I'm lucky. Before my mom died, we got to spend a year together in which we pretty much disclosed everything that we couldn't when I was a child. For this, I'm think I'm pretty unique. Back then I was bi, now I'm gay... but basically, my mom could see it in the cards and after the initial shock, was pretty cool about it. I told he I was bi when I was 18 or 19, but I always knew she'd be cool about it so it wasn't really like coming out. So now, I've got in my head that the only way I'm going to have some type of lasting happiness is going to be coming out to everyone..., including my grandmother. This is where our current dilemma begins. I've been living with my Granma for about two years (my grandfather had a stroke and she asked me to come back). IN that time, I haven't gone out on one date, or even recieved calls from girls (other than the ones I've known form high school, that she already knows)... so she's gotta know something is up. But, given that the tide of denial is strong, she's allowed herself to believe that I'm choosey (she's right actually, it's just that I only choose the ones with dicks... ) So now, despite my desire to just reveal the truth, I'm worried about how that's going to affect an 84 yr. old woman. She doesn't even understand homosexuality, she thinks it's some kind of spell that you get put under, kind of like a hex or something So the question is, do i tell her for my own selfish reasons regardless of what the truth might do to her, or do i not tell her for my own selfish reasons, and remain in the false security of the closet ?

I'm starting Ramadan today (yeah I know I'm about 9 days late, but it's between me and God, thank-you-very-much). I'm getting off to a late start this year. I'd like to excuse it all on the arrival of my brother, and the necessary celebration that followed, but I don't really have too much of an excuse.

Ramadan is held according to the lunar calendar, which means that the start date fluctuates from year to year. Sometimes it's around Christmas, other thimes it's way off in February. Late Ramadans are the best, becuase the days are shorter and if you plan correctly, you can sleep through most of the sunlight hours. I hate it when Ramadan falls during the holidays, though it's a lot easier to fast as an adult than it was to fast when I was in high school. In high school, not only did I have the added joy of hearing about everyone elses Christmas gifts (which is a holiday Muslims don't celebrate by the way), but then I had a whole Christmas break to kill while not eating, drinking, or thinking about sex. It's a wonder I'm not more fu..., (oh yeah, you're not supposed to curse either) screwed up. It's not as tough now. The not-eating-food-thing, a snap since I forget to eat half the time anyway...., the no-drinking-water-thing, not too tough though by five pm you're parched, it's the not-thinking-about-sex-thing... that's a toughie. Try to not think about sex for five minutes ..., not that easy is it.

Anyway, when we were kids, my Mom used to forbid listening to music or watching TV during the fast (daylight hours only, for you folks who don't know too much about fasting). Apparently that was just a little added torture, since I checked up on the requirements and it doesn't list either as fast-breakers. Thank God for small favors. I don't know how I'd make it through work without my headphones.

The point of Ramadan, for those of you who think it's an affectation of some dinky little terrorism-inclined religion, is to take a little time out and focus on your relationship with God. All the time that you would spend procuring the things that give you pleasure and sustainance (food and sex), is re-directed towards God, so you can think about your place in his world, and the state of your life. At least, that's the way I've always understood it, though I'm not exactly the worlds best muslim (they've got this pesky no-cock-sucking rule). If anyone has any questions at all, I'll do my best to answer them.

I hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving festivities. My family had splintered into not one, but three seperate dinners... which wasn't so bad, except that I ended up going to the one with the crappy food. I called James last night and Jaimz was there, which was a good surprise. She's going to Paris on Monday. How nutty is that ? On the one hand I'm proud of my friend who can travel across the globe without knowing one Parisian, she kicks ass.... on the other hand, I hope she's ok, and that nothing happens to her.

James was trying to convince me to come back to LA. I was so happy to have someone want me so empatically that for a minute it seemed like the clear and obvious choice. The truth is, within a week, I'd feel like crap again, and within a month, we'd be sick of each other. I'd be exactly where I was two years ago, and what's the point in that ?

I wish, that I could just be pleased with myself.

Missed most of the Thanksgiving lunch, but that's ok becuase last year the macaroni tasted like paste, and the turkey needed to be rehydrated. It's just as well... My brother's back on island, and that's really cool becuase he's got all of this good energy. I'm hoping that I'll get caught up in it. I'm hoping that it'll lift me right out of the funk I've been in.

just read ariel's birthday revelation..., and it kind of kick's the pants off mine...

A pretty good blogger, (who i don't know, but wouldn't mind knowing) has requested a personal tidbit in lieu of an actual birthday gift. Something I ordinarilly wouldn't reveal... so I'll try, but mind you, I'm a pretty upfront person so finding said tidbit might be a little tough.

.... I've got three nipples (the third one's kind of cute actually, it's so odd-looking, it 180's from hideous to endearing), and during my brief high school football period I was nicknamed "trips". But that's not terribly shocking or revelatory, it's just weird.

.... I've had sex with about 50 men, but only had one boyfriend. And let's face it, that's not shocking either, it's just sad.

.... I know a guy who claims to have had sex with Ricky Martin, but that's neither here nor there (wouldn't it be nice if this wasn't just a tease, and actually a story detailing a hump and bump with our favorite latin closet case).

.... I sent Philo a book after I read of his awful day. Now, that would've come out eventually, but since it hasn't yet I guess it will do. It's not really shocking or anything, but it might be just enough to bring about a smile... and that's the purpose of this right.

Anyway, happy 30th birthday Choire.

It's saturday night, and while I'm killing time waiting for what's supposed to be the meteor shower of the millenium, I figured I'd blog. Or rather... the club yielded no prospects, and I still haven't accepted it, so now I'm typing before surrendering this night. I've been thinking abouth this blog, and about how accurately I want it to depict my mood and emotions. If I'm completely truthful, and I want to be in case someone else hapens upon this page and can relate (and thereby not feel like a complete lunatic, as I sometimes do), things may take a rather bleak turn. Not like I'm saving up sleeping pills or anything, just that I'm very frequently depressed, and that might be hard for some people to read. Or rather, hard for me to type. I don't really know waht I want this blog to be, and that kind of hinders my use of it.

It's saturday night, and while I'm killing time waiting for what's supposed to be the meteor shower of the millenium, I figured I'd blog. Or rather... the club yielded no prospects, and I still haven't accepted it, so now I'm typing before surrendering this night. I've been thinking abouth this blog, and about how accurately I want it to depict my mood and emotions. If I'm completely truthful, and I want to be in case someone else hapens upon this page and can relate (and thereby not feel like a complete lunatic, as I sometimes do), things may take a rather bleak turn. Not like I'm saving up sleeping pills or anything, just that I'm very frequently depressed, and that might be hard for some people to read. Or rather, hard for me to type. I don't really know waht I want this blog to be, and that kind of hinders my use of it.

While I was wandering at work today, I was reminded of Unravel by a random post. Below are lyrics to Unravel, which is one the sweetest songs on earth. I'm weird about Bjork..., were I going to go stalker, she'd probably be the one I'd pick. Half the time I don't even know what she means, but it connects with me nonetheless, and gains it's own meaning. This particular song is about being apart from your mate. In the chorus she sings "he'll never return it", but with her Icelandic lilt, it sounds like "memory torments" which is so fitting becuase that's just how being away from your sweetie is. The thought of what you could be doing were they here, the memory of what once was and now isn't. Torment. I haven't figured out how to link up a song yet (working on it), so I can't upload Unravel... but you're probably just wasting time anyway, so you might as well try and download it from somewhere.

while you are away
my heart comes undone
slowly unravels
in a ball of yarn
the devil collects it
with a grin
our love
in a ball of yarn

he'll never return it

so when you come back
we'll have to make new love

Sometimes when I'm online, and whittling away at the time I'm supposed to be here, I got to places I probably shouldn't. Places that were they known, would crack the closet door a little wider than I'm prepared to accept... actually, the closet door would be shredded, with only pressed wood clumps remaining around the hinges. But still I go. I'm usually pretty careful about it, I scan the room for the shuffling of feet or any sudden movement that might bring someone my way. I scan with the vigilance of a new mother surveiling the playground for potential molesters. Nothing gets by me... well, almost nothing. Today, around 9:50, as I was indulging my loins and perusing pictures of pretty boys... my boss crept up on me like 50 to a baby-boomer..., all of the sudden and all too soon, she was just there. No brimstone, no lightning... but my world swirled and my stomach tried to escape though my throat.

This wasn't good.

I managed to hide the Explorer window behind an Illustrator window, hoping I could ride out her visit with aimless chit-chat. But she was brandishing a disk... a disk she wanted me to open...., a disk she wanted me to minimize my window, go to the desktop, and open..., a disk she wanted me to minimize my window, go to the desktop, reveal the BULGING CROTCH of the Calvin Klein model hidden beneath, and open.

Defintely not good.

Thinking fast, I tried to work on some other things I'd put off, that she'd asked me to do earlier. Checking email and stuff... I crained my eyes to the screen hoping that if I thought it hard enough, she'd follow my psychic impulses and wander over to the water dispenser. Despite my wordless yelling, (and let me tell you, I was bellowing loud enough for Professor X to hear me) she hovered still. Waiting. I felt like I did when I was 16, and the cashier at the Newstand caught me with two Torso's and a Blueboy stuffed in my jeans. Like my world was shifting, and I was powerless against the tide of change. I felt like I was over. And yet,... when it could be avoided no longer, I clicked on the window and closed it before the screen could draw all of the image. There was no noticable sign of recognition from the boss.., no anger, no exclamation of rage, no indication of anything. She muttered her thank you's as she always does, and stalked away. The crisis had been averted, and yet I was still left with the aftermath. Butterflies still flopped against the top of my throat, my pulse could still power a sledgehammer, my eyes still were dialated to heroin like levels... and yet I survived. No angels, or beams of light protuding from the roof, but perhaps something better.

I'm actually glad for the distraction. For that rare rush of adrenaline that has proven that despite the almost comatose pace of my life, my heart beats yet. Not saying that I'm itching for my boss to catch me perving on the job..., but I felt alive for a minute. Instead of bored out of my skull like I usually do. I want some more. Maybe not with the same stakes, but some more action. Something other than what I've been doing. Something other than this semblance of a life. A life that I've been wading through, half-lidded yet cognizant. I've got to get off this island. Actually, the island isn't the problem. I've got to resist the urge to wait for things to happen. This just empasizes it, and brings it to the forefront. I'll never know if I really escaped my boss, or if she already know I'm the gayest thing in the building and is just being amazingly cool about it. I do know that it sucks that the highlight of my week is escaping near-canning for looking at naked guys, and being thrilled about it. I know I can do something about that.

hey. I want to talk about GG, but the more intresting spectacle was the MJ 30th anniversary gala (I guess gala covers it, though I'm not really sure what to call it). First there was Mya and Usher in what would have been a great performance had it not emphasized how difficult it is to sing "Wanna be Starting somethin", and how mediocre their vocal talent is. Than we were treated to Whitney Houston modeling the latest in crack whore fashion. Damn Bobby Brown ! I was discussing with a friend last night if Whitney's descent is her fault, or should all be pinnned on Bobby. Ultimately we decided that Whitney's inner junkie would have found it's way out eventually, though it's sad that she doesn't realize it. It must suck to be surrounded by sycophants... how else could she have made it onto the stage in that get-up ?

I love MJ, but last night was bizarre. Through the ruins, you could still see bits of the old fire that defined his talent. I think he can't hit the notes he used too anymore, but I couldn't tell if I was wrong or if he was lip-syinching and just handling the mike weird to hide it. He can still dance his ass off, but he hasn't made any attempts to update himself, and that's why Invincible will ultimately fail.

Anyway, moving as far away from reality as possible... Can I just say that I love Paris.She has taken uptight to previously unheard of levels. That girl is wound up so tight, if you shoved a lump of coal up her ass, in two weeks... (what I'd give for another ferris movie). That girl is something special. I can't wait till she and Rory get past this pesky nemisis phase. I still don't fully understand how it began to be honest, I know it had something to do with Tristan (deliciously smarmy, and curisously absent this season). Can't wait till next week when we finally get to have some fun with Luke's nefarious nephew.

Well, just got back from seeing K-Pax [spoilers ahead], which (though it discussed one of my favorite concepts... the infinite possibility and importance of light) was mediocre. I'm so sick of seeing movies about doctors with fresh perky wives, doctors who live in beautifully landscaped, tastefully furnished houses with fantasic views. Why can't we have some miserable doctors... some doctors with no fashion sense or social graces. Some doctors who fluked it through med school and keep losing tools during surgery. Yeah... that's the ticket.

Alas, this is the high point of my creativity today.

blah....

just to remind you .... not everyone understands house music, it's a spirtual thing, a body thing, a soul thing.

Sitting here in the middle of Saturday, trying to decide whether I should catch a ride to the movies, or wait till Rick is finished doing the mysterious chore for his grandfather, and mooch a ride out of him. I don't even think there's anything cool to see, but I love being in a movie theater.



After the thrilling experience of adding links, (in the land of the easily amused, I wear a crown) I'm determined to expand this page into a full-fleshed site. I was planning to do that this afternoon, but my enthusiasm has waned a little.

It's been a strange week. Jam packed with health issues, unexpected debts, exploding head gaskets, hospital visits, and a double headed pimple that just won't die. However, despite all of the crazy shit that's gone down of late.... I feel kind of good. I mean I haven't been terribly pro-active about any of the above, but I don't feel overwhelmed. Am I finally learning how to roll with the punches ? God that would be sweet. Sitting here typing this, evaluating the full magnitude of this stress-inducing week, and yet not worried in the least. yay me ! I'll have to explain all of the above later, but for right now, life is good.

Thanks to the help of certain seattlite, I realized that my site doesn't have to look like ass and changed my template. I just finished adding some links, and feel a little like Bob Villa. I can't wait to start telling people about the site, I just don't have enough content yet.