grit

I was on the train home. It was crowded as it's yet another fucking rainy day.
I'm standing in front of the doors with a guy beside me. I'm pissy and irritated by..I don't know what. An accumulation of daily whatevers.

As we come to the stops and the doors open I step aside and let people on or off. Mr. Fucko next to me doesn't move an inch for anyone. He stands his stone faced, Aztecan presence square and stares into the dim thoughts of his small, empty brain. Thus I have to really smash myself aside to allow my fellow people to flow.

Usually I would have a different attitude but I am weak with grumpiness, so I stared at his stupid head where his stupid face sat for three stops, willing him to turn into the toad he is.

So finally I say to him, I say, "I know your little mind thinks you rule this big world cause you're so tough with your selfish, rude insistence to stand like a dick in everyones way but I'm here to tell you you suck and we all think you do and you need to go home and take a long look in the mirror and realize you are just a piece of grit someone's desperately trying to wash out of their eye."

And with that the people stood and cheered. They lifted me above their heads and praised me. And the stupid, stunned man withered and shrunk into a toad.

sweaters are out of storage

There's a panic that wells up in me as the summer starts to fade. I feel like I'm sliding down a hill into a darker place. The colder months are always a time of introspection for me. A time of retreat.

Soon my friends and I won't stop to chat, we'll be striving to our next destinations, moving through the cold hoping to get done with work and to our warm apartments. There will be less meeting out for dinner and drinks.

A connection I have will be severed by a trip aboard. An open ended adventure with no guarantee of renewal.

I'm reluctant to welcome grey sky and scarves back into my life..I'm not ready for the darkness and solitude.

And it just started raining. Again.

Oh look, it's overcast outside. Again.
Oh look, my mood fits it perfectly.
Matching greys.


We're in the same room and can't find each other.
The jar lid is too tight, hope is being suffocated.
I want a stronger flow, my boat doesn't float well in a shallow current.

What other colorful, descriptive phrases can I muster to express my sense of disappointment to an ending connection with someone I wish to be close to? I could sit here all day.

Weird sensation, the inability to connect when it's what I crave.
And still I wish to see her again.
Two opposing desires sit in the center of me. A rotten lot.

Here's an email from my friend in France and it says it all and I hate that it does:

I agree with you on communication and expressing feelings. i need that too.

Now you can not ask someone to be different. In fact, i've learned that people won't give you what they can't even if you ask for it every day. You won't change that.
If you are not happy with that, just walk away. You don't fit with each other.

You shouldn't ask yourself 'Am I asking too much" (you should not be waiting for something she can't give, or asking for it) but , if I may, instead of that, ask yourself : "can she give me what I need?"

never wait for anyone to be like you want them to be, or you're going to wait a long time...really.

A three hour tour

The info in this post is mostly of interest to New Yorkers (maybe), as the rest of you might not know what I'm talking about.

Went to a party out on Staten Island today. Left at 11:30am and got there at 2:30pm.

Took the A from 200th in Inwood. The train claimed it was going express from 125th to 59th so we stayed on instead of transferring to the 1 at 168th. At 125th the conductor told us we were going local..

At 59th we caught the 1. At 14th we had to get off and catch the 2 as the 1 tunnels were under construction and the train wasn't going to South Street. We caught the 2 and got off at Canal as the 2 was going express to Brooklyn.

We were herded like cattle onto a shuttle bus at Canal to take us to South Street. When we got there the ferry had just left so we waited a half and hour for the next. On Staten Island we caught the train to our destination. 20 minutes.

When we got there our friends (two of them) who were picking us up seemed to have forgotten there were four of us. They picked us up in their Mini. So I sat on Nate and J sat on R and we played clown car.

Nate and I are a bit thin and I'm sure he lost circulation in his right leg.

The party was for Steve who was turning 30. He has a huge Italian family and many friends. The food was amazing, the people were great and there was water volleyball, beer, wine and espresso.

And we got a ride with a friend back into the city and we didn't even have to play clown car again.

Our trek out was worth it, good times.

A gift

There is this beautiful boy I know. I rarely see him but I've known him for 3-4 years. He's just graduated college and is back working for his uncle in a rubber hose factory. Yes there is a rubber hose factory in NYC, who knew?

He's someone people think of as an old soul. His capacity to be genuine, to be a simple, gentle human is very moving to me.

There have been times he's seen me from afar, stopped what he was doing, paused conversations and came to me, reached out for my face kissing me softly, embracing me gently to his heart and in his eyes there is a true love and pleasure to see me. I've never been greeted so lovingly by family, lovers or friends.

I can't begin to tell you how I cherish these brief encounters. I ran into him today. He said, "Be careful I'm sick today." I kissed him anyways, I'm sure he would have done the same as sickness isn't a deterrent to an expression of love. He told me about working for his uncle as I walked him to the train. His gentleness warmed me and started my day in joy.

This is his constant gift to me and I hope I give him the same as my heart is full and open when I see him, I have no reservations, we seem to move in the same ether, the same intentions to connect flow between us. He is a gift.

A run-on sentence

She said to watch my footing, the floor dips and sways near her so I left stepping out into the grass to get a better safer angle through the window and although I could see I could no longer smell her smell or touch her skin and this made me hesitate and my mind ran with reasons to find better footing but I had my bond my love to stay and so I sit out here on a chair looking in the window waiting for her to stop adding more layers to her water proof gear and turn to look at me but alas I will hear what she will say and it will be "We will be better friends than lovers."

last day of leo

It's my birthday today and I'm definitly not as thrilled as I used to be. The only thing that makes this day any different is my ability to call clients and tell them I want the day off.
I'm going out to eat with friends later. I've told everyone not to make a production over me, especially in the restaurant as I'm not into attentions put on me that I didn't ask for. I will walk away from the table if anyone thinks about telling the waiters to sing to me. And no I'm not one of those people who says don't make a big deal then laughs and laughs when they do. I'm more the kind of person who says seriously don't make a big deal or I'll fucking hate you.
Once I watched a birthday ceremony at a restaurant where the servers came over and shoved a crown on the birthday girl, grabbed her shoulders and sang some crazy song as they twisted the crown round and round on her head. By the time they were done her long hair was matted and twisted and the crown was down over her face. Good times.
If this happens tonight I will kill myself.

And with her I always need wise cracks

Just a shout out to my friend who slept with two different people in one day.

How does this happen? Well you have one come for the weekend and just before you take her to the airport you have goodbye sex then as you're driving home you get a call from another cute girl who asks you to stop by the club before you go home. You then proceed to get drunk with cute girl and go to her place after.

This is how you become a slut...but I say it with love, honestly. I love that this has happened because I will always have some wise crack to fall back on when she talks smack to me.

Who would I like to meet? Toasty, that's who.

I'm petsitting. The apartment is a little skeevy. Trying to adapt. Can someone bring over clean sheets and a good vacuum? Maybe a couple of drinking glasses without chips that match? How does such a foofy chic live like a frat boy?

I'll be home to take you in my arms

When I was 19 I got into a car with two boys from southside Phoenix and ended up in the parking lot of some bar, drunk and violated. The present bestowed upon me for my mistake, for their cruelty was a pregnancy. And my responding gift was to abort.

I've always been and still am an advocate for this right. To part company with the mass of cells that grow into a human within our bodies. I've gone far enough to say it didn't matter to me if it was murder, though I didn't believe that it was. I'd do it again and help anyone who needed it to have their freedom back. I would scratch and claw the faces of the pro-lifers blocking the entry to any clinic and if and when the conservatives overturn Row vs. Wade I'll still help anyone who asked for it.

The revelations that move us to a different view happen in the simplest, immediate ways. So as I laid in bed this morning listening to a song by Tori Amos called Playboy Mommy (a song to the baby she aborted), the image of the torn flesh they took out of me on that table appeared in my mind. In the gentlest and kindest way this broken piece of baby said I'd killed it. My own private murder. My own committed responsibility, this little life ripped out of me. And it wasn't a judgment, a condemnation or a call to guilt. Just a fact.

A fact that this baby and I will never meet and will always be separated by my act. This baby would be 18 in May. A missed opportunity. I can tell you all the reasons why it was best I didn't take this baby's life into my care, there were many. And I can't bear the thought of ruining a human so in the end I still say I did the right thing.

But as I get older this baby and I occasionally meet and I see the glimmer of mistake or maybe just regret for not knowing it.

I could go into this further, I could tell you what a sweet love I've had for the soul since the moment I knew it was inside of me and the love I had for it when I ended it's growth to life. Would you believe that this act contained love? It doesn't matter if you do but these things run through my mind.

These are things to consider.


Playboy Mommy
Tori Amos

In my platforms
I hit the floor
Fell face down
Didn't help my brain out
Then the baby came
Before I found
The magic how
To keep her happy
I never was the fantasy
Of what you want
Wanted me to be

Don't judge me so harsh little girl
So you got a Playboy mommy
But when you tell 'em my name
And you want to cross that bridge
All on your own
Little girl they'll do you no harm
Cause they know
Your Playboy mommy
But when you tell 'em my name
From here to Birmingham
I got a few friends

I never was there when it counts
I get my way
You're so like me
You seemed ashamed
Ashamed that I was
A good friend of American soldiers
I'll say it loud here by your grave
Those angels can't
Ever take my place

Don't judge me so harsh little girl
So you got a Playboy mommy
But when you tell 'em my name
And you want to cross that bridge
All on your own
Little girl they'll do you no harm
Cause they know
Your Playboy mommy
But when you tell 'em my name
I got a few friends

Somewhere where the orchids grow
I can't find those church bells
That played when you died
Played Gloria
Talkin 'bout Hosanah

Don't judge me so harsh little girl
So you got a Playboy mommy
Come home
But when you tell those soldiers my name
And cross that bridge
All on your own
Little girl they'll do you no harm
Cause they know
Your Playboy mommy
But I'll be home
I'll be home
To take you in my arms

That kind at Beth's wedding

I saw myself stepping on the stone path as if I were creeping up on something. An event, a situation, the climax, a new chapter or the ending of an old is in the air and I'm sneaking up on it.

My intuition is bouncing like a ball and I'm wondering if this 'something' is a white cake with raspberry frosting made just for me or a loose board in the floor designed to let loose with my weight.

I'll either get up from the table dusting the crumbs or climbing off the floor dabbing the wound. However it turns, I'll stand. But I prefer cake.

Yes let's have cake.

Que color es "A"

I'm watching S. teach her niece the alphabet. She speaks softly in spanish, her voice is soft and gentle. Her eyes are content on A.s little face.

I get chills when S. touches me and now I get them just by watching her. My heart grows with love..and it's times like this that I live for. It's times like this that make me late for all the other obligations. Times like this make me cancel dates, miss trains and forget to write on my blog...

I like it.

I stumbled before the dive

I'm late for a response. Has this happened to you? Someone has asked for your reply and you're too head fucked to give it?

You very much want to reply, "why yes indeed, I will follow you even with this blasted blindfold on...", "No, I'm not afraid of being left here in the dark..."

I wish so much to be courageous. To be so in the moment as to jump into nothingness and say whatever this is and wherever it eventually leads is fine by my zen ass.

I can't help but feel so limited in my thinking. I am tethered to my emotions. Or maybe it's my expectations. My desire for events to unfold to my liking.

Disappointed with self. Self disappointed back. I know this is human nature but I suffer from the belief that I'm better than the rest of you. Go ahead chastise me, maybe I need a verbal thrashing.

I fade

A mist conceives an image within the dampness of air. It is lovingly coaxed to life by hands my lips turn to honey to kiss. I am second best to a ghost. I am ephemeral.

shiiiiiiiiiit....

I was stuck on the train for an hour around 1am the other night. The signals at 96th weren't working properly so we sat. The train was filled and I had the luck of sitting across from a seriously drunk-belligerent-know-it-all-lecturing-homeless-with-serious-attitude a-hole who had a friend in tow. We'll call his friend the token-aimless-easily-pushed-around-semi-tough-yet-slow-witted-white-kid.

Over and over the train started, slowed and stopped but luckily we had the sage wisdom of the belligerent drunkard to keep us enlightened. He would claw at his young captive, chastising him for some wrong doing regarding a guy who had approached the kid while the kid was with his girl and how the kid hadn't beat said offender senseless as the drunkard thought he should. "yeww fuddin shoo kick hissss asss to da curb mudafuka!" A shove to the kids shoulder for emphasis.

The conductor would occasionally come on the speaker and apologize. Someone would yell their complaint at his voice then resign themselves to being like the rest of us, accepting our stuckness.

A new, unknowing person would enter and sit in the constantly empty seats next to the drunkard and this would give the kid the welcome relief of being left alone so know-it-all could verbally assault the new, innocent person.

New Yorkers are the best to learn from when it comes to Ignore and The Silent Retreat. They do it with such smoothness and ease. I love the process.

New Woman sits next to Drunkard.
"whaaa da faaa yew dewwwin fucka?! Yew some whiiite bitch mudafuka, shiiiiiiiit..."
Woman gives calculated side glance. Locks eyes with a-hole for a second. Gathers info like Crazy Drunk Fuck. He Looks Like He'll Carry On The Whole Time I Sit Here. She disengages eyes and without even turning head quietly scans area for another seat.
"Yew soome dumb fuka wiii ya sorry assss..."
Woman gets up, expression unchanged, unscathed and moves to a better place. This went on the whole time. One person after another. Some people sat amused, some even engaged with him. I love New Yorkers...

After a while I thought it would be nice if some big scary guy got on and mashed the drunkard into the floor but alas, that's not so nice to wish for. And if they had I may not have heard him say one thing that was kinda sage. His friend had said something about where he was from and drunkard responded, "Where yew fraa? Where yew fraaa don't matta mudafuka, where yew at is what matta" I totally agree. Don't you?

click me

Ok, this is must see.
Watch it all the way through. You're going to love it.

Coming from belledame222 and friends.

spell what?

I'm petsitting and I've been delinquent with my blog. Color me a bad blog mom.

I'm on my friends computer and I don't know how to use the friggin spell check so you will be able to tell what an ignoramous I am regarding spelling. I hate to admit this but I feel we're close enough for me to reveal it to you.

It's like we're dating and we're at that stage in our relationship where I'm sharing a vulnerable secret.

We're sitting at a little cafe, drinking wine. I'm gently rolling the glass, letting the ester of the wine make tracks down the sides..
I say, "I'm a bad speller. I often call my roommate J. to ask her how to spell something."
You nod, having a vague feeling you would rather I not confess anymore.
"I'm also an ignoramous about how to make words possessive. Does the ' go in between the last letter and the s always or are there times it goes after the s and when am I supposed to know when?"
You half heartedly smile, restraining yourself from asking me if I finished middle school.
"If you asked me to give examples of pronouns or advectives I wouldn't be able to. I also don't know when I'm supposed to use " or ' so I interchange them whenever I like."
I ask if you want more wine you say no and ask for the check. I go home wondering why you didn't kiss me goodnight.

Isn't he a hottie?

Went to Brooklyn Pride yesterday to see Alphonso. He had a booth there, selling his book, Sons. It's about a teenage boy stuggling with his sexuality in the hip hop culture of Brooklyn, circa 90s.
I have it from a good source that it's well written, a good read. I bought it and I'm going to start it as soon as I'm done here. Please take a look, buy it, tell your friends about it. As blog writers yourselves you know what it means to pass along the word, get the hits, the comments. Let's give him a little love, he rocks.
Alphonso's website
Looking for hits from Google..
Literary gay men. Homosexual fiction. Hip hop culture. Brooklyn. Adolescent homosexuality. African American.

extraction

Remember Anubis? The true carpet muncher?
Several days after indoor grazing he still wasn't well. He was pampered, consoled and cooked special food for to entice him to forget his blunder and get on with being the fine dog that he is. Nothing.
On the fifth day Anubis went out for a shit break in the yard. Which seemed odd since he really hadn't eaten anything since upstairs and downstairs carpet.
He seemed to be having a hard time finishing up and reluctantly S. went out to assist. The kind of assist that makes dog owners want to give their dog away rather than do.
Long, sick story short, S. pulled about a yard of carpet out of Anubis' ass. She said literally, a fucking yard. Sometimes a dog needs a human hand and that's love my friend.

staring at screen

A fucking lull in my mental capacity to put words to anything of interest... Smite my haze.

Only a 40 minute set

My friend M. and I went to see a couple of friends, Y. and T. perform in their band. As we walked up I saw T. outside the club and I knew we'd missed the show. I touched his shoulder, he was soaked with sweat, which bummed me out more cause I knew it had been a good show. I gave my apologies for being late and we decided not to stay for the other bands.

We walked up 6th ave into the village. Fucking hot. Like 100 degrees hot. The city is a maze down here, the streets cross and wind in a charming way unless you're looking for that cute women's bar on that one corner that's maybe west of 7th but you're not sure.

We passed this great sweets shop and all I wanted to do was eat cookies and drink lots of water but M. wanted to press on. I was trying to find a dyke I could ask directions to the bar. Being in the village it would seem like an easy task. they must have been inside. In the AC. Eating cookies.

We wandered in a circle and ended up in front of my sweet shop again. At this point I was pissy and I really wanted cookies, maybe even cake and lots of water. As I was stepping inside, my friend found a dyke. Clearly getting what I wanted wasn't going to happen so I walked over to listen to the bad directions the dyke was giving M., knowing full well he was only half listening, assuming I was getting it all.

Her, "Oh yeah! Go that way to the next street. Cross 7th." Pointing in direction away from 7th.
Me, "Ok go down this street?" pointing towards street leading to 7th.
Her, "Yeah just go that way and find Hudson." Again pointing away from 7th and Hudson but in a new direction.
Me, "So I go towards 7th," double jab point towards 7th to let her know where the fuck 7th is. "and Hudson is just past, the next street?"
Her, "Yeah, yeah the bars on Hudson."
Me, "left or right on Hudson?"
Her, "It's on Hudson. There's this other bar right near my apartment too.."
Me, "That's ok, thank you."

So after another 15 minutes of wandering we found the bar. The bouncer said guys can only come in with two girls..whaa? So I told M. we need to find a girl. He asked in his sweetest gay guy voice if she would make an exception and to my surprise we were in. God was the beer and AC good. Not like cookies but what the fuck.

sigh..

Drove my ex to the airport yesterday. I thought it might be fun, so did she. We tried to converse as friends, but in the end she slammed the door without saying goodbye. At this stage, these things have a way of sliding in the wrong direction. I'm optimistic though.