of it, and I always enjoy reading his words. I met him online (Yahoo, as I recall, so it was truly random) in the late 90's, so he qualifies to be an old friend by online standards. Because we met in such a random fashion, it was Ari that made me believe in fate bringing people together.

That pretty much sums up the blogs of those I know (or at least pretend to know) There are a dozen or so that I look at on a regular basis. These are random people that catch my eye for various reasons. Topping the list is this Mo from Boise. Idaho is of course is my stomping ground, so in some way, it will always be home for reasons of argument. Whether I could ever live there again is a point for some argument, but I do have to say that I enjoy myself whenever I travel to the native soil.

I don't know this guy, but damn isn't he cute? This guy isn't as cute, but his words give me a virtual hardon. Of course, no list of blogs would be complete without a little political commentary or a nod from a famous person, her support team, and a drag queen just for the diversity of it all.

There you have it. That's what I look at on a regular basis, blog-wise, and all because of my inherent laziness! Yay me!

Pissy.

What's more irritating than being in a pissy mood? That's right, people who feel compelled to take you away from yourself. As a friend once so cleverly said, "I'm not Mary-fucking-sunshine 24/7."

Truer words aint been said. I'm not in a good mood for various reasons, and thanks, I don't need to be cheered up. I do not require a smile, nor should I "buck up" so you will feel better about yourself. People who smile all the time need to reduce their dosage of Wellbutrin, Celexa, Prozac, or whatever the fuck you're on.

It's not natural to be happy all the time, contrary to what the American pharmaceutical industry might want you to believe. People get sick and die. Jobs and careers are flushed down toilets. Friends are betrayed. Bad things happen to good people. It's all part of the life thing, and it's not all daisies and puppies.

That lobster you ate last night is shit today. Last weeks roses are compost. Youth withers to age.

Lesson to be learned? If someone tells you they are pissy, be supportive, but not invasive. I'll call you if I want to talk to you; I have no qualms about doing that, and in the same vein, if someone phones you at 3am to talk, you have the responsibility as a friend and human to listen. However, it's not your place to tell someone to smile because they might bring you down. That's self-centered.

End rant. No comments.

Todd on the mind

Everyone has a seminal singer. That one individual that defines your life, or at least a spot in your life that makes us what we are.

For me, it's Todd Rundgren. Yes, it's an off the wall choice, because he wasn't much of a singer, and he had a great face for radio. I think that's the attraction, though. I was never a twink (more on that subject later) so I never identified with that image. My singing was mediocre as well, so someone who could carry a tune, but not well had a special spot in my heart as well.

"Hello, it's Me." That's my song. Go listen to it and get back to me. It was the great hit that he both wrote and sang. Todd wrote a shitload of songs, but like my other great hero, Harry Nilsson, he left the vocals to someone else to do. That's not the song on my mind right now, though.

I'm in a strange mood lately. Mostly for reasons that I don't feel much in the mood to divulge now. Let's just say that life ought to be defined by one of the great quotes from the movie Brazil:

"We're all in this together."

I've said that more than once, and I really believe it to be true. Without each other, we flounder, do the fish out of water thing, etc., and life pretty much reeks of heavy suckage.

But I digress just a little.

Oh, what the fuck, I'll keep digressing. (you don't like it? Get your own blog and bore others) The other great line from Brazil is: "You won't go anywhere in that suit."

Back on tack, however is the reason I'm fussing over Todd today--a Faboooo song he scribbled down--goes something like this:

Pay your price, a ticket to paradise.

I can't stay here anymore,

and I've looked high and low

I've been from show to show to show

If there's a shortcut, I'd have found it

But There's no easy way around it

chorus

Light of the world,

shine on me

Love is the answer

Shine on us all,

set us free

Love is the answer

Who knows why?

Some day we all must die.

We are all homeless

little boys and girls

And we are never heard

It's such a lonely world

People turn their heads

and walk on by

tell me it's worth

another try

chorus

Tell me are we alive

or just a dying planet?

What are the chances?

Ask the man in your heart

for the answer

When you feel the pain

when you've lost your way

when you're all alone

when you're far from home

when you're down and out

when you're hope has run out

when you need a friend

when you're near the end

We have to love each other.

That's it--we have to love each other. We have to be nice to one another, because if we don't do it for ourselves, nobody is going to do it for us. It's like the self-esteem thing--if you don't love yourself, how can you expect someone else to love you in return?

Twink

Falling back with the whole self-love thing, I've been running across a lot of people lately who are really miserable, and it makes me sad. Some are unhappy because they want something that isn't within their grasp, some because they don't feel good about themselves. A small group because they are unwell (either physically or mentally.) It makes me think of a conversation that we had last night in the gay.com chatroooms. {You'll find me there often. Say hi.} The subject was the word twink.

As previously mentioned, I never was a twink. According to Bob's Unabashed Dictionary, a twink is an adjective describing a somewhat shallow, definitely vapid youngman who believes his own PR, no matter how inflamed it might be. Twinks are absorbed in their selves and generally ignore the world about them, unless it involves another twink, and definitely only twinks from the right side of the tracks. They obviously move in cliquish packs and refuse to associate with anyone outside of their age range (which would be 18-23...Maybe 25 if good hair and a better body is involved)

All in all, twink is a derogatory term, I'd say. In the same way that I can use fag as a term because I happen to be homosexual, and some can use nigger because they are of African descent, twink can be used as a pundit. Nothing wrong with that, say I. Nonetheless, we had a nice discussion about the word, with a couple of men who are honestly young enough to be my sons. One of them describes himself as a twink quite proudly, and he probably is. He certainly matches the age criterion, but that's about it. He's polite enough to hold a conversation (in his words: "I don't like most people I meet, but I continue talking to them because it's rude not to.") His ability to compose his thoughts separates him far and beyond people in his age range and it certainly splits him from the land of the twink.

End rant.

My message today is simply love each other, because we're all in it together. Twinks, old fucks such as myself, fat, thin--it really makes no difference. Just be nice, and impeach Dubya.

Condom-sleeza Rice is the Secretary of State? Man, we are so fucked.

Sorry seems to be the hardest word

Check it out.

Robert's Rules

I've been thinking quite a bit recently. That's a good thing, because not many people think enough. I've decided that in my (mumble) years as a slightly ostentatious fag, I've amassed a cute knowledge base. It's not as large as the Microsoft KB of useful useless information, but nonetheless, it's decent.

My topics are far more utilitarian, and they do have a better applicability to life than "limitations of the FAT32 system in XP."

(Yes, I've read it and used it recently)
(No, don't ask)

With no further adieu, these are things I've learned:

• People won't change to suit you or your core beliefs. They might make a minor modification for a short-term goal (such as getting laid) but core values are like "family values" and the attraction to SUVs. These things are indefinable but strongly held. Waiting on someone to change is akin to teaching a pig to fly--it only wastes your time and irritates the pig.
• People don't really change over time, they only become more the way they have always been. Some totally wacked out chick said that. Ayn Rand maybe? If so, it still doesn't change my opinion that she is truly evil.
• People that treat service workers like dirt really aren't nice people. I have worked in service (in a way) and I've seen people that treat other humans like shit for no particular reason. It's very sad, and there's no reason for it.
• Go with your gut instinct. The brain only mucks things up. Where the brain goes, the heart oft follows. I tend to over-analyze things, which leads to me coming to conclusions that are often incorrect. Universally, in retrospect I should have just listened to my first instinct and been done with it.
• Addictive personalities, whatever they may be, breed addictions. Accept the limitations and press on with your life. Too often, addictions are merely replaced by other addictions, so no real progress is made. When I was at my low-down lowest, I was offered a job as a disease counselor in a methadone clinic. The position was sweet, and one that was right up my alley, but the clientele irked me. Methadone is not too much more than state-sponsored heroin addiction, and I haven't seen a great deal of progress made in that field.
• The internet breeds antisocial behaviour. That said, FXB is history. The boy really is a clueless individual. Go back up to that gut instinct thing that told me he was totally wrong for me. See? That's why he got called "Future Ex Boyfriend." Besides the fact that he's not a particularly happy person leads me to believe that for a ltr, he's REALLY not right for me, but probably appropriate for someone else. However, for a short term thing (which truthfully is what I need right now)...Well I'll just say that FXB is totally fuckable and leave it at that.
• Coffee pot etiquette tells a great deal about a person. The person who leaves a mess of sugar and creamer is probably too consumed in their own affairs to be bothered. The person who cleans without provocation is probably codependent. Person who makes a mess trying to use the "fresh pot" while said pot is still brewing (especially when a new pot is sitting on the burner next to it) probably will fly at the least provocation. The polite boy that dumps the grounds, makes a clean pot, and doesn't quibble about drinking coffee that's more than 2 minutes old is a team player, and probably quite dependable.

FXB defined!

e.e. cummings didn't use upper-case letters, and for this short statement, i won't either. instead, i'll say that the boy who thought that he was fxb isn't. i would be interested to know if this unidentified boy reads this. if so, do call ;-)

i'll die a thousand deaths when you do, but i could use the laugh.

Dark Chocolate

I've oft said "I like my drinks bitter and my boys sweet. Fact is, I just prefer bitter things. It's always been a thing I've loved--quinine in tonic water, Campari, dark chocolate--the list goes on and on. Even things that should properly be sweet (cheesecake, f'rinstance) I prefer with just a taste of sweetness

I'm polishing off the last of the very very good dark chocolate that I brought back from Switzerland. I've maintained a secret stash in my drawer at work, for those moments when it just gets to be too much. People accuse me of not sharing, but I don't recall seeing that in my job description. After all, I do keep a bowl of candy on my desk, and you're welcome to it. Furthermore, I'm a pushover--lots of people know that, and some even take advantage of the fact. I'll occasionally even do things that are detrimental to my own well-being so that someone else will be happy. Mind you, that's not too often, and you had better be a gooood friend to expect that kind of treatment.

Still, what is mine is yours. I'll always share what I have with a friend. However, I won't give cash to homeless people, because I don't condone drug use. Plus, I don't consider homeless people to be friends, regardless of how chummy they might try to be to me. I know not all homeless people scrape their pennies together to purchase something illicit, but I do notice that they keep "Irish Rose" locked up in the ghetto stores. I also see intoxicated homeless people and know that the inebriation had to come from somewhere. Really, I'm not stupid. If you want to do drugs, great--get a job that does not require a "whiz quiz" and buy some.

I'm in an odd mood today and I can't quite identify why it is. The weather is beautiful--the sun is shining, it's probably close to 14 degrees and it's just a stunning autumn day. I started the day with unbridled optimism, but it's slowly sinking and I am feeling a tad powerless to change it. I will, though--it's too fucking pretty not to. Besides, I know that in a few short weeks, it will be over and the wretched Indiana winters will begin with its ice and despair. The colour will drain, and a very different beauty will wash over the landscape. Something austere, yet still pretty. I think the thing to do is to make a call I don't want to make, then toss myself into repairing this pit. (I'm a bit untidy, and roommate is a slob as well.) I think I'll also enjoy something in the "comfort food" column. Perhaps a run to Greenwood for hot Krispy Kremes. I know--gross, but they make me happy. Little circles of fun! Wheee!

Ilove my blog. In these few short sentences, I've actually made myself feel better. How awesome is that? Now, if I can only keep some asshole from fucking it up before I go out again.

funny side note--the spell check on this thing doesn't have blog in it!

Emotionally bankrupt and morally deficit

Well!

A few notes of interest, and the creation of "Bob's universal disclaimer." First off, there has been a great torrent of interest about moving to Canada. I often jokingly said "If Bush is re-elected, I'm becoming a Canuk." It's happened, so perhaps I should look to the neighbour to the north. In a way, I've always been a "Canadaphile" of sorts, but I'm not sure that emigration is the appropriate move. I happen to like being an American, and despite it's failures in appointing effective leader, I hold on to the belief that I truly wouldn't be happy elsewhere in the world.

Traveling is such a broadening experience, and everyone should do it. That's why every American should hit the road and see what another culture is about. Everyone should experience the opinion of a Non-American. Every American should understand why the US is listed among with North Korea and Iran as a threat to global security.

I digress--it's all about Bob! Dubya can get his own fucking Blog.

I met Good Sex Guy for a social activity, which was actually very nice. We had cocktails and conversation, which was not a typical activity for us. Granted, I've talked with GSG, but our encounters normally begin with the taste of his tongue and end with conversation. This time it was reversed. He looks good in clothes ;-) We chit-chatted about various things, including the boy that he's "seeing." (as opposed to "dating") which led me to think that I wasn't going to swap spit with the boy.

Whups. Wrong-o! I asked GSG if I could be his mistress if he did begin properly dating this boy. Apparently, that's up for discussion. Heh. Unfortunately, I don't shtup married men, so if he do start dating, I'll gracefully step back and wait for a break-up. Of course, if that should occur, I'll begin the interview process for a new GSG, but I have to say that the replacement will have some mighty tight competition. GSG is hot, but I've probably mentioned that already.

There's another boy that has garnered my interest that I'll call GF. He's the reason I've developed a "Universal Bob Disclaimer."
"Hi, my name is Bob. You will think I am unlike men you have met before. You will also think I am very kind, but do not mistake this. Do not fall in love with me."

That sounds like an incredibly conceited thing to say, and an amazingly self-centered way of saying it. It sounds like men are falling all over themselves to be my lover, but it's happened before, and it's happened recently. GF is a friend, and one that I dismissed as a romantic interest some time ago. I think of him as a brother, not a lover. To have sex with him would seem incestuous. Much like my brother, I have no desire to boink him. So, with tears and just a little drama, I heard all about it.

Therefore, I'm emotionally drained today.

O, Canada!

It's over, and I'm mad as hell and I can't take it anymore!

*tosses television out a window*

Oh, that's a combination of SCTV and various other influences.

I digress. Last week had various spills and thrills. Of note would be the Minneapolis excursion. I travelled with a chum (TG) who had a very busy agenda. Consequently, we didn't see much of each other. Aside from an occasional glance and short descriptions of our days. We did have a short shopping time at the store I'll always remember as the "Mary Richards Department Store" (it was formerly Dayton's where MTM threw her beret in the air in the opening of her show. It's now a Marshal Fields.)

I also had a semi meeting with "FXB" among others. It was pleasant, and uneventful. I'm holding onto the belief that he's not so interested in me. He's still a nice boy, and I'd still like to develop some sort of relationship with him, even if it's not romantically inclined. Would dating him be an option? Maybe, but I need to feel something closer to him, and it's just not there. Maybe I should be an optimist and say "maybe." I can't do that right now. I've got a need for a "rebound guy" right now, and not a relationship guy.

In that light, I'm meeting "Good Sex Guy" for cocktails later at an undisclosed location. Apparently Naptown harbors a piano lounge that I've somehow missed. Must rectify that. In the mean time, I'll gorge myself on comfort food, and make a note to discuss "Lilly Guy" in some depth. He's really more special than I thought.

Avarice

Okay, the new definition of "perfect boyfriend" includes the ability to use the word 'avarice' in a proper sentence.

Now, before everyone gets all wiggy and starts reaching for a dictionary, you should know that I don't actually seek perfection. I might aspire for perfection, but as a whole, it's unexpected. This is why I want men that I ought not have. That's why I sincerely doubt I'll have a proper, functional relationship. It's the whole "perfection is to desired as reality is to substance" thing

Avarice.

Okay, a bit of conversation about mysterious man in the post immediately preceding this one. (btw, nick=FXB) To answer queries, I don't know if he is dateable mostly because I believe that he truly isn't interested in me. I could be pleasantly surprised, but the reality is there, and unrequited love is boring as all hell.

I ought to know--been there, and got that t-shirt Wonder why? Read Realm I. It's the highly touted Hawaiian journal that ultimately led me to where I am now in Hoosierland. Now it can be told that RR loved me passionately, but I didn't return the affection for the last several years. Why? I'm not sure. I mean what ever makes relationships go sour? I'm developing a theory that relationships have an expiration date. For RR and I, I'm guessing that we had a 10 year expiry.

That would make us like dehydrated food--not too shabby, if you ask me. Some relationships have the life expectancy of mayonnaise left out on a hot summer day. In fact, my relationships of late have been pretty perishable. I don't know if that's part of the whole transitional phase, or what it is. Robb would call it "Community Property" which is a term I happen to admire. Then again, there are a great many things I admire about him, or should say admired. (we haven't talked in some time)

There's a whole dichotomy that I'm experiencing at present. One hand admires the warmth of sharing life with another. A cautious soul is looking for the right person to do so with. I think I could actually have a truly monogamous relationship with a fellow with a 30 or so year expiry. That would take me far beyond death.

On the other hand, I enjoy the "single/mingle" lifestyle as well. Naptown just isn't the city to do it in, though. I think it's because I bore easily, and often retreat into the place best called "Private Idaho." It's a happy place, and I enjoy it there. In my Idaho, it's all about me, which is how it should be. I can be as dark and mysterious as I please. I can also fantasize that the avarice that has gripped the country for the last four years might actually end.

Quandary

Hrm. I'm not quite sure to make of something. Actually, that's not entirely true, in that I do know what to make of it.

Lust.

That's the emotion, pure and simple. This boy has caught my attention, and I wanna do all sorts of nasty things to him, but dating may not be one of them. I'm wondering why that is. He's an intriguing enough fellow, he has friends, is social, and is only mildly dysfunctional (for the record, I've given up on trying to find normal men) and he's cute. We seem to get on when seen in social situations, and I go stupid-teenage girl when I'm around him, afraid of being...Well...a stupid teenage girl.

With that said, I'm not sure where to proceed. Cocktails/dancing/casual sex? Dunnow. it's a conrundrum, and one that's making me slightly crazy at the moment. Perhaps it's because my attitude currently is "he who doesn't mingle dies single," so I want to see what's out there before thinking about doing that boyfriend/committed relationship thing. Maybe it's a fear that he won't match me on an intellectual level (and that's a great and very important thing, I've learned.)

The latter isn't established, though. I'm reserving judgment on that point until a closer examination can be made. The way I seem to be going is to see if there is a desire to read a newspaper the next morning over breakfast. Why I consider that to be important, I can't identify, but it seems to be up there in the priorities. *shrug*

I'm thinking it has to do with the time that I'm functional. When the sun peeks through the shades, I'm awake, and I rarely see hours in the evening with double digits. That's not to say that I'm not seen out at night carousing with the boys and girls--I often am. Last relationship found me at odds with that one (I was a day soul; he a night creature)

Perhaps I just think too much.

Speaking of travel...

The most recent trip was to Geneva. Save your pennies and go, because it's an amazing joint. I have a couple of observations about it, though.

First, bring your Visa. Wait, bring your MasterCard, because Geneva isn't a Visa-Loving country. *shrug* You need a hefty line of credit, because it aint cheap. What do you expect from a town that has as it's primary industry making watches? (Check your Rolex--it says Geneva on it)

Consequently, the city is clean and orderly. Typical of the entire country, normalcy, moderation, and neutrality are key words. Entry to the country was just about as uneventful as it has ever been. The border guard didn't even look at my passport, which is a shame. I like stamps in my passport. It validates me ;-)

But that's not my story. I went off in search of the only gay bar in my tourist guide, called Pretexte. Being typical of most really, really old cities, Geneva is a mess of 2 block-long streets with unpronounceable names and bad/ineffective signage Needless to say, I wandered a great deal.

Anyway, in the area that I thought said bar would be in had a very cute, very drunk boy with an umbrella in one hand and a fruity looking drink in the other. He stopped me on the street, (Since he was cute and drunk, I stopped gladly) handed the drink to me, and asked me to take the cocktail.

I did, but did not drink it. God only knows what was in it anyway. Besides, that I like my boys sweet and my drinks bitter. We chit-chatted for a bit--his English wasn't too bad (something that I am impressed by) and finally he asked why I wasn't enjoying said fruity drink.

I told him that it wasn't exactly my thing. Too many pieces of fruit and chocolate-looking branches, straws and other accoutrement. Then he asked me, in no uncertain terms if I would go back to his place and have rabid sex. [ed. note, my description, not his] I politely declined, and started to hand his drink back to him. I'm just not in the habit of meeting odd fellows on the street and swapping spit with them. I guess I was having a virtuous moment.

Then it happened. Said he: "Is it money you want? I'll pay you." Now THAT is a first. I've never thought of myself as being a prostitute, even in the most bizarre circumstance. I thought it was funny, laughed, and rebuffed him, walking off. I've decided that it's a tremendous ego boost being told that your ass is worth paying for. Go meee!

I got the red state blues....

Okaaay.

For thems that don't know, Indiana (at present my home and native land) is a red state. In other words, we're GOP supporters for the presidential race. Statistically, IN always has been, and theoretically, Hoosiers will always be aligned with the minions of Red.

Naturally, I take great interest in the upcoming elections for various reasons, namely the fact that I SO dislike the current regime. The bitterly ironic thing is I once identified myself as a republican. I felt their outlook on politics best reflected my own moral feelings, so I aligned with them. Of curse, that was back in the good old days before the GOP became a liberal-bashing Christian dominated .org. I think Ronald Reagan was the last high-level GOP official that I supported. (and for the record, only for his first term.)

I digress.

The local rag here, the Indianapolis Star naturally followed it's red readership in saying that Dubya ought to be reposted for 4 more dreadful years. If you find access to today's editorial, you ought to give it a read. Apparently, the writer really doesn't have W in his heart and soul, because most of the article discusses his shortcomings as a president, and even goes on to say if granted another 4 years as leader, he ought to spend that time repairing his country's reputation. In fact, the summary of the editorial states "President Bush must use a second term to protect and unify the nation." Later in same article, he states:

George Bush holds the office because he convinced a goodly number of voters four years ago that he would unify an increasingly divided country

Hmmm Would that be that be the popular vote? Wait...That's right Dubya didn't win the popular vote. He was dropped on our country by the fine folks at the EC.

Bleh.

Have I mentioned that if Dorkus is reelected, I'm placing serious thought to emigrating? Canada was a high contender, if for no other reason than the people are lovely, and their government doesn't have all the fuck-ups that this one has. I can go on for days and days about the shortcomings of the .gov but I'll not bore you.

Besides, with all of its shortcomings, this is still the best place in the world to live. Travel is broadening...everyone ought to do it. It makes you appreciate what you take for granted. Believe me, I think that a lot of Bushies do take the U.S. for granted.

--30--

Name game

Everybody gets a nickname in Bobland

It's a funny thing that I do to describe people. As with all good nicks, it normally describes an attribute or a personality trait. Sometimes it even hits on a true given nick that a person has online (yes, I'm a gay.com slut...sue me)

From time to time, it gets me in trouble, because issuing a nickname to everybody essentially removes their true name from the game. How bad is it when you can only remember "Lilly guy" instead of his real name? That's why cellie phones come in handy--to remind us of people's true identities, rather than "fuckbuddy"

Yes, fuckbuddy. He's an old one, from around the time of Lilly Guy and Bad Breath. I thought sex with fuckbuddy was amazing, until I stumbled on Good Sex guy who definitely clogged me up pretty good down there ;-)

Enough. Work calls.

Free Marfa!

Sometimes, no, oft times, American Jurisprudence eludes me. I wish someone would take the thirty seconds to explain what Martha Stewart did that was so heinous, so destructive that she should be removed from public sight.

My theory is this: It's Leona Helmsley all over again.

Leona was admittedly a really 'ballsy broad.' I really admired that about her, though. I grew up with her ads for such mythical places as the Helmsley Harley Hotel, and seeing the "Queen of Mean" expounding about her hatred of shoddy hotel experiences. The classic, which haunts me to this day, and has on more than one occasion labeled me a snob is "I wouldn't drink form plastic. Why should you?" There was a photograph with a picture of Mrs Harry's quaffed head slightly askew holding a polished glass tumbler.

Leona, Martha--they are probably cut from the same cloth, although Martha is probably a 300 count cotton and Leona a nice silk damask. Admittedly, they have probably been unkind to a person or two along the line, but really people...Who hasn't? We've all lashed out at a person or two along the way, but notoriety drives wronged people to the National Enquirer and the like. Famous people get Lifetime - Television for women (and gay men) specials. In short, the entire world knows efficiently and quickly that Martha (Mizzz Stewart to you!) once dared to criticize a staffer for opening bottles of expensive wine needlessly.

So, what is the sin? Wanting things to be right? Okay, with Leona there was that tax evasion thing but all in all, she was a woman with vision and the means to achieve it. She falls in the same category as the Oprah Winfreys of the world, though probably not as nice in the grand scheme. That's ok. Success often breeds arrogance, and the two make wonderful bedfellows.

Once again, I ask--what is this turrible thing that she's done? My contention is she has been shafted by American society that desires so to vilify the successful woman. It's not right.

Slippery Dolphin Thighs!

Fuckin A!

(and other popular straightboy phrases)

I've been back listening to Elvis Costello. He gives me joy in an odd way. Some of his tunes are uplifting in a sardonic way:

"The sun struggles up, another beautiful day
And I feel glad in my own suspicious way!
Despite the contradicttion and confusion
Feel tragic without reason
There's malice and there's magic in every season."

It's really a good descriptive for how I'm feeling at present. I have noticed that I do scowl a bit more than usual, which is very bad (face lines.) Why? *shrug*

There is probably a really good reason, but I personally don't care what it is. I'm just content to roll along happily and occasionally scowl at people and things that are worrisome.

In a humourous essay, Steve Martin wrote "Nobody wants to hire somebody that is crying." That's incredibly true. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with crying. I feel a good cry cleanses the soul and allows happiness to shine that more brightly through the window of the metaphysical heart (if that makes any sense.) Everybody needs to clean their windows from time to time, so a cry is in order.

That said, bust out the Kleenex and Steel Magnolias! Best bawl-fest ever put on film, in my op. I don't need to go into any further detail, because every fag in North America not only knows of this movie, but can recite entire sections of dialogue.

Oddly enough, that's all I want to say right now. Laundry beckons, and I may attempt to find a cute boy to swap spit with. That's really what I need. Ciao, all

Postal

I am finally seeing why I
was the one worth leaving.

D.C. sleeps alone tonight.

I've always loved that song. Most of the Postal Service tunes are pretty cheery and uplifting in their own way.

Sarcasm is but one of the services we offer.

Y'know, when I embarked on this whole blog thing, I had these visions of daily posting like I once did. Alas, I lack the patience and discipline to do such things at this point in my life. I'm not being hard on myself. I realize that at various times in one's life, things are more difficult than they are at other times. This is one of those times when I'm through with men, and the solitude of being single is especially attractive.

Society seems to disagree with me, though, and I seem to be surrounded with people that feel that everyone who has the capability of maintaining sanity in a relationship should be in a partnership. I think it's all fueled by the gay wedding concept. Perhaps it's always been there, but it seems more prevalent now for some reason. I am atypical, I guess. I'm of the opinion that the whole gay wedding thing is just faggotry.

Perhaps it's because I'm doubting my own ability to be monogamous. Like the Noel Coward tune says, "Why should I?" The more I go through life, the more attractive serial monogamy seems. I can think of nothing more to say on that particular subject *shrug*

It's odd-I'm back to where I was in 1999, at least in mind-set. That was the moment that I first really started believing my own PR. Things happened in my life, and for a moment, the negatives were overwhelmed by positives. When my esteem is up, my life is golden, and it seems that I can accomplish anything. I'm in one of those strangely optimistic points in my life again, and all sorts of things are swirling about in my mind.

I'm tempted to duck out of Indianapolis and go elsewhere. I've got talents and skills that should suit me wherever I would want to be. Of course, I do have an odd attraction to this town, it's people, and the small cadre of friends I've acquired here. I also do have a certain loyalty to my work, though I can't entirely sort that out myself. I probably shouldn't, but I do. At the risk of sounding conceited, boys that are not ugly and are also mentally stable and able to carry on a conversation are really a rarity here. I feel like a big fish in a small bowl sometimes. I've met cute boys (and some boys that were formerly cute, but that's a different story) and I've met smart boys, but rarely do the two meet. I know these fellows are out there, but in the mean time, I keep hanging with these not so pretty ones who talk and cute ones who are truly vapid but I want to fuck.

The District sleeps alone tonight. The District rather enjoys it ;-)

I'm lovin' it! (tm)

Another Bob Story!

I travel a great deal for my work. Being a penny-pinching little freak, I take advantage of every discount and possibility for getting something for myself. When I received a letter from the frequent flyer program of US Air, I hopped to attention. It seemed that I had amassed a healthy number of miles (some 10k, as I recall) which was not enough to do anything with flight-wise, but I could convert them into magazine subs.

So, I now take GQ, Food and Wine, Jane(I have no idea, but it's oddly entertaining) and a couple more. The best of the deals, however was a year of Variety, the daily "WSJ" of the entertainment industry. Since I'm in a state East of the Mississippi, I receive the version from Gotham. It doesn't make a great deal of difference where one's version is printed, because I think the LA version is identical. My one complaint is because it is a daily newspaper, it arrives about a week after the press-date, and I don't always get a full week's copies. In fact, I think I get about 3 of the 5. I would bitch if I had paid for it, but since it's technically free (versus paying $260/year) I aint complaining.

Funny thing--I might subscribe to it again if the opportunity arises. It's that entertaining! Plus, I learn all sorts of newsy shit that doesn't appear elsewhere. For instance, the news that Jack Valenti had made plans to retire and had appointed Dan Glickman to replace him.

What do you mean that you don't know who Jack Valenti is? For the past 40+ years, he's been that little white-haired man that strolls out at the Oscars(tm) and hands out an award for something. He's the guy that decided that Fahrenheit 9/11 would be rated R instead of PG-13. Hell, he's the guy that dreamed up the whole rating system for films in the first place. In short, this diminutive man is the most feared man in the industry.

Awesome job, being CEO of the Motion Picture Association of America

Greatest thing about the Daily Variety is their unwavering language. They have never adapted their "Old Style" of creating euphemisms for common words. Thus, CBS becomes "Eye", NBC, Peacock, The New York Times "Gray Lady" and so on.

The copy that came in today (July 6) headlines "BLISSED OUT IN SPIDEY LAND," announcing that Spiderman 2 had put a "$180 mil spin on the B.O Record book." In other words, Spiderman 2 made $180M for it's 6-day opening week, knocking Mission: Impossible 2 out of the record books (at a paltry $92M) If you look at 4 day openings, Matrix reloaded still is #1 with $134M (vs. SM2's $116M) In comparison with something of "worth," Fahrenheit 9/11 was shown on 1725 screens over the weekend, earning $12,174 per engagement for a total of $21M that weekend.

Yeah, so I'm a geek. Get over it.

Boo'ful Deeetroit

Picture Olympia Dukakis sitting on a bench, surrounded by her girlfriends spouting off about how transplant organs are carried:

"In beer coolers! Those doctors pull out their six-pack, throw in some dry ice and a heart and then hop on a plane!"

*Shrug* In a generic sense, that's what I do, only it's not dry ice and it's rarely glamorous. It is, however enjoyable, and quenches my wunderlust that was so firmly planted in Hawaii. As previously mentioned, the most recent trip was to Detroit.

I have a couple of general comments about this city, the first being 'don't travel to the city centre.' I fear that everything you've ever heard about it is true. Thousands of vacant buildings, and a very pretty core that is guarded by high fences and concertina wire. The time I stayed in downtown Detroit, I had a high room at the Mariott Renaissance Center. As I previously mentioned, the pretty part of the city is well secured, and the Mariott is no exception. The floor-level lobby is an empty room with a bank of elevators and various armed guards for decoration.

I knew I had made a bad decision about staying downtown.

Perhaps the armed guards and having my baggage inspected had something to do with the throngs of men and women fleeting through on their way to a function that the mayor was having. I have to say seeing a person entering a hotel with a carry-on bag and a beer cooler is mighty suspicious. I was searched. I was grunted at. I found my way to the lobby with no assistance, thank you.

Finally, waiting in the queue to check in. It's a short line, and it appears to be inhabited mostly by people attending the mayor's shindig. I can tell that they are attending because of a comment made by the caucasian couple ahead of me:
"People are so dressed up! I wonder what's going on?"
"It's certainly not an ASPCA meeting"
I'd have to say they it the nail on hte head. The couple ahead of myself comprised the sole caucasian population to be seen. everyone else was very black, dripping in fur, and/or something shiny. It was a beautiful sight.

More later; work beckons.

Coming up next on the Chimpy & Crashcart Show

Here's the latest "Prezidint Bring em on" thing that has me irked. Granted, it's a small thing, but I'm that way about 'stupid and proud of it' people

So I read his proclamation:

By the authority vested in me as President blah, blah, blah, and in honor and tribute to the memory of Ronald Reagan, it is hereby ordered that the flag of the United States shall be displayed at full-staff blah, blah, blah, beginning July 3, 2004

So, why didn't he think of that when he wrote the initial order? He can't count all the way to 30? Even still, it doesn't exactly take a brain surgeon to figure that if you do something for a month starting on June 5, that it will be in effect on July 4.

However....

The thing that really kills me is he waited until the last possible moment to post the order. He didn't realize that July 3rd would find many of his government offices, ships at sea, etc. occupied by people suoersizing their 3-day weekends. (Okay, maybe not the ships at sea) A quick drive about town confirmed that indeed, all of the janitors at public buildings had indeed gone home for the night before the news got out.

So, summing it up, I wouldn't be surprised to find a flag at half-staff...the way it's SUPPOSED to be, dorkus!

Finally, when you step into the polling booth in November, remember ABW (anyone but dubya)

blatherings

Monga had pissy day today.

First, there's something pressing (and expensive) that has been weighing on my mind for the last week. When I went to Chicago, my brakes started making a really awful grind-y noise. I knew it had to be an expensive sound, just from it's pitch. True to form, it was.

Seems my calipers were shot, and the grind-y noise was the sound of my brake rotors being ground to dust. I went to "ghetto garage" which is around the corner from work. The guy who runs the place is nice, and I don't think he rips me off. Well, when I got back to the office, he calls and says "We need to talk." Turns out the calipers are $200 each, brake pads are another $60, the rotors are looking in the $40 area each, plus labor, etc, etc.

*sigh* I aint exactly rolling in 'flow' right now.

Well, I remember that when I bought my car, I also latched on to a warranty thing. True to form, it covered the calipers, being a part that doesn't normally fail. Unfortunately, "ghetto garage" was not authorized to do the work for various reasons.

I once again phone the dealership, and leave a message.
...And another message.

I'm up to about 5 messages, and I'm really starting to get pissy because nobody can call me back. All I want is a stupid appointment so I can make some planning. My car sounds scary, and I don't want to drive it any more than necessary.

Long story short, I finally have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. Yay. Money to give away!!

I'm going to leave work tomorrow afternoon about 2:30, and hang out a bit. I want to do some thinking about life and love. I'm down on both presently, and not quite sure where things are pointing. On one hand, I want to pitch it all and move away, but that's not an easy proposition. There are a lot of things to work through. On the other hand, I want to buy a house and become stable. That's also not willing to happen.

If life were easy, I guess everyone would have one. *sigh*