LOOK AT ME

I didn't hear about the shootings till late in the afternoon. My girlfriend's text to me started with, 'You're alive, yes?. . .' and I nearly dropped the phone. Primarily because I already had the answer, and secondly, because of the news that followed, 'more shootings in seattle today.' I texted her back saying I would answer in email form. (If my phone doubled as a camera, I would have just snapped a photo of my journal, but as it stands, I had to scan the page and email it to her. Which showed up on her phone - I'm a few years behind with technology.) That morning in my journal I drew this:

The sky right now looks about the color of the background.

This morning I read the paper about the shootings. I had met and worked with two of the victims. There were quotes from other friends about them. This is not how I want to see my friends name in print.

My deepest condolences go out to all those who knew them. to all those touched by them. to all those who are better off for knowing them. 

And for me, living in Seattle, I have to remind myself that though there might be rain, the sun still burns bright. 

just because it is true, does not mean it needs to see the light of day

Even when it is true, even when the facts are clearly stated and agreed upon, that your girlfriend was indeed working on fixing a squeak in some unnamed household appliance that required the use of some perhaps linseed based lubricant in the space and time before you arrived at her house to spend some quality time with her...
Even when, in a moment of closeness that falls somewhere between greeting and goodnight that requires your face to be close to the face of your loved one, the thought, as strange as it seems, crosses your mind as clear as the day is long...
I recommend, for the sake of mood preservation, dignity and respect, that one does not utter the oh so true words 'Your face kinda smells like my Dad's trumpet case.'

You're Welcome.

Dear Sister of Mine Who is in a More Than 2.5 Year Long Hetero Relationship,

I have a confession to make: Over the past little while, I have been secretly scheming in your favor.
I have noticed over the past little while, a particular situation you have, to no fault of anyone, found yourself in. And it is only getting worse. As of yet, I have been helpless to alleviate the discomfort you feel, to deflect any pointed digs in your future direction. And it has pained me so, to watch one so close to me suffer so.
And then there is the guilt. The guilt felt only by one who not only is helpless to help but is also completely free from such an attack. I have been inviolable.
And, after much thought and internal debate, I have come upon a solution. Where I cannot be of service directly, I must do so indirectly. Where I do not have the power to change the situation of others, I am the master of my own circumstance. Where I cannot take the cross off your shoulders completely, I can, at the very least, share the burden.
And what, you ask, is this fix? Well, and please no, hold off on the thank you's, I have enlisted the help of my personal friend, President Obama, and we have decided to make GAY MARRIAGE an ok thing! Now, Dear Sister, you will no longer be the sole recipient of Mom and Dad's (ok, mostly Mom's) pressure to get hitched! We shall walk this path together, side by side, as true equals. Fielding and deflecting the hints, that range from less than subtle to down right heavy handed, that marriage is the next rite of passage (aka the final barrier between them and grandkids) (uh, about that. yeah, I'll be taking the fork in the trail that points towards inner-tubing down the river with my gay friends and away from the whole birth thingy that's like way more a steep climb than suits me. feel free to drop them off in ankle-ville* when they are done throwing up), and damn are we taking our sweet freaking time.
Sister, breathe easy (for now), you are so, so welcome.

Love,
Your Newly Allowed to Have My Relationship Recognized by the State Gay Sister


* aunt + uncle = ankle** (or aunkle)
** way better than gay + aunt = gaunt, you think?

advice to a beleaguered artist

happy birthday 3 days ago to me

sweetness

I'M TIRED

I DON'T WANT TO MOVE

                  GO AROUND  sit with me

                               OR GO AWAY  stay with me please

i have an ant problem. they are coming in thru the cracks in the framing of my kitchen window. i've put out lines of cinnamon to deter them but i haven't found a way to make ground cinnamon stick to walls so they climb around up over under. it's sweetness they crave, sustenance. and i keep killing them on sight.

so, ants are about what, community? i'm lonely. it comes and goes, but it's not unusual. last night my girlfriend and my best friend dressed up and went to a party with a bunch of my other friends. i wanted to go but their estimated time of departure was exactly my bedtime, i worked at 7 this morning, so i sulked down to my room and turned out the lights. but part of it is choice. it feels really good to my body to get up early, go to bed early, to not drink, to not listen to loud music. it seems, these past few days especially, i'm torn between meeting physical needs and meeting newly awakened emotional needs. and by these past few days i mean these past few years.

after work today i caught the tail end of a hang out at the park with aforementioned party attendees and a handful of others. every one and their small dog was out in the park. i felt in. except. not. i kept thinking, i want something else in this conversation, something more than just casual banter about new capitol hill developments and vegan gluten free waffle recipes. there were no ants at this picnic.

and the point of this post? i'm not sure. i get lonely, yet don't reach out. i know you guys are out there, and that gives me comfort. i hope the same for you -the knowing and comfort, not the lonely and hiding. :)

as for my ants, well, they are forcing me to be clean clean clean, that's for sure. and appreciative of their communication skills, their dedication to their tribe. not to mention their sheer strength and determination.
so, tonight, with deep gratitude, i will wipe down my counters, pile more cinnamon on the sill where the wind has scattered it, and send my love to you all.

Product Review: platonic black gloves

Dear Viewers of my Blog,

Feast your eyes upon the subject of my very first product review:

!

And pardon the un-scintillating title of this post. My first stab at it had something to do with 'Getting Love From the Black Gloves,' or something equally and accidentally bawdy, but that, I realized, is fodder for a different blog all together. . . But, while I have your attention, along those same suggestive lines, some rather, uh, salacious thumbnail images crop up at around page 3 of a google image search of the very same hand adornments in question. Which has been successful in neither completely derailing me off my task of writing this blog, nor even postpone my creation of said posting for any significant amount of time longer than 4.25 minutes. That being said, I shall continue on with the matter at hand. 

But first, a confession: the black gloves are not entirely 100% platonic. I settled on that particular word to try and preemptively cold shower the effects of displaying such a racy by association image due to my detailing, in paragraph form, of black gloves potential to be improper in the best way possible. They are not platonic for the simple fact that they were loaned to me by my girlfriend. And last I checked, that relationship is not, and shall not if I have a say in it, settle into, a platonic one. In fact, as a gesture of her nonplatonic feelings towards me, she fished them out of her foyer closet (a harrowing task indeed!) to loan me so that I might not get a chill as I travel from her home to my home on my trusty bicycle. Such chivalry! Granted, she didn't know where they came from and they are half a size too small. I swooned nonetheless at such a show of prurient politeness and have worn the gloves with such diligence as to show my amorous appreciation. And it has been in this time that I have all but been forced to take note of the pros and cons of this practical article of clothing/symbol of our physical union. Proceed at will:

PROS: well, instead of listing things I'll just sum it up with a line that some other product has already claimed as their own and if they haven't they should cuz it's real catchy: 

Keeps Warm Things Warm! and Cold Things Cold!

I feel like I have my fingers stuck in tiny beer bottle cozies. When I wear the gloves. Which is not altogether a terrible feeing, just not exactly ideal. Especially when I am cold and want my gloves, which I put on specifically to keep me warm because that is what gloves do I am told, to keep me warm, not to maintain my extremital body temp at a constant, which lately has been not warm. The Warm things Warm I can deal with. It is in fact the desired attribute I was seeking. It does keep the wind out, which is an added bonus. And so far it had not acquired that particular northwest rain gear that never dries out smell. But it also has not punched me in the face so my favor isn't exactly being swayed here. On the bright side, it is late March, which means I will only be needing my little neoprene envelopes for like three more months or so. At which point I might be tempted to cut the fingers off and continue wearing them for three more months. At which point I will be needing full coverage and will once again turn to my partner in neither crime nor business and await, both hands open, to whatever treasures she disinters from the nether regions of her entrance way. And to those precious valuables I will say, thank you for your warmth and perfect fit. Tis an honor.