Wednesday, September 25, 2002

I squealed with joy and delight to see the following keywords brought you to my page:

Sissy Whore

Yes, yes I am.

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

The Ever Popular 4 Truths and One Lie

  • I learned to shave my balls, from two gay friends at twenty-one, who were so horrified at how "au natural" I had allowed 'the boys' to get that they made me pull my clothes off get in the shower with them naked and shaved them for me.
  • I called my father 'Ice Man' until late into my teens - when after a very physical altercation - and one of the first where I punched back, he began to cry and asked why I hated him so much.
  • I hated my father so much because I watched him pummel my mother like a rag doll one night sending her flying into a wall size book case which tumbled on top of her at the age of six.
  • From two years of age - to six, it was common to find me asleep in the smelly laundry of myself, my brother and my sister - piled in the hallway closet upstairs - in the middle of the night. Upon waking I would explain that I was chasing fairy dust through the house to where the fairies lived - but never found the elusive fairy.
  • From the age of two to the age of fourteen I did not have one dream or one nightmare that I could remember upon waking the following morning.
  • Monday, September 23, 2002

    ok, ok, where the fuck have I been eh ?
    Let myself get distracted again - wanted to write some meaningful stuff and then would spend too much time distracted on what to write instead of just writing. A lot of weird moments over the last few days - not necessarily bad moments - some oddly pleasant, but surreal.
    Lots of bad dreams lately - not sleeping well - though generally in a much better state mentally then I was most of June, July and August.
    I need summer to end, the heat is oppressive - leaving me holed up inside. I want to enjoy my backyard - bought a new gas grill - nice - grilled chicken every night.
    Went to Manny Lehman/Mike Durreto at Freedom/Arena on Saturday night. Bumped up a little before I went - but laid off the drugs while I was there - just some beer and Ripped Fuel. Lucky showed up seperately an hour after I got there. We turned alot of heads as we crossed the room holding hands - so many people were truly supportive - coming up to us individually or together to tell us how happy the were to see us together. Some a little confused. And some a little saddened or miffed - those who had been flittered with over the last few months.
    Funny how a few hours earlier at the gym - pushing through and amazing set - my heart racing - blood demanding it's attention as it jetison through - pumping and pounding - the old crush came up and began chatting me up - the third time this week - this time he asked for my phone number. Too funny - god how bad I've wanted a bedroom rematch with this boy since giving him up 3 years ago to be with Lucky. I chuckled light heartedly and made some lame excuse for why it wasn't really great timing to be giving out my phone number - he leaves without saying goodbye.
    Not so funny how hours later from that moment Lucky and I start going down the road of conversations we always failed to have well. This one about "the boy" - a meaningless encounter the night before we broke up - a reckless flirtation on my part - that never had anything to do with the break-up but somehow has become this fixation of Lucky's - something he won't let go of. He's drunk - he fights shitty when he's drunk. He loses control. Freaks out. I get out of the car, walk away and lock the door. He's hurting, he leaves, he comes back - he gets destructive - throwing plants on my patio, breaking a landscaping light - oh what the neighbors must think.
    In three years he's never done this.
    I dreamt of Mike (the one who died last month), Lucky and I are arguing - he comes from out of nowhere - so pale, so unreal. He gently seperates us - pushing between us the palm of his hands at our stomachs. He seems to glow - but he says nothing. He places his hands on the lower part of our backs and pulls us in - as if to hug him between us - and then he's gone and we're hugging each other. I cry when I wake. I feel erriely like it wasn't a dream - almost as if it was something stronger.
    I close all the blinds and watch movies in the dark. "Dark City", "Mimic" - I even consider placing a sheet over the window as the sun starts creeping around it's perimeter - for some reason I want to pretend it's not morning...
    6 hours later - it's 1pm. I should be watching football, doing laundry. I shower - let the sunshine back in. I call Lucky and tell him it's forgotten, he's forgiven. We need to let go off the old hurts and concentrate on what everyone else see's. We need to stop the disrespect, rehashing the same fight.
    Later I make him dinner, drink some wine - we watch the Emmy's, our dog at our feet...content to be the object of both our affections.