Today's blog is brought to you by the letter "W" and the wonderful people at 'National Geographic' *
(* The editor would like to note that no coorelation has been drawn between said magazine and said letter of the alphabet - all similarities to those living and or dead is just plain freaky)

The "Would You Still Love Me If You Knew" List

• I snore. Like a trooper. Never consistently - out of nowhere. Sometimes it doesn't happen for weeks - but when it does - for Gods Sakes tricks leap from the bed.
  
• I leave the lid up. Not to be confused with leaving the seat up (that's for pagans!), but the lid - it's my mental cue to always flush.
  
• I leave things in the refrigerator. I like to think of myself as an amatuer biologist - breeding new life forms fascinates me - I don a white tunic and pretend I'm Marlon Brando in "The Island of Dr. Moreau"
  
• I'm a "wiper". After sex I want the cum off of me. Treat me as your sneeze guard all you want during a hot wrestle in the hay - but if you want cuddling - I need to wipe off.
  
• My balls are shaved. All else is "au naturale" but unshaved balls are just unattractive and harder to chew (kidding).
  
• I swear. Not a little alot. I actually have 45 different uses and inflections for the word "Fuck" to express a myriad of moods, behaviors, objects and actions. I'm trying to work on this one to make myself a little more lovable to a boyfriend who HATES it.
  
• I'm a poet, but I don't write poetry.
  
• I'm an artist, but I no longer paint or draw.
  
• I squashed my artistic side to be a businessman. I sold my artistic soul to drive a BMW.
  
• I pout. Not always. But it happens. The bottom lip even protrudes for 100% true pouting effect. This normally occurs when I'm denied sex, told I can't have another drink or have to see any movie directed by "the AntiChrist" : Jerry Bruckheimer.
  
• I'm easily distracted. I'm a lot - A LOT - like my dog.........whoops - what was I saying I was just trying to figure out where I buried that last bone.
• I roll my eyes. Secretly I must want to be a pouty, easily distracted, teenage girl - who swears, snores and leaves the lid up - and doesn't write or draw and shaves her -uh never mind.
  

Do you still love me ?

1 Misconception about My Body

I weigh less then people think. At 180lbs, people seem surprised when I weigh more then the 6ft tall guy standing next to me.
2 Lies about My Body

Smooth as a babies butt (well, unless that baby was the actor Andy Garcia)

Three Words: Twelve Inch Penis
3 Truths about My Body

I'm not sure that I will ever have 100% body confidence without the aid of booze or drugs.

Booze and drugs haven't actually had the best effect on my overall body.

"Land O'Scars" - criss-crossing my skull (surgery/baseball bat to the head), one on each ankle (C-section IV to major vein), between my eyebrows (German Shepard bite), on my right shoulder (Road Burn from Motorcycle accident) and on my right knee (Doberman bite)
4 Wishes about My Body

That - as I have to date - never break a bone in my body.

That the cartilidge between my CV Joint and Clavicle increases to diminish the pain after working out.

18.5 " biceps - no more - no less.

To get my ass back to being as tight and high as it was when I was 23.

Please no skin cancer - got a bad feeling about this one and the Scandanavian blood that runs through my viens

1 Misconception about My Mind

I'm stupid. In the real world I can't tell you how many people assume I'm stupid just by looking at me.
2 Lies about My Mind

100% "stream-of-conciousness" (my mind demands structure, feels comfortable with "black-and-white" and always finds method - to madness)

I'm incredibly smart. (I'm really not - I'm just not stupid)
3 Truths about My Mind

It works better under pressure.

It filters and processes things even when I wish it would stop - always just cranking away.

It lacks inspiration. I'm a creative "re-envisionist", but I have few brilliant original ideas.
4 Wishes about My Mind

To solve the 'obvious' problems faster - without bogging myself down in the minutae of details.

To regain just half of the intellectual capacity I had in college.

To become thirsty for knowledge and informational attainment on my own (and not from morning show news or USA today)

To comprehend the incomprehensable.


1 Misconception about My Soul

That I am a bad person.
2 Lies about My Soul

There's not enough left to love another person.

I sold it to the devil for a vial of 'G' and a handjob.
3 Truths about My Soul

With every painful entry I right and memory I shed - it grows stronger.

I've opened it up to fewer people in the real world then I have to strangers on the web.

I may not believe in God or organized religion, but I believe in Soul - which seems hard to substantiate given the previous statement.
4 Wishes about My Soul

That one day it be as beautiful as Aarons.

That it teaches me to stop hating.

That it helps me to start loving more freely.

That one day you'll see it coming before I even enter the room.

...wiped out.

I have been up since 230am with Baby. At first I thought her cuddling was because she was cold - pushing in to me as close as she could get - pressing, cuddling against me...then the puking started....this went on til 5am...carpets trashed - you can't get a dog to hold it's head over the toilet. She nailed the bedroom 3 times, the hallway twice and once outside. The rest of the time it was just this horrendous dry-heaving...nothing left to come up. I drove over to my vet at 7am and they can't get me in so I have to come in at 9am and just sit and wait. My flight leaves at 145pm, I don't know if I should cancel or what - I'm wrecked. The spontaneous-out-of-town trip was supposed to break me out of all the work stress I've been under since the end of last quarter...course San Diego on no sleep is gonna be a treat. My Baby is sleeping now - tired from a long night of redecorating the house in Beige (and well some other colors). I was gonna go into work for a while before my flight but I just can't until I know what made her so sick. It may sound strange to a non-dog person - but it was terrifying - I started to cry - I didn't know what to do to help her, she just laid there shaking - looking miserable.

oh well...wish me well at the vet.

taking off tomorrow for San Diego for a night away. Hang with the San Diego boys for "Friday Night Friends Night", boyfriend says his ok with it, but asked me if he should be worried - but he must be because he left the house and turned down sex. Leaving me a little grumpy - I very much dislike not being trusted. Anyway I'm only going for the night - breakfast with my best friend Victoria in the morning and then an afternoon flight back to PHX in time to take him to closing night of 'Angels in America II" at the Herberger. Fealing a little "under" if not "un" - appreciated.

The Top Eleven Things That I Adore About the People Who Read My Site

1. You immediately appreciate the fact that "11" items are far superior to the sissy "10" items you may find on another site.
   
2. You secretly refer to me as a "bi-polar, manic depressive, tortured love puppy" when huddled together in secret ceremonies celebrating the genius of Traci Lords.
   
3. If I smile - you smile with me, if I laugh - you laugh with me, if I cry - you cry with me...now why the hell can't I get you to fall in step with the "When I strip naked - you strip naked" ???
   
4. Emails, lots of loving, touching, sharing, adoring, kind emails.
   
5. Obscene email, dirty, naughty, perverted, twisted emails (this is speaking directly to you and you and you )
   
6. Your the only one I can honestly tell that I watched more of Tuesday nights 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' (a show only meant for gay men and teenage girls) then Game 3 of the World Series (also called "California's Civil War")
   
7. You don't expect half-naked pics of me on my site - but you seem to "appreciate" half naked pics of me on my site.
   
8. Your more fun than Torrets in an open air mall.
   
9. 3 words: Kathi Lee Gifford (hey it doesn't need to make sense - I'm praising YOU - enjoy it silly)
   
10. I don't have to wear clothes to chat with you.
    
11. ...and finally 3 more words: NO RESTRAINING ORDERS

You can now return to your regularly scheduled viewing.

Ok - I'm becoming a "big" boy, which is all good - but kinda embarrassing how some of my dress shirts fit me. The worst part is how chubby my cheeks get when I put on weight/muscle. I look like a Gerber baby on roids. Just so as not to confuse people into thinking I walk around suffering from inner turmoil on a daily basis, I am finally ready to unleash my Indian Summer Inspiration Musical Theme for Holden Caulfields Lover - "On a High" by Mr. Duncan "Admit You Sleep With Me and Talk Me for a Cup of Coffee in the Morning if You Had a Chance" Sheik :

I'm on a high, I'm on a high
there's nothing more to it
we are the sea and sky
and the blue that runs through it, yeah.

and then there are some who say there are so many things I need
so I run or I fight and I crawl or I scream and I bleed
I bleed, I bleed

well it's a lie, it's a lie - don't you believe it
if you're fine then you're fine - it's all how you see it
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness

I'm on a high, I'm on a high
and there's nothing more to it
I have the sun, it's a star
why should I refuse it

and there are so many reasons - I could give you - why I should be down
there's not enough money or time and my love you're not around
around, around

well it's a lie, it's a lie - don't you believe it
if you're fine then you're fine - it's all how you see it
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness

you're alive, you're alive - how else could you hear me?
you are fine, you are fine - there's nothing worth fearing
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness

I'm on a high, on a high
we are the sea and the sky
I'm on a high, on a high
I'm on a high...

It's a lie, it's a lie - don't you believe it
Cause I've tried and I've tried, and can't really see it
Yeah I'm trapped inside my conspiracy of hapiness
said I was yours, you were mine but I didn't really mean it
and I lied and I lied
and I wish you hadn't seen it
'cause I'm trapped inside my conspiracy of happiness

....how do you wear your "chips" - one on each shoulder for glamour and balance ?

As I learn to let go and grow up - and force myself to be rid as of as much dysfunction as seems possible in the wee early hours of my thirties - I often find I have to write things that seem even hard for me to read. Is a thought more pure for being cheerful, or angelic for being well spoken, or right for being "good" ? I'm not sure. Sometimes the most geniune things we utter, seem the cruelest to those around us. So the following will be hard for some to read, but catharitic for me to write. If you've never had these thoughts I envy you, if you have had them and never spoke them - speak along with me and maybe we can both get them off our chests and move on:

To My Mother and Father,

A Letter to Exhume my Hatred of You.

When did you decide that you were ready for the task of children ? Was it over a drink - maybe several, or after a winning home run that made you feel virile. Did you ever imagine the consequences of having a child you didn't want to have - and how often and how frequently this feeling would emenate from your being. My early years were confused by a seperation I was aware of, a divorce I was never told of and a reconcilliation that was lorded over me for any insignificant thing I did wrong. What is it to stay together for the sake of the kids - when your constant screaming, hitting and fighting is really what's pulling them apart? When did you learn to squash their hopes and how did you learn to call them a "loser" ?

I hated you for stealing the chance from me to be a happy child.
I hated the drinking, the abuse, the constant fear you instilled in me at how quickly things could go from "bad" to worse.
I hated being "invisible" and you know I was.
I hated you for "forgetting" my birthdays, or moving them to a different day.
I hated the NO's, to everything - just so you wouldn't have to be inconvienced - "No honey , you can't join the gym - you'll lose interest" (Perhaps you haven't noticed my arms but they can crush NO's without neven trying)
I hated "Excellence in Art", "Excellence in English", "Excellence in Writing", Excellence in almost every god damn thing for being pale and weak comparisons to the "Excellence in Sports" that were the only measure of a man in our family.
I hated the shame you felt when I wanted to be proud of who I was. " Please dear - wait til your grandparent are dead before you have to be open about this life-style"
I hated the embarrassment you felt when I tried to take my life at 14, unable to deal with my homosexuality, I told you I tried to commit suicide because of my fear of a nuclear holcaust - you swallowed that like a delicious pill, knowing it was something else.
I hated knowing you couldn't protect me - because you couldn't even care for yoursleves.
I hated you for telling me I would never get through college because I didn't choose your route (have you noticed lately that in your grandest hour you made half of what I make now)
I hated the response you gave me when my first close friend died of AIDS in college - "Well at least you did well on all your exams - you looked so upset we thought you had been kicked out."
I hated you when you told me if I ever got AIDS to not tell you - you wouldn't want to know.
I hated the lies you made me swallow, the dreams you made me crush to be part of this family, to do my part and be the prodigal son.
I hated when you began to brag about all my accomplishments, the ones you never thought I would make.
I've learned so many countless, wasteful things about you - that I have built walls you could nver imagine, hidden behind hills you could never see and it's not doing me any good anymore to do this.

I hate "hating".
I hate "wasting" my heart, my soul, my energy on this hate.

Ok - I "should be" a little embarrassed, but I'm obsessed with my new toy. The Walkman NW-MS11...simple, petite (dimensions 17/16 x 31/4 x 9/16), slips in my gym pants with ease, and gives me hours upon hours of the music I want to hear - I was looking for a RIO, but instead found my diamond in the rough. I'm gonna buy enough memory sticks (128MB each) to have one for every silly mood. I normally don't get all "gadget-geeky" - but I couldn't wait to hit the gym tonight.

i adore and worship you for many reasons but particularly for being able to drop words like "disambiguate" into your blog without falling over - I tripped over the word three times...would you pick me up ?

owwwwwww.....it hurts - cut it off, no my head - just fucking cut it off.

It's been a while since I woke up and thought "Shit!" - What did I do or say to people last night ? I was out with a lot of people/friends...but I kept wandering away from them and having these immensely intense conversations - I talked to hot daddy Dave forever. It must be ironic to be drunk and have an intense conversation with a recovering alcoholic about alcoholism - or more or less whats behind it. Invariably parents. I talked to TP for quite a while about our friendship and why did he let it go south - I could see the jealousy in his eyes when I brought up Lucky - and I realize why he let it go south. I have a hard time keeping real friends in the real world. And then I ran into "Tigger" - such a little cutie - I pretty sure I said something dreadful to his friend about when I used to fuck the shit out of him, and then I pulled a total "ghost" and snuck out of the bar without telling anyone I was leaving, I felt dreadfully buzzed and just wanted to be in bed. Forgot to call the boyfriend when I got home - might be in a little bit of trouble for that today. I called him at 630am to apologize. messy, messy, messy.......

....i keep thinking maybe I should go out tonight. don't know why - i'm in my trouble-maker mood. Mr. Jeans and a t-shirt today - I always find it odd (because it really doesn't happen often) that women cruise me - but when I'm Mr. Jeans (and a t-shirt) they always dig my shit. Actually the 19 year old hispanic boy who followed me to the bathroom and began rubbing his really impressive cock at the urinal next to me while i tried ever so hard - no pun intended (ok there's always a pun - intended) - also dug the look - but alas I'm married again and just had to button it up - quickly - because it was filling with blood - QUICKLY - and high tail it out there. I bought a bunch of great kick around shirts today - the ones you wear to coffee with your hair all messed up, or to get the newspaper, or to pick someone up at the airport...but all the while knowing you don't look like a freak but instead look quite sexy. My working out is paying off - Chest 42.5", Biceps 16.5" - 180lbs firm. I had the barber shave my head today - fuck it I'm going bald - I know it - you know it - we all know it - it's all good - I kept about 3/4 inch up top - but then you can see all the scars from when I was struck in the head with a baseball bat at 2 years of age (man everything I say sounds white trash doesn't it) Very, very busy at work - but for me that means $$$. Agreed to a price on the house, prequalified - it's all mine - wow, it's mine. I want to blow down walls and continue my landscaping - I want to buy everything I see in the 'Restoration' catalog - but instead I [paid off my last credit card with a balance (there's something very sexy about the number 'ZERO', especially when it's associated with the word - balance). Taking my boy to see 'Angels in America Part I' this weekend - he's never seen it. Then next month I'm taking him and friends to see "Dralion - Cirque de Soleil", and then in December "Tori Amos" - I'm trying to break away from the same old - same old. I bought him a beautiful White Star Mont Blanc to celebrate his new career - I like to spoil him, I secretly relish being the provider. Oh I'm so sickly 50's sometimes...

...another trip to Borders for music (i know, i know - i really need to start shopping at the independents again) :

Purchased:

Lazy Dog Vol. 1 & 2 (Ben Watt & Jay Hannan)....shake your ass, swing your head, give way to your groving feet

Concrete Love (Julie Fordham)...cry, sing, cry, sing - let's watch a sunset and smoke a joint

Beneath the Surface (Balligomingo)...pretty, pretty, pretty and very danceable

Idlewild (EBTG)... this is the 7th time in 14 years I have purchased this album - where does it take off to?)

Magnolia (Soundtrack, Aimee Mann)...another album I have owned and lost - what gives pick pockets in my house ?


You wanna come over and cuddle with me and the dog and listen to some tunes ?

Ok - I have a HUGE CRUSH on you and you and you.

You'all made Out-toberfest so much fun and uh, well Ryan and Sam made it "extra" interesting.

A Letter to The Little Boy Left Inside Me (or "How I Abandoned a Child to Fight on His Own")

Dear Young Me:

This letter must seem a surprise to you, probably - if not completely - a little unwelcome.

How have you been all these many years ?
It's been what - 20 years, 25 years since I've thought of you. I'd be lying if I said there weren't flickers of you in my subconcious - crap let's be honest here - you fucking haunt me. Sometimes when I awake early in the morning - in those moments before dawn takes into my darkened bedroom, I almost feel like your there - afraid of what the day may bring. So I know, I know you have things to do - roll in autumn leaves, watch "Land of The Lost" on you and your older brother's 13 inch B&W TV, your chores and then climbing that tree on 2 Fairhill Road... busy, busy aren't you ?

But listen, we need to talk and in all fairness this isn't easy for me.

I so remember you, running off to Sabold Elementary in the morning , that messy head of chestnut brown hair - always a mop, that huge beaming smile ever present, almost as large as your gigantic brown eyes - you saw everything with those didn't you little big man ?? Huh - funny - I just realized that you did see everything with those big brown eyes - that must not always have been fun for you.

You know I can look back now and since I'm older and wiser and - well your still so young - I can see some things better than you.

Where do I start to say what I need to say to you - how do I find the words to say...

It wasn't your fault - your Mother drank and screamed and swore because she didn't know any better - you weren't the cause - it was like a cancer that had set up camp in her so many years before you were born.

It wasn't your fault - that you disgusted him, he couldn't understand - he wanted you pitching for the Phillies in the bottom of the ninth, no men on base with two outs and two strikes and the trophy almost in hand - but you wanted to be an artist, a writer or maybe just a human. His anger was his fuel, you were kindling in the fire without even trying - you cried because you were human - he hit you because he wasn't.

And then there was me.

It wasn't your fault - I left you

I'm sorry - there it's done. I'm sorry. I miss you.

See I was a coward, when things got tough I abandoned you - I went my own way. I couldn't stand to see you cry, I couldn't continue to make you laugh, I couldn't protect you from them - what they would do to someone like you - someone so good, so kind, so sweet and gentle. I didn't pull away all at once - there were many moments - our parents and their back-n-forth "for the sake of the kids" marriage-seperation-divorce-whatever, the violence, the drinking, the dirty old men pawing you, the bullies in school, and when we moved to Arizona I had to close up shop move on without you...by then I was 10 and things couldn't stay the same. You weren't tough enough for life at the house back in '79, you would cry and it was embarrassing and girly, you were letting them get to you - so see there had to be a split. I had to go my own way. I was able to not care - about anything. I was able to not love - anyone, and they couldn't hurt me - these were my super human powers. And you weren't ready to let men touch you - not the way I was. And you see I didn't like myself anyway - so they couldn't hurt me when they touched me even if things got scary - I had stopped feeling.

So let's face it I didnt even look back.

It's so hard to look at you now - to know what I've done. To know I left you when you needed me most.

Wow - funny I never realized what a tough little fella you were for just being all the things you were - just how tough you were to go on feeling anyway. All these years later - somehow we both survived.

I want you to know I'm here for you - I won't let "anyone" hurt you and I won't use my old ways to protect me or you.

We can do this.
I'm alive with you in me.
We can learn to feel,
it's ok to be in love,
we can reinvent ourselves,
we can make our own family - the two of us together.

A good chuckle

....what ???

You think I look really cute in these jeans....awwwww...get out of here.

...what ???

The shirt - your loving the t-shirt are you, why yes I have been working out quite a bit... *blush*

...what ???

Oh I couldn't - I just couldn't, well if you insist.....*smooch*

(hee-hee, hee-hee - I just tickled my funny bone)

Stringing Together Words on a Strand of Metaphor, Irony and Whimsy
(or in other words "A List")

• When I feel obligated to a person in that monogamous sense - I feel terrible for lusting after others. And damn O'damn do I feel lust everytime I see him at the gym. Shit - it would be so hot to take him home all sweaty and ripped and play "My Lil Pony" (and no I wouldn't - but it is kinda of sexy to think about doing it)
  
• I can't get a pulse on how well this reconcilliation is going. How can we know each other better than anyone - yet seem like such complete strangers?
  
• I can be terribly obnoxious when I'm on a humor roll when I'm drunk. I was frigging cracking myself up on Sunday at our little Phoenix Gay Festival of being Gay -er - something. It's just fuel to the fire when I making people laugh - I just keep going and going.
  
• I really don't think the previous is bad - as long as I'm not offending anyone - ok it is kinda fun if I'm offending someone - I think I meant hurting anyones feelings.
  
• Crap - put up some dirty pics and your seeing over 300 visitors a day (well I mean everyday of your life is like that - but here at HCL we swim in calmer waters). YOU ALL so better have read the story too.
  
• Oh please let this not be addressed to me - I'm the worst.
  
• No I will NOT send anyone the original pictures, I mean if you really want them hunt down the magazine - one resourceful blogger (yeah, yeah, yeah) figured this out months before I talked about it.
  
• I have my girl-buddy Les temping for me at work this week, I forgot how much fun it was to actually "leave for lunch" it seems almost decadant.
  
• I know some of the stuff in this blog hasn't been - shall we say - light as meringue pie, but it really is helping me shed my skin and let go of a past that is limiting me from being more to myself and to others.
  
• I just have to admit that "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" keeps getting better - I give it at least two more years before it starts jumping the shark.
  
• Tucson bloggers beware - I will be attending the Pride events on Saturday - I will be drinking beer and I will be fashioning a diaper out of old Dead Kennedy t-shirts to wear around the grounds.
  
• It's such a warm dizzy feeling - like being Jane Pauley - to be loved by him again.
  
• I need to go whack off now. nite.
  

"Live a fulifilling life instead of just surviving"

Survive vb. 1 SYN , See OUTLIVE

2. To continue to exist or function in spite of an unsually adverse condition or development.
Outlast, Endure, Persist, Live Down, Recover....Continue

"The dance of recovery is owning and honring the emotional wounds so that we can release the grief, energy - the pain, rage, terror and shame that is driving us"


What are "your" rules of survival ? How do any of us become survivors - and what is it we think we are surviving?

Where did I perfect my game face - did I do it because I "had" to - is there a theory of "cause & effect" ?

• Cause: My Mother an orphan - seriously left on a door step in a basket, no kidding - never knew the love, the unity of a family growing up - in turn, lacking in experience and education she loved her children with a tumultuous vehemance bordering on desperate that became for me both empowering (professionally) and suffocating (emotionally). We were taught there were no promises - the parent could leave at anytime, for any reason, you were being judged, a single mistake could end everything.
  
  
• Cause: My Father saw his physicality and athleticism as his only control over his wife and his children, he was misguided in thinking that backhanding me accross a room for poor manners or pulling me - dragging - by my reddened wrists from a poorly played little league game would have the desired effect. That his barbaric competitiveness would make me a winner. That one day he wouldn't be a little intimidated when "I" walked in the room - stronger , bigger and tougher than he ever imagined a 'pansy' could be.
  
  
• Cause: My Mother was a drunk - this acted as if a treble and bass control on the volume and frequency of her feelings - often vascillating abruptly - unexpectantly - between love and contempt. Love was a ripple on the surface - something hateful brewed beneath - turn your eye away and it would take you whole into it's dark, murky depths.
  
  
• Cause: My brother, sister and I learned at an early age to fend only for yourself, trust no one, survival alone was easier - less casualties, less liabilities, less betrayal.
  
  

  
  The "Effect": I've wasted so much energy over the past 33 years trying to survive, forgetting to live.
  
  But how does a survivor give up the one thing that has kept him alive - kept him passing the open windows ?
  
  Maybe by learning the causes - by witnessing the effects.
  
  Boozing, fist fights, drug habits, casual sex, failed relationships and a fear of letting people get close.
  
  If I'm willing to look in the closet - are the shadows as scary ?
  If I take inventory of my eccentricities, can I stop calling them faults ?
  If I stop punishing myself for my parents unhappiness - can I find my own ?
  
  
  I guess I wouldn't write it unless I was willing to find out.

Blogging in it's essence is the two-sided knife.

One side - shiny and useful allows us to see ourselves, to cut open things (wounds, packages, cakes - yum... icing) and explore them - see them closer in all their detail ( and gore) for what they are and maybe more importantly what they were.

Other side - catches the light in such a way that it blinds us - we can not only not see ourselves in it's reflection we cut ourselves in our handling of it. And some cuts even when they are superficial can feel like wounds made with a hatchet.

My blogging started almost a year and a half ago with merely a desire to be as clever and witty and insightful as Jonno or Sturtle or Encorswish or Blogstalker. And then times changed, my life changed and you changed and people came into the scene (or I came across them latently) who changed the way I saw writing like Art is For Losers or Dog Poet or Bent Kid - they combined life and incredibly gritty wit with some very real and sometimes painful writing.

More recently people have come to know me more clearly (good and bad) - I have been even less cut off - my real name tied up in secrecy before seems to have leaked into so many blogs and I've grown a little less leary of that - I am who I am, if you read my blog you will figure that out. I do keep this site secret from co-workers and friends and family and yes those worlds could collide - but I don't write anything on these pages I couldn't say to a persons face (and if you've ever met me ITRW I think you would agree).

So which side of the knife are you holding today?

Anyone for cake ????