Reruns

What does watching ten episodes in a row of Sex and the City get you? Dreams about Sex and the City. That'll teach me.

So then, when I woke up, I had Stevie Nicks and Kylie Minogue alternating their songs in my head, like they were dueling for dominance. "You can consume all the beauty in the room, baby / I know you can, I've seen you do it" and then "Fever sure has got me good / What you do when fever takes hold / I can't help but need this drug / Don't you feel the fever like I do / Feel the fever." And lather, rinse, repeat as needed. This happens to me all the time. I always have songs popping in and out of my head. All I need to hear is a certain syncopation on the computer keyboard, a car's horn, a breaking glass even, and I get a song with a similar rhythm stuck in my head for hours or until I hear it in its entirety again. How bizarre. But at times it's comforting because it keeps my mind occupied in case I can't otherwise occupy it.

For some reason, this morning while I was showering, I was captivated by my body. While it's nothing spectacular anymore, I never pay attention to all that it does for me. I saw my feet supporting my frame and all of its baggage. I watched as my hands moved and my toes wriggled around in the water. I noted that all of the actions that I take for granted are performed by some sort of brain function that I will never understand. I don't consciously tell my mouth to open when I'm about to brush my teeth; it just seems to do so automatically. I feel almost like a computer that has been programmed to perform certain functions repeatedly, every day, night, or whenever. Of course, I could go on to be existential about it all, but that would be too cheesy, and we wouldn't want that. So, rather than letting my fingers type while I'm composing the words in my head, I try to make my fingers move to the keys on the keyboard, and I realize that I can't, or at least, I don't know how to tell them to move. Isn't that odd? What command in my head tells my index finger to hit the "t" key? I'm sure it's easily explainable, but I'll just write it off as one of those strange unknowns of the human body.

I spent the weekend driving around, causing trouble, and leaving messes in my wake. I had the sense to bring along my hand-held tape recorder like I used to in the past, to record my thoughts and experiences. Listening to the tape now, I realize how raw human experience and emotion can be. I had the recorder by my side throughout the weekend, and I picked it up anytime I had an urgent thought to capture. I was debating whether I should transcribe that tape here, but then I thought better of it. It really was so raw that, even on the internet with nothing but strangers' eyes reading this material, I would feel embarrassed. Perhaps some day.

I like recording my thoughts, though. I took a road trip to Iowa about seven years ago, right after I bought my Golf and recorded the six-day round-trip journey, including a few days while I was staying at my mom's house. I have never erased that tape, and I hope to actually digitize it some day. I laugh my ass off listening to the sleep-deprived comments that popped into my head and the uncensored banter I would have with myself. Strange, I know, but it's kind of fun. And it's the kind of fun that only I could find amusing because it's all a bunch of inside jokes that I have with myself. Oh, come on, that's not so strange. I know we all have our own inside jokes, and I feel sorry for those who don't. It's all about laughter and love, people.

That's all.

Back to the Grindstone

I'm at R's place now, making edits to more documents. It's the first real work I've had in about three weeks. I am ashamed to say that I don't want to work anymore. I have gotten so used to sitting around, going where I want to go, not having any commitments or responsibilities, that now I'm almost resentful to have to work again. I know that sounds horrible. I have been so conditioned to work every day, and to be a hard worker every day, that all of this free time has made me a little weak. So I'm human, poke me I bleed. OK?

And then, he presents me with "phase two" of the NDA project for one of our clients. Phase two will be the compilation of the NDA, which is quite labor intensive. It's the end of the project and the last step before the thing is sent off to the FDA for review. During phase two, I'll be working at the client every single day, as if I were a full-time employee again. I'm not sure I'm ready for that (see previous paragraph).

On the other hand, I've been so bored and worried about my next paycheck and where it's coming from that I've been looking around for other work. It's not even that I'm no longer commited to the main project of our company, it's just that I'm bored. While I like to sit around and have no work to go to every day, I get restless after a while, and that while is now. I want to work again, and in my search, I've found what could be a great job at a non-profit in San Francisco. It's exactly my pace and style of work, although it would represent only a third of what I'm making now. And that sucks, but it would be full-time, and it would be a regular paycheck. Am I shooting myself in the foot? Yeah, I think so.

And how would I tell the whole gang that I'm leaving? I would feel like I would be abandoning ship and stiffing them with all of the work that I do. Because let's face it, I'm it. Jordan's leaving in July to go back east to finish his graduate school, and then there's me. So if I left, they would have no one capable of doing what I'm doing complete with all of the history of the work that I did at the pharma. While that's no reason to stay by itself, I think I would be making a mistake if I left now. I guess I just made up my mind.

All of the milage that my poor, old car will endure during the next six months will almost guarantee that I will have to buy the new Audi A4 Cabriolet when it comes out. I guess I could settle for that. It's bigger than the Miata, and a little more sophisticated than the VW Cabrio. And BMW is just to ostentatious for me anyway. I hope I can last that long.

Speechless

Oh my god, I just had the most horrifying dream. I dreamt that I was at All-State with Mr. Hatteberg [my former high school choir director who's now probably Dr. Hatteberg] and the madrigal group, and I was doing duets, males duos. The first day, I had learned everything else but this one song, and this was going to make or break it, because I didn't have the music and I never learned it. So, I was searching through my book of music, which turned out to be nothing but recipes for cookies and brownies, and I couldn't find the song. Finally, ten minutes before we were supposed to compete, I told him that I didn't have the music and that I didn't know the piece, and he threw a glass of water at me, gave me the sheet music, and said, "Go, read, learn." And I was so freaking out because I knew that I wasn't going to be able to do it. Thank god that I woke up because now I realize it was just a dream, but I was so afraid. It was horrible, simply horrible.

On a lighter note, though, I had a dream earlier in the night. I was at a drug conference with someone I knew, the typical shit. We were drinking, goofing off and shit. I'm walking back from the resto we were having dinner at, and it was kind of like Fremont Street in Vegas where the whole downtown area was like this one big show with a canopy over the street, speakers everywhere, video screens and such like that. I'm walking down, and I hear a familiar voice, so I look up on the video monitors and it's Bette Midler singing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy and instead of the traditional mermaid-in-a-wheelchair Dolores Delago skit, she's swing dancing...as herself that is. So, it took a while, but it finally caught up with me.

That's all.

Who knew?

May is National Masturbation Month! I've got to make up for some lost time, it looks like.

Oh dear Lord, please no!!

Sylvester Stallone has faith in TV priest series.

What do you say to something like this? And once again, how the fuck did anyone agree to finance this?

Hard Bodies

You know what? I'm getting a little pissed off. I'm just noticing now how many gay male personal ads are so discriminatory. Yes, I'm thick, and it's just starting to sink in. Of course I've seen the standard "no fats, no fems," and I've written them off as shallow, but now I'm just starting to pay attention to how many people feel necessary to quote their body fat percentage, how many times they work out per day/week/month, etc., how rock-hard their abs are, and I could go on but it's making me sick. Why is this necessary? It's as if they really are peacocks strutting around flashing their colourful feathers trying to win the dominant role. And putting in that light makes it look absolutely absurd, and I think it is.

During my recent Sex and the City marathon, I really paid attention to the guys who were the stars dates/tricks for the night. I noticed how many of them are not muscle-bound and ripped. I noticed how many of them are hairy-chested and don't feel the need to shave their chest hair. And while I realize that it's just a TV show, it's fiction and all (how else could Charlotte be so fucking perfect all the time?), do women not care about a man's body type as much as a gay man does? And if so, why not?

It's discouraging because my body is no longer a 10. It could have come close when I was 10, but now it's suffered the ravages of age and good food. I am not obsessive, and I don't pig-out per se, but I don't work out on a daily basis either. In fact, I have a Bay Area membership at the Y, which costs me $65 a month and allows me to go to any YMCA in the Bay Area all the way down to Monterey...and I never use it anywhere. It's so convenient that "I just don't have time." (The actual reason for that is another rant and risks exposing me as an insecure human being, so I won't go there right now.) So why should that be so wrong? Where are all the guys who will accept me and my body type for who and what they are without putting a dozen qualifications on top of me? Are they not placing personal ads? Are they already partnered up for the long haul?

And another thing that bothers me is when I'm cruising guys anywhere, one of the most commonly asked questions is: "Why are you still single?" In fact, on our trip to Vegas, Andrea (a pretty, straight, blond girl with oh, so perky tits) asked me when I was going to get married, if I wanted to get married, and hold on, honey, you'll find the love of your life someday. So apparently, I'm cute enough that I should be in a relationship, but strangely enough, I'm not. My response is that I want to be single and I prefer to be single. And that's not necessarily true. Being single is definitely easier because there are no interpersonal relationship conflicts to deal with, and there's certainly no emotional baggage to deal with, and forget about the whole "who's sleeping is whose bed tonight" argument. I think it's a cover-up for my true feelings about dating in the gay world. It's easier for me to accept being single than it is to accept being singled out as not date material just because I have a natural body tone and not six-pack abs. In fact, well-built men are now almost a turn-off for me because of their bodies (well, not really, just more realistically out of reach). I mean, why would a guy who invests so heavily in his body want to go out with a guy like me who doesn't? But all men can't be that shallow, can they?

I think that's enough self-indulgent complaining for a while. Yes, I am the Queen of Denial, or couldn't you tell?

Words of Wisdom

I don't know who wrote this or where I found this, and to whomever is responsible, a deeply heartfelt thanks. It gives me much to think about.

Sometimes you find yourself in a place you never dreamed you would be, and you don't know whether to laugh or cry. There are no instructions, no rules, and no one can do this but you. So you can bury your head under the covers and cry until sleep takes over...but it'll still be there when you wake up. You can put on a mask and go through life with a smile on your face and a broken heart no one can see... or you can close your eyes, believe in yourself...take a deep breath...and stand up when the world is sitting.... Because no one is gonna do this for you...it is your life...and your choice.

Betty and Rita

Another lazy Sunday afternoon at Rancho Relaxo. I stayed over to help R set up his cable modem and home network. I did what I could. At the same time they had their AT&T broadband installed, they had their cable upgraded to digital, and now I'm watching Agnes Moorehead in an old episode of Password on the Game Show Network. I can't wait for the Match Game. I love that show.

We watched Mulholland Drive last night, and I would dearly appreciate it if someone out there would fill me in on just what the fuck that movie was supposed to be about. I guess I'm just a simpleton at heart. Give me Angelina Jolie storming around as Lara Croft, and I'll be happy. I just have one thing to ask Mr. Lynch: Why you gotta mess with my head?

Happy Mother's Day.

???

I've been sulking a lot lately, and that's the real reason for my absence. Sulking and feeling sorry for myself...again. I haven't been paid in over a month and a half. For some reason, the CEO of this fledgling company, a Mr. Dick Head, doesn't feel the need to actually do the job that he was hired to do. So while there is plenty of money in the company's bank account, he would rather take a week off and go to Florida and forget to pay the people that put that money in his bank account. OK, great incentive there, Dick. And then, so when I ask as non-chalantly as I can when I can expect a paycheck, I get some vague answer like 'oh in a week or so when [Dick] gets back from Florida.' OK. And that's supposed to satisfy me. How do you run a business like that?

And the worst part is that I am now commuting 110 miles round trip, every day. I have an aging VW that still manages about thirty-three miles per gallon of gas. That's cool, but this commute means that I'll use more, right? Duh. And, hmmm, when I'm overdrawn and flat broke, how am I supposed to buy gas and pay the bridge tolls? Hmmm? So then, how am I supposed to get to work? "Take Caltrain." Fuck you asshole. Caltrain. If I can't afford gas, how the fuck am I supposed to afford the train? And dog forbid the car breaks down... *knock on wood*

And the second worst part is that I am [supposed to be] paid more than ever in my life. And that's a good thing. But now that I'm not even getting paid, all I can find in the job market of San Francisco is a clerk position for one-third of what I'm supposed to be making at the start-up. Twenty minute BART commute every day. Downtown San Francisco office. Cute guys everywhere. Enormous pay cut. Hmmm. Let me weigh this out. I'll have to get back to you on that one. I'm at a loss.

And that's where I've been. What have I learned from all of this? Mother knows best. We didn't have a lot right after my parents were divorced. My mother did amazing things on the little money she made. I learned then how to save a buck, and being half Scotch-Irish and a quarter Polish, you'd think I'd be good at saving money. But I'm not. And I should have listened fifteen years ago. But, even still, it's amazing what I've been able to do by not spending a dime. No cigarettes, no booze, no dolls, no chocolate (big fat bummer), no new music or DVDs. It sucks, but I'm still alive. I'm so losing interest in start-ups.

Superstitions

What did I say yesterday? About my car breaking down? After I wrote that, I went out to go to the store for a few things, and what do you know? The car wouldn't start! I was immediately suspicious, and tried to start the damn thing again and again. Finally, the engine turned over, and after that it ran like a charm. And in the last thirty-six hours, every time I have started the car, it gets worse and worse. So, my conclusion—which is based purely on speculation and not founded in any way on actual knowledge—is that the starter is failing...rapidly. That's one way to keep me on this side of the bay. Oh, what luck.

And this afternoon, I get an e-mail from the bossman saying that the check will be even later than anticipated, and that he's willing to float me a loan until the real thing comes up. So, I let him know of my auto's impending doom, and he agreed to help me out. I feel like I'm sixteen again having to ask Dad for help. You're right, it might not be worth the hassle.

This makes me happy.

Say cheese to The Mirror Project!

Angelique takes Barnabus from Josette

Ah, yes, I remember it well...from the reruns that is.

Isn't this comforting?

Mueller says walk-in suicide bombers "inevitable" in United States

WTF??

Get this. In the latest development of My Own Private Drama, the Founders of the start-up for whom I am toiling away have made me an offer that I don't know I can refuse. I'm not a superficial, greedy whore...I'm not, I'm not, I'm not! (The lady doth protest too much, you thinks?) Since the Founders have come to rely on me so heavily, they expect me to appear when they need me (let me just twitch my nose for you). Due to the condition of my car and the events of recent days, they have decided to offer me a substantial loan to purchase a new one. They pulled me in this morning to make this offer, and they gave me homework to do. "Find the car you want, figure out if you can afford monthly payments, insurance payments, gas, etc...on the car you want, and then come back to us. We'll make you an offer." A new car in exchange for what, my first-born child? OK, they know me better than that. Eternal devotion to their cause? Indefinite indentured servitude? Oy vey iz mir.

I can't believe this. If I take it, I'd surely benefit from the increased reliability (and speed) of a new vehicle (not to mention the more-than-likely very attractive payment plan with flexible payment schedules that have no deleterious effects to my credit record,) but I'd have to suffer through the monotony of the company, the actual work, the commute, blah blah blah. If I don't take it, I'll surely offend them, I'll be stuck with a thirteen-year-old car that will begin to break down more regularly and the possibility of no job (if it gets ugly with the Founders), which in turn would require no commute (a little plus-side there).

These people are my friends. We've been naked and drunk in a hot tub together, we've been stoned together, we've been stranded in London because of terrorist attacks on the US together. Why is it so hard for me to just accept a little generosity from one concerned friend to another? I feel so humiliated and humbled by this offer, but should I? It's clearly none of their business what happens with my finances or my personal life unless I choose to make it so, friends or not. And true, they do rely on me, and I need to have a reliable set of wheels no matter what happens, and this is the best job opportunity I could hope to get right now. It's just that since I was eighteen, I have lived on my own, making my own way, never depending on anyone for anything, and as a result, I've never learned how to ask for help even when I truly do need it. Of course, it's never too late to learn anything, but it's soooooo hard. And then again, it has a lot to do with how other people see me, which shouldn't matter to me, but fuck it all, of course it does. I want to prove to the world that I can do it, I can survive, and I can buy a new car without anyone's help, and I can, just not right this second. But why do I have to prove anything to anyone? I've lived to be a healthy, intelligent, capable, color-coordinating, self-sufficient, alive thirty years old. That says something, doesn't it? God, am I an ungrateful fuck?

So, as my world vacillates, I'll keep you updated. As always, thanks for reading.

Update

So, I take my car in to a new place that R recommended, and they give me a quote for $500 to fix the starter. What the fuck? I am always amazed at how much auto repairs cost. Why on Earth would any part, other than the engine and the car itself, cost $500 to fix or replace? I don't get it. But this one has to be fixed. So, R is giving me a loan until he can pay me, and I still don't know when that will be.

I did my "homework," and found a car that I can afford and that I would love driving. Now the question I have to ask myself is if I really want to invest in a new car right now. I know, I've done the pros and cons to the whole deal, but after this $500 shocker this morning, it's beginning to look more practical to spend $900 a month for a new car and its expenses than it is to keep dropping a bundle every so often to keep the old one running. I know, I know, I can talk this subject until I'm blue in the face, but for some reason, writing it all down like this gives me a chance to purge it and really think about it...in addition to the fact that it's pretty much preserved for posterity, and one day in the future, when I have a fleet of vehicles at my disposal, I can look back at this minor setback and unfortunate period in my life, throw my head back, and cackle like Gypsy Rose Lee. Oh, darling, what fun we used to have!

Exploding Volkswagens

Well, let me give you a little update on my end, and be forewarned, it's not pretty:

I got a call back from the car repair place, and they had bad news. Apparently, there was gasoline leaking into my oil tank, enough to warrant a closer look. So they did, and they found out that the electronic fuel injection system has been stuck on all the time. The computer that controls the device is bad or broken, and as a result the only way I could drive the thing is if they replaced the computer. Otherwise, the guy warned me, the car could blow up when I started it. I don't know how long this has been going on, but since he put it in that light, I think it's time to make a choice. He quoted me $1300 to buy the new computer part and install it...on top of the $500 of work he's already completed, which is now a waste of money and time.

So I'm more or less forced to buy a new car. I certainly cannot justify putting that much more into this car. It's thirteen years old for Christ's sake. How do you like that? I was prepared to drive the car home and spend some time saving some money to put a down payment on something, and well, that's not going to happen now.

I've got to figure out how to get rid of the Golf, what I'm going to do until I do buy a new one, and how the fuck I'm going to get home! So, R&W have offered to keep me here until I can get a car. I really don't have a choice. I almost wish that I had taken my chances driving the thing. It would have put an end to my misery if not causing everyone else more grief at my passing.

On a lighter note, tonight's the season finale of Enterprise, and then I can catch up with the episode of Six Feet Under that I missed last Sunday.

I don't know what else to say, so that's it.

A New Start

Well, after hours of consideration and cocktails, I have resigned myself to the whole situation. I called the repair guy again, and I told him that I was going stop infusing the car with money I could be spending on a new car. He was really cool about it and offered me a few solutions. So, R&W offered to take me out car shopping this weekend. I know exactly what I want, and I can't believe that I'm actually going to do this, and I'm NOT going to settle for something I don't want. This is a huge decision and investment for me, and chances are I'll have the thing for a long, long time. Why should I settle for something I'm going to hate driving? So, if it takes two weeks for the car to be delivered, I'll wait. In a way, it's exciting.

This is just part of my awakening, and I'm not getting all new-agey here. I have finally realized that I am an adult, and I should start to act like one. I am tired of feeling sorry for myself and my situation. No one except for me is responsible for putting me where I am today. I deserve a better life. I deserve a new car. I deserve a good life. I have been in denial, duh, and frankly, it's boring. Self-loathing, self-deprecation (except for the purpose of humor, perhaps) is boring and a waste of energy. I have to change in order to survive. I have to become who I want to be in order to keep my sanity. What happened to me? Did I get hit on the head? Where did all of these realizations come from? Maybe it was the booze and dope. Whatever it was, I'm ready to start. I know it's not going to be easy. I know life will never be easy. But I'm willing to accept it and deal with it. Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger.

Amen.

For websites everywhere....

Steal this graphic

Divas Las Vegas

I was a little disappointed with the Divas in Las Vegas. I expected so much more from such talent. I loved Anastacia, Cher, and Celine, of course, but the Dixie Chicks and Mary J. Blige and Whitney...oh Whitney, honey. At least it looks like she's eating again. I loved the Cher's duet with Cyndi Lauper on If I Could Turn Back Time. What a great combo. I simply adore Cyndi Lauper.

Otherwise, it was kind of lackluster. The sound wasn't that great, the outfits left oh, so much to be desired, and after the first two or three numbers, it went down hill really fast. Shakira...stop rolling around in the mud and figure out what your voice really sounds like. I mean, really. Natalie what's-her-name in the Dixie Chicks...every time she came out on stage, her hemline went up another couple of inches, and honey, you don't need to be showing us all that, OK? Look, I know you just had a baby and all, but come on now, have some sense. And the Elvis medley at the end...why?

Ellen DeGeneres as host was highly entertaining, however. She has always been funny. I didn't care too much for her TV shows, but her own personal comedy is hilarious. And she looked good, too.

That's all.

Friday Five

1. What's the last vivid dream that you remember having?
   Last night, I dreamt I was in tobacco store in London, and Jeremy was watching me from outside. When I walked out to talk to him, he ran away screaming.
2. Do you have any recurring dreams?
   Not anymore. When I had mono three years in a row, I had a recurring dream that I was floating in the air, writing on the ceiling with a butter knife. It could have been the drugs I was on, or it could have been an OBE. I would go for the drugs.
3. What's the scariest nightmare you've ever had?
   There are so many to think about. Probably the soccer ball-sized spider chasing me through my apartment and tapping one of its legs on my bedroom door, as if it were politely asking to come in and eat me.
4. Have you ever written your dreams down or considered it? Why or why not?
   If I have time, I will always record my dreams. I use it as a tool to understanding myself (which never helps much) and also to recognize patterns within my dreams. If the dreamer can become aware of certain recurring patterns in dreams, it is easier to become lucid while dreaming.
5. Have you ever had a lucid dream? What did you do in it?
   Yes. I was on a deserted cruise ship being chased by Schwartzenegger-type bad guys with machine guns. I ran outside on the deck, jumped on the diving board of the pool, and took off in flight away from the ship. It was way cool.

GTI

Well, I did it. I went out to buy myself a new car yesterday afternoon. R&W took me out to get it all over with, and later this week, I'll be able to drive home in my first brand new car. I can't believe it yet because I don't have the car, and it'll be hard to believe it when they hand me the keys. I've got a silver 2002 VW GTI with black leather interior, sunroof, and 6 CD changer on its way. I originally wanted a blue one, but they couldn't get one within three months, so I opted for my second color choice, and voilà, I've got a new car. I can't believe it. I was so nervous, I almost got sick to my stomach. Bizarre. Stand by for pictures....

Two More Days

I got a call from Broadway Volkswagen yesterday about my car. Poor Sergio, when he called and announced himself, I almost screamed "Is my car here?" He said that it would be here on Saturday. Boo hoo. I was really hoping that it wouldn't take that long, but hey, I've waited this long, I can wait another couple of days. I still can't believe I am going to have a new car!!

I got my old Golf back from the garage. I showed up on Tuesday morning to pay for it and tow it back to R&W's place. Jeff at 4 Star Auto in South San Francisco was kind enough to point out that since I wouldn't be keeping the car, there was no use in installing a new starter, so he pulled it out and only charged me for the labor! How's that for a deal? The whole repair only cost $270. Too bad that I'll have a new car now. I would definitely go back there for service.

And then Jorge came by to tow it for me. He was so adorable. Whatever. As we were driving down 101, I had to keep myself from even thinking about propositioning him. He was receptive, I know that much. I just don't know if it would be good form to hit on the tow truck driver. What? Like I've never seen porn before?

So now I'm waiting for the car donation people to sashay on by to tow the old one away. I've had it for seven years, and it's going to be sad to see it go once and for all. A part of me, etc....

But then I'll have a new one that will keep me happy for years to come.

That's all.

Strike That

I got another call from cute (and married) Sergio this afternoon. Turns out that my new car will be available TOMORROW!! Woo fucking hoo. I am sooo excited. Now I just have to come up with an excuse to leave work early, like 11:30 a.m.

Finally

Well, I've done it. I've made myself some new pages, but the images on the subsequent pages of this site don't appear. They're fine on this main page, but I can't figure out why they're not working anywhere else. And on the About page, there are images that appear. It's all just funky. What's up with that. Well, I hope it works out some day. I like this look a lot better anyway. It's much more clean, and hopefully easier to load. Comments anyone?

Pocket Rocket

Holy shit! I got the car! And it's blue!! I showed up to pick it up, and Sergio, cute, married Sergio drove around in a blue car. He saw me inside and waved me out, and when I reached him, he yelled "SURPRISE!" He told me that he could only get a silver one in the state of California, and that a blue one would be three months wait. So, surprise surprise!! I can't believe it. And the fucker is fast! What more can I say?