Back on track, boys!

Well, what's he look like?


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Goings on:
Summer School Ending
Vacation looming near!

On the Walkman:
Bargrooves - Frosted
Sarah McLachlan...all CDs in High rotation

Today's activities:
Starting back at the gym
Enjoying summer

This weekend's activities:
Seeing my beau
Hanging out then flying to NH for a brief vacation

Favorite English Words:

Favorite German Words:

Check these guys: USA
My Holiday Film Exchange Exchangee
The Film Exchange Project
The Film Exchange
Canada Maurice
Uncle Hedgehog

Great Sites:
The Onion
HX New York
Useful Sites:
1 800 flowers
Crate & Barrel

blogchalk: Michael/Male/36-40. Lives in United States/New York/Hell

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Carpe Mañana
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
I miss my life in New York. All my friends knew this would happen but I didn't listen. I fucked up big time. I might not have been making big bucks in the city, but I had a job and friends and all that. None of which I have here. Add this to the millions of other mistakes I have made in my life and, well, the failure I call my life seems to make a lot more sense.

Argh! I can be so stupid sometimes.


Monday, February 17, 2003
Well, it's Monday. Actually Monday is just about over. It is a new week and I have a question. Is it okay for me to be upset that the guy who I like (who I went to visit in Illinois, bought him a gift and took out to dinner and drinks on his birthday) didn't call me on my birthday nor did he call me on Valentine's Day. Does that say what I think it says? Should I just walk away and let him live his life in the mid-west and not give it a second thought? I figured that he would call by this evening the latest to say at least "Happy Birthday".

I don't really put many constraints on the guys I like. One is to never look in my computer without asking (for more info on this "disasterous boyfriends Michael has had" topic scan my archives in Sept 2002 mid month-ish), the other is to acknowledge that I am alive on my birthday. A phone call or a card is enough. A dinner or promise of dinner or drinks is stupendous. A gift is never expected but would definitely score high marks in my book. Other than that, if you are honest with me about other things, you can get away with just about anything.

My friend Billy says that, like him, I too am a romantic at heart. I guess I agree with that, 1. because I like Billy and 2. because I just agree with that. I like pet names, and gazing into that special someone's eyes, and pillow talk, and flowers, and presents for no reason at all, and for someone to tell me that he loves me when he means it. Unfortunately, my track record does not include many of that type of suitor.

When I met my ex in October 1992, it was the first time...and only time...that I experienced love at first sight. We saw each other in a nightclub crowd going opposite directions from each other, we both turned around, headed straight back toward the other, reached across the throng, stood face to face, introduced ourselves and then went directly to a photobooth and took four of those little black and white pictures. We actually documented our meeting in pictures. I still have them (I look like hell). We were with each other for the next seven or so years from that moment on.

Every Friday for about six months after we met, I went to a rose shop on Newbury Street in Boston and bought him a dozen roses, walked across town to his apartment and left them at his door if he wasn't home or gave them to him in person. They were never red until the first time I told him I loved him and then once again when we moved in together. After six months of giving him roses I moved on to other flowers but I made a point to get him something as often as possible. He later told me that it was my buying him those roses every week that let him know how much I liked him and it made him feel really special. It was romantic. You know what the shame of that is, there are only a few people who have ever bought me flowers. He bought me one bunch of roses right before we broke up, I still have the petals in a jar. That was the only time he ever bought me roses. You'd think that he would have thought that maybe I would have liked flowers once in a while myself, but no. The shame of all of this is that purchasing the roses was really not that big of a deal. It was a simple transaction, like buying soap. The statement it made though transcended the stupid flowers. That to me is romance. Thinking of someone and letting them know that you are thinking of them sums it up best for me. Making someone guess how you feel is not romantic, it is cruel.

My point of all this? There really isn't one. Well, maybe there is. If the simple act of giving someone flowers can speak volumes to the positive then forgetting someone on there birthday speaks more than volumes to the negative...and I'm hurt.


Sunday, February 16, 2003
Keeping one's goals is very difficult with no money. I am in disbelief that I have not been able to find a job up here in the Boston area yet. I need to make money. If I am going to get a car and move myself to the beach for the summer, I need a little do-re-mi. It is unbelieveable. A huge cosmic joke that the universe is playing on me. It is saying that I am not allowed to make money right now. For what reason, I don't know. Nothing is panning out. The worst part is, I have been trying. Diligently. So what is a guy supposed to do? Nothing I can do I guess except keep trying.

I like my goals. I think they are realistic. Get rid of all my debt in the next year, save some money, buy a little car, nothing too unattainable. Unless of course you have absolutely NO income. Then it gets more complicated.

All of this has made for quite a few sleepless nights lately. My eyes close and my brain goes into hyperdrive. Money that isn't coming in, relationships that are on hold or just not happening, bills that are sitting unpaid, regrets of years gone by, thoughts about who I am as a person all flood my head as soon as the dark and quiet of night find me alone in bed. It's maddening. I get up, I drink milk, I use the sofa as a bed but all for not. Last night, I didn't nod off until 4 am. The night before 3:30 am. I am really tired. You would think that I would sleep late. No. I've been waking up at 8. It is a cruel joke.

On a positive note (and one less thing to worry about) I have had a battery of tests and have been assured that my liver is fine. My enzymes have all returned to normal. I do not have any form of hepatitis nor do I have hemochromitosis! Ultrasounds and/or biopsies will not be necessary! I am a very happy man. My cholesterol is also down from 198 to 157. I am proud of that because I have been working on my diet to lower it and I seem to have succeeded. Hurrah for me! Who's better than me!?!?!

So, I'll go off today to rejoin a gym and apply for a job at a local furniture store that is hiring. Snow is expected for tomorrow so today might be the better of the two to try to get errands done.

Could someone please ask the universe to lead me to an income? Thanks.


Wednesday, February 12, 2003
I just bought myself a birthday present, the "Blood Music" cd by Chapterhouse. I used to own this but I lost it in the divorce and have been trying to replace it for years. It is a hard one to find because it is out of print (or perhaps I was just looking in the wrong places). At any rate, I love this album and I think it is the best present I could have bought myself. I am so happy about it. Now Glenn, if you were to ever take one of my musical recommendations, I would take this one. Find it, buy it, hear it, love it. I mean it!


"I don't know why I have to sit here and celebrate the fact that she has lived so BLOODY long..." Oliver, AbFab.

Unto the world on February 12, 1966 at 10:21pm EST, was I thrust.

I like birthdays, mine and other people's. It is a very good reason to celebrate life. So, although I have no plans to celebrate today, I am happy to be alive and to have lived the life I have lived, no matter how many mistakes I have made. I'm hoping the remainder of 2003 will improve for me.

Having reached 37 and now actually beginning my 38th year of life, I realize that I am not only getting older, I am now also getting old. Thirty years ago it was 1973 and I was a wide-eyed 7 year old. Thirty years from now it will be 2033 and I will be an aging man of 67. What a difference thirty short years can make. Time flies by so fast.

Looking back at the past year, so many good things have happened. I "discovered" Rehoboth Beach and spent so much time there that I feel like it has always been a place I have gone but I only just found it this year. I had about a thousand opportunities to find out who my real friends were, and every time the people I trusted to be true friends were true friends. I spent two solid weeks by the sea with my nieces and nephews. If that doesn't give you perspective on life, I don't know what does. I don't know, a lot of really good things have happened.

Anyway, happy birthday to me. Oh...and Christina Ricci...she was born today as well. That makes me happy. I think I'll rent 200 Cigarettes to celebrate her birthday. I love the part she plays in it.


Tuesday, February 11, 2003
I love his stuff (especially the Pitcher from the "Berlin" collection...since I am an Aquarius the pitcher is oh so appropo!)


I went back and forth, back and forth...but I'm going to do some shameless marketing for my birthday. If you are feeling generous, visit my wishlist at here. Who doesn't like presents after all?


Well, this is my last day of being 36. That's right folks, I'm 37...I mean 29...tomorrow. It is hard to believe. On top of that, Illinois boy has apparently forgotten that tomorrow is my birthday and I can't think of a tactful way to remind him. I guess I'll just call tomorrow and say, did you know that today is my birthday. Maybe. I'll give him a break, it is my first birthday since I met him. My blog will be 2 on Thursday. That amazes me. Two years can fly by so fast. So much has changed since I started it. It amazes me.

I guess the scary thing about being 37 is that I was 17 twenty years ago. But I feel good, and I think I am maintaining well so no complaints. I just wish I were celebrating my 37th with a good job, my own place and a nice paycheck, but I'm not.


Friday, February 07, 2003
I like to write. I don't think I am a particularly skilled or talented writer, but I enjoy it. My blog is usually an exercise in the stream of consciousness style of writing. Once in a while I actually compose something for the blog and it comes out okay, but usually I just sit and start typing, to varying success.

Right now I don't have the money to pursue my other interests and hobbies. I can't travel, I can't afford film to take photographs, I can't even go to a nice restaurant. So I find that writing is my diversion of late. When I write, I feel focused. Feeling focused is not something that comes naturally to me. I am usually entertaining quite a few ideas, thoughts or daydreams at any given time of the day. I float aimlessly in my mind from one thought to another with absolutely no rhyme or reason to anything that runs through my head. With the thoughts are mingled my emotions. My abstract world is full of how I felt, feel, or might feel about any given topic at any point in my past, present or future. "How will I feel when my mom dies?" "How will it feel when I find a new job?" "Why do I feel that way about him?" "What should I feel when I see her?" It gets even more basic than that..."Green makes me happy." and so on. It makes no sense. It is like a radio that is constantly tuned to static but every once in a while a bit of a broadcast pops in and you understand the words but they really don't mean anything because they are received out of context.

Lately, in the dull netherworld of suburbia in which I have found myself, the static has become deafening. I'm trying to make sense of what my mind is showing to me, but there is no context, no reason, to any of it. I'm beginning to understand why inmates go mad in solitary confinement. It is just the inmate, his random thoughts and no context.


Thursday, February 06, 2003
At one point in my life, I was a big club-goer.

I went for the music. I went for the socializing. I went for the drugs.

There was one drug in particular that had a stunning impact on me. It is called "K". "K" has always been described to me as a tranquilizer for cats, horses and sub-human primates. It used to be used as anethesia for people but was found to be too disturbing for those who were given it because it has a strong dissociative effect on the brain. What this means is when administered it seemingly removes you from reality. In effect, reality becomes a concept. Your brain creates a new reality that is very much removed from the "normal" reality that you move around in from day to day. I used to describe it as "sliding", they even made a science fiction TV show here in the States where people "slid" to alternate realities on "different" earths which I think had to be created by someone who had done "K" at some point. The alternate realities that "K" gives you, though, are very convincing even though they are non-sensical. You do not question them. They can be entertaining, scary, benign or hysterical. I find that they depend on your mood. But in all cases you always feel that something is not right in Denmark. You are confused BUT you don't know why because you still believe that you have a firm grip on reality. The drug works very well with loud music. The drug with the music in combination with dancefloor lights sets the stage for a blast off into alternate realities that you could never even imagine. The dark side to this drug is an event called a "K" hole. When you take too much, you become unable to move. Your mind, however, keeps going. You become totally immersed in the alternate reality and do not really keep touch with the real "reality" you live in. It can be disturbing and you are always slightly unsure after a "K" hole whether reality is real or whether where you just "were" is. You can try to explain what you saw and experienced to those around you, but they never quite understand exactly what your reality became.

Why am I telling you about my sordid past?

Because I watched the Michael Jackson interview this evening. He tried to explain to the world the alternate reality he lives in, and I don't think ANYONE can understand what he is trying to explain. His life seemed to me like a huge, never-ending, "K" hole. Listening to him, I felt so firmly planted in this reality that all I could think is that he is describing an alternate dimension or reality that he truly believes is real. Then I had a strange thought, "K" comes as a clear liquid that you dry into a white powder. The only way that there could be a drug on this planet that could fuck up your perception of reality that completely and convincingly is if it sprang directly from Michael Jackson's pores. My theory: "K" is Michael Jackson's sweat. How fucked up of a thought is that!


Tuesday, February 04, 2003
I had forgotten how much I love Shakespeare when I am feeling down. I have been reading the Sonnets and found an old favorite that has put everything right in my world! I especially love the first four and the last two lines...

"When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up rememberance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay, as if not paid before:
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end."

Sonnet XXX, "The Illustrated Stratford Shakespeare", Chancellor Press, London, 1987, pg 1011.


Saturday, February 01, 2003
I like to think that I am in touch with my emotions. But I'm not. They control every fiber of who I am, what I say, what I do or don't do. They hold all the cards. I feel like I chase my feelings around without any sort of brain at all until I do or say something stupid (or rather based solely in emotions) and then suddenly my brain pops up to remind me what a putz I am for listening to my heart. I also find that my natural, neutral state is slightly down. Sad or melancholy, not depressed. Sort of the feeling you might have had as a child if you found yourself sick with the flu and all the other kids were going to the beach to swim and you had to stay inside because you were sick. Not the end of the world but you certainly weren't happy.

Spending a lot of time alone lately, I am getting to reconnect with the part of me that I try to suppress by going out and laughing and being around other people. He's not a bad guy but he isn't quite in control of it all yet. I just recently told someone how I was feeling and although the response was good, the feelings I have had since I said it have just made my brain crazy. I keep saying to myself, "Why didn't you just keep your mouth shut and your feelings to yourself?" I guess the answer is that I am a guy who feels things very deeply. So keeping the old mouth shut isn't always possible. I sometimes feel my emotions are physical. If I love someone, I love them with every fiber of my body. Fortunately, I don't fall in love easily. I guess what makes me feel sad then is that I can't truly share the feeling of the emotions with those around me. That I am permanently detached from everyone and everything. I can describe how I feel, but there is no way to physically "plug" someone in and share that emotion completely. Because of this, I'm beginning to understand my need for sex...maybe this is what drives everyone's need for sex...and the way I use sex for that connection. I use it for a feeling of closeness to another human being. To have the ability to feel someone in the way that I feel my emotions, as a physical entity.

There is someone that is so physically far away from me but is so close emotionally. It's confusing for me. The problem is, my current feelings are based in the hope for a future where I am able to spend time with him. This can't be good. I know that I need to work with the present. That the future will never happen exactly the way I hope or imagine. To top it all off, he is a person that does not express his emotions verbally. For him it is all "actions speak louder than words", so I feel that I am constantly trying to guess how he feels although he has told me that he likes me and would like to get to know me better.

My gut says, "Move to be near him and try it out." My head says, "Don't be a fool." My guess is that the solution is somewhere in between.


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