haw haw.

According to the "Which Big Lebowski character are you?" quiz:

Why don't you check it out? Or we cut off your Johnson!

some literature, for a change.

I firmly believe that less than one percent of the world's population understands the true nature of homosexuality. as far as widely published writers go, I'd narrow that to less than one-tenth of a percent. and yes, I am including ACTUAL homosexuals in this number.

I know that it's a grandiose statement, but I have come to the conclusion than jonathan kellerman may be the only author I've ever read who really has a grasp on homosexuality. in case you weren't aware, kellerman is a wildly successful and prolific mystery/crime writer known for the "alex delaware" novels. delaware is a psychologist who spends more time entangled in l.a. crime scenes than he does in his profession, much to the delight of kellerman's faithful readers. delaware is a confirmed hetero, but his best friend--an lapd detective named milo sturgis--is gay. alex and milo pool their resources, trap the bad guys, and crack the cases.

these books are not pulitzer material. kellerman has come under fire for poor character development, faulty logic, wild coincidences, etcetera. all the bugaboos that plague nearly every mystery writer, in other words. but the alex delaware novels are fantastically entertaining reads, and I enjoy them a great deal.

so back to my original point. what makes milo sturgis THE gay literary character? well, let's see. he isn't known for his fashion sense. he sure as hell wouldn't be caught dead clubbing. he doesn't idolize judy garland or burst randomly into selections from rent. most importantly, neither he nor his partner is tragically succumbing to AIDS.

it isn't just that kellerman has made milo's character non-stereotypical. it's that his sexual orientation just doesn't matter. milo's homosexuality might get mentioned once in an alex delaware novel, and in general that mention seems primarily to clue in the first time reader who has picked up a book in the middle of the series. milo is "cop." he's "friend." he's "human being." being "gay" isn't even near the top of the list. which is why jonathan kellerman is one of my personal heroes. his own life clearly doesn't revolve solely around identifying as a heterosexual; he recognizes the inherent sensibility of this and applies it to a homosexual character. and God bless him for it.

have I been reading alex delaware novels lately, then? nope. what I've been reading is john irving's a son of the circus. some of you may have heard me discuss my history with irving. how I hated garp and swore off him forever. how I finally deigned to read the hotel new hampshire and changed my tune, and how a widow for one year cemented my eternal love for the man.

a son of the circus is far too complex a novel to summarize--at 800 pages, that's not surprising. but from the first chapter I was hooked, and was tempted to deem the book my favorite irving yet. have you ever loved a book so much that you slow down toward the end, dreading its conclusion? that's what I did. but finally tonight I got to the epilogue. one of the main characters has recently discovered that a close friend (almost a son, really) is gay after knowing him for forty-odd years. so this character, an educated and worldly man, starts volunteering at an AIDS hospice "to understand him better."

huh?

oh, john irving. I think I may have to give you a rest for a while.

and speaking of depression, a heart wrenching piece of news for the old greensboro crew:

wild magnolia's is no more.

stupid people not paying their taxes. dammit.

I'm starting to forget what it was like to make it through a night without feeling depressed.

since I've promised no more cryptic one liners, I'll expound. my job. still like it okay, but hate how it restricts the rest of my life. so I should change to day shift. pros: more time with justin and the ability to go to school at night. cons: money, money, money. I worry that I won't even make enough to pay my bills--if I leave the company I definitely won't. and what of school? what should I study? nothing motivates me but bigger paychecks, and no degree (with the possible exception of computer science, and jeremy don't play dat) guarantees a better job.

for right now, it's a moot point. I can't afford to consider a change until we're settled in the house. so for right now, I stay depressed.

yeah, that's enough expounding.

the best word to describe life of late is bleh. but I think I know what could fix it. a party. I don't want to give one, nor do I want one given for me. just to be there. here's approximately how it should go:

9:30. I arrive with several others. Just a few have showed up so far, ten tops. Pleasantries had, drinks made.

10:00. I start to worry that the evening may be a dud, but someone interesting shows up with liquor and the news that more people are on the way. Within the hour, the stereo’s blasting and 30+ folks are milling around. A circle of pot smokers forms—I don’t partake of course, but take comfort in knowing that it’s there. Someone shows up that I don’t particularly like, but everyone else is friendly to him/her so I assume that I’m missing something.

11:00. Feeling buzzy, I get involved in a conversation with several people that I barely know in which philosophical and intellectual topics are bandied about. We discuss that we don’t see each other enough. Hugs are given and empty social promises are made—at some point within the next week pictures of said embraces will be developed and sent my way. Sidenote: historically at this point in the evening, I would have picked out a guy at the party as a potential make-out/hook-up partner and would increase my liquor intake to lower my inhibitions. As I’m very much spoken for these days, I decide who it would have been and hit the booze harder anyway.

11:30. A good friend of mine is tipsy and bitter about a negative interaction with someone else there, whom he/she is avoiding. For half an hour we retreat to a corner. I sympathetically listen to his/her ranting until he/she begins to feel better, after which we chuckle and quietly ridicule the offending party while watching him/her across the room. Again in a good humor, we rejoin the fracas. The undesirable who arrived around 10:00 leaves and everyone proceeds to discuss their hatred for said person. I feel vindicated.

12:00. Power hour. At least one indie rock song prompts a drunken chorus that makes me think, “Damn! I’m glad I know these people.”

1:00-2:00. Two people get partially or completely naked, two mysteriously disappear and reappear, and word makes the rounds that there are at least two people there that no one knows at all. I make good natured sexual overtures to my straight guy friends who won’t be offended by it. Someone says something hilarious that I write down on scrap paper. The next day I’m still sure that it was funny, but have no idea what the scrawl on the paper says.

2:00. I see someone that I’d rather not, and drag the 11:30-12:00 friend on a drunken walk to the nearest convenience store/supermarket for something as an excuse to hide. When we get back in half an hour, said person is gone. Close call. During the interim, a crafty drunken partygoer has been cooking—some surprisingly good snacks, probably involving fresh baked goods.

2:30. Just as the evening seems on the verge of winding down, someone shows up that everyone knows and loves—he/she lives out of town now, but is visiting. The party gets a second wind. An hour of reminiscing and gossip during which one or two ninety-pound weaklings finally throw up, lie down, and trudge home.

3:30. People begin to trickle out.

4:00. Six or seven of us remain; we sit on the porch quietly talking—the stereo has been silenced—until the residents of the house have all gone to bed.

4:45. Three or four of us are hungry, and the most sober of the lot drives us all to a 24 hour eatery for breakfast.

6:00. Stumble into own apartment, unsure of how I got there. Fall into bed and asleep around dawn.

This doesn't have to be followed exactly; it's a flexible guideline. If anyone is willing to attempt to reproduce such an evening, let me know and I'll bring the hooch.

all of justin's hard work on children of eden really paid off; his performance was stellar. the show itself was marvelous, of course. I know it sounds selfish, but I'm glad that justin isn't involved in any more theater projects for the time being--seeing each other so little was getting stressful.

I'm a big fan of the new hot hot heat album, elevator. critics be damned, I say it's a stronger record than make up the breakdown--they've proven that there's more to the band than being just "catchy." although it's still a hell of a lot of fun.

the whip's really cracking at the office. replacements for poor performers are being trained at the moment. a meeting was had last week, the gist of which was basically, "brace yourselves, because a lot of you are on borrowed time." thankfully my quarterly review was solid and I shouldn't have any reason to worry, knock on wood.

I'm discovering that terry pratchett's a lot of fun. huzzah for audiobooks!

time for some snackage.

rants.

I'm getting really tired of people who think that their life experiences give them carte blanche to be bitchy to all humanity. you think the world's given you a raw deal? boo fucking hoo. grow up, get over it, and start showing a little decency and consideration for other people.

I'm also tired of being the one to go to for all the favors, the one who can rearrange his life for other people, the one who won't expect anything in return. news flash: I expect plenty in return. I don't begrudge any of my friends anything that I can give, but fair is fair. if that makes me selfish, selfish I am.

too many people have this image of me as a doormat. maybe ten years ago, but not now. try to walk all over me and you'll find me standing on your back wearing cleats.

(author's note: oddly enough, no events have prompted all this tonight. no one specific has made me angry, and nothing has happened today to tick me off. I guess I'm just hormonally pissy. that doesn't make me any less sincere.)

I know the whole point of the game is to come up with the best answer yourself, but just in case you ever need to resolve a dispute this is phenomenal.

by the way, did y'all know that pam grier is from winston-salem? just what I need, more evidence against the home team in the ongoing gso v. w-s coolness debate.

update: have just learned that jackée harry is too! but--sorry to disrespect the dead one and his loyal fans--the annoyingness that was howard cosell was also. which just about cancels both out.

ha! I've always wanted to be a rake. next stop: cad!

Your Seduction Style: Siren / Rake

You possess an unbridled sensuality that appeals to many. The minute you meet anyone, you can make the crave you almost immediately. You give others the chance to lose control with you... spiraling into carnal bliss. A dangerous lover, you both fascinate and scare those you attract.

What Is Your Seduction Style?

randomness.

note to self: cut back on cryptic, whiny, one/two line pleas for attention when posting in blog.

I ask again, why do I never have any money?

I could never be a vampire. giving up garlic would be a fate worse than undeath.

you don't hear nearly enough about leona helmsley these days.

go here. donate money. get bracelets.

I drove home from work the other night with ophelia's top down. in the rain. it was totally sweet.

it's funny how a significant other really starts to become "your other half" after a while--the same comments, the same jokes, feeling incomplete when apart, etcetera. "better half?" well...maybe.

I must diet. if I start looking much more like an eggplant, I'll try to eat myself. which, I suppose, would take some of the weight off.

googling the phrase "miserable failure" ought to link to this blog.

sorry about the negativity. guess it's been one of those lives.

one of my favorite things is stopping for a railroad crossing at night, when I'm one of the few cars on the road. I turn off the engine and roll the windows down. I love listening to the sounds that the signals make. they hum and squeak as the barriers rise up and clatter into place in the wake of the train. I don't think many people think about that; they focus on the whistle and roar of the train and the ding of the warning bells.

I stopped for one tonight--in the middle of all this incredible fog to boot--and just wanted to share.

in an alternate universe, it's mid day in new york. there's a breeze blowing--the collar of my corduroy coat is turned up against it, brushing the back of my shaggy hair. in my left hand is a coffee from the hungarian pastry shop; in the right, a super 8 camera. I'm walking past the cathedral of st. john the divine and wondering if I'll get any good footage today. I'm trying to remember what's playing at the quad tonight, and who might be free to go. I'm wishing that I'd brought my gloves. I stop for traffic at amsterdam and 109th and for a few seconds turn my face up to the sky, thinking about how fantastic it all is.

yep. life is getting dull around here.

How evil are you?

I have just about had it with shoddy filmmaking.

a guy in the military is NOT going to have a thong tanline.

jeez. I could make such superior porn. it's all in the details.

I want to take a moment to talk about a very special man in my life.

he knows how important kind words and a smile are to me, and never fails to come through.

when the rest of the world closes their eyes and turns away, he's there.

so many people are unable to understand my lifestyle, my comings and goings at odd hours. he never complains about that, accepting it as part of the way my life works.

whenever I see him, he acts like I'm the only person on earth that matters--but for the two of us, the world could be empty.

and he knows exactly what it takes to make me happy.

he's the late shift pharmacist at walgreens. thanks for the zoloft refill, m'man. you rock my world.

speaking of pics, the new miatas are coming soon. I'm not sure how I feel about 'em. thoughts?

new nor'easter pic.

I watched vanishing point for the umpteenth time tonight.

I'm thinking of changing my name to "kowalski." just the one name, first and last.

but maybe I should sleep on it.

I have to find out what's going on with my finances. last week I got the biggest paycheck I've ever had, thanks to working that sunday. guess how much of is left?

zip. or thereabouts.

I don't feel like I spend that much money. yet twice recently my account's been overdrawn. I'm just going to have to put myself on a strict budget and stop using my check card. too easy to lose track of everything.

however, extravagance aside, I'm going to try and put some money back each week toward a new dyson vacuum cleaner. for some reason I'm fixated on getting one, especially since the old 'lectrolux has become nearly impossible to maintain.

enough excitement for one day.