I don't think you want to see what's in my head today. I better go catch a flick or something - I feel like crawling into someone else's world today. xoxo.

I am the emotional, whirling dervish, oscillating wildly 'tween rapture and despair, giggles and fits.

I hate being an emotional roller-coaster - rickety-crick-creak, rickety-crick-creak as the rusty red rollercoaster car climbs the first incline, the wheels grasping weakly - desperately to the rails

(the boyfriend leaves for work - the roomate leaves for work, it's me and the cats again - I feel like a mother seeing her kids off to school then turning to face an empty & lonely house - no remnants of feeling of "home" remain. Fuck the gym today I think - I'm just not in the mood, I start the laundry, make the bed, do the dishes *naked if that makes it less boring*, when all is done I notice how the quiet floods in from every corner - the tv snaps on with the press of my thumb - angry teenage girls - from periods to prostitution - shit, not in the mood for this...gym clothes go on and I'm out the door)

- rickety-creak-crick-clap, rickety-crick-creak the rollercoaster car halts, stalls, then lunges down the hill of iron and wood, the wheels scream - "I can hold on" and metal slips on metal, as sparks dance

(I get to the gym, I hit the bike and pound my legs, sweath pours forth, a "by chance" conversation with an old friend spotted while we crunch against inflatable balls. I tell him my story and he offers words that are chosen and wise - I believe they call it "advice". I feel exhilirated, I feel bold, I want to race back into the day.)

- clap-grip-clap-steel, rickety-crick-creak the rollercoaster car grabs hold and shakes the steel, pulling up the tracks, grunt-grunt-grunt.

(A call placed to my old employer. The fake motherly bitch from HR - "Oh so good to hear from me, oh how am I, oh how they miss me" - what?? "Oh no dear we haven't got your final check, Oh no we weren't doing that to the end of the month, Oh you know things are tough here at the agency to, Oh I don't think we owe you for that much vacation time". My blood boils, my eyes could bore holes. The boyfriend calls - I want to be understood - I want to be heard - I want some sweetness - his timing is bad - not his fault. )

- wooooooooooosh, the rollercoaster trembles-jerks-flails as it tears down the rails - the sparks, turn to flames. The rollercoaster is on fire.

ok - the look of my site has got to change - sooooooon. I just am screwed if I try to do any coding on my boyfriends computer (can you believe 24MB of RAM ???? Thank god the man has everything else going for him). I have a domain reserved and could just move the all site over to it, but I'm just kinda apathetic about taking on the project. Actually that's kind of a lie - it's more than apathetic - it's like this feeling where everytime I tell myself to just start the project with the intention of finishing it - my whole body just involuntarily does this squirming thing (since I no longer have medical coverage I feel I should avoid these seizures as much as possible).

So Lucky's at school and the roomate is MIA or BOMC (Back of Milk Carton), perhaps I'll add him to my new take off on "www.amihotornot.com" that I've been talking about in the side bars, called: http://www.amimissingornot.com

I'm bored, really bored. I could read. I could call friends. I've already jerked off twice. I just - aw shit, here comes that seizure again....

I was never this lazy, I just don't feel like being holed up in the house by myself, and well, a year has passed - it's not like there is anyone I can just call up and say "Hey - you wanna go have coffee with me and discuss, well - me". I'm looking for a break-through conversation, a slap my ass and call me sonny epithany, a lightbulb that bursts above my head and showers sparks deep into my soul, anyone got the time - the right words - a strong spanking hand ???

et-i-quette\ 'e-ti-ket\ n. : the forms prescribed by custom or authority to be observed in social, official, or professional life. (synonyms: proprietary, decorum, decency, diginity

Perhaps it's how we are raised, or even more so, maybe it's who we "chose" to be in later life - but I find my move back to be an interesting lesson in etiquette and behavior.

Why do people who know me socially feel a need to comment on my move back to AZ with such clever statements as "Why would you do something so stupid?", why do people neglect to celebrate with my boyfriend and I the very significant and life changing decision to move in together (I deem it as extremely important and not an everyday occurence - I mean I would have gotten a friend in this situation a card to celebrate this big step in their life with the person they loved) and why do people strike a coorelation between "unemployed" and "free time". I feel busier than ever, try looking for a job in today's economy and see how much of your time it absorbs (add on to that packing up and moving 2,000 miles then moving in and there's no time left) - but I have had several people ask me - "Well what do you do all day??"

In light of this I am beginning the list of the follow prepared responses:

I sort through "your" garbage - and I am shocked.

Prepare for my walk-on role on "The Nanny" - what it's not on the air anymore - bastards ! That's why they haven't returned my calls.

Chase my tail in circles.

Watch porn, lot's of porn. heh-heh.

Masturbate - frequently. (often paired with the above response when the person responds - "no, really?"

Drink rubbing alcohol with my old gal-pal Kitty Dukakis - fill'er up sistah!

Contemplate my navel

I have rewritten "Little Women" to include more sex, drugs and references to shower-nozzle masturbation.

Watch "Where Are They Now" segments praying for more news on lovable TV star, Tina Yothers.

Play "Where's Chandra?"

Rewrite history - we now own Sweden lock, stock and barrell.

OK - last night was the first big night back on the town - man, I just can't drink like I'm 21 anymore - my stomach is planning a protest that makes the G8 summit demonstrations seem tame.

I need to learn to curb my jealousy - I felt the green-eyed monster creep up on numerous occassions when guys would approach my boyfriend - who knew him in my absence (some "knew" him way too well for my taste but we both agreed an open relationship was the only way to manage the 2000 mile distance) - it's just so frigging hard to come face-to-face with these people and see that feeling of intimacy or "knowing" them seemed to have of the man who is the love of my life, my everything. I know it's just sex, I'm more secure with myself then this but man did I start feeling like just crawling inside myself and turning off the lights.

Topping the overwhelming queasy sensation was running into my boyfriends ex. When you just move in with someone - the last thing you want a reminder of is the last person they lived with. My normal selfless/sadomasochistic side made me encourage my boyfriend to be friendly and speak to his ex, of course then I felt myself closing up as I just stood there watching them talk and thought "Shit, don't let us become that - please I never want to use the word ex-boyfriend again".

I hate this side of myself - "Do I look fat in this Blog??" I hate being insecure, wondering what the other guys thoughts are, worrying my boyfriend may not have completely sowed his oats, worrying that I may not be enough...it's natural, it will pass - right?

I need some time to settle in here, get my bearings straight, I feel like I'm at a party and I don't know the host - ya know where you keep going up to everyone at the party being overly nice because your worried you'll accidently be rude to the person whose house your in, walking on eggshells...I hope I figure out whose holding this shing-ding soon.

I am sick of hearing about Chandra Levy - I assure the media there ARE other people missing in this world.

Well got in safe and sound on Tuesday night around 8pm...It was so odd driving through the mountain pass coming down from Flagstaff, AZ. A huge storm had started over Phoenix and from my vantage point I saw both the dark and ominous clouds as they gathered and poured forth rain and the huge, vibrant full rainbow that this storm created. As Paul Oakenfeld's remake of Vangelis's Blade Runner Soundtrack played on my car stereo it was hard not to have a rather spiritual moment. I hope this was a sign of something fortuitous - beauty breaking through and being brought forth by a tumultuous storm.

Very little time to blog right now. trying to incorporate my life with Lucky's - for the couple's out there - advice is appreciated - you should see the look on his face when I started hanging all my clothes (INSERT HERE: self descriptive word "clothes horse"). Grocery shopping as a couple "living-together" was oddly fun and very sweet.
I love him, we will figure out how to cohabitate, with a couple of scratches and bruises on our personal space and need to control along the way.

Gotta go - must find a job and go visit the folks.

Blogs from the Road, Travel's NOT with Charlie, The Road THAT WAS Taken:

So it's done. How odd. Suddenly it was just done. I stood in my little Milwaukee downtown city apartment and went from room to room and shut off the light and closed the door. I cleaned like Lady Macbeth - "out,out damn spot", it wasn't til much later I realized I wasn't cleaning an apartment but trying to control the moment. I didn't control getting laid off, I wasn't necessarily moving back to AZ on my own terms, my goodbyes and going away parties didn't necessarily go off as planned - but I could control how clean I made this apartment and for some cathartic need - I made it shine.

I realized something about all that has happened. I do not own all of the situations that lead to this moment, but I do own my actions that I take regarding this moment, I will survive, then I will start over, then I will triumph - I mean I am a Leo for goodness(or badness) sakes.

So I climbed on the Interstate 94 about 10pm - logic said just go to bed and start in the morning, but I didn't want to wake up in Milwaukee. I wanted to wake up (as I did), miles away. So here I sit typing to you in a Motel 6 (I spotted Donald Trump in the very next room ordering in) in Bloomington. IL. (dead-center in the middle of Illinois off of the 55 Interstate). I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee and some eats and then it's back on the road, a long day of driving ahead for me.

Think of me, ok? 2000 miles is a lot of terrain to fuck up in - get cut off by a madman and end up in a ditch, have my car have a blowout - who knows, but think a good thought - "Get me to my boyfriend, my new life, my new home, in one piece".

Happy trails.

ok - comments are working again

sur-re-al - adj. 1. : having the intense irrational reality of a dream   2. : of our relating to surrealism

pride - n 1. : CONCEIT   2. : justifiable self-respect   3. : elation over an act or possession   4. : haughty behavior : DISDAIN   5. : ostentatious display

lost - adj. 1. : not used, won, or claimed   2. : no longer possessed or known   3. : ruined or destroyed physically or morally   4. : DENIED; also: HARDENED   5. : unable to find the way; also: HELPLESS   6. : ABSORBED, RAPT   7. : not appreciated or understood

My going away parties begin tommorrow night, WOW - it's over, my "Year of Living Dangerously" - not quite (well the Chicago portion definately) - the first year of my life that I ever lived in a state not occupied by a relative (except for that second cousin who I still never had dinner with, which my Pop is gonna bitch about forever).

So here I sit in Hiroshima devastation, my cute little city apartment with the hardwood floors and funky fire-escape-esque balcony - that I'm still sure is haunted. God - I adored this little place. All my belongings covering the floor, boxes - some full, some open...wondering when those next two paychecks are spent - how am I gonna make it. Will I go from the life of Director to the life of a waiter? Will I drive my boyfriend insane or will he fall deeper in love with me? What will my AZ friends say, have they moved on, will they pity me behind my back, will they recognize me as the same guy who left his safe cocoon, or will they see how much I've grown and the man I've become (yeah - I'm avoiding the butterfly reference - too girly)

I need to - shit, I need to do so many things, I keep holding off - I don't want to hug Dan & Drew (my Chicago Father/Brother, Buddies/Siblings, Confidantes/Comrades) goodbye, Leslie & Mark - what am I gonna do without them (she - the most beautiful girl you'll ever see was in such shock last night), who will Ellena spare with? and will Mike & Jonah (what alternating heartache and happiness we brought to each others lives) make it in SFO on their own difficult journey?

I feel like I'm walking out in the middle of the movie, throwing an unfinished book out the window, writing a love letter and leaving out the adjectives...I'm gonna get weak soon, I'm gonna cry, I'm dreading saying the first goodbyes tomorrow - I can hear the little rips tearing into my heart.

I'll be fine, I have always been one of those guys who always ends up fine...but right now it's the moment in the movie, when the scene touches you and for a moment you lose your breath, your eyes well with tears and you squeeze your boyfriends hand for reassurance.

shit - got to fix the reblogger again, my fault screwed it up.

I'm wiped - what did I do with all my personal errands and shit when I had a job ? Seems like there is never time in the day. Pretty much selling off or giving away all of my belongings (haven't I been here before?) and beginning my possession-less journey back to AZ. Feel kinda like one of those restless nomads who wears to much denim in a movie of the week : he breezes into town, not a care in the world - but carrying all of life's frustrations square on his back, who is this mysterious stranger (and does he put out?)

Moving is a downward-spiral with a spring at the bottom that somehow sends you right back up, Windex on a crystal ball whose contents turned out to be blurred of their on accord no matter how much shine you bring to that sphere...you know it's late and it's tired if I'm getting poetic on you.

So It's odd - I have so much on my mind, but I'm blogging less. Today is my ex-boyfriend's birthday, Joey. I feel cheated I couldn't wish him Happy Birthday today, tell him he's still very important to me, how everytime I see a picture of that goofy smile and boyish face I want to give him an unbreakable bear-hug - I feel like I was so young when I met him even though it was only five years ago. I mean anyone who reads my blog knows my heart belongs to 'Lucky' my current boyfriend/my lobster who this time next week I will be living with in sunny Phoenix, Arizona. But all of this picking up and sorting through my pack rat collection of belongings always brings Joey back in my mind (nostalgia, heartache, sentimentality), add to that his birthday and then go one step further to the fact that this will be the first birthday since 1996 that I didn't call or anything.

Why ? Well I couldn't even if I wanted to. Joey sent me a one email letter one day in the winter - he and his boyfriend were moving to Long Beach (if you are a Long Beach blogger - please do not attempt to go put all the facts together - Joe is a very private person - I respect that and do not wish to intrude on his privacy) and then he was gone, no forwarding address, no phone number, gone.

It was probably for the best, he had his life, I had mine, but how odd that that person could have been such an important part of my first few years out of college and not wanted to see where I had ended up or wanted to share the same with me. Does he hope I succeeded or dreamed that I failed - right now I'm no longer sure which it is. Does he still play the guitar when he's blue? Did he change his side of the bed? How many cups of coffee is he up to in the morning? Does he think the Cohen Brothers have lost their touch? How are his folks? Brother? Sister? If he found out I was laid-off, would his initital thought be sadness or would he wonder if I didn't do a good enough job? Does he ever open the old birthday cards from me and think what I'm thinking right now, how stupid we are for writing "here's to many, many more birthday's together".

ugh -I'm so behind in blogging, trying to through together a new look...maybe

nope - looked like shit - looked so much better in CF Studio....bummer

Ok something is frigging up with blogger today - these updates are taken forever.

beverage: coffee :: black (no cream, no sugar, no milk, no Amaretto, if you want a Mocha - order one - that's Ok - I'll wait til you come back)

listening: Tracy Chapman :: Crossroads :: This Time (you know you know the lyrics often sung through a veil of bitter tears..."this time I won't show I'm vunerable, this time I won't give in first, this time I will hold out with my love, this time I will not be hurt, I'm gonna love myself more than anyone else, I'm gonna treat me right...", don't you just feel Tracy has been crushed and screwed over by every woman in town?)

reading:Hot Jobs, Monster and BrilliantPeople - ugh.

watching: Bigger is Better :: Classic John Summers/Matt Sterling (Rick Donovan, Matt Ramsey, Doug Stevens - woof, how porn should be - well at least I'll be watching and enjoying as soon as I finish this blog)

flying: Newark (EWR), NJ. - then off to Parsippany (I doubt I spelled that right, but I haven't had enough of forementioned "beverage" to get up and go look for a map or dictionary - please continue to love me despite my unforgiveable spelling), NJ to meet my boyfriends parents.

dreading: Refer to "flying" and forementioned final destination.

packing: Conservative Son-in-Law wear :: Banana Republic wearables (Brown Stretch Short Sleeve, Brown Irish Linen Long Sleeve, Green Polo Shirt, Black 3 Button Suit with a Dress shirt and Tie that's colors only a BR employee could explain but do work well together - and several pairs of their clever boxer shorts (yes folks - "boxers" never briefs, and more frequently when no In-Laws are around - "Commando" -definately "Commando"), Kenneth Cole wearables (Black/Square-Toe/Dress Ankle Boot, Brown/Reaction/Camper Shoe, Brown V-neck/Wool-Acrylic Blend/Sweater - ya never know East Coast weather), Big Star wearables (2 pair - 1976/Digger/Vintage Blue - 1 Indigo, 1 Faded to perfection)

feeling: A bit out of sorts

hoping: To sort out the forementioned "feeling"

running: Late, need to hit the gym, pick-up the suit from dry cleaners, go buy a new black BR belt to replace the one somewhere on a dance floor in Orlando, Fl., finish packing, jerk-off, shower and get to airport by Noon.

You packed your books last week, you broke with the past tonight.
I hope you find some beach house on the coast out there with plenty of light.
Cause I know the road is very long, but in my head I'll always hold your song, and I'll keep a good thought for you.
I'll keep a good thought for you.

You left us 'The Best of Frank' and on the back you signed your name.
'One For My Baby' was underlined again.
Now I know the road is very long, but in my head I'll always hold your song, and I'll keep a good thought for you - if you're lonely think of me. I'll keep a good thought for you - If you're lonely think of me.

There's a couple you knew quite well, they moved away last spring, and though he can't find suits they don't miss much of anything.
They're raising a baby now.
At least that's one gift that this world allows.
And I'll keep a good thought for you.
Cause I know the road is very long, but in my head I'll always hold your song, and I'll keep a good thought for you - if you're lonely think of me.

Written by Ben Watt/Everything But The Girl, "The Language of Life/The Road"

How odd is this...skulking around in the background reading your blogs with my boyfriend sitting right next to me (sigh!)...well actually he's kinda back-seat driving but oh well - he's cute and easily forgiven.

Anyway - I just had to check in on the lovely boys of bloggerville - Hungover and Contemplative

Soooo my attention is off my boy and he deserves it more than you :)
See ya later!

THROB-THROB-THROB

Thump-thump-thump

POUND-POUND-POUND

Doctor: I'm afraid we're going to have to amputate.

Me: my head ????

Doctor: I'm afraid so it's been damaged beyond repair, I mean really - didn't you see it coming ?

Me: Well, uh, I mean - ouch- your trying to make me use my head - it hurts, OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - it hurts

Doctor: Now just hold still for a second and we'll relieve you of the pain.

(INSERT HERE: sound of chain-saw revving up)

(INSERT HERE: sound of "thump" as head falls to floor)

Me: Oooooooh, that does feel better!

I am hung over, I am 'John Holmes, Dirk Diggler, Jeff Stryker-Hung-over'....I hate this pathetic feeling. I wake on my living room floor at 5am curled up next to the phone and a box of Apple Jacks (some men need to fear there boyfriend cheating on them when their drunk - mine has to fear me devouring an entire box of sugar-coated cereal - dry). One of the few comments I remember - when introduced to a guy who was a little to impressed with what he made, what he wore, what he drove and what he looked like in the mirror over my shoulder I just said "oh hi - I don't like you one bit". One of the other remembered comments - when my absolutely adorable/lovable/deliciously beautiful friends Leslie & Mark introduced me to another straight couple they were friends with at 'Jazz in the Park" - I corrected them and said that I was actually their "token-drunk-gay-friend". I am normally kinda cute and endearing when I drink - last night - I was not. I know better than this - the Irish are not to be allowed around booze when grumpy. I had to go by the old office (you know the Advertising Agency that manages to make it to 'Creativity' magazines "Cool companies to watch" and still loses millions in the same year) and clean out my office while HR stood guard. I mean really - am I gonna make a run for it with a stack of Post-It notes ?? I was incredibly tempted to walk into the office unshaved, unbathed, wearing a ratty bath robe (no - I don't own one - I love being nude at home) and have them just shake their heads and mumble "Poor dear - we've broken him". It was the first time I ever had an office in my career, and shit was it a cool one - huge windows - looking out to Lake Michigan and totally freaked out with my toys (Curious George lunch pail, Rocky & Bullwinkle figures, South Park wind-up figures, Dilbert doll) and the walls covered with the most clever ad's I could find inspiration in. I wanted to punch someone - I wanted to strike down the defenseless and stupid HR gal - a stoner, hippie of 55 who just kept telling how terrible she felt - how quiet the office was without me - partners stopped by to shake my hand and profess what a delight it was to be in my presence - how quickly someone like me would find a job - my boss left me a card that reads like a love note and was written in the form of a poem - puleeeeeeezzzzze.

'Lucky' gets in tonight - I need this - I need him. His presence is like a cool bath on a hot day. I plan to let him do things to me and do things to him that are unforgivable in the name of Christians. Yum....sex has amazing healing powers - and no hang over.

If a blogger where to fall in the woods, would anyone hear the "ooomph!"

Looks like it....thanks to several of my Blogger buddies (new and old) for checking in with today to see how I was enjoying my new "lifestyle" of leisure, mid-day work-outs, coffee houses and Blog lurking.

To be honest I had a terrific day - I felt an amazing amount of energy and purpose (though admittedly a little hung over from hanging with friends last night)...I made an embarrassing amount of lists detailing the many things that would transpire as I pack up and move on - Milwaukee my dear friends - is only meant to be a story in the greater adventure in my life. Yes - EB I think your right - there's someone waiting out west for me and has been since I left Arizona just 11 months ago. I wrote a wonderful email to all the partners of the agency thanking them for giving me the chance to work with them and for allowing me the chance to teach them - very cathartic. Things to do, things to do, hours to go before I sleep....

I have a lot to accomplish in the next couple of weeks and 2000 miles to drive - in the meanwhile "Lucky" (my boy) arrives here on Friday night - I can only pray the fireproof apartment walls spare my neighbors the loud, um - "music". The gauntlet will be run in Chicago as he meets all my friends (I chuckle at the thought of my beautiful boy standing in the middle of "Cellblock" on a Saturday night) and then a big dinner with the Milwaukee contingency next Tuesday at La Fuente - here's hoping everyone is on there best behavior.

Things that hurt:

• The first time you fall from a bike, or your own two feet
  
• The first time you get called 'fag', if they meant it - or not - but you heard it and the chill ran up your spine
  
• When your first pet dies - Keesha, my Keeshond, he was 12.
  
• The first crush: his name was Ben, 15, beautiful, blond with piercing blue eyes - my love note (to my then best friend) was carelessly dropped on our high school campus, by 6th period it had become the stuff of a John Hughes nightmare. I cried for weeks
  
• The first one to cheat, his name was David, ran track, smoked pot and made me feel cool - I was 17, he gave me Chlamydia (I gave him a broken nose)
  
• The first death: his name Joe (Big Man on Campus), we were buddies in college - closeted, he lost his life to AIDS - he died during the summer, I had to grieve 3 months after his death.
  
• The first person I loved who took their life - an exboyfriend who saw sadness and shadows in every corner, I was one of the last calls he made and for months I hated him for giving me that guilt and leaving me to grieve.
  
• The first time I truly loved someone and it ended. It was meant to end and I would have never met the love of my life if it hadn't happened, but I wandered around damaged goods for two years.
  
• The first time I ever heard the words - "I'm afraid we have to let you go - blah,blah,blah - economic downturn" - the first time I was ever laid off - today.
  
  

  I wanted to see everything else on this list so I remembered the difference between painful hurt and passing hurt...today was passing hurt. I got through the entire day - in the end I only cried when I saw the email from my father with the subject line "I'm sorry".
  
  I'm tired - it will be ok, I'll figure it out. This list helped....

I've been digging through the past lately and dredged up another photo that well, you see for yourself, man I look like I was gonna grow up gay. I'm not sure if my unique style was a knock off of "Chachi" from "Happy Days" & "Joannie Loves Chachi" or if I was auditioning for Jodie Fosters role in the gay remake of Taxi Driver

Gearing up for Chicago Pride...wish I felt more excited, I'm broke, a bit harried and have a ton of things I want to get done before the boyfriend comes in town next week. I have to go though - if for no other reason then it's my buddy Dan's birthday and I would never let him down. It's embarrassing to admit I'm also a little sucker-paw (my best friend Patrick's word for 'sad') that I'm off partying for a while. You get that sudden pang of fear that you won't have "as good" a time as everyone else, or that your friends will be in a different place then you (INSERT HERE: friends dreamy gaze, caressing hand and "Wow isn't this GREAT, isn't this SPACE/DJ/CROWD BEAUTIFUL" and me staring blankly going "Oh, um, yeah sure" then politely turn friend - who is facing the wall - around towards the dance floor).
Oh well - I'm wearing my big boy pants this weekend and will have as much fun as I can.

I've been thinking about my comment about not being 21 anymore (in yesterdays blog) and started looking back through the old photo's - here's me at 20, the pic looks like it was taken in 1953 or something doesn't it?

I'll be 32 this year. Wow. How did that happen? I can tell ya - I don't think I'm but a faint whisper of the kid in this photo - of course looking at how skinny I was back then maybe that was all I was, was a faint whisper. I have another bad-ass one of me in a leather jacket (21) that will dismiss how wholesome this picture makes me look, of course it explains thoroughly why my favorite book at the time was "The Best Little Boy in the World" by Andrew Tobias. Of course getting in to my need to always be the perfect son, boyfriend, friend, employee, etc. is a shrink lesson for another time ;)