As Terri has her hand under my shirt, she says:
“She gets really hot when I put velcro on her nipples…”
and…we’re off! Happy Halloween!
(photos to come…)
i knew this woman once who
was terrified of the person she lived with
every time the other woman came home
her entrance was like the windows being
blown out by a hurricane
her energy matching the darkness of
her features.
Here I Am…Rock You Like a Hurricane…
Okay, everyone…sorry I’ve been so absent as of late. I’ve been busy fighting the evil android minions of this wikked, wikked week and listening to bad 80s music by bad 80s hair bands that makes me want to perm my hair, go at it with some Aqua Net and put on a pink tube top under a bleached jean jacket for no other reason than because I can. And follow a Van Halen cover band around on tour.
Anyway, the comings and goings of this wikked wikked week. Oh how I hate you, let me count the ways:
1. I felt fat. Because I’m still banned from the gym, but have now been okayed to engage in 3 wimpy arm exercises using 2-5 pound weights while lying on a firm surface on my back. Will I be impersonating Rico Bad Ass from the Prison Yard? No. Right now, I’m like the guy who’s in for passing bad checks who’s known for huddling up against the wall in the showers, clinging to his bar of soap.
2. I have a drug problem. My veins are collapsing. The toilet bowl cleaner’s been hissing those threats again but the shampoo has offered me protection…for a price. (What the fuck, Pantene? You know I ain’t got no money.) And someone’s pissed on my mattress in the corner of the floor again. No wait. That was me. The shakes…ohhh god…the shakes….
3. My mom has informed me, she’s coming to live with me. Yes, for 7-10 day periods, alternating weeks, lather, rinse, repeat. Among other things I will soon be able to enjoy, such as screaming matches into the wee hours of the evening, this will effectively be the end of my anonymous sex rampage. Because I’m sure she’s going to ask them for their names. And those are just things that I don’t want to know.
4. November. November. November. You know I’m scared of you.
5. I’m angry.
Other things of note from this week:
1. Came home to find orange cones, knee pads and a helmet in the middle of my hallway. (Welcome,
2. I’ve somehow been named the Queen of All Things Inappropriate ( From
3. Stood in line at Walgreen’s behind a middle-aged woman purchasing eggs and Maxi-pads, and another purchasing ribbed condoms, pantyhose and an Ace ankle bandage (I don’t know what kind of party she was headed to but I wish she would take me…).
4. A dog manages to not only dial 911 when its owner collapses, but also to summons help and to unlock the door for the paramedics.
http://msnbc.msn.com/id/6364394/
And meanwhile, George W. Bush is the leader of the free world. Let’s take a moment to think about this. Smart dog…dumb man. Smart dog…dumb man. Smart dog…dumb man. Smart dog…dumb man. My brain just short-circuited.
5. A drunk ho and a crazy bitch are not interchangeable, but if they walk into a bar together, the punchline is bound to be tragic.
Have a great weekend, folks.
Interesting Coincidences
Okay. You guys know me. I’m the spiritual explorer. Well, some of my readers may remember that day I had…way back in May, when I was feeling my soul bleed out of my veins and realized I was desperate. I remember that day as a significant one. And I just realized the biggest “coincidence” of that day. The following is the actual blog entry from that day.
Saturday 5/15/04:
I woke up feeling gloomy today, as I sometimes do the morning after going on a date. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, except that sometimes, I wonder if things will ever feel right, or comfortable, in a way where you can’t help but be anything but yourself around someone. Sometimes I think that maybe my life should be more about embracing loneliness rather than doing things to solve it, like looking for companionship. Maybe some people wouldn’t be able to do what they need to do during their lifetimes with other people too close to them. I don’t know. That thought makes me sad but if that’s the way it should be for me, then that’s the way it should be.
I woke up at 11am and had 3 hours to kill before going to my physical therapy appointment for my back, so I went to visit the kids at Starbucks and to read. They were all going to Wango Tango so they were bouncing off the walls hyper (Calvin called and invited me a few minutes ago, but I can’t go. That was sweet of him though.). I read a few chapters of White Oleander—the 14 year old character was learning about the “power” of beauty and so she gave a guy a blowjob for a bag of weed, just to see how it felt. And it didn’t feel good. That kind of made me sad (that whole book makes me sad. It’s so damn honest). So I left and did what I usually do during times when I’m feeling a little bit lost—I drive without a destination, letting my internal radar guide me to where I need to be.
I ended up at Woodlawn Cemetary in Santa Monica. It’s this little cemetery from the 1800s that’s tucked in the middle of the concrete jungle with a Foster’s Freeze across the street. I drove by it and knew that was where I needed to be so I went in. It was peaceful inside and there were two other people there—a man standing still over a headstone with his head bowed, and an old woman with snow white hair walking with a sense of direction. I followed her, about fifty feet behind, wanting to see where she ended up. She paused occasionally to look up at the sky, her eyes so sad, then exited the cemetary through another gate.
I looked at some markers, thinking about who these people were and what their lives were like. I found a bench under a tree next to a “Loving Grandmother,” and sat quietly, with my eyes closed, feeling the energy around me. The energies of older cemeteries are not as strong and aggressive as those where the recently deceased are buried. I think, after a while, those who have passed on become less and less connected to this world, perhaps as those they left behind cross over as well.
I think that when I die, I don’t want people to bring me flowers. I want them to plant something near my grave, so that these flowers can grow and bloom and live. I want to be marked by a symbol of life, not to be honored with flowers that have been severed from their life force and sacrificed to my memory, in order to slowly die where I lay. I hope that in my lifetime, people will understand my dedication to life, and will honor me with life rather than sacrifices.
I think about how, Michael and I are like turtles without shells. We’re ultra-empaths, and we can feel people’s pain without them even realizing it themselves. We reach out with kindness because it’s the only way we know how to reach out. But man do we get burned. I have always made sure to protect Michael and to make him strong to face the world that is often so cruel because of its own self-loathing, because what he gives to this world, pure kindness and love, is something that the world needs but doesn’t always accept. But sometimes I get scared…who will look out for me?
I walked around some more, turning rightside flowers that had been tipped over by the wind and returning cards that had been blown away from their recipients. Sometimes it was hard to figure out who the cards belonged to, and I had to read them to figure it out. One in particular did not have a name, but was addressed to “Mom,” from a daughter who was still so sad over her mother’s death. She talked about how hard it was not to be able to mail her this card or to say the things she wanted to say to her, and how hard it was that this was the first Mother’s Day without her. She wished that she could call her up just to say how much she appreciated her and to say that she loved her, or to hear her mother say, “I love you.” I stood there reading this card, tears falling down my cheeks, feeling the pain of this woman, and how hard separation is. There was no name on the card and it had been blown onto the sidewalk. It was suddenly really important for me to return this card to the right person. I closed my eyes and prayed, silently, Please…I need your help. Please help me find you. I opened my eyes and walked to a grave about 15 feet away. It was somewhat fresh and had flowers next to it, as well as another card. Robin. Beloved Mother. She passed on earlier this year. I’m positive this was the woman this card belonged to; I put the card next to the flowers, making sure it was secured enough to not be blown away again.
Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can say today. It’s so sad that people are most upfront about their appreciation of someone at their funerals. Why not give the love and appreciation that you have for everyone today, while we can still share it together?
********
That was my first day of PT. When I came in wearing a hat.
Maybe the universe does try to answer our calls. I remember I was sitting on that bench next to the “loving grandmother” at the cemetary, looking at the sky through the branches of a tree, and feeling overwhelmed by my loneliness. Looking at the sky, I put out a call into the universe, asking, if a soulmate could hear me, to come help me battle this loneliness. And I didn’t realize that call had been answered quite promptly until now. It’s so funny, how things can suddenly make sense. But…the catch. There’s always a catch, isn’t there? Ah, cie la vie, mon cherie… life’s a tragic comedy. We’re all shipwrecked sailors, floating at sea, lost in this blanketing fog, calling out into the darkness. And every once in a while, we find another and for a short time, that companionship gives us hope that all is not lost.
Maybe someday, when it’s brighter, I’ll get to know what was going on that day for the other person.
Hey everyone, check out the lunar eclipse tonight…blood moon…tonight is make it or break it in terms of things that came into play on Oct. 13th. Good luck everyone! For me, I’ve gotta lock myself away and write.
I was browsing the astrology boards as I’m prone to do. This guy had an interesting thread about 12th House placements:
Curious to know if others with 12th house planets have experienced an unquenchable loneliness or an underlying feeling of incarceration in this life. Moon, Venus and Saturn are in my 12th house. Do you sense an other-worldly plan or assignment motivating you, a compelling force overriding the will? By aligning your will with the compelling force you know and accept your identity? Are you highly aware you are here with business in hand, on assignment, the very nature a lonely position? This assignment you know you have chosen, tasks that must be done? Associated with learning humbleness? Not debt payoff but, bear with me here,…a “guardian angel” type role?
Very good, George, m’boy. 12th House people are the messengers for the universe, the guides of the people. They have the most karmic responsibility, but are the least recognized for their work. All work is done in secret. I have a 12th House Venus (bringing messages and/or challenges using or teaching love).
When you have things to do on this earth that few people understand and which you barely understand yourself, but have instructions you must spontaneously follow, it makes life very, very lonely. But it’s deeply rewarding, too. Humbleness…humility…yes, we are the universe’s servants.
Brian and I were just looking at the Abercrombie & Fitch quarterly and analyzing the boys’ physical attributes and flaws, and where on the hot guys we wanted to lick. And yes, I said, “the hot guys.” He has turned me into such a gay man, that I can look through an A&F quarterly and decide there are some guys who just aren’t hot enough.
Wow. I’m a flaming gay man for Halloween. Again.
10/25 Recap
Hey, folks. If Oct 13th didn’t kick your ass, watch out for the next few days. Particularly, tomorrow through the 28th.
I had a great day today. Work went by quickly. Didn’t fall asleep. Bought the new Phil Jackson book at lunch.
Talked to both Rie and Ethan (givin’ me some of that midwest love!). Ethan and I are planning a Mayhem Superforce reunion in Vegas sometime in the spring. With plans to crash a random wedding. I’m sure this adventure will leave me plenty to write about so stay tuned!
Weekend Recap
So I was supposed to go to Portland this weekend (spontaneous trip) but Orbitz screwed me so badly with the hotel reservations that I just cancelled the trip last minute on Friday. Which was probably better because I guess I had made plans to go out with that guy Jon on Friday and considering I had cancelled on him twice already, it would probably be bad for him to call me and for me to say, “Oh! I left the state. Oops.” But then again, I was tired after work anyway, so I didn’t want to go out with him. He’s 23, cute and sweet and lives in Orange Country. Translation = A Geographically Undesirable Distraction.
So I spent the weekend at home, because I was really tired, just trying to rest up because I haven’t been sleeping much during the week. Spent some quality time with my turtle.
Went and saw The Machinist on Saturday night. Christian Bale lost like 60 lbs for a really bad movie. But may I just say how hot the guys are at that Sunset 5 Plaza? Where Crunch is. Okay, granted, they’re all gay. But doesn’t stop me from thinking about wanting to have sex with them.
Brian spent Sunday making our Halloween costumes. Let’s just say we’re complementary parts of a lewd analogy. I said to Brian, “Your prongs look really gay!” And for balance, I requested that my bits look butch.
And waited for it to rain…and waited for it to rain…and waited for it to rain…
Today’s Burning Question:
If you were reading a suspenseful book, would you look at the last page just for peace of mind? And if you knew what was going to happen, would you tell others who are reading the same book?
and now…a story set to jimmy webb’s “wichita lineman”
and in their heads,
what does it matter if i could
never make you happy?
in a place that leaves no room for mistakes
unless you count small talk and sly glances
over two lonely souls meeting and comparing chains
except one is secretly free.
(i broke every bone in my hands to keep from reaching for you.)
did i mention
one of them was coming from a world where sex was
the price to be paid for a warm body and a heartbeat with which to be
lulled to sleep?
(you’re trespassing in someone
else’s house, she said.
but then…she was gone.)
so as i was saying:
“—moods like the ocean whipped about in a storm.”
“i wouldn’t mind seeing a thunderstorm,” she said
so…….
so calmly.
and then it hit me.
still plainly obvious to everyone but me.
what about the calm after the storm,
when one would presume to
look around and realize all that survives
the ocean
the sky
the you
and the I…
and forever is all that is left.
yes. what of it then?
the restless ocean exhaled another patient sigh
waiting
as a stoic castle’s walls began to show the first signs of crumbling.
Another thing about rainy days…they make me crazy randy.
Just give me a violent thunderstorm and I’ll be dumping out my little jar of numbers, making some emergency calls…
#1 Criteria I Look For In a Soulmate:
If he truly spiritually and emotionally appreciates the rain.
Not like, “Yeah, I like walks on the beach, candlelit dinners and yada yada yada” kind of appreciation, where you appreciate a lot until you finally get laid, but one where your soul feels alive at the very feel, smell and energy of the rain.
In moments when I can sit alone in a candlelit room with the doors and windows open and listen to the rain, intoxicated by the cool, sharp air, I feel like there is nothing better in the world than being exactly who I am, in exactly this moment.
It’s Official! I’m In Rehab…
Today was my first appointment for rehab at the physical therapy place. This place caters to a lot of Olympians and professional athletes (such as Pete Sampras and Kobe Bryant), so you can bet my eyes were open for big black men. After my initial evaluation, my physical therapist told me that we would work on decreasing the pain first and then move on to rehab in the pool in a couple of weeks. All I have to say is, Pete and Kobe had BETTER not have peed in the pool…
The Life of a Compulsive Liar
Brian and I had lunch today at a snooty little hotspot in WeHo. I got the number while Brian parked. Either the wait was shorter than expected, or Brian took a really long time getting there, because after a bit, they asked me if my entire party was here. I said yes, but the host kind of looked at me standing there by myself and then went down the list and gave my table to someone else. A few minutes later, they asked me again if my entire party was here. I said, no, but I just wanted to have coffee while I wait. They went ahead and called a different person’s name. A few minutes later, they asked me again if my entire party was there. I mean, seriously…my entire party is TWO people. You can freakin’ seat me as if you were seating for one. So I went up to the host and told him, “LISTEN. My party will be here in a few minutes but I really need to sit and have some coffee and have some ME time before I’m ready to deal with my partner, okay??” And they promptly sat me.
What the f–Partner??? In a fit of irritation, I managed to spontaneously become a whole imaginary character whose back story was that she was this chick in a bad mood because her lesbian lover was going through another craving of drama and she just needed some quiet time before she dealt with the crazy bitch. And somehow, I had spontaneously calculated that a PMSing (possibly violent) lesbian act would get me a table.
I’m a little afraid of myself right now.
(must use powers for good…)
Tonight’s Episode Brought to You by the Word, “Lesbian”
“Lesbians are like buffalo. They move in herds, and it takes more than one bullet to bring one down.”
-Brian
Top 5 things that weaken my claim of being straight:
1. I played softball
2. I want Ellen DeGeneres to be my best friend
3. I have a Xena magnet on my fridge
4. I always said that if I became a stripper, I would work it to the Garbage song, “Queer.”
5. This picture…
#1 Sign that I’m NOT Gay
When asked, “Julia…do you kiss girls?” by a girl in a dark bedroom one drunken night, I laughed and said no, thinking, “What a silly question!” I reacted as if she had asked me, “Do you own a rocket ship?” Not realizing until much, much later, with the help of a very patient friend, that that question was actually a proposition.
Getting your heart broken is like an exercise that builds up your soul. Each time you manage to find the courage to rise again after emotional collapse, your ability to love in the face of fears gets stronger and stronger. It’s a necessary thing. Each time, you’re tested to see if not being able to hold onto something precious will destroy you. And each time that you are able to stand up, you gain further proof for your faith that love is the source of all strength.
Brian is “not upset” but upset at the fact that at the Rock the Vote party last night, I gave the roommate of someone he works with in the industry my phone number so that he could call me and try to talk me into having a threesome. He believes this behavior was socially inappropriate.
We were at a party where Pauly Shore was standing next to us saying “…just pop some Viagra and you’ll have a great time,” Ryan Seacrest and his enormously tiny head was the big “celebrity draw,” and the hot topic of mass simultaneous conversations was whose asses each and every different person would consider grabbing…and somehow, MY behavior stood out as socially inappropriate.
One word:
Bitch please.
(Is it bad that I treat life like a joke sometimes and just do things for the sake of the funny stories they’d make?)
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About Me:
experimental stream of consciousness writer who may or may not be a liar. sanest person you've ever met but i'll look you in the eyes like a computer eating magnets. what i don't know about you, i'll make up. and you'll still love me because you don't know where i went that moment you swore i disappeared. my moods chase the seasons and i hear it makes an interesting read. i like smelling good.