One man's attempt to prove that being fat and gay has nothing, and yet everything, to do with his existence.
Friday, December 16, 2011
I AM ON VACATION. SEE YOU IN JANUARY
Monday, December 12, 2011
Good-Bye
My ex had a sister. She rocked, God rest her soul. She and I would cut through all of the bullshit anyone was throwing at us, and we would size them up, find their weaknesses and strengths, and if we decided we liked them, they were safe. If we did not like them, then we would have a field day. It was fun. We kept that shit to ourselves, however, trying not to hurt anyone, but, just sometimes, not really caring if we did. I was 27 and still immature.
I shared that same type of relationship with that sister's daughter. At least when she was a teenager and I was a part of her life. Since then she has grown up and become a woman. I, however, continued to think of her as the same person I knew 20 years ago. That was my down fall. I let the affection I once had for her and her mother blindside me. I forgot that the acts of life causes our filters to change and we become different people. It is human nature. We must evolve and change in this life time.
A couple years ago, my ex's first husband passed away. He had never been a kind man to me. I cannot hold him at fault for this. He had good reasons to not be kind to me. I did fuck his wife, after all. She then proceeded to leave him and marry me. And, least we forget, I was an open gay man in midtown America. Yea, his wife left him for the town fag. That had hurt on more than one level.
He would take his frustrations out on me in unusual ways. I remember standing in the veggie isle at the corner store just down from our house on 5 East Powell. I am looking at some canned need, when all of a sudden a can of Campbell's Tomato Bisque whizzes past my head. Following the trajectory to the point of its origin, I see jaded lover.
When he passed, I was contacted by a mutual friend. The details were not pretty. He had a GI bleed. He was dead before he could get his car out of the drive way. The ex had to go over and clean up, yet one more time, the mess that he had made. I know she did this so their son would not have to see the horror that it must have been.
My mistake in this story was my contacting my niece and treating her as if our relationship was the same. I was very unkind in my words about his passing. Though not an excuse, I understand now that it was a reaction of the pent up pain I had related to his demanding that I not be allowed to see their son after our divorce. I was told that money won out, and since she needed the child support she was going to follow his wishes and she would not allow me any further contact. I blamed both of them for many years. It has taken me a long time to see my part in this trailer park play. I should have let the past lie in the past and kept my opinions to myself. I didn't, and though I am sorry for the pain I cause, I am actually OK with the outcome. The niece told my ex what I said. The ex contacted me and unloaded a verbal rant. It was very interesting to be able to step back and watch myself react to the words. “I wished it had been you. It should have been you dead in that pool of blood. I wish, oh God, I wish it were. You are dead to me. I never want to hear your voice again.”
I have made no efforts to contact her and I have no plans to do so. Though the ends do not justify the means, I like the idea of all ties being broken. And, with that thought, we come back full circle to the niece. She contacted me today saying that she will be in SF and wanted to know if I would have time to see her. We have not communicated since his death. She emailed me via facebook. She hit 'replay' to the original offending email. So not only seeing her name in my inbox, but also seeing the evidence of my crime caused me to have a rush of feelings this evening. I felt it necessary to say my peace. I did so by replying to the email. I told her what her actions had caused, her aunt being hurt needlessly, and, that though I am ultimately to blame for that hurt, she to holds responsibility for forwarding the information and for breaking my trust. I told her that I was not able to see her and I wished her a life of happiness. Another era comes to an end as I separate myself further and further from my past.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Earmon Mark Sammie Paul
Seems the men who taught me how to be a man have all died. Earmon was the last to go. Last Saturday he was playing basketball when he passed out on the court. The coroner said it was a heart condition. I think that might have been fitting for Earmon, to go so quickly and without warning. He would not have wanted the fuss and finality of a long, or even short illness.
Laura texted me today to say that she was going to go to the funeral home to see Earmon tonight. The same parlor where Mark Sammie and Paul were shown before their interments. It would have been nice to have been there for her... to have given her love... to have given her support... to have laughed out loud about the old days.
Paul was the one who showed me that being a man had nothing to do with sexual orientation. He also showed me the power of forgiving those who had taken advantage of one in their youth. Paul kept trying, but couldn't stay clean. He overdosed the week I moved to San Francisco. The first message I received in SF was from Laura telling me he had died.
Mark was the one who worked with me on a daily basis for almost four years. He was the one who put up with my immaturity and stupidity. He confided in me years later that he was never sure that I was going to make it or that he was going to be able to put up with me. We ended up loving each other as well as respecting each other. He told me once of a time when he was homeless and unable to score any drugs. He said he came up with a plan that sounded full proof for getting high. He got into the house of a friend and found the gun he knew to be hidden there. He took the gun and sat thinking over his plan and again, knew it to be a solid for getting high. It was, a good dope fiend idea. He pointed the gun at his foot, thought about it one last time, pulled the trigger, and then, he said, in the moment from the time he pulled the trigger until the bullet hit, he came to realize it was, actually, a bad idea, but he couldn't get his foot out of the way fast enough before the impact. We laughed and laughed. Mark died during a drug relapse by putting a shotgun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. To this day I wonder if he tried to get his head out of the way before impact.
Sammie was odd and determined. He taught me that it was OK to cry. It was OK to feel. And, that it was OK to be odd and determined. He taught me about the need to be social and the need to be socially savvy. He died of cancer. The moments before he died, it is reported that he said, "wow, there is Mark and Jesus, waving to me." I have no doubt Mark was, yet again, telling one of my brothers to follow a certain path... that he had been in the same place before and to follow him because he knows the way around.
Earmon was the one who taught me to not judge a book by its cover. He taught me to focus and stay close to those you trust. He taught me to stick by your responsibilities and make good on them. He taught me to keep my mouth shut and to not tell all of my business out on the street. He was a good man, and from all that I can tell, lived out this last years with honesty and hope.
I came out as a gay man at the age of twenty one. That was in 1980. I have lost more friends to the ravages of substance abuse than I have to the ravages of HIV. I see friends who abuse far too many substances without concern or care. I hate loosing the ones I love.
Bye Earmon. Tell Sammie to get out of the way and give Mark and Paul a big old hug from me.
Laura texted me today to say that she was going to go to the funeral home to see Earmon tonight. The same parlor where Mark Sammie and Paul were shown before their interments. It would have been nice to have been there for her... to have given her love... to have given her support... to have laughed out loud about the old days.
Paul was the one who showed me that being a man had nothing to do with sexual orientation. He also showed me the power of forgiving those who had taken advantage of one in their youth. Paul kept trying, but couldn't stay clean. He overdosed the week I moved to San Francisco. The first message I received in SF was from Laura telling me he had died.
Mark was the one who worked with me on a daily basis for almost four years. He was the one who put up with my immaturity and stupidity. He confided in me years later that he was never sure that I was going to make it or that he was going to be able to put up with me. We ended up loving each other as well as respecting each other. He told me once of a time when he was homeless and unable to score any drugs. He said he came up with a plan that sounded full proof for getting high. He got into the house of a friend and found the gun he knew to be hidden there. He took the gun and sat thinking over his plan and again, knew it to be a solid for getting high. It was, a good dope fiend idea. He pointed the gun at his foot, thought about it one last time, pulled the trigger, and then, he said, in the moment from the time he pulled the trigger until the bullet hit, he came to realize it was, actually, a bad idea, but he couldn't get his foot out of the way fast enough before the impact. We laughed and laughed. Mark died during a drug relapse by putting a shotgun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. To this day I wonder if he tried to get his head out of the way before impact.
Sammie was odd and determined. He taught me that it was OK to cry. It was OK to feel. And, that it was OK to be odd and determined. He taught me about the need to be social and the need to be socially savvy. He died of cancer. The moments before he died, it is reported that he said, "wow, there is Mark and Jesus, waving to me." I have no doubt Mark was, yet again, telling one of my brothers to follow a certain path... that he had been in the same place before and to follow him because he knows the way around.
Earmon was the one who taught me to not judge a book by its cover. He taught me to focus and stay close to those you trust. He taught me to stick by your responsibilities and make good on them. He taught me to keep my mouth shut and to not tell all of my business out on the street. He was a good man, and from all that I can tell, lived out this last years with honesty and hope.
I came out as a gay man at the age of twenty one. That was in 1980. I have lost more friends to the ravages of substance abuse than I have to the ravages of HIV. I see friends who abuse far too many substances without concern or care. I hate loosing the ones I love.
Bye Earmon. Tell Sammie to get out of the way and give Mark and Paul a big old hug from me.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Poems
po·em/ˈpōəm/
| Noun: |
|
http://www.ted.com/talks/rives_controls_the_internet.html
http://www.ted.com/talks/david_byrne_sings_nothing_but_flowers.html
http://www.ted.com/talks/terry_moore_how_to_tie_your_shoes.html
http://www.ted.com/talks/mitchell_joachim_don_t_build_your_home_grow_it.html
http://www.ted.com/talks/rives_tells_a_story_of_mixed_emoticons.html
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Just for kicks
These first two I remember my brother and his friends always playing these guys
http://youtu.be/zwCZt6jEnJg
http://youtu.be/cScJZqKpMq4
Pretty boy gets pounded!
http://youtu.be/sb1HyPU_qmc Different angle, same kick http://youtu.be/M0-UZ2y8skY
I just had to, dont hate me
http://youtu.be/zZOxUIFsFCs
decisive
http://youtu.be/Mfj0e7--WL4
The best kick of this blog is delivered at the 1:48 mark in this clip
And lastly, not a famous kick, but a teenager is half naked and holding his balls in pain... what's not to like about that?
http://youtu.be/gKWjmKyYgsc
And for an added bonus, this is for Oswald
http://youtu.be/sU2PMt-jGSc
Friday, December 2, 2011
Damn it I am sick again.
Damn it I am sick again. This time It is a GI thing. It is one of those, "if i'd just vomit I'd be OK" things.
So dehydrated. This is the worst I have seen in a long time. I am forcing fluids but am not able to keep them down. I was very near heading to the hospital then I decided to try proctocysis therapy. It did the trick.
I woke with a markedly dry mouth, moderate grade nausea and a headache as a pain grade 6. I knew the dry mouth was more than an effect from the C-PAP. When I stood, there was the dizziness. I drank about fifty ccs of water and went back to bed. The emesis came later when I got up a couple hours later and tried to drink. I knew I was in trouble then. I took my blood sugar. I was twelve hours fasting. I came in at one seventy. Something was wrong. I have not had a significant cold or flu since I started monitoring my BS, so I am not sure how I respond to illnesses. I do not believe I have an infection, a reason that would cause a spike in the BS. There were only two choices left and one could be done at home and on in hospital with IV therapy. Best to try the home option first.
As I was rehydrating, I felt my mood change and the nausea ease. The warm shower felt good also. Afterwards, I was able to take in a steady amount of oral water. Around three pm I started with the chicken broth. It has stayed down and has eased everything except, my head is still killing me. How I hate h/a's. I am up to a 7 now, it was an 8 earlier. I haven't had a 9 in many years, and they have all sent me to the ER as well. Fortunately I stopped having them in my twenties.
But, life is good. My stomach is back to the low grade nausea I have had on and off for the past couple weeks. I can control the slight dizziness that occurs on standing, by standing slowly. I am going to try some solid foods here in a bit. And, I am reading a good book. I know this is a cheeky excuse for a blog, but I am too tired to write and this will just have to do for today. Besides, I cannot WAIT to see what JaJa has to say about this one. [I am feeling better]
OK, Wait a min..... I am feeling better. As I was researching for a pic to find I ran across this story in the
I will publish only the xray here, but provide the link if you wish to see the related photographs.
I publish this not to make fun of anyone. This is an illness that can have fatal effects. The child needs, and hopefully received, significant mental health guidance. I am simply fascinated by what the human body can stand and by what we humans try to do with that body.
So dehydrated. This is the worst I have seen in a long time. I am forcing fluids but am not able to keep them down. I was very near heading to the hospital then I decided to try proctocysis therapy. It did the trick.
I woke with a markedly dry mouth, moderate grade nausea and a headache as a pain grade 6. I knew the dry mouth was more than an effect from the C-PAP. When I stood, there was the dizziness. I drank about fifty ccs of water and went back to bed. The emesis came later when I got up a couple hours later and tried to drink. I knew I was in trouble then. I took my blood sugar. I was twelve hours fasting. I came in at one seventy. Something was wrong. I have not had a significant cold or flu since I started monitoring my BS, so I am not sure how I respond to illnesses. I do not believe I have an infection, a reason that would cause a spike in the BS. There were only two choices left and one could be done at home and on in hospital with IV therapy. Best to try the home option first.
As I was rehydrating, I felt my mood change and the nausea ease. The warm shower felt good also. Afterwards, I was able to take in a steady amount of oral water. Around three pm I started with the chicken broth. It has stayed down and has eased everything except, my head is still killing me. How I hate h/a's. I am up to a 7 now, it was an 8 earlier. I haven't had a 9 in many years, and they have all sent me to the ER as well. Fortunately I stopped having them in my twenties.
But, life is good. My stomach is back to the low grade nausea I have had on and off for the past couple weeks. I can control the slight dizziness that occurs on standing, by standing slowly. I am going to try some solid foods here in a bit. And, I am reading a good book. I know this is a cheeky excuse for a blog, but I am too tired to write and this will just have to do for today. Besides, I cannot WAIT to see what JaJa has to say about this one. [I am feeling better]
OK, Wait a min..... I am feeling better. As I was researching for a pic to find I ran across this story in the
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I publish this not to make fun of anyone. This is an illness that can have fatal effects. The child needs, and hopefully received, significant mental health guidance. I am simply fascinated by what the human body can stand and by what we humans try to do with that body.
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Thursday, December 1, 2011
For Jason: The Club House 66
Yes JaJa, one of the homes we lived in while I was growing up was, well, technically, an old roadhouse. The name of it was Club House 66. It was a bar and dancehall way out past the city limits. Grandaddy Willett brought the property and turned it into a pig farm. There was indoor plumbing, but for the first few years that I remember the grandparents living there, it didn't work. That was ok cause there was nothing wrong with the outhouse out back. By the time we started living there in the summers, the plumbing worked [most of the time] in the main house, but the toilet in the Big Room never did function. The Big Room, as my family referred to it, was the dancehall and bar. We used it as storage. Thats a proper way to say it was a room half as big as the house that was filled with unorganized junk. The property is still there, but when daddy sold it, it was made into a subdivision. [On a personally intimate note for me, the tree I use to enjoy climbing is still there.] I am sure the Big Room would not look anything like what it did when I set the kitchen on fire--another blog. There are stories to be told about Club House 66, but not just tonight-- many other blogs.
I am copying the related pages from the urban dictionary, just cause some of them are funny, and because I have not yet decided which "roadhouse" I am going to give Jason. Please note, I am not female so one of them is off the table, but I would be interested in know what a 'roadhouse' is called when not a woman, but a man does number 6. Here is the link to that what I have copied below:
thesaurus for roadhouse:
swayze road house boot ganon ghost patrick road-house roadhead standing position suspended congress texas roadhead wall sex more...
swayze road house boot ganon ghost patrick road-house roadhead standing position suspended congress texas roadhead wall sex more...
| 1. | Roadhouse | 171 up, 22 down |
A badass one word response that can be applied in a variety of situations.. for example: hello, goodbye, yes, no, fuck yea, its a good possibility, i agree with what your saying, lets do it, that's a nice flower blazer your wearing, what are you doing tonight, that could potentially be gay but im gonna go along with it, i don't feel like paying 5 extra dollars so were getting keystone, ect. guy 1- "Dude, you fell down the stairs and pissed on the rug last night" guy 2- "...Roadhouse" road house fuckyea badass swayze patrick by Blackshaft Mar 28, 2010 share this add a video | ||
| 2. | roadhouse | 72 up, 31 down |
the act of kicking someone in the face in a Patrick Swazye manner. Made famous by badass Patrick Swazye and by uber badass Peter Griffin After kicking someone in the face you immediatly say "ROADHOUSE!" roundhouse kick swayze boot kick dropkick by cash benjamin Dec 21, 2009 share this add a video | ||
| 3. | roadhouse | 41 up, 26 down |
A roadhouse is a tavern, inn, or the like, usually located outside city limits. It usually serves barbecue and alcohol for refreshments and possibly has some sort of live entertainment such as live music or exotic dancers. It was the subject of the single "Roadhouse Blues" by the Doors, released on the album Morrison Hotel in 1970. "Ah, keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel Yeah, we're goin' to the roadhouse Gonna have a real a-good time" ~The Doors, "Roadhouse Blues" the doors beer fried chicken dancers live music by Malac Apr 21, 2007 share this add a video | ||
| 4. | Roadhouse | 12 up, 4 down |
Pooping twice in one day. The bar in the movie was called the "Double Deuce". Pooping twice in a day would be going #2 twice, hence a "double deuce", or a "Roadhouse" After emerging from the bathroom after his second dump, he told his roomate he just pulled a Roadhouse. poop turd number 2 crap dump by kjw36 Dec 22, 2010 share this add a video | ||
| 5. | roadhouse | 2 up, 1 down |
to hit one on any part of the body, and yelling thus word. *hit bob on the arm* "ROADHOUSE" hit hurt head body yell by bobbbbbbbbbbbbbbb12 Mar 8, 2011 share this add a video | ||
| 6. | Roadhouse | 12 up, 10 down |
The act of a female "motorboating" a man's jewels. Dereck was roadhoused by Courtney. motorboating roundhouse dereck dennis shane jen by dereckscoworker Nov 4, 2010 share this add a video | ||
| 7. | roadhouse | 12 up, 23 down |
The act of wearing jeans with no undergarments beneath, made famous by Patrick Swayze's charater "Dalton" in the film "Roadhouse." In short,freeballing or going commando in jeans is "pulling a Roadhouse." Dude, I didn't pack enough underwear for my trip last week so I had to pull a Roadhouse on the flight home. swayze commando freeball jeans underpants by rak5877 Nov 28, 2007 share this add a video | ||
| 8. | Roadhouse | 8 up, 21 down | ||||
The act of driving a beater car to work and saving the fancy car for home/personal use - more specifically when the work pays well. From the Patrick Swayze movie "Roadhouse": Swayze hides his fancy car and drives a beater to work - thereby roadhousing his nice car. My boss roadhouses his Porsche and drives a Tercel to work. car roadhouse roadhousing hiding pretending by Sakrifice Apr 15, 2009 share this add a video | ||||||
| 9. | roadhouse | 7 up, 21 down | ||||
To casually, but vigorously and lustfully, engage in promiscuous sexual or pre-coital activity, usually with a person with whom one is not in the least bit romantically involved. It's what "cheaters" and "fuck buddies" do. The implication is that the couple meet discreetly and stop by an outhouse/ roadhouse/ motel etc. to do their naughty business. I don't think I would ever go out with her, but I'd roadhouse her in a second. | ||||||
| 10. | roadhouse | 5 up, 19 down | ||||
Another place for already fat rednecks to go overeat, drink, and talk about bangin' each other's cousins. Ahm hungry! Let's go down to the Roadhouse and grab a few steaks and some waitresses. buffet country cookin' cheap beer incest poor by City folk Mar 26, 2007 share this add a video | ||||||
| 11. | Roadhouse | 7 up, 21 down | ||||
Cock lover; A road to dick and a house as a sanctuary of man meat. Chris is a total roadhouse; Miss piggy lives in a moderate roadhouse. dick eater cocklover ass pirate rectal ranger whorenado by The Whorenado Jan 19, 2010 share this add a video
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Parkers Settlement, IN, USA
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