I just signed up here to join the pledge of writing a post every day in November.
A few years back I also wrote a novel for NaNoWriMo and so I'm signing back up for that again.
WHY Alan, you shout at your monitor. For the love of peace, unity, and justice, WHYYYY!!!???
Well, because I can. Because I have two jobs in my career but no children and no wives and no pets. And because I can talk about anything, nonstop, if given the chance.
So this is another chance.
And because I wouldn't mind inspiring you all to do it too. Ned's got a novel in him, and I hope by his recent scarcity this means he's working on it. Shades is a songstress in prose form. And Scott's got the next Great American Novel swimming in media magnetic on his hard drive.
Let's get to crackin' folks!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Upsell ME, BeeYOTches!!!?
So I had just came off a disagreeable phone discussion with the director of the counseling center where I do part time when I walked into the Chipotle. Thus, I was in a bad mood and I'm not ready to tell you why.
But I was on line in the Chipotle for a while, muttering under my breath, trying to get a call through to MFTD for comfort and consultation since his doctorate is in my profession, when I order the burrito bowl with just beans and pork, to which I wanted to add guac on it. That's all I wanted. Keep your rice, your corn, your salsa, your everything else. Server Dude goes, "Guac is extra, okay?" I say, yeah okay, and Server Dude dabs a few spoonfuls on top of the pork. The guy next to me is offered guac on his food too, and he asks "How much?" and Server Dude says "TWO DOLLARS" and I said, actually aloud, "WHAT?!" I told that guy that his was the question I should have asked. After this I told them to put on the corn and the lettuce since I was going to have to pay so much extra. Yes, I said all that aloud.
Bastards.
You tell me it's extra, but you don't tell HOW MUCH extra unless specifically asked?!? And OF COURSE you wouldn't willfully tell that the meager blobs of guacamole you grace us with is TWO whole frikkin' DOLLARS, when the original frikkin' price of the bowl is only 7.61 cents!!!!!
You BASTARDS.
And here I was not even getting the rice and the salsa, and you're STILL going to charge me $9.61 because of a measely 3 fingers' worth of green slime?!?!?
Underhanded, price-gouging, sneaky upselling BASTARDS.
So you know what I did, right? Hellllll right I did.
I took a fistful of forks and a fistful of knives, a pile of napkins thick as my fist, a lil container of lemon slices (the containers are right there, nicely next to the forks for your use), and a lil container of limes, and a fistful of toothpicks.
Ya dammmmmn right I did. Charge me an extra two dollars fer nuthin' willya??!
Never. Again.
But I was on line in the Chipotle for a while, muttering under my breath, trying to get a call through to MFTD for comfort and consultation since his doctorate is in my profession, when I order the burrito bowl with just beans and pork, to which I wanted to add guac on it. That's all I wanted. Keep your rice, your corn, your salsa, your everything else. Server Dude goes, "Guac is extra, okay?" I say, yeah okay, and Server Dude dabs a few spoonfuls on top of the pork. The guy next to me is offered guac on his food too, and he asks "How much?" and Server Dude says "TWO DOLLARS" and I said, actually aloud, "WHAT?!" I told that guy that his was the question I should have asked. After this I told them to put on the corn and the lettuce since I was going to have to pay so much extra. Yes, I said all that aloud.
Bastards.
You tell me it's extra, but you don't tell HOW MUCH extra unless specifically asked?!? And OF COURSE you wouldn't willfully tell that the meager blobs of guacamole you grace us with is TWO whole frikkin' DOLLARS, when the original frikkin' price of the bowl is only 7.61 cents!!!!!
You BASTARDS.
And here I was not even getting the rice and the salsa, and you're STILL going to charge me $9.61 because of a measely 3 fingers' worth of green slime?!?!?
Underhanded, price-gouging, sneaky upselling BASTARDS.
So you know what I did, right? Hellllll right I did.
I took a fistful of forks and a fistful of knives, a pile of napkins thick as my fist, a lil container of lemon slices (the containers are right there, nicely next to the forks for your use), and a lil container of limes, and a fistful of toothpicks.
Ya dammmmmn right I did. Charge me an extra two dollars fer nuthin' willya??!
Never. Again.
Just Because...
...this song always has had an effect on me, and last night I was reminded of it by my Ned.
Sometimes late when things are real
And people share the gift of gab
Between themselves
Some are quick to take the bait
And catch the perfect prize that waits
Among the shelves
But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't,
Didn't already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the Tropic of Sir Galahad.
So please believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain bright color
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsuds green like bubbles
Oh, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't,
Didn't already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the Tropic of Sir Galahad
So please believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain bright color
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsuds green like bubbles
No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't,
Didn't already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the Tropic of Sir Galahad
So please believe in me
I do. I do believe in you.
Sometimes late when things are real
And people share the gift of gab
Between themselves
Some are quick to take the bait
And catch the perfect prize that waits
Among the shelves
But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't,
Didn't already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the Tropic of Sir Galahad.
So please believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain bright color
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsuds green like bubbles
Oh, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't,
Didn't already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the Tropic of Sir Galahad
So please believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain bright color
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsuds green like bubbles
No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't,
Didn't already have
And cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the Tropic of Sir Galahad
So please believe in me
I do. I do believe in you.
Monday, October 27, 2008
One Wrong Reason Not To; "This American Life--10/26/08"
I named this blog after a show that I found Childhood Bud and I both liked to listen to, except I think he might listen far more than I do. The show is "This American Life." While driving between job locations yesterday (for I had went to work after a leisurely morning and found myself working between noon and 8pm), this "This American Life" episode rocked my socks off. It's an hour long and I want to quote the whole thing here, but I'll do my very best to summarize what stood out to me.
The show was about the campaigning for both McCain and Obama in Pennsylvania. The radio reporters doing the recording were hanging out with people that canvassed in a PA town known for Democrats and at the U of P state college. In the town, the campaigners were Democrats who, after Hilary had not gotten the nod, were voting for McCain and wanted to convert undecided Democrats to the same positon. The campaigners at the state college were Democrats registering students and urging them to vote for Obama. A third segment was about the Union AFL-CIO's support of Obama, and Richard Trumka's address to Union members about racial issues.
Until that point, I thought the show was just going to major on the virtues of the Obama ticket, as all good lefty radio is bound to do, but then the AFL-CIO brought up race, and the whole message turned for me. It made me realize that although I haven't allowed myself to stay naive about racial issues, I had decided not to put the magnifying glass on the issue. I had decided to focus on the white support of Obama and take comfort from it.
Well this episode pushed it all in my face yesterday and I just wanted to give the readers here a chance to be exposed to the same information.
Highlights (or Darklights);
1) One of the Democrats knocking on doors to sway undecided Dems to vote for McCain was a black male. It was put to him by a member of a family at one of these homes why he wasn't supporting Obama, since he was a black male Democrat. His answer was that he did want to see a black man in the White House, but he hoped it would be at another time in his life because he thought McCain was the better choice at the moment. I was confounded. The man sounded young. He must think there's plenty of time in his life for this opportunity to rise again if Obama loses. I hope to God he's right, but personally--I want it NOW, while the opportunity IS RIGHT FREAKING HERE RIGHT FREAKING NOW. Oh my God! It's like walking up to a pile of a million dollars, and when given the chance to take it you say, "Well, no actually, I like the earnings I make right now. But hopefully some day, I'll find another pile of a million dollars, and I'd be glad to take it at that time--provided all the conditions are right..." WTF?!?
2) The best recruiter in the segment with the state college seemed really obsessed. Almost as a personality flaw. But her technique was the best. She went everywhere on campus to get kids registered. She went to tailgate parties, she was at the games, she was at frat parties where she could hardly hear herself. She never took no for an answer. but one guy, a drunkish frat boy, had a little surprise for her. He showed her (as described by the audio reporter tailing her) his cellphone which had a little animation of Obama's face turning into a monkey. The boy then slurs, "This is what we think of him around here!" The recruiter went directly to another group and continued her dogged pursuit of registering kids. But the radio reporter jumped into a lull in her work to ask her what she thought of that boy's cellphone display. The girl paused, and then her voice grew shaky. She said that she couldn't let that get to her or else it would destroy the energy she had to do her job. The more she spoke, the more upset she sounded though. In a few more seconds, she was heard bawling. The radio reporter said it was because of all the pressure and exhaustion. But I wanted to bawl my damn self. The boy was a student at a college. And to him, one of America's youth, this is an acceptable joke or display of opinion? In 2008 A.D.?!? IN TODAY'S GENERATION?!?!?!?! WTF?!!!!!!
3) The AFL-CIO segment brought due attention to many people who answered by phone about who they were going to vote for, being Union members and Democrats. The show focused on those who answered the canvassers by saying, "Definitely not Obama!" Some said it was because he was a Muslim. Eventually they admitted it was because he was black. Some said they weren't going to vote for "no f**kin' nigger." To me, the most haunting testimony came from a Union phone recruiter who discovered that a co-worker and friend wasn't going to vote for Obama because of his color, and the recruiter never knew that about his friend. The recruiter, a white guy, tells how he tried to reason with his friend, also a white guy, but his friend kept revealing how threatened and hostile he felt being around so many blacks and having to see his kids playing with so many blacks at the school, and how if Obama got in "Jesse Jackson would become one of his advisers and next thing you knew Al Sharpton would be in the White House too." Yeah, right next to Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice, you forkin' DOUCHENOZZLE. This phone canvasser sounded devastated to discover that his friend, even though they both worked with blacks and ate lunch with blacks, had this mindset.
So now, here is that Richard Trumka video the show talks about;
The most important thing I've heard come out of this segment was the presence of advertisements which said the following "There are many reasons to vote for Barack Obama for President of the United States. But there is one wrong reason not to."
These were the fears I've harbored--oh--I think---all of my life. Yeah. All my life. That the unseen nooks and crannies of the world harbored dark and vitriolic thoughts like these and it would affect me based on nothing I could control or even want to. Things that would see me stomped to death in an alley somwhere.
Another thing said out of the AFL-CIO segment was that this race situation was a thing that was "a two-hundred year-old wound with a sixty year-old scab" and I whooped in my car when he said that. Because it's so true. And I've known this all my life.
But I will still choose to focus on the thing that brings me hope.
DESPITE the truth of this report from Pennsylvania's nooks and crannies, Obama is leading in the polls. He is getting equal airtime. He is a contender. A serious candidate which all my white friends who do not want him to win are all saying they think he will win.
Despite the hatred and ignorance that so many Americans still harbor (and oh my dear sweet Jesus GOD will it EVER stop?!?!) Barack Obama is a black man who this country has "allowed" and accepted to rise to the prominence he has today. A man who in two short weeks may very well become the nation's President. A black American man who all the planet Earth has noticed.
I don't think I can ever make my white friends know how important this is to me personally, but I can only do my best to represent it in this post and hope the right eyes read it. Meanwhile, I urge you to listen to this weekend's "This American Life". Put the information in your heads for future discussion. Let it sharpen your own thoughts about race in America. Let the next sixty years pass with even MORE advancement and even MORE dissolution of hate and fear and ignorance. For the love of all that is literally Holy.
Do it for me.
The show was about the campaigning for both McCain and Obama in Pennsylvania. The radio reporters doing the recording were hanging out with people that canvassed in a PA town known for Democrats and at the U of P state college. In the town, the campaigners were Democrats who, after Hilary had not gotten the nod, were voting for McCain and wanted to convert undecided Democrats to the same positon. The campaigners at the state college were Democrats registering students and urging them to vote for Obama. A third segment was about the Union AFL-CIO's support of Obama, and Richard Trumka's address to Union members about racial issues.
Until that point, I thought the show was just going to major on the virtues of the Obama ticket, as all good lefty radio is bound to do, but then the AFL-CIO brought up race, and the whole message turned for me. It made me realize that although I haven't allowed myself to stay naive about racial issues, I had decided not to put the magnifying glass on the issue. I had decided to focus on the white support of Obama and take comfort from it.
Well this episode pushed it all in my face yesterday and I just wanted to give the readers here a chance to be exposed to the same information.
Highlights (or Darklights);
1) One of the Democrats knocking on doors to sway undecided Dems to vote for McCain was a black male. It was put to him by a member of a family at one of these homes why he wasn't supporting Obama, since he was a black male Democrat. His answer was that he did want to see a black man in the White House, but he hoped it would be at another time in his life because he thought McCain was the better choice at the moment. I was confounded. The man sounded young. He must think there's plenty of time in his life for this opportunity to rise again if Obama loses. I hope to God he's right, but personally--I want it NOW, while the opportunity IS RIGHT FREAKING HERE RIGHT FREAKING NOW. Oh my God! It's like walking up to a pile of a million dollars, and when given the chance to take it you say, "Well, no actually, I like the earnings I make right now. But hopefully some day, I'll find another pile of a million dollars, and I'd be glad to take it at that time--provided all the conditions are right..." WTF?!?
2) The best recruiter in the segment with the state college seemed really obsessed. Almost as a personality flaw. But her technique was the best. She went everywhere on campus to get kids registered. She went to tailgate parties, she was at the games, she was at frat parties where she could hardly hear herself. She never took no for an answer. but one guy, a drunkish frat boy, had a little surprise for her. He showed her (as described by the audio reporter tailing her) his cellphone which had a little animation of Obama's face turning into a monkey. The boy then slurs, "This is what we think of him around here!" The recruiter went directly to another group and continued her dogged pursuit of registering kids. But the radio reporter jumped into a lull in her work to ask her what she thought of that boy's cellphone display. The girl paused, and then her voice grew shaky. She said that she couldn't let that get to her or else it would destroy the energy she had to do her job. The more she spoke, the more upset she sounded though. In a few more seconds, she was heard bawling. The radio reporter said it was because of all the pressure and exhaustion. But I wanted to bawl my damn self. The boy was a student at a college. And to him, one of America's youth, this is an acceptable joke or display of opinion? In 2008 A.D.?!? IN TODAY'S GENERATION?!?!?!?! WTF?!!!!!!
3) The AFL-CIO segment brought due attention to many people who answered by phone about who they were going to vote for, being Union members and Democrats. The show focused on those who answered the canvassers by saying, "Definitely not Obama!" Some said it was because he was a Muslim. Eventually they admitted it was because he was black. Some said they weren't going to vote for "no f**kin' nigger." To me, the most haunting testimony came from a Union phone recruiter who discovered that a co-worker and friend wasn't going to vote for Obama because of his color, and the recruiter never knew that about his friend. The recruiter, a white guy, tells how he tried to reason with his friend, also a white guy, but his friend kept revealing how threatened and hostile he felt being around so many blacks and having to see his kids playing with so many blacks at the school, and how if Obama got in "Jesse Jackson would become one of his advisers and next thing you knew Al Sharpton would be in the White House too." Yeah, right next to Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice, you forkin' DOUCHENOZZLE. This phone canvasser sounded devastated to discover that his friend, even though they both worked with blacks and ate lunch with blacks, had this mindset.
So now, here is that Richard Trumka video the show talks about;
The most important thing I've heard come out of this segment was the presence of advertisements which said the following "There are many reasons to vote for Barack Obama for President of the United States. But there is one wrong reason not to."
These were the fears I've harbored--oh--I think---all of my life. Yeah. All my life. That the unseen nooks and crannies of the world harbored dark and vitriolic thoughts like these and it would affect me based on nothing I could control or even want to. Things that would see me stomped to death in an alley somwhere.
Another thing said out of the AFL-CIO segment was that this race situation was a thing that was "a two-hundred year-old wound with a sixty year-old scab" and I whooped in my car when he said that. Because it's so true. And I've known this all my life.
But I will still choose to focus on the thing that brings me hope.
DESPITE the truth of this report from Pennsylvania's nooks and crannies, Obama is leading in the polls. He is getting equal airtime. He is a contender. A serious candidate which all my white friends who do not want him to win are all saying they think he will win.
Despite the hatred and ignorance that so many Americans still harbor (and oh my dear sweet Jesus GOD will it EVER stop?!?!) Barack Obama is a black man who this country has "allowed" and accepted to rise to the prominence he has today. A man who in two short weeks may very well become the nation's President. A black American man who all the planet Earth has noticed.
I don't think I can ever make my white friends know how important this is to me personally, but I can only do my best to represent it in this post and hope the right eyes read it. Meanwhile, I urge you to listen to this weekend's "This American Life". Put the information in your heads for future discussion. Let it sharpen your own thoughts about race in America. Let the next sixty years pass with even MORE advancement and even MORE dissolution of hate and fear and ignorance. For the love of all that is literally Holy.
Do it for me.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Downward Spiral--HALTED
So what you guys don't know is that not only did I stop my diet, but I've put all that weight back on again. When I dropped those ten pounds--and only ten, mind you--I was able to do something I'd never done in my life. I was able to tuck my t-shirts into my underwear. Now, this may be no special thing to the men out there with flat bellies (except that you might not be a t-shirt/underwear tucker) but I saw this in a few locker rooms and I tried it. It's remarkably efficient for preventing the t-shirt to come unmoored later in the day. The underwear band really grips that sucker.
Anyway, doing that simple act made me realize that I had actually lost the gut. In two weeks of Nutrisystems, I had lost my gut. Well, it's back. I can't tuck my t-shirts anymore without looking like I'm smuggling a bowling ball out of the house. Well, a small bowling ball.
I'm reporting this because this is about to change, again. And it's about to change for a very good reason. My Grizzbabe was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes. She's going to blog about it, but I'm beating her to the punch. When she informed me, I went into comforting-her mode, and pointed out all the positives that comes from having to monitor your sugar intake, and all the health benefits attached thereupon. And the hypocrisy stick bashed me square over the head as I typed the words out. Because what did I know? I wasn't the one who was faced with mandatory dieting. I was, however, the one ranting about buttercream icing. Idiot.
Here I am extolling the vices of irresponsible eating while My Grizzbabe faces a disease that will change her eating habits, like, for the rest of her life. And I thought, why should she have to do that alone? And why should I keep indulging in food orgies when there are so many people forced to do differently?
So no more downward spiral. Every time I tried to diet, it was for vanity. Now it's for Grizzbabe, and every other person out there who has to regulate their eating ... or die, basically.
We humans are ridiculous. We create things that destroy us. We spend frivolously on things that cause us irreparable harm. We support industries that if left unchecked, would destroy us as a global civilization.
And speaking of ... Worst Case Scenario Man has struck again. The news about Grim Jester's lady is terminal. Such a mess. But I did barge into his life yesterday, and it was a good visit. He was receptive and I didn't have to do anything therapeutic except be there. But he was every bit the Grim that I knew he could be in times when I call him my friend and mean it. His commitment to his girlfriend is the stuff of legend. My respect for him, despite all the things that piss me off about him, has quadrupled exponentially. All the times that he's come through for me, I now know that to be the real Grim.
And again it reminds me, who am I to squander my ability--my privilege--to be in good health?
Anyway, doing that simple act made me realize that I had actually lost the gut. In two weeks of Nutrisystems, I had lost my gut. Well, it's back. I can't tuck my t-shirts anymore without looking like I'm smuggling a bowling ball out of the house. Well, a small bowling ball.
I'm reporting this because this is about to change, again. And it's about to change for a very good reason. My Grizzbabe was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes. She's going to blog about it, but I'm beating her to the punch. When she informed me, I went into comforting-her mode, and pointed out all the positives that comes from having to monitor your sugar intake, and all the health benefits attached thereupon. And the hypocrisy stick bashed me square over the head as I typed the words out. Because what did I know? I wasn't the one who was faced with mandatory dieting. I was, however, the one ranting about buttercream icing. Idiot.
Here I am extolling the vices of irresponsible eating while My Grizzbabe faces a disease that will change her eating habits, like, for the rest of her life. And I thought, why should she have to do that alone? And why should I keep indulging in food orgies when there are so many people forced to do differently?
So no more downward spiral. Every time I tried to diet, it was for vanity. Now it's for Grizzbabe, and every other person out there who has to regulate their eating ... or die, basically.
We humans are ridiculous. We create things that destroy us. We spend frivolously on things that cause us irreparable harm. We support industries that if left unchecked, would destroy us as a global civilization.
And speaking of ... Worst Case Scenario Man has struck again. The news about Grim Jester's lady is terminal. Such a mess. But I did barge into his life yesterday, and it was a good visit. He was receptive and I didn't have to do anything therapeutic except be there. But he was every bit the Grim that I knew he could be in times when I call him my friend and mean it. His commitment to his girlfriend is the stuff of legend. My respect for him, despite all the things that piss me off about him, has quadrupled exponentially. All the times that he's come through for me, I now know that to be the real Grim.
And again it reminds me, who am I to squander my ability--my privilege--to be in good health?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Oddity In The Oddest Places
So you know how I tell you guys about my 'friend' Grim Jester? Who, as I realize, could find these posts about him at any time? Well, I'm discovering my own complicity in our relationship. ie., I'm not that good of a friend. But I'm working on it.
Thing is, when I'm feeling more samesexual, I want to be around him more. I want to get that rough, grizzly, masculine vibe off him. But when I'm feeling more independently hetero, then he and other mancrushworthy dudes become a little grating and jealousy-provoking. The testosterone that I at other times admire, provokes me to manly aggression. I'm ready to bare my canines in response and engage in a snarling woof battle. And the thought of feminine conquests under their manly hands makes me want to pounce on them with a mammoth's jawbone and drag their women off to my cave in conquest.
Once, a long while ago, Grim Jester was getting up out of a chair and he winced and groaned. I asked him what was wrong. With a sly expression of pain mingled with cocky assurance he said, "You know." Which in nanoseconds, I did. He was indicating that he threw his back out during some adventurous sex. Sex that I wasn't having. A pang of jealousy and longing shot through me like electricity and left my heart pounding. To this day I still can't identify it any better than that. Jealousy or longing? Did I want to be him, or did I want to be her? Either way, I wasn't happy. Similarly, way before this, I had the same experience with George (see Labels; George). In brief, I'd made friends with a lovely exotic woman in our workgroup while I was friends with George. George was paying her a lot of attention too, and everyone else in my workgroup told me that George was banging her on the sly. George was married, and I was friends with his wife as well (through him though--not independently). One fine sloppy morning, George decided to expose himself by banging our ladyfriend workmate in the car in the parking lot of the workplace under the surveillance cameras. Among other places that he'd banged her on the sly. It was the talk of the workplace for two shifts before I hit the doorstep the following night. I was devastated. I went out to the loading dock and bawled my fool head off for nearly an hour. I was miserably jealous, as well as betrayed. Did I wish I were her or did I wish I were him? I dunno. I think I just wished someone, anyone, wanted to bang me under a security camera. I don't guess I cared which one. It was never the same with George after that. Even after I actually did live with him for nearly two years (some 15-20 years later) I just fundamentally disliked the man. But that was George.
My relationship with Grim is different. He's younger than me, for one. And two, I met him well after the scorch marks from the George incident had scabbed over. So I tried to be a little more cautious with my attraction to Grim's world. It still hadn't quite worked--I still felt slightly hurt, slightly betrayed, slightly left out when my buddy would hint at hooking up with his cavewoman. I haven't broken down crying again when these pangs of exclusion rip through me, and the more it happens the less powerful the pangs are. My hope is that they will disappear altogether one day. Probably when I'm gettin' mines on the regular.
Well, breaking news now is that Grim's cavewoman is seriously ill. And Grim doesn't seem to know how to handle it. After a prefunctory announcement, he informed us that he was going to cut off communication with us until he got his head together. Now, he KNOWS I'm a therapist. He's teased me about it plenty of times. Scorned me for it, in fact, in true knuckledragging fashion. "Just tell them to get over it," he would scoff. Now he needs some compassion. Some listening-to. And he won't let me do it. He tried to call me one night, but I was in the middle of a session. Soon as I could, I called him back, but he didn't answer. All he said by way of voice message was that he needed a favor from me. SO TELL ME WHAT IT IS, GRIM, YOU JACKASS!
Damn him. I'm terrified for him. He's had this girl since I met him, and way before that. Going on ten years if not more. If he loses her, what's going to happen to him? How will I be able to help? What if he goes psychotic? Could I handle it? I've often thought he has a touch of schizophrenia. He has some really strange ideas about life. Strange ideas that he actually believes. Like living out in the woods like a post-apocalyptic survivor is the answer to life's problems. Like he hates the island of Manhattan because everyone there is rich and beautiful and bastards. Like he'll never vote because it's all corrupt. Like he doesn't eat cute animals. Yes, Grim, I'm talking about you. You're my odd duck, friend. Now get off your high horse and talk to me.
Ah life. What a mess.
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to leave him a message, telling him I'm coming over. It's going to be this Saturday. It's going to be early. He can see me or not. But I'm coming. And I'm taking him out to breakfast if he'll come.
What else can I do?
Thing is, when I'm feeling more samesexual, I want to be around him more. I want to get that rough, grizzly, masculine vibe off him. But when I'm feeling more independently hetero, then he and other mancrushworthy dudes become a little grating and jealousy-provoking. The testosterone that I at other times admire, provokes me to manly aggression. I'm ready to bare my canines in response and engage in a snarling woof battle. And the thought of feminine conquests under their manly hands makes me want to pounce on them with a mammoth's jawbone and drag their women off to my cave in conquest.
Once, a long while ago, Grim Jester was getting up out of a chair and he winced and groaned. I asked him what was wrong. With a sly expression of pain mingled with cocky assurance he said, "You know." Which in nanoseconds, I did. He was indicating that he threw his back out during some adventurous sex. Sex that I wasn't having. A pang of jealousy and longing shot through me like electricity and left my heart pounding. To this day I still can't identify it any better than that. Jealousy or longing? Did I want to be him, or did I want to be her? Either way, I wasn't happy. Similarly, way before this, I had the same experience with George (see Labels; George). In brief, I'd made friends with a lovely exotic woman in our workgroup while I was friends with George. George was paying her a lot of attention too, and everyone else in my workgroup told me that George was banging her on the sly. George was married, and I was friends with his wife as well (through him though--not independently). One fine sloppy morning, George decided to expose himself by banging our ladyfriend workmate in the car in the parking lot of the workplace under the surveillance cameras. Among other places that he'd banged her on the sly. It was the talk of the workplace for two shifts before I hit the doorstep the following night. I was devastated. I went out to the loading dock and bawled my fool head off for nearly an hour. I was miserably jealous, as well as betrayed. Did I wish I were her or did I wish I were him? I dunno. I think I just wished someone, anyone, wanted to bang me under a security camera. I don't guess I cared which one. It was never the same with George after that. Even after I actually did live with him for nearly two years (some 15-20 years later) I just fundamentally disliked the man. But that was George.
My relationship with Grim is different. He's younger than me, for one. And two, I met him well after the scorch marks from the George incident had scabbed over. So I tried to be a little more cautious with my attraction to Grim's world. It still hadn't quite worked--I still felt slightly hurt, slightly betrayed, slightly left out when my buddy would hint at hooking up with his cavewoman. I haven't broken down crying again when these pangs of exclusion rip through me, and the more it happens the less powerful the pangs are. My hope is that they will disappear altogether one day. Probably when I'm gettin' mines on the regular.
Well, breaking news now is that Grim's cavewoman is seriously ill. And Grim doesn't seem to know how to handle it. After a prefunctory announcement, he informed us that he was going to cut off communication with us until he got his head together. Now, he KNOWS I'm a therapist. He's teased me about it plenty of times. Scorned me for it, in fact, in true knuckledragging fashion. "Just tell them to get over it," he would scoff. Now he needs some compassion. Some listening-to. And he won't let me do it. He tried to call me one night, but I was in the middle of a session. Soon as I could, I called him back, but he didn't answer. All he said by way of voice message was that he needed a favor from me. SO TELL ME WHAT IT IS, GRIM, YOU JACKASS!
Damn him. I'm terrified for him. He's had this girl since I met him, and way before that. Going on ten years if not more. If he loses her, what's going to happen to him? How will I be able to help? What if he goes psychotic? Could I handle it? I've often thought he has a touch of schizophrenia. He has some really strange ideas about life. Strange ideas that he actually believes. Like living out in the woods like a post-apocalyptic survivor is the answer to life's problems. Like he hates the island of Manhattan because everyone there is rich and beautiful and bastards. Like he'll never vote because it's all corrupt. Like he doesn't eat cute animals. Yes, Grim, I'm talking about you. You're my odd duck, friend. Now get off your high horse and talk to me.
Ah life. What a mess.
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to leave him a message, telling him I'm coming over. It's going to be this Saturday. It's going to be early. He can see me or not. But I'm coming. And I'm taking him out to breakfast if he'll come.
What else can I do?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
So The Lady In The Bakery Says To Me...
"I hate people like you."
And I threw my head back and guffawed, replying, "You have no idea!" Even though I wanted to leap across the glass case and lather her with kisses.
Can you guess what led up to this exchange?
Updated 10/22/08, The Mystery Revealed;
So, I go into the bakery with the best buttercream icing I've found since the demise of Pakula's in Spring Valley, looking for slices of cake for sale. They have none. So I scope out the birthday cakes, remembering that not long ago I had a birthday, and instead of cake I had tears. So I'm feeling indulgent and reckless, and I get a price for the cake with no chocolate, no writing, and lemon on the inside, like my dream slices were. She said to me "14.95".
And I was like "WHAT?!" Because I'm pretty sure that when I was a lad buying Pakula cakes, they were that same price. I challenge anyone to walk into their local, best-in-butter-baking bakery and price a birthday cake.
That thing was so affordable and I was SO jonesing for a mouth full of that buttercream. Or two. Or an evening's worth. The lady looked at my expression and she said, "Oh so they picked you to come get the cake, huh?" thinking that the torn conflict on my face was due to someone else. I shook my head and grinned a little.
"No," says I. "I just...I originally hoped you'd have just a slice instead. The cupcakes have the same icing on it, right?" This was my attempt at small talk. I knew good and damn well what was on the cupcakes. But if I kept my mouth running I thought I'd be able to buy time while my superego clicked in and prevented a cake sale. Because I'd have that cake eaten by the weekend if I took it home. Alone.
"Ah, somebody has a sweet tooth," the bakery lady said.
"How do you do it?" I asked the lady. How can you work here and not eat everything all day?"
"I don't touch the stuff. I can't stand it."
"What?!?" It was as if she had just told me that sex was a plot by Bush to make people slaves of the Alpha Centurians.
"Isn't that terrible? I don't eat it, and yet look at me."
I did my best not to. She was referring to her portly frame. Very Rosie O'Donnell. What was I supposed to do?
"And yet here comes someone like you, who gets to eat all the sweets he wants. And look at you." she said. "I hate people like you."
And I threw my head back and guffawed, replying, "You have no idea!" Even though I wanted to leap across the glass case and lather her with kisses.
She was implying grandly that I didn't look like a man who needed to monitor his weigh, or care about his buttercream intake.
**MMMWAH!!!**
I do, at various times, recieve sideways compliments about my looks, AND I LOVE IT. I feel like I'm on the upswing of a new wave of attractiveness. The whole "am I gay, am I not" thing had me feeling unformed, unattractive, unsure, uneverything.
Now I'm starting to notice the compliments again.
Feels good.
Even with my belly, I'm starting to feel like one sexy poppa.
Oh by the way, I walked out of the store with three cupcakes, no bag. They were et within the hour.
NOMNOMNOM.
And I threw my head back and guffawed, replying, "You have no idea!" Even though I wanted to leap across the glass case and lather her with kisses.
Can you guess what led up to this exchange?
Updated 10/22/08, The Mystery Revealed;
So, I go into the bakery with the best buttercream icing I've found since the demise of Pakula's in Spring Valley, looking for slices of cake for sale. They have none. So I scope out the birthday cakes, remembering that not long ago I had a birthday, and instead of cake I had tears. So I'm feeling indulgent and reckless, and I get a price for the cake with no chocolate, no writing, and lemon on the inside, like my dream slices were. She said to me "14.95".
And I was like "WHAT?!" Because I'm pretty sure that when I was a lad buying Pakula cakes, they were that same price. I challenge anyone to walk into their local, best-in-butter-baking bakery and price a birthday cake.
That thing was so affordable and I was SO jonesing for a mouth full of that buttercream. Or two. Or an evening's worth. The lady looked at my expression and she said, "Oh so they picked you to come get the cake, huh?" thinking that the torn conflict on my face was due to someone else. I shook my head and grinned a little.
"No," says I. "I just...I originally hoped you'd have just a slice instead. The cupcakes have the same icing on it, right?" This was my attempt at small talk. I knew good and damn well what was on the cupcakes. But if I kept my mouth running I thought I'd be able to buy time while my superego clicked in and prevented a cake sale. Because I'd have that cake eaten by the weekend if I took it home. Alone.
"Ah, somebody has a sweet tooth," the bakery lady said.
"How do you do it?" I asked the lady. How can you work here and not eat everything all day?"
"I don't touch the stuff. I can't stand it."
"What?!?" It was as if she had just told me that sex was a plot by Bush to make people slaves of the Alpha Centurians.
"Isn't that terrible? I don't eat it, and yet look at me."
I did my best not to. She was referring to her portly frame. Very Rosie O'Donnell. What was I supposed to do?
"And yet here comes someone like you, who gets to eat all the sweets he wants. And look at you." she said. "I hate people like you."
And I threw my head back and guffawed, replying, "You have no idea!" Even though I wanted to leap across the glass case and lather her with kisses.
She was implying grandly that I didn't look like a man who needed to monitor his weigh, or care about his buttercream intake.
**MMMWAH!!!**
I do, at various times, recieve sideways compliments about my looks, AND I LOVE IT. I feel like I'm on the upswing of a new wave of attractiveness. The whole "am I gay, am I not" thing had me feeling unformed, unattractive, unsure, uneverything.
Now I'm starting to notice the compliments again.
Feels good.
Even with my belly, I'm starting to feel like one sexy poppa.
Oh by the way, I walked out of the store with three cupcakes, no bag. They were et within the hour.
NOMNOMNOM.
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