Monday, November 24, 2003 ::: My Thanksgiving Prayer
I pray my visit at Grandmother's will be relaxing and enjoyable. Please keep me free from the family drama that seems to ensue at each gathering.
Please help my sister to be gracious to my parents. And tell my brother to only encourage mature behavior from her! I know. I know. It is a lot to ask, but I promise to do my duty as the eldest.
And maybe you can keep Uncle Tim away from Thanksgiving Dinner this year. He really annoys me. He annoys even Grandmother. You know she deserves a break. But if not, give me enough patience to be cordial. And the graces to humor at least one of his mumbled stories.
Please help my mother not to be too emotional. She places so much emphasis on trying to make things perfect, rather than just enjoying how things are. I know that is a lot to ask, but I think together we can really work on it. I promise to do my part. I will be the perfect son save my sexuality.
Thanks for all of the great things in my life. I am richly blessed in so many ways. Most of all, please bring me home to Philip safely and unharmed.
Thursday, November 20, 2003 ::: Smiling Faces, Beautiful Places
Yep. So many smiling faces. Some ugly and some pretty. Very beautiful places, indeed. But what about the ugly places. What about the breeding ground for Jerry Springer guests? I think it is best summed up with a song. But it escapes me now.
So, why didn't we discuss this in our daily morning call? South of the Border?! God love that place and every baby conceived in the parking lot. Trailers? God love 'em. And every person who we knew living in them.
As I mentioned in your comments, Lori lived in a trailer. The first time she came to my house she met my mother. As we walked into our home she screamed, "I feel like I should be wearun' a formul gowun." My mother gave me a look of horror. That Lori... she was straight from the woods, but I loved her. Besides, her mom got great weed. I especially loved the time she told me, "them are bad," as she spoke of my shoes.
Tamee had to get out of Hartsville. She wanted a little more out of life.
Beat what, Michael? What do you want me to beat? Or was Weird Al right? Maybe it is EAT IT. I mean, read the lyrics. A banana sounds pretty phallic to me. I think Weird Al knew the real story all of those years ago. The foods in his lyrics are simply metaphors for young boys. Story here!!!
Friday, November 14, 2003 ::: PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
Oh to be carefree and 19! Actually, I like being careful and 31 better. My sister and her three housemates heard the news of the problems with overpopulation at the Fulton County Animal Shelter. They went yesterday to find a litter of six puppies. They are four-weeks old. Their mother was hit by a car. They are a cocker-spaniel mix, but look exactly like spaniel pups. Most are white with black.
If anyone in Atlanta has an interest, or knows someone with an interest, please email me and let me know. I'm out of town this weekend, but I'll check e-mail on Sunday.
Well… after a little sake, I drank scotch with KAK last night in Conyers at a Japanese Steak House. It was glam. Way glam. The bartender's name was Lou-bee. Yes, lube (but with a LONG E). As you can imagine, we had fun with the name. Of course, we only joked amongst ourselves.
We had more fun with the off-duty police officer who bought Lube Johnny Walker Blue Label @ $30 a pop. (Tamee had to have one too!) The occifer and Lube were old "friends." But we ran him off. He was afraid of three queens making a scene, I guess. Poor thing.
Luckily, his departure created a learning environment. The most interesting tidbit we learned was Lube lived in the back of the Japanese Steak House. Hmmmmm. I guess a you can hop on the Habachi Grill after dinner for a 'massage'. I think I saw something written on the specials board, but I’m not sure.
And the H-O-T Latin who cooked for us was another lovely piece of local color for Conyers. I thought the Smiling-Mighty-Jesus-Queen was going to jump across the grill and grab those arms. Seriously.
I swear... it happens every time I'm with Karen. Random. Whacked. Entertaining. Fun! I need her around more. Oh, where were YOU?
I love November.
I love cooler weather.
I love losing eight pounds.
I love growing a beard.
I love being so productive.
I love when Karen is in town.
I love Thursday.
I love Friday more.
I love Saturday even more.
I love Georgia Football games.
I love everyone who is joining us for the Georgia v. Auburn game this weekend.
I love the Holidays.
I love my beau.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003 ::: I See Interesting People
...in Atlanta, nonetheless. Last week I saw the cutest girl driving a Honda Civic hatchback. A sign was taped in her rear window, it read: Please be patient! I am learning to drive manual/stick shift. Thanks for your patience. I remember thinking to myself: Now there is a considerate person, who puts others first. I could learn so much from her simple act.
Today waiting in a reception area, I sat beside a GothGal. She donned her black this and her black that. In her hands she held a thick paperback novel. I'm always interested in what people are reading. Yes, yes... nosey. So, I glanced at the page and realized the text was in French. I felt so inept. Why can't I read a novel in another language? I felt an overwhelming desire to learn and expand.
I have an uncanny desire to learn right now. The Da Vinci Code is fiction, but is currently satiating my need for knowledge and entertainment. What next? What can I tackle next? I want more!!!
So, has anyone actually seen the 'sex video' of the girl who is named for a city in France/a Hotel chain? I don't want to type her actual name. I'm afraid Google would make me the destination of that search...
Back to my question. Has anyone seen it?
BY THE WAY, IT IS ELEVEN-ELEVEN ON ELEVEN-ELEVEN. MAKE A WISH.
And we're off (on the seventh day of November-seven, my favorite number)!!! It is time for our Annual Lesbian Mountain Weekend. Next year I want to expand to two cabins. And make it a four-day weekend. And make it similar to the University of South Carolina's Kappa Sigma Mountain Weekend. But that is next year. And this is today. And we are almost ready to go. The groceries are packed. The booze is purchased. Our clothes are packed. The CDs are gathered. Gifts for the dykes include invisible playing cards and a CD.
Now, I need to bath the dogs. I need to get my hair did. And most of all, I need to get out of this freaking town. We'll be back Monday around lunch. Love, Love, Love!!!
I know I keep threatening to join these ranks. Sometimes I feel my blog has become an obligation. Moreover, I feel it has become an obligation that keeps me from exploring other creative sides of myself.
In an effort to no longer neglect creativity, I began the 12-week program outlined in The Artist's Way this week. The morning pages really seem to get me flowing. I love the fact the pages are not read by anyone. I love the freedom to say anything unjudged. Mispelled. Grammatically incorrect. It is three pages of unadulturated words and emotions.
For now, I'm not abandoning my blog. I've been doing this for nearly three years. I just cannot promise for how long. There are other parts of me that are begging to grow. Simultaneously, there is something that pulls me back here. What is it? Is it the fact that somebody, somewhere is actually reading the crap I write? That must be part of it. It has to be.
If I appear to get even more slack in my efforts around here, you'll know why!
I do not get it. It is Monday and I am fine; maybe last week's babble about Monday helped a little. Maybe I was OK when I woke and realized my dream was only a dream. I was sixteen. I was away at camp. It was a church camp. In order to go home, everyone had to perform in front of the entire camp. The performances were assigned.
I was assigned to be a clown/comedian. I had to dress up as a clown. That was freaky. I hate clowns. Actually, I do not think hate is a strong enough word. I sat dressed in a polka-dot clown suit and wrote my script. The subject of my act was sex. It was twisted, too.
I woke up at 4.45 and realized it was only a dream. Thank you, God! I don't think I'd ever dress up as a clown. Even if it meant I had to stay at church camp forever.