The Fat Gay

I'd like a small Sprite, please...

2010-09-14T11:08:00.000-07:00

Am I the only one that thinks of a little winged fairy when someone orders a small Sprite?

I've worked in the movie theatre for quite some time now and every time someone orders a Sprite I giggle. I just imagine the concessionists pulling from their aprons a beautiful, magical creature and handing it over to the customer for the duration of the movie. Like we offer a movie companion that will float around your head and sit on your shoulder throughout the film! The best part is when people ask for a large Sprite. This makes me laugh. Could you imagine pulling out this bowling ball sized fairy with tiny wings, huffing and puffing to the theatre behind you? It's wings on overdrive and sweat pouring into your popcorn as it buzzes around your head in the theatre! So the next time you order anything from the concession stand know that we have Sprites on loan!

Well, hello there!

2010-09-14T10:59:00.000-07:00

I'm just going to jump right into it. I hate black people. HA! Kidding.

Yesterday was the install for our first digital projector, 3D capable. Today is the second install. Good so far?!

When I walked upstairs to get to the booth for the first time I witnessed a massacre of the arts. There were wires hanging and frayed. Pieces of metal were thrown about and scattered, plastic and bubble wrap all over the floor and sound rack. The new, compact digital projector was shinning in glory as these workers were scrambling around it to make sure we were on screen by 7:45pm. And all the while in the corner, all alone, was the old 35MM projector. He sat there, facing the mayhem with his scope and flat lens pointed at the new guy, slightly cocked to the right and a little puddle was forming under it. It could have been the lens cleaner. It might have been the oil streaking, but I'd like to think he was crying. The rein of the film days are coming to an end and we are force feeding the projectors their must deserves. I had to walk by the men working numerous times while running the movies and every time I passed the old projector I heard a sigh. I did have gas, a lot of it. That poor guy reminded my of Johnny #5 and I really felt like saving it's inanimate life.

As I threaded all the antique film through the projectors that were still up and running I got this sense of comradery, a silent coming together of sorts. Then I walked over to #10. See, this is the other projector to go today. They are doing one install a day and today is 10's turn to die. As with #5 yesterday so too will 10 be replaced today. I had a feeling of failure and broken dreams from #5 as it watched it's life slowly fading away, but with 10, I felt a sheepish, scared little mouse had taken over it's soul and could see it tightening it's bolts to the floor. It almost looked like it was nudging closer to the port glass window. Like it was going to hold onto the wall for dear life. It new we were coming for it. It might have been the weeps from #5's oil pump or maybe a last attempt to be infamous. "Go out with a bang, eh, A.J.?", but it was on a mission to be the last remaining 35MM film projector in the world. I pat his lamp housing and said good boy, threaded Eat, Pray, Love through his well greased sprockets and pushed start. A sense of uninterrupted respect and satisfaction poured into my bones as the Xenon bulb flickered on. It took three times to light. It was his way of deciding to go on, saying thank you, and good bye. He stood tall that day. And the other projectors took notice. A collective wave of honor and accomplishment rolled over the booth at that moment. The projectors seemed to give a one apeture plate salute while sweet #5 slowly passed away.

Scoop, Scoop.

2010-07-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else find it amusing that we classify one of the deadliest jobs in the world, besides suicide bomber, as deep sea crab fishing? Really? The other one that made it high on the list is ice road trucking. Ummm...I'm not saying they aren't extremely dangerous but, who cares? I mean think about it. They're "fishing" for crabs. Crabs! Do we really need crabs in our life so badly that we would send burly men out to sea for 3 months of the year to have only a handful return alive or in one piece for a meal that smells like you just sucked what was under your fingernail after scraping the bottom of a fish tank? They're crabs people. Get over it. Pick up an education and be a plumber for god's sake. At least you won't need to leave your wife at home to worry over the ever cooling plate of the shell fish dinner he risked everything for wondering if the father of her baby will be home with all his appropriate appendages. Snap into a slim jim mutha bitches and get real. Have I mentioned that they are just crabs?! And on the other note of the ice road truckers...why aren't we using their deaths and mutilation as "fuel" for our litigational fires? We should be lobbying to our government officials saying stop the murder, go green. The only reason these men and women risk their lives to cross the semi frozen tundra is to take supplies up to the oil farms in Alaska and then ship oil back down to the willing. Perfect reason to shut those bitches down and take on hydrogen or corn-powered machines. Am I really the only one thinking about this? I mean there have been shows on TLC or The History Channel, one of the two, broadcasting these dumb saps' lives. The ratings go up and the crabs and oil come streaming in. Is this what we as Americans have become? Snookie drives the truck over the oil fields as The Desperate Housewives of Pensacola team up against all odds to get their unwed daughters dating again while shucking shell fish into bins? Tell me you people wouldn't watch that show and then joke about it to try and justify the reason for watching it in the first place? Makes me sad. Although, I have to admit I do watch Chelsea Lately, so in a way I'm contributing to the mass hysteria known as our "culture", but I only watch her because I'm jealous of her face. I like her face, people, is that a crime?!

2010-07-16T23:54:00.000-07:00

The next stranger you see in the world I would like you to do me a favor as you pass them by, smile and say hello to them. No matter what type of mood you may be in. Just look them in the eye and say hello. Truly mean it when you do. No mocking attitude should scrape past your teeth. Just honest kindness. Let me know how it goes.

This isn't even good grammer or interesting to read for such a topic...I apologise

2010-07-08T22:45:00.000-07:00

I am almost 30. This doesn't come as too much of a surprise seeing as I have been living my own life...it's hard not to know your own age at this point in time. My point being, I have nothing to show for my life. Now, this is not some silly Brady Bunch attempt to get sympathy or false compliments. I try not to fish too hard anymore for such shallow meanings, unless it's about my hair, of course! But it is an eye opening topic that I must sit down and truly address. I am almost 30. I live at home with my parents, I have no real job, no insurance, no money, I have debts owed to the government; sister; father; mother, I have no college education or training of any kind. I am lost in my own uneducated translation...shout out Kever! And to boot, I have no motivation to change any of it. I have no goals to strive for, I have no likes to wish into reality. I am a rotting piece of sunken ship floating to the surface with the current as my only direction of where to go once it's reached.

I have always said that I just want to be the "normal" housewife and take care of someone, heart and soul. But I am almost 30. Those prospects and lack there of are not looking too good. I know what everyone is thinking, 30 is still so young. Yes it is, in the straight world. In gay years 30 is midlife. Looks are a huge factor in the life of gay men, men in general, but gay men have a different out look on life. It is instilled in us that we must achieve greatness by 24 and be in the best shape of our lives by 30 otherwise you become that old man creeper hitting on all the young boys at the club...and you just turned 31. It's no joke, people. I invite you to sit and watch the goings on at any gay bar after 11pm. I have always hated gay "culture" ever since I can remember. I hate drama. I hate overly exerted displays of attention. I get sick off the fact that sex is the only motivator. That you can't just be friends, it has to be including something more, something with maybe down the road I will blow you and you me. It disgusts me. But alas, tis what I must endure. NYC was a little easier to live in than here being gay, obviously, but it still had it's flaws. Even though the city was only 16 miles long it had so many different worlds combined. You could be completely comfortable walking hand-in-hand with a boy down Ave. A at 13th st. but just a few blocks over in Union Station you'd be beat in the face with a skate board. Same as the upper and lower East and West sides. Upper East; stay inside and cuddle, Lower East be free! Cleveland is not at all like that. You just stay inside and pretend to be normal. It's safer. I am so exhausted, though. Acting normal is truly exhausting. I put on a show everyday. I guess anyone who knows me would not use the word normal to describe me but the show is more for the people to not believe I'm a horribly depressed human being. The one thing no one would ever say about me is that I'm sad or depressed, minus my sister or anyone that actually got to know me beyond the superficial level of Hello, Nice To Meet You. My act, in public, is one of a happy, fun and crazy individual, but my true soul is breaking every time I step out of my bedroom. I put on my mask along with my clothes. It is exhausting. I feel, though, that I wouldn't have anyone around me if I just was my true self. I am no fun being myself. I sit in the corner and sulk in self misery. I don't socialize or make jokes. At home is my true personality. When I get home I completely shut down-due to the exhausting day I had being not me- and I crash on the couch or a chair and curl into a ball and stair off into a world I wouldn't wish upon anyone else. It is my one real reason for the lack of motivation, the anxiety riddled affliction, my dark secret life of an American teenager...it is my heart strings snapping at the roots. I have only a few left intact.

One love.

Were you truly waiting for ME?

2010-07-01T01:58:00.000-07:00

Mr. Roeper's clothes hamper or Hugh Grant's dental floss? Which would you rather be if you had to chose one for all eternity?

Remember, Roeper was an old man in the 70's. He wore gobs of cologne, polyester and probably has Mrs. Roeper's hella face paint all over his lapels.

Although, spending that amount of time in any one's mouth could start to get nauseating, not to mention the mouth of a Brit. Cheeky personality mounted on an insufferable entitled accent.

Chose wisely.

seapage.

2010-06-28T21:07:00.000-07:00

Have you ever sat in a room with your back turned to a sliding glass door with the curtain open at night? I do every time I sit down to the computer to write, or masturbate. The worst part about it is the reflection of the door to the dark outer realm is noticeable when you adjust your eyes to look through the computer screen. It freaks the shit out of me because I then stare into it and think of all the horrible things that will suddenly pop in the reflection. I'm doing it right now, actually. Best part about it is I'm listening to the Lion King's To Die For track and it just got to the part where Simba is walking up to his father's dead corpse. Now I have images of rotting fetus' etched in my mind. The reflection in the screen of the reflection of the door looks hazy, almost indiststinguishable as a man's form and it sorta sways slowly right to left, or I guess that would be left to right. The sway stops a bit when the tear ducts in my eyes go dry and I need to blink to moisten them. It appears to come closer as I open them again and readjust my sight. With every breath I take the movement of the form seems to quiver; pulse rapidly at the neck and head until I exhale. Then it cocks violently to the right; arm dangles, it seems to stare into the back of my skull like it knows something I don't. The wind blows and it's stagnant arm taps the glass. With a slow, precise movement it raises it's head back to the upright position while keeping it's vision deadlocked on my back and focuses for a second. The static surrounding it snaps away like piano wire under strain. Piece by piece the image is revealed until all I can see are piercing gold eyes. They are changing a bit...it almost looks like they're bleeding. The gold is washing out and becoming this deep red that creeps down the front and sides of the face. The brow bone cracks in and down as blood fills all the gaps in the face. The slowly flooding eyes turn to tight slights of red and lower at the inner corners. A waterfall of blood starts to spew out and onto the glass. A massive globe of swirling black and red is rising behind it now. The image is completely blurred minus the top of the quivering skull and the growing orb that is starting to surround it. There is no sound as the blood rapes the glass and shoots shells on the concrete patio. With a quick jerk of the left hand the figure smacks the glass, the orb implodes like a breath held for days. It ignites the ground. The cold, dry hand flexes and tears the blood away from it's line of sight. My chair starts to turn under it's own force. I grip the seat, knuckles white. The wooden legs catch the seams in the hardwood flooring and scrap a sound that could kill a child. There is a suction restraining my movement and my back is suddenly stiffened against the chair's back. I cannot blink. The chair turns 180 degrees with a crunching pull and am forced to stare directly into it's right eye. In an instant the blood separates from the creature and falls to the ground like a wave off the rocks. The grey matter falls static again and the haze lifts back to reality.

I think I shall close the curtain.

I...dee...clare...war

2010-06-24T22:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever mistaken a complete stranger for your own reflection? One day, years ago, when I was actually trying to do something with my life and attending college...the first time, I turned a corner and got goosebumps. I looked into the eyes of my double. Not my twin but my exact human replica. It was like I was looking at myself in a mirror. I don't think he saw it in return. It was if I was looking into a different dimension and his Universe was hovering through a one sided mirror. He was looking through me not at me and I could feel my temperature rising like I was never supposed to be in that spot at that particular time. The only day the worm hole gods fucked up and left their post unattended to shit was this day and our paths crossed. The anxiety of the moment was making the beads of sweat turn to streams on my forehead and I almost lost my muscle control to my stomach. It only lasted a moment; fraction of time, really, but it felt like I was looking into my future for decades and I could see what it was I was supposed to become. I blame all my failures on this moment. This moment that the gods screwed up, walked away from the window, dropped the cosmic balls.

I think it is this moment in my life that has made it so hard for me to just pick a team. Jacob or Edward...why is it so hard?! Curse you Demi-gods!

The wheels on the bus...

2010-06-23T23:21:00.000-07:00

I am so happy the genious at work has decided to come out of his shell and rain down his fabulousness on good ol' 480. On my drive home from our picnic/cookout thing-a-moroll for work I was entering I-480 from the Kent direction and happened upon the construction zone that has been being worked on for a while now. I never noticed this from the numerous times I've been on the same road coming home from work everyday but they are paving the freeway with black asphalt. This in itself doesn't seem strange, at all, but then I really thought about it. Why on earth would you pave your freeway in black asphalt? I mean, it's black, number one, and two, it's black. What genious thought it was clever to make driving even harder at night? ...while going 75mph? Not to mention that there are no street lights on 480. So the equation goes as follows: curvy, poor-lit road + black paint - reflecting center line + increased speed limit + Ohio Turnpike onramp - common sense = Safe Auto and ODOT partnership.

It also doesn't help that my headlights are complete shit and my high beams are weaker than most car's low beams. Regardless of the hand holding going on in the insurance and transportation departments paving your roads that have no other light source besides the moon and your clouded up head lights for sight is completely idiotic. And now I really, REALLY want to snap into a Slim-Jim.

The pool has seen it's share of floaters.

2010-06-22T23:06:00.000-07:00

I ate ice cream at 12:30am and I'm feeling the slight tingle of a missed friend. My belly is pulsating like the broken bolts of the Titanic as it slide across it's frozen fate. I had planned on writting something about the day I first realized we were all puppets to the ones we love, but I am instead clenching hard and hoping my fingers will allow the words to come quicker than the taco bell flow about to literally hit the fan. .......

Team Jacob!

2010-06-15T23:55:00.000-07:00

Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die!

Quotes to surf life on. The people we look up to in life are the people in ourselves we wish we could be. I guess that goes without saying, though. Movies have always been my one and only push. I don't get excited over anything anymore. The little things in life are still my most favorite moments but it's getting harder and harder for me to say, yay!, trash day! Or, thank goodness I missed the wooly bear crossing the road. Even though I am always excited to miss that little guy.

Writers have always been a fascination of mine. To be able to manipulate words in a way to motivate and inspire; make peace with and create passion. Someone who can inflame my heart to burn brighter within a sentence, especially in screen play form, has a special spot next to me on the couch. A well written movie line with the correct amount of emphasis on the music behind it can truly change your life. I hate when people take an object to cherish or worship in a sense, but I guess movies and their scores would be my hypecritical stance on the matter. I can't seem to help it. I get engrossed inside of them. Even the horrible movies I can't help but fall into. I have the same addiction to boys. I fall into them as quickly as I cum...pretty damn quick. It doesn't matter what they look like or their personalities, it's all the same to me: someone that I cannot have so I must obsess over it. Movies are the same way. It is a life I do not have so I want it. Gigli for god's sakes! I teared up and it wasn't because it was longer than 12 minutes. I actually don't like many of the movies I watch. I have a horribly high standard when it comes to them, life also, I guess, but I love watching them all. I love the cinematography. The way you are made to feel the emotion of the moment by a sweeping camera shot or a slow crawl upwards with the crescendo of the strings underneath you, lifting you up.

I forgot if I had a point. I guess I normally don't have a point. So...I'm thinking of buying one of the cardboard standees we are selling for the new Eclipse movie. There are two types: Edward and Jacob. They are just a life sized cut out of themselves posing in a sexually explicit way...well, suggestive in the PG-13 sorts. I thought to myself, $24 is a bit much for cardboard, not to mention, really? But what's the harm in having a little vampire or werewolf in the closet? Then I thought if I bought Jacob would that make me a pedifile? He is technically underage in real life. Like it makes a difference if he were 20 playing a 15 year old or 15 playing a 20 year old. Still pretty pedi! Anyway, that's what I want for my birthday.

When I was a young warthog.

2010-06-14T21:42:00.000-07:00

Why am I awake?!!

I do this to myself all the time. I force myself to stay awake for some god awful reason. I think it is the same reason I cannot take naps. I feel that I'm missing out on my life by sleeping. And then when I finally fall asleep I feel horrible for waking up in the middle of the afternoon because I feel like I've wasted the morning but I hate to wake up and just want to always be sleeping. Shit don't make no kinda sense! I am a huge contradiction!

I have also come up with the plan to lose 25lbs in 2 weeks. It comes from Christian Bale and his insane performance in The Machinist. That, was crazy. One can of Tuna and an apple a day for a month and he dropped 100lbs and became absolutely disgusting looking. Granted, I do not want to look like him. I would not be alive for one and two it creeped me out and that doesn't ever happen. Soo...nope. But I am going to incorporate some of that logic into this crash, unhealthy diet. Two cans of tuna! Ha!

I got to thinking about Jana this past weekend and it made me a bit sad. No offence to you sweets, but I was thinking about how it must be something amazing to wake up one day and be in the middle of nowhere and still be able to coop with life that is left in shadow and miles away. I'm not sure what she is thinking about the situation at hand, being so far from her home, her friends, family, dog...lover! If that is making her sad and regret certain decisions, or if she is thinking that this is now her new form of home. The not knowing what will come at her next is a solace and this new adventure is her new comfort. I am reminded of the time I up and moved to NYC. That just sounded like Wilson from Home Improvement...anyway, and I had no idea what I was doing or going to do for money. It was a tingle I had never felt before. It was good. I miss that feeling of the unknown. The ghosts of someone else's life to dictate my path. I'm not sure why we as humans lost our ability to fly by the seat of our pants, go with the flow, play it by ear...use our instincts. I think my anxiety comes from the pent up instincts I have shoved into the corner of my soul. I use logic and brain function over wading through the water. Closing my eyes and stepping forward with the wind pushing against my body as the only caution. We now seem to over think everything and make unnecessary excuses for every situation.

Watching the deer outside my window makes me wonder where they are going. Where did they just come from and what did they do there. Is it all a game for food? Walk this path for greens and then back for water and then back for greens, or is it something more? Something we have lost in ourselves? The deer paths of my life have route numbers for names and the food and water come in the form of paper and bricks. Are we the exact duplicates of the deer we see crushed on the side of our paths? It can't be this way for life, can it? Driving the same roads to the same sorce day after day. There has to be something to gain or something to move towards in life. Is it just money? Can I truly be happy with no vanities and just honestly say fuck it and leave everything behind? Hmmm...I think it may be time for a change.

Jana, I'm comin home!

2010-06-10T23:28:00.001-07:00

EPIC FAIL!!!

On fiy-ah!

2010-06-10T11:13:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling a little alone in this world of the web. Where have all my people gone? I have no interesting posts to read when I get home at the ass-crack of dawn after work and it is making me so sad. I used to rely on my sister for something to read on her blog but there hasn't been a post for a while. Now I thought I could count on some interesting desert stories, but the Reeds have dried and snapped off...Help!!

I am giving you all an assignment. I expect two posts from each of you in the next day. I have to work tonight until 1am so this gives plenty of time to come up with the first story. I don't work tomorrow which is awesome!! Rockin on the River with 5 free drink tokens, loaded pulled pork nachos and a bag of fire up my ass that'll ignite world peace; evening planned. So you will have an extra day to write the second story, for I won't read this until Saturday night after work. Good luck. Disappoint me and I'll murder your loved ones while you watch. I'm not talkin kindergarten manslaughter, full blown torturous rage with a hatchet and a can of gasoline while listening to the Lion King soundtrack will be in store. You've been warned.

Add a pinch of Viola and a dash of Soprano!

2010-06-09T13:41:00.000-07:00

Just a question...

Name your favorite movie and movie soundtrack.

I guess, just a statement, then...

My movies are, because it is impossible to chose just one, The Lion King, The Last Of The Mohicans, Finding Neverland, Amelie, Edward Scissorhands, Running With Scissors...

Soundtracks are bunches. How To Train Your Dragon, the above stated movie's soundtracks minus Amelie and Running..., The Davinci Code, Stardust (just a few pieces from it, though), Titanic, Chronicles Of Narnia...to name a few.

I'm looking forward to getting to know you guys better through song! I believe the music you listen to and the movies you're drawn into are one major piece of our personalities. Join me in the search for our friend's souls and experience the joys it may bring.

Ice Dance the sadness of ones consuming love pulls at your heart.
To Die For this is just simply amazing! The mix of emotions felt with this song is too much to handle. Hans Zimmer, enough said.
The Battle the amazing way this piece flows with it's cinematographic way
Impossible Opening cheerful childlike innocence with a sharp pain of adult responsibility
Shooting Star seems to be able to transport you to a place you feel you need to belong
Chevaliers de Sangreal beautiful harmony
The Sinking mainly for the staccato cymbals in the beginning and the growing tension.
Forbidden Friendship by far my latest obsession!
Elk Hunt this gives you an uncontrollable filling of intense movement and growing anxiety and anticipation, sooo good!

Gobble, gobble mutha bitch!

2010-06-08T23:27:00.000-07:00

Today was an interesting day. I tried two new things that I never thought would enter my realm of hello-ness. The first new item was turkey from a can. As splendid as it sounds, it had a flavor of something that wasn't so splendid. Granted, it wasn't surprising that turkey from a can wasn't the most amazing tasting product sold at the Dollar Tree, but it wasn't the worst, either. It was sitting in a pool of broth, which was never explained on the can as to what and where this broth came from. It could have been pigs lard for all I know, especially since the 6oz can was supposedly three servings and each one of those servings had 3 grams of fat and 80 calories...weird. It had a slight peppered taste and a shaker full of salt pucker that kept you wanting more. The top of the flat circle of canned poultry had a thin layer of something tan-ish, brown. I can only assume that is where the fat calories were being housed. It wasn't terrible and I may partake in the eating of the can again tomorrow.

The second new thing I tried today was singing in key! I've noticed that people don't squish their faces as much in your direction when you hit the right note. When you don't have that crinkle sound in the back of your ear when harmonizing with the radio, or in my case, the NCM advertizing in the lobby, people tend to smile and not run. Hanson has a new album coming out and the one song on the constant loop in the theatre is actually quite catchy...the mother fuckers. Not to mention they're not too shabby to look at now that they look like boys. So I have been singing and dancing, well, pretty much like normal, to it. Clap, clap.

Twas a good night. And damn it if I'm not craving some freaking hockey puck turkey goodness right now...

T-minus 22 years and counting...

2010-06-08T00:05:00.000-07:00

I don't think it is fair to say that I have never felt happy. I have been in a state of calm and relaxation before that has lasted longer than most of my shits but to truly say that lead to any sort of happiness could possibly be labeled a lie. But I do believe in happiness. I believe it is a place we all strive to be and will one day meet face to face. I do not believe it will ever be in this time or in this country with these values and prenotions. I cannot say for sure what anyone else is thinking or even decipher the words as truths that come from people's mouths but I can say with all comfortability that you are all liars. Not only to the ones around you but to yourselves at most. I guess with that said though, happiness is never truly acheived in full or at long bursts of time. It is an island from which we anchor and refuel. It is a stopping ground in the roadtrip of our lives. To say one is happy is to deny your humanity. Maybe I need some rehab, or just need some sleep. But this is a sick obsession I see in my dreams. What you got boy, is hard to find, I think about it, all the time...Ke$ha? Really?! Shit just pops in my head. But yeah...happiness. Who needs it? I'd say I'm happy enough without it but there goes that catch-22-thingy again. The ironic thing about being unhappy is that it puts you into a compulsive state of...well, happiness. Like this fucking itching! I know it doesn't help my skin to scratch, it actually worsens the itch, but I can't help it. It has become the reason I do it. I truly believe the bumps on my skin are an evolution of my need to scratch it now. Sick obsession, indeed.

The Closer tonight made me cry balls! It was so sad. And so good. That is my other obsession, feeling miserable. It makes me feel good to cry and be all dark and depressed. If I wasn't a manager at a movie theatre my next career plan would be serial killer, pretty sure. And now I want Peanut Butter Crunch.

You're gonna love my nuts!

2010-06-06T22:51:00.000-07:00

Man Working Above...

While walking through the Pitts yesterday we stumbled upon a sign, from God no less. A church was under going some sort of roof renivation and around the base of the building were wooden signs proclaimming Men Working Above. I thought this was quite fitting and that every church should have a sign on the building saying Man Working Above. For we all know who the "man" is that is working above...it's God, people! So on our walking adventures we came up with a plan to start setting up these new "signs" from above on all the churches of the world. It will be my mission, of sorts, to share the word. The funniest part about the venture was when an actual construction worker came around the corner in his blue jeans and white hard-hat. I felt like I had actually looked into the eyes of God. My soul felt instantly cleansed and all was right in the world at the moment. His name was Fernando. He seemed confused when I dropped to my knees and started kissing his boots. Our God is an awesome God, He reins from heaven above...and He's modest!

I wanna hold your hand.

2010-06-01T23:15:00.000-07:00

With Forbidden Friendship streaming into my ears thoughts of death come bursting through the loose fabric that houses my memories. A kid that "friended" me on Facebook tonight has a mutual friend in common with me. The common person on both our pages wasn't a friend of mine persay, a relationship or even a Facebook stalkee, but he is someone that entered my life and changed a piece along the way. He is the first boy that I had a slight feeling for that glanced in my direction here in Ohio. He is a life force that shined as bright as the dying star he would soon join. His name is David and he is dead.

The unfortunate thing about this person is that he was made into a world of logic and in turn was poisoned by the thing he tried so hard to defy. His moments in breath were out lasted by the breath of his moments and he died officially too young on Sunday. He was 26.

I think the worst part of this whole situation is the fact that I knew it was coming. The way his eyes ricocheted off your skin. The fact that the boy never knew what he told you or could remember what you told him. His life was a party and no one was around for the clean-up after. He was a drug user and abuser and the alcohol flowed through his veins like toxic life. He, like so many young gay boys before him, hid behind extravagance to blind the reality. He was happy doing everything in his power to not comprehend being sad. To cover up his actuallity was destroying him. His light has gone out. And although he is gone in sight he will live on in mind. I hope he touched as many lives as he needed to in his short span. For I feel our mission if chosen to accept it is to be alive long enough to open someones eyes, heart, mind, soul, for the better. I believe David did. R.I.P. mister.

2010-05-31T11:51:00.001-07:00

It starts over.

AIDS

2010-05-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

The way we were...

How much have we changed over the years? Look at yourself now. Look at yourself 10 years ago. How much has consciously changed? Is it for the better, do you think? Have you changed at all? If you were 12 ten years ago then this probably doesn't apply, for we all know how much you have physically changed. But maybe we should look into that. When we are pre-teens, do we truly have any differences to ourselves than we do when we are adults? How much is to blame on adolecence? How much is to blame on just human nature? Do we dumb ourselves down into believing we are no longer an animal species? What changed in our genome that granted us the right to take over? Some argue that technology is the reason we are seperated from the animals, I say it is the reason we cannot move forward. Technology, to me, is our catalyst that keeps us from finding an actual harmony with the world we live in...not rule. Mother nature is a far greater force than we could ever harness. That's why it scares and intruiges us so much. Yet we as humans believe hole-heartedly that we are an exceptional breed. Due to the landing on the moon and a nuclear fusion we except our fates as gods amung the creatures of the planet. Is it not true that most if not all the species, minus humans, on the planet leave the nest before their first birthday? That most animals actually leave their mother's side right after birth? We are the only species on the planet that creates a life revolved around nurture, an achilles heel of evolutionary sorts. We are mammals, so that in itself is a reason we hold onto our parents, but even the most family oriented species do not depend on the family structure as their means of growth, acceptance, prosperity...so look into yourself. How much have you changed in the past ten years? Now compare that to how much you've learned. It's not our technology that pushes us forward it's our capability to have it. The next time you fill your gas tank up at the gas station think about how much amazing brain power went into creating that car, gas pump, credit card, banking system, cement you're standing on, lights affording you sight, radio waves turned off with the ignition...then look into your pocket. Give that loose change to charity.

Not sure what the point of that ramble was. I had District 9, little sea turtles hatching and then making a break for the water's edge and that stupid ass Bono commercial trapped in my head all at once. *pop* "Lipshhtick" It came out in a flood of nonsensical blah, blah, blah! Whoopsie!

By the way, Bono is in the hospital, or was, for a broken arm or has cancer or something...wish he would just die and forward all his millions to fighting HIV. Then he would actually be doing some good.

God "I really hate that man". 10 points for the reference.

P.S. I would pay good money to watch the brutal beating of any human going against a grizzly with no technology. Just sayin, we aint all that without our boom-boom sticks!

zip-zoom

2010-05-24T23:40:00.000-07:00

I really don't know what to say tonight. I haven't written anything in a bit and feel the urge to do so. Just not quite sure what to write...

There has been talk of a railway being built between Cleveland and Columbus. This could potentially be amazing seeing as I love Columbus and shaving off any time it would take to get there would be fish in a bucket, but the builders are fucking stupid. Much like all men with money and a smidge of power are...they plan on building this train in an old-fashioned type feel. Like the chug-chug rather than the zip-zoom. They claim it would be scenic and take approximatly 6 hours one way to get to Columbus. WHAT THE FUCK? Really?! What the fuck is wrong with you people? How amazing would a connection to the main C's in Ohio be if it only took like 40 minutes to get to one place to the other? The commuters would be in the thousands, i'm sure. To just be able to scoot down to C-bus whenever you wanted and not need to pack a cooler, awesome...but they went ahead and fucked it up. Not to mention it would cost 35 million dollars to make. That's a lot of toilet paper. Cause ain't nobody riding that train. Maybe on the weekends families might get together and take the 26mph rail ride down, but nothing to pay off the debt in the next 25 years. Dumb. Not to mention the only appeal it had for the Columbus side to come up to Cleveland, cause there aint skid up here, would be the quick ride to grab a stale beer at an Indians game and shoot back home before your friends new of your deceit. That's blown.

This got me thinking of get rich quick schemes. See?...All you need is a helicopter that fits 20, a helicopter pilot, enough money to buy a helicopter that seats 20, a greasy palm to create a new air traffic lane and an investor that is not as dumb as the one with the train idea. To charter a helicopter out of Cleveland would make millions in the first year alone. I feel it. To get people to Pittsburg, Columbus, Cinncinatti, Chicago, Youngstown on the off peak times...bullet holes in helicopter glass are expensive to caulk! All in under an hour to 30 minutes, gold mine people! Once the solo-chopper gets off the ground! no pun, well, yes pun, take that pun. We could totally branch out to farther away destinations with more man power and merchandise.

Just sayin. Along with the Taco Bell I want to open, the chartered helicopter is gonna take us places...sorry!

whenever, wherever...

2010-05-17T23:42:00.000-07:00

Could you imagine if in fact my hips couldn't actually lie? Like after the meat loaf mother made you eat for 14 years of your young adult life there came muffled sounds from your under carriage. Like the peanut's character's parents decided to burn the tree instead of decorating it. You could never get a moments peace. While you attempted to sleep your hips just droaned on and on about the economy and our government and the fat German teacher that thinks may have an obsession with the boys on the third floor of his apartment building. Heaven forbid you had a one night stand over...the secrets being tweeted the next day about your small indiscretions bellow the belt would be in the thousands. We would need to think of ways to shut our hips up. There would need to be some sort of burn cream associated with the gyno. There would be a boom of hip replacements for all ages. A new hip knows nothing of it's brand new host. Can't spill beans you never knew were there in the first place. Although, depending on what we used for the new hip the non-lies coming from under your unmentionables may be more embarrassing than the actual truths of yours. The mistaken shout-outs of someone's other could be more of a shock than your own skeletons.

I have always wished that we as humans would develope a tick that every once in a while our brains would spasm and we would involuntarily burst into a narrative of what we were doing at that precise moment. While walking down the street next to someone carrying a tennis racket and balls we would over hear them saying he was walking down the street carrying a tennis racket and balls. The hips not lying could be an evolutionary step forward from that spasm. Our brains would wire themselves completely lie-less. For you cannot narratively tell a lie. You would have to give away the fact you were telling the lie and therefore would in fact be not telling one. It's the catch-22's in life that truly keep us honest. Now turn the pillow over to cool your cheek and dutch oven the one you love.

Solar power please.

2010-05-15T15:28:00.000-07:00

While at the gas station a few days ago I slid my debit card through the slot and did something I have never done before. I typed my PIN number in with my left forefinger. This in itself isn't much of a story, for that matter neither is what's coming, but bare with it. The fact that I had my left hand up while pulling the gas nozzle from the holster and swinging it over to the tank with my right hand, my left hand was on a decline to be left stagnant at my side while the gold from the Middle East went sloshing into my thirsty car. Well, there must have been some gas left in the hose when the person before me drugged the planet a bit more and it came pouring out all over my left hand and arm. Now, as much fun as it is to have a liquid billow out of a hose and all over my body is, gas is probably not the idea I had in mind for a good time. The most amazing thing about having gas poured all over your arm and hand is the fact that it soaked into my skin so quickly. I was afraid to stick the nozzle into the tank for fear that I might burst into more of a flame than I already am, but I cautiously started to pump the gas in while I sobbed. I walked over to the station man and asked for the bathroom key to cleanse my soul and he said, "it's already unlocked, it's broke so we keep it open". So then I thought about licking the grease from his body and walked over to the bathroom. Wait a minute...what if I needed to actually use the bathroom instead of just washing my hands? This is how pretty little girls get raped. The door doesn't lock so anyone could just walk in at any time. A brutha might have needed to bust out the shank inside him. I can't use public bathrooms in itself let alone one that could be for the public viewing. Just my bare ass on a toilet for the world to see. Nope. Anyway, the sopa was a plenty and the water was hot so for a gas station restrooms go, it was the Hilton.

The point of this story that makes no sense is, I still smell like gas. It has been 3 full days and 2 full showers and my hand is still stank ass. Not to mention it got all in my watch and the soaking of it in soapy hot water isn't seeming to be helpful. So yesterday at work I spent the most of the night just deep breathing in my watch fumes. It was a good time by the third hour of my fume intake-athon. It also helped that my body was running on nothing but dill pickles and a half a bag of chips i dipped into honey BBQ sauce from the acclaimed Dollar Tree. My mind was eager to be abused as well as my soul. The fact that I didn't mind getting buzzed by the fumes was enough to maybe pour gas on my body more often. It was the slight burning sensation that snapped me out of it late last night. I couldn't sleep a wink but to block out the pain. Needless to say the only liquids being poured on me as of late, besides water for bathing, will be urine. And that is only at Christmas.

2010-05-12T23:13:00.000-07:00

While walking to my car after work tonight there was one other car in the parking lot that started it's engine as I made it to my driver's side door. I pushed the button to release my lock and the lights from the mysterious stranger's car flicked on. At first I thought I had finally developed telekinesis and I was inadvertently controlling this late model, blue and white Dodge something-or-other, but it in fact was a creeper in the lot just waiting for something to happen, it seemed. There was no one else around besides my coworker and this wack-o sitting alone in his car. As I opened the car door I said in response to my coworker's comment of, "that was weird". I said, "well, he can't follow both of us!". This actually got me thinking of a movie plot in which that actually happens. Then it got me thinking about how this man would choose his victim to follow. There were two of us after all. Who would be the unlucky victim of this person? If this were a true horror movie what could I do to ensure the safety of myself? Or would it even matter any more at this point? Did the person single me out before he saw both of us leaving? Was this a random stop off to rape and pillage, or did he have a master plan in the works over a lengthy period of time. All these question and scenerios ran through my brain all at once. It was a bit too much to handle so I farted and got in my car and drove away. I never looked in the rear view mirror.