Today's journey...

My drive to work, today. Oregon is fucking gorgeous...

I tried to upload the video, but blogger didn't like its size...so go to my facebook page...to view it in full...

 

Travelin' man...again...

Off on a whirlwind trip to Oregon to oversee the packing and shipping of an archive. Leave in the morning at 8:33 and return Friday night on a redeye. Did it on Southwest and made sure I got the extra legroom seats, both ways.

I'm taking a book to read on the plane. A collection of Sherlock Holmes' stories. It's been so long since I read any of them, it should be fun...because I know I didn't go through them all.

I had this serious phase in high school where I was into mysteries -- Agatha Christie, Earl Stanley Gardner, Earl Derr Biggers, Ed McBain, even Ruth Rendell. I devoured them, thanks to San Antonio's library having a massive collection. 

I especially liked Ellery Queen's Cat of Many Tails, about a serial killer in NYC. The Perry Mason series of books grew tedious because all Gardner seemed to do was retell the same plotline, over and over, just changing the names and careers of the characters.

I hope this will be fun...

I'm still taking my notes on MQM with me because I'm getting ideas to add to the story. Some will probably fall by the wayside, but others might help this come completely together. Right now, it's still on the disjointed side.

Funny, but it's not a mystery, even though I'm almost treating it like one. The story unfolds and builds in a linear fashion, and we know who the killer is 2/3 of the way through the book. It's more about the broken nature of our justice system and how it cannot be fixed.

Mainly because no one wants to.

Milk...

I don't know why, but when I'm crashing off into a numb-freaky-mode of not knowing what to do or care or anything, having a glass of milk centers me in ways nothing can. Seriously, I just drank nearly a quart, I was in such a fuck it all frame of mind...and now I'm almost back to being human.

Well...as human as I can be. I'm actually thinking of having a cheese sandwich, now. Which is a good sign. More dairy is never bad. And it does do a body good.

I know some people get all pissy about an adult made ingesting the stuff, but I'm of Norwegian stock and we was raised on that. There were times I'd drink a couple glasses of it for dinner instead of regular food. And I did fine. As fine as a weird little fuck can be.

And I was weird. Retard was a favorite word shot my way. Same for goofy. Which didn't happen much because I would not respond to them, and that was what they wanted. To see that they were hurting me.

They weren't. I didn't care what other kids said or called me. They weren't real, to me. Just gnarling creatures.

Anyway, when they started calling me homo, my first thought was they were referring to homogenized milk, because I was so pale. Which I thought was silly. Didn't know what it really meant till I'd graduated high school. And even then, I just thought it was dumb.

But throughout, if life was getting to me my center was having a glass of milk. I could face anything with that in my belly. And right now I feel ready for the world, again...

As fucked up as it is...

What is it?

Simon is unhappy about something, but he's not being forthcoming with the reason for that. He's in the back of my head doing nothing. No arguing or criticism or judgemental attitude. He just sits there.

I don't know what to do. Does he not like how he's being portrayed in MQM? Is he not coming to terms with the ending? Which is sudden. That maybe I need to take further. So does he want retribution to be laid out?

I did once think I'd have his murder tear the police and district attorney's office apart. But that's not how things really work in the world.

Something adding to my uncertainty is, Rihanna Kelvar, a trans woman in Wyoming, was assaulted by a group of rednecks so pulled a gun to scare them off. She has a licence to carry that gun and Wyoming has a Stand Your Ground law, but she's been charged with two felonies and the guys who attacked her are off, scott free.

Wyoming is where Matthew Shepard was murdered, just outside Laramie, and long after his death there were people who still blamed him for it. Is that what will happen after Simon is killed?

Or...does he want me to show them getting away with it? Not have a nice ending but a cold-blooded one? Detailed? No one punished?

That means a lot of work to make certain it's honest, and even more work to make sure it's believable.

Of maybe it's a case of he just doesn't trust me to tell the story correctly, anymore...

Self-healing day

It might be self-indulgent, but realizing 3 of the actors from Buffy, the Vampire Slayer are dead and all were younger than me...it was just hard to deal with. This is on top of my youngest brother dying 4 months back...so I did some pampering.

Made a peach cobbler using Bisquick and canned peaches in juice. A couple spoonfuls of sugar and spices, but nothing more. Almost healthy. The Cool Whip is sugar-free.

For lunch was a hot dog sandwich that entails slicing a hot dog in half and pan-frying it till it's black then slipping cheese on it. Transferring it to regular bread that has mustard, ketchup and sweet relish on it and enjoying the shit out of it, with potato chips.

No writing. I made the mistake of listening to a young man talking about some gay novels he loved, which have won awards, and I was drifting into thinking my work is not that good and wondering why I'm doing it so...

I made latkes to stop my downward spiral. Using a recipe I saw online. Mixed some leftover mashed potatoes with Monterrey Jack, onion and shredded carrot, cooked them in olive oil till they were nicely crispy on both sides, and had that for dinner. With HP Sauce.

I have enough left over for three more, but I may bake those to see what happens.

I'm feeling good enough, now. Tomorrow...we shall see...

I hate this year...

Anthony Head, who was Giles the Librarian on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, TV version, has died. And Xander was taken, back in March. With Michelle Trachtenberg last year.

Shit. This year is really doing its best to make 2025 seem like a walk in the park. Somebody surround everyone else from this show in bubble wrap, because Buffy... was one of my favorite programs, despite the stories swirling around Joss Whedon...

What's funny is, I've been writing on MQM all day. Got more than 2500 words added, dealing with Simon agreeing to expand his job cataloguing a collection of antiquarian books; that was why he came to the town. Now he needs to stay to deal with the legal ramifications of his arrest so at least he can charge it off to the dealer he's working for.

I also wrote about him getting his things after having been in jail for several weeks and finding his phone smashed and money missing from his wallet.

I don't know if I'm over a hurdle, yet, but it seems this part came out fairly easily. Of course, they aren't very much in depth, yet, but this is still a first draft. Even if I rework it twenty times. Doesn't count as a draft till it's full and complete.

Of course, now a job I had for June 18th has blown up and needs rearranging. At 10pm on a Friday, and what's being asked is way more difficult. Not to mention airfare already paid for and other jobs scheduled in a way that cannot be changed. And nothing I can do to settle it until Monday.

Jesus, I'm already tired for next week.

Pride month and I'm not feelin' it...

I am so sick of people and the repetitious attacks on the LGBTQ+ community for daring to celebrate their existence...some even from those within the community who like to nitpick over everything. I'm too old to keep up with all the bullshit from every direction, anymore.

Not that I ever was able to. I've never been one of the sharpest people alive, capable of thinking on my feet. On the rare occasions where I make a snap decision, half the time it turns out to be the wrong one. And I usually head the wrong direction when trying to find some street or business.

I'm rather thick of brain, normally, so if I'm ever confronted by a car speeding towards me on the street, I'll probably just watch it hit me, that's how out of it I can be.

There's also me going to a store where I think I'm sure I will find exactly what I want...and they don't have it. That happened with an Office Max, today. I need ink for my printer but they were completely out. I almost went to another store but was feeling grumpy so came home and went online...and every other store was out of stock. They don't carry the one I need, anymore. If I'd done that before going, I'd have saved myself a trip.

I had to buy it from HP, so won't have it till next week. Hopefully before I head out to Portland...which is Wednesday. I won't be back till Saturday morning...

Still...Pride Month is here...a dedicated observance celebrating LGBTQ+ culture, commemorating the contributions of the community, and raising awareness about the ongoing fight for civil rights and equal justice. It is observed annually in June to honor the 1969 Stonewall Uprising in New York City, which catalyzed the modern gay liberation movement

Got that off Google AI. And works for me...grumpy, ancient, idiotic, old man me...

Am I who I am?

I don't know. Sometimes I click into a mode where everything seems unreal, and I am no part of it. I doubt it's a form of dissociation. I'm simply not in my apartment, all of a sudden. Or not in control of the planning I'm working up for jobs. I go...blank.

I wouldn't call it psychotic. More surreal than anything else. And I was already feeling pretty much overwhelmed by other things. But still I wonder, could it be the beginning of dementia? Alzheimer's? It runs in my family.

This time it happened when I locked onto this image from Retrorope. while searching for a jpeg, and found myself lost and blank of mind. Well, except for this one thought in my head that I wished I had him. Like this. To own for a while.

I've always thought of him as lovely and someone I could easily obsess over. And this is not some overt desire, even when it's dancing around in my own mind. More like a long forgotten wish I'd once made and am now remembering. Maybe a dream I'd once had...a dream I now know will never come to fruition.

I don't know the guy's name. I do know he lives north of Chicago, and owns the site. He posts lots of young, somewhat attractive men in varying forms of light bondage, on it. Nothing too intense. No nudity. So I could track him down if I wanted to.

But I won't. That would be invasive and not something I would want anyone to do with me, for whatever reason. I may have been born under the sign of the cat and year of the dragon, but I am proof positive those things mean nothing. Strong? Bold? Courageous?

Ha! I was born with a brake inside of me that stops me dead whenever I consider ever doing anything disruptive to anyone. I can fantasize about it, no problem, but in real life, if I have the oppotunity to be bold...I freeze. Cannot think of what actions to take.

Maybe today was just one of those days. Too much going on and me getting lost in the jumble. I just wish I understood me and my weirdness better.

Trying for an opening...

And I'm trying out a new opening for MQM...which may be too gentle or uninteresting...

----

Silence is one of the most complex words in the English language. Or any language. It can mean peace. Acceptance. Anger. Understanding. Acquiescence. Disapproval. Separation. Refusal. Hate. Love. Disregard. Thought. Concentration. Punishment. And even cruelty.

To be silent in a judicial sense, for example, is said to mean consent. Which is far too simplistic a definition, even when restricting it to the law. The cause could also be fear of retribution or a lack of understanding regarding what the person had just seen. 

There was also simple disregard for the perpetrator's victim, since some people just plain did not care about others. So while Silence equals consent made for a catchy phrase used to disparage inaction, to be sure, it was also limited and incomplete.

As for silence in a relationship? That is often seen as evidence the bond between two individuals is broken. Though it could also show two individuals had become so comfortable, together, they had no need for speech.

There was also the notion that someone might be focusing very hard on a project or a book, to the extent that all other forms of communication were filtered out.

The latter is the definition Simon preferred. Silence as a gentle blanket enveloping him in peace and safety. He had always sought it, but of late had learned the easiest way to achieve it was to let it come to him. Usually, while reading late in the evening and lazing in his overstuffed recliner with a glass of wine.

He had also found it at the end of a furious thunderstorm, which would initially declare its presence for all the world to see but now was whispering like a lazy feline in need of a light caress. He would sit on his back balcony, under an awning that still dripped from the rain, the moisture remaining thick in the air as he sipped a cup of hot tea and soaked in the joy the world seemed to feel. 

Then there were occasions where he could achieve that level of Zen, for lack of a better word, while listening to music. Easy tones drifting melodiously. No words. Nothing brash or demanding. Liquid Mind. Deuter. New Age in a classical style. 

During those moments, he cared nothing for the world and its billions of issues. His eyes would close and in the darkness everything would be reborn...would renew...would regain its meaning. His mind would not drift beyond the immediate sense of quiet he felt as life realigned itself within him.

A funny thing to learn in your seventy-third year.

Totally fucked up...

For some reason, I wasn't sleepy, last night. So I stayed up. Putzed around. Fiddled with some emails. Posted on Xitter and Facebook. And watched cat, dog and other animal videos until I finally grew weary about 9am. Took a 2 hour nap and spent the day prepping for my next trip to Hong Kong. 

The nap was a mistake. It threw me even more off center. Grumpy. Sad. Not wanting to do anything. And it's only gotten worse as the day went on. Meals were off. I'm hungry for tamales but the only place that makes decent ones is 10 miles away and I did not want to drive.

I have an appointment to get my stomach and bladder scanned, tomorrow morning. I have to fast, starting at midnight, and just know I'm going to be in even more of a mood before we're done.

What makes this especially rough is wallowing in this type of emotional space opens up the floodgates that hold back my You really fucked up your life thoughts. And that lets loose my masochistic need to beat myself up. I'm doing a great job of it, right now. Can't write a coherent story and Your grammar's basic Strunk & White and all that shit.

Of course, it's also the first of the month...when I balance out my checkbook and take stock of my finances and compare myself to how everything was a year ago...even six months ago...and kick myself for not having everything under full control.

Then I guilt myself by pointing out my brother was diagnosed with cancer not quite six months ago and going back and forth to San Antonio and staying there and paying for things that were needed is the reason I'm financially shaky, now.

Which makes me depressed...so I make pity-me posts like this, embarrassing myself further. At which point I finally snap This is fucking ridiculous and start to work my way out of it.

Shit...I'm a walking cliché of artistic self-indulgence. I need a cat to sit on my desk and judge me.