At the Hilton for a charity event with silent auction. Of all that I do in my present tired and cranky state, public socializing is most taxing. But, I know the organizers and I support their work. They'll help Ann later, so I feel obliged. I don't drink and never have, a nod to my passion for control, but now I couldn't even if I wanted to change a lifetime habit. Ann has four or five of these events around the holidays and begged off.
I circulated, receiving greetings from acquaintances
I warned you I'd get back to it.
A number of people want me dead. I think the number has decreased over my lifetime, but still, quite a few people are in that company. They don’t just want to make my life miserable; they would really prefer I suffer a painful death. I don’t have enough economic value as a possession to warrant keeping me in servitude. Death is the solution because I may be a vector.
Many of them wouldn’t publicly condemn me to death or directly participate in the killing
I'll get back to death soon. I promise. And now for something completely different:
I’ve decided to use email only in the most extreme instances of inability to communicate with people in my building by other means. I've taken to walking down the corridors in the prairie dog warren where I work. Three or four minutes of attention and conversation between a colleague and me are both more satisfying and more effective than a chain of emails. Mind you, i still churn out more emails than I'd l
I've managed a lot of enjoyment and some pain in trying to figure out how to live happily, both socially and sexually, as a bisexual man. Early on, I tried threesomes, and while a triad provided a lot of advantages during sex, the social situation was almost always fraught. Often, each of my partners thought of himself or herself as having a primary relationship with me. I found trying to behave as if a primary couple existed within the little menage stressful, and eventually one or both part
The internet is full of anonymous people behind usernames. There are pros and cons to that fact of internet life. That can be a blessing and a curse. The topic's been covered elsewhere enough that I don't feel a particular need to go over it again here. I have something else to say.
Then there are people who use pen names or stage names to write or do other artistic work. That's normal in the real world. People understand why writers and actors and musicians use pseudonyms.
Both those situatio
This morning I'm not working because I'm going for a bone scan. Early in the morning I'll find my way to the basement of the nuclear medicine building where I'll be injected intravenously with a slightly radioactive soup that has a preference for accumulating in bone. Then about noon, I'll go back to be scanned back and front from head to toe with a gamma camera. Areas where the tumor is growing will light up brightly.
Here's the fun part:
Since this is by now a regular ritual, tomorrow my
When we were in our twenties and first involved with each other, Ann told a number of her friends that I was bisexual. The friends were deeply concerned for her. The chief concern, because they doubted that bisexual men actually existed, was that I must be gay and trying to pass. Over the years and well after we married, she heard the concern so often that by the mid-eighties she developed a standard response that went like this:
Checks against stereotype:
Look at how he dresses!
He sure a
Not to disarm you, but we' re all dying. My schedule is just a little more accelerated than most. I believe, with Daniel Servan-Schreiber that, "Death is part of the life process; everyone goes through it. It is very reassuring in itself." I am reassured and require no extra measure of sympathy (I'm very cross with anyone who extends sympathy). I'll violate social norms by sharing my thoughts as the wild part of me cannibalizes my bones. I don't spend most of my time contemplating the end
Ever have one of those days? I've been having days like that lately. Especially last night and today.
The Evil Plot Bunnies are taunting me extra hard lately. Evil Plot Bunnies are the sort of story muses that give you vexing story ideas and characters and don't leave you alone. The term's from a fanfic community I enjoy.
Well, for a very long time, the Evil Plot Bunnies have been keeping quiet in stealth ninja mode, and I wasn't getting much of anything done. That's because real life was kick
"Hello, World."
Is this thing on? Oh, hi, there you are!
Some time back, I was asked if I'd start a blog. I did. It got spammed and then deleted. Meh.
Here we are again because someone asked again. You do know asking a writer if he wants a place to blab whatever the heck he wants to (within reason) and especially someone who's physiologically incapable (almost) of short posts is like...well...let's just say it could get messy.
But the trouble with a blog is, you (the writer) want to have som
Like most people - or some people, anyway - I have been searching, nay, questing most of my life for the perfect religion. I've been hunting a religion that was a fit for me.
I grew up in the Church of England (Henry VIII's personal (and consequently England's - it's nice to be a King) religion. Henry was miffed because the Pope refused to let him get divorced when he didn't want to off yet another wife). But as religions go C of E wasn't right.... Yes, there were nice hymns. Yes, I was in the
A New and Improved Blog Experience Brought to you by the one and only Jason Rimbaud
The other day or maybe it was the other week, life has a habit of going by faster than the speed of light and sometimes I feel like I’m being left behind, I was at work and all I could think about was grubbing on some 4 Alarm Hot Wings from my favorite place in the world, SmokeEaters, in downtown San Jose.
For those of you that watch the Food Network Channel, and more importantly, Man Vs Food Nation, you might
I didn't make it to the 50,000 this year, sadly. I know I shouldn't be peeved with myself, or miffed, or standing in disgrace in the corner: but I am - a little (not the standing in the corner bit). I don't like failing. It irks.
It also irks that 50,000 words isn't actually an awful lot. If I were serious about becoming a writer I should be churning that in a month - with or without NaNoWriMo.
Bum. I've been 'hoist by my own petard,' stupid git I am. ;)
Ah well [snort], there's always nex
I'm sad. Occasionally I think of stuff I've read that I'd like to read again. Yesterday I decided I'd like to re-read 'Carrots & Celery' by Karla Schultz. It was one of the first stories I ever read on-line. It's a sweet story that got better and better as she progressed as a writer (she started it at 16). She posted it to Nifty originally and then Gayauthors hosted her - or rather that story.
I couldn't find it. After a fruitless search I eventually discovered she's left the net and had th
My dysfunctional family would have been difficult to come out to. They all died before the modern era of liberation, but the real problem would have been, when to tell them. Let's say I chose a celebration like Christmas dinner. (We don't have thanksgiving here in Australia, but we have 'turkeys' in every family)
Anyway getting back to when to tell my family. First I would have to wait until I could get them altogether. Dad would have had to be in town which wasn't all that often, so step-fat
I cannot, CANNOT believe that Coldplay's new album, Mylo Zyloto, has been knocked off the number one spot after only a week ... and by (god help us all) Susan Boyle. FUCK! what is it coming to?
Oddly, and even though I've been desperately racking my brain (shows what a weeny one I have) for ideas, AND I have ideas written down, I have not the vaguest inkling what I'm going to write. Except, of course, an occasional blog entry cursing my stupidity for even mentioning it in the first place.
Oh GAWD! What on earth shall I do (he says, tears streaming down his feathered chops).
So, I had this idea for a Halloween costume: I'd grow a goatee, and go as my own evil twin from a mirror dimension. But here's the thing - not that many people are nerdy enough to get it. (Blue, help me out. I know you've got my back on this one.)
What I've noticed is that people seem to interpret my "costume" differently based on their own backgrounds. As a man with a shaved head and a goatee dressed all in black, people have mistaken my costume for the following:
Wrestler Stone Cold Steve Au
I'm trying to figure out what to write in November. It's hard, because generally I get an idea and off I gallop - which is NOT the way to set about writing anything of great length, e.g.: a novel. It didn't work with Seraph, and it hasn't worked for the last few NaNoWriMo's I've taken part in. I've ended up knackered and with a part finished piece I never seem to get round to finishing. Don't get me wrong; I think some of what I've written has been okay, but short stories seem to suit me better.
http://www.thestar.c...article/1072227
So very, very sad.
Looking back on my adolescence I find it hard to believe that every little thing was so important and so vital to my happiness. Whether it was waiting for a parcel that arrived a few days late, or a look from a friend that I misinterpreted. From walking into a room and thinking the reason they all stopped talking was because they were talking about me, to reading the cricket scorer's book and seeing that a really hard catch I made had b
