Memorial Day began, or Sunday night ended, with Ash on the roof smoking cigarettes and watching the sun rise above the rooftops and the last of the Corona chilled and lonely in a bucket of melting ice. A solitary pretzel vendor moving up the empty street with his cart decorated with tiny American flags.
It’s the beginning of the end of one of those strange periods of life. Those times you look back at later and just have to smile. A weekend of bartending, little sleep, and crawling into bed well after sunrise only to get up so few hours later. A Sunday dawn found us at Battery Park with the Statue of Liberty in front, the sun rising over the narrows, and the ships of ‘Fleet Week’ up the river to our right. I sat with my friends shivering in a tank top, yet drinking a cold beer, as the breeze came off the harbor. I was told this was a very good romantic vamp movie moment. I still have to smile thinking about that one.
Bartending in the middle of Fleet Week, which ends Tuesday, the club filled with sailors on leave and with money burning holes in the pockets. And how many times *can* a gay girl get hit on by guys? A bet made between Kirby and I to see who got hit on the most. Sadly I lost track and ended up buying breakfast.
Hot humid air give the city a feel of an early summer night. The sailors, dressed top to toe in bright white uniforms, couldn’t be more different from the people they mingle with. Actually rumor has it the pregnancy rate rises dramatically during Fleet Week. I have no idea myself nor was I going to find out. Also I was informed I should be riding a Harley, whether alone or hanging on to some hot biker babe I wasn’t told. Another smile.
More than one time this weekend I found myself alone with one friend or another sharing a special moment. Drinking beer, thinking, or chatting about nothing particular. Some of those moments that makes a life worth living. Three days that went by in such a blur I have to sit back and think about them and enjoy them all over again.
Now if my Flyers could win tonight, well, life is good but it could get even better.
tuneage, Skillet - Monster
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Observations from the Window 5.28
Yesterday the US House passed a bill allowing the Department of Defense to repeal the law known as ‘don’t ask don’t tell.’ The final vote was 234 for and 194 against. Earlier in the day the Senate Armed Services Committee, in a vote of 16 – 12, passed a similar measure allowing it to be voted on by the full Senate. However both measures are dependent on a Pentagon report on the effects of allowing gays to openly serve in the military. The repeal would be ‘allowed’ 60 days after the completion of the report which isn’t due until December 1st. One has to wonder if it ever will actually happen.
Around the world twenty two countries ban gays in the military. They are Cuba, China, Egypt, Greece, Iran, Jamaica, Mexico, Nigeria, North Korea, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Somalia, South Korea, Sudan, Syria, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, Uganda, United States, Venezuela, and Yemen. If you ask me that is some totally awesome company we are keeping. Almost a homophobic NATO, we could one hell of a block party with these guys.
Some quotes ….
“This compromise worked out by the White House, members of Congress, and Gay Inc., doesn’t actually guarantee that lesbian, gay, and bisexual people will ever be able to openly serve in the U.S. Military. Instead, it gives we in the LGBT community a promise of process to repeal of DADT without a guarantee it actually will ever result in LGB servicemembers being able to serve openly."
Autumn in a comment to a post on Pam's House Blend
“In response to the United States Senate and the House of Representatives voting on the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, forces are mobilizing for non-violent direct action and civil disobedience. Veterans are ready to spend Memorial Weekend in prison. Fasting will also commence. The simple demands are (1) End DADT firings. (2) Enact non-discrimination. (3) End the insulting, wasteful study.”
Lt. Dan Choi who last May announced he was gay on The Rachel Maddow show and plans a hunger strike this weekend.
“I think it’s really going to be really harmful to the morale and battle effectiveness of our military."
Senator John McCain the tired tard, and one time running mate of presidential hopeful Sarah Palin.
"Homosexuals in the military are three times more likely to commit sexual assaults than heterosexuals are, relative to their numbers. We believe this problem would only increase if the current law against homosexuality in the military, which was enacted in 1993, were to be repealed."
Peter Sprigg of the Family Research Council and my tard of the day.
So enjoy your Memorial Day weekend but if you are gay and in New York for Fleet Week don't try and remake that famous Times Square photo. Dont kiss the one you love. I leave you with one question and a final quote ....
At what point do gay and lesbian people become full citizens of this country of ours?
"Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever."
Martin Luther King Jr. in a letter from a Birmingham jail.
tuneage, Sick Puppies - Odd One
Around the world twenty two countries ban gays in the military. They are Cuba, China, Egypt, Greece, Iran, Jamaica, Mexico, Nigeria, North Korea, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Somalia, South Korea, Sudan, Syria, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, Uganda, United States, Venezuela, and Yemen. If you ask me that is some totally awesome company we are keeping. Almost a homophobic NATO, we could one hell of a block party with these guys.
Some quotes ….
“This compromise worked out by the White House, members of Congress, and Gay Inc., doesn’t actually guarantee that lesbian, gay, and bisexual people will ever be able to openly serve in the U.S. Military. Instead, it gives we in the LGBT community a promise of process to repeal of DADT without a guarantee it actually will ever result in LGB servicemembers being able to serve openly."
Autumn in a comment to a post on Pam's House Blend
“In response to the United States Senate and the House of Representatives voting on the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, forces are mobilizing for non-violent direct action and civil disobedience. Veterans are ready to spend Memorial Weekend in prison. Fasting will also commence. The simple demands are (1) End DADT firings. (2) Enact non-discrimination. (3) End the insulting, wasteful study.”
Lt. Dan Choi who last May announced he was gay on The Rachel Maddow show and plans a hunger strike this weekend.
“I think it’s really going to be really harmful to the morale and battle effectiveness of our military."
Senator John McCain the tired tard, and one time running mate of presidential hopeful Sarah Palin.
"Homosexuals in the military are three times more likely to commit sexual assaults than heterosexuals are, relative to their numbers. We believe this problem would only increase if the current law against homosexuality in the military, which was enacted in 1993, were to be repealed."
Peter Sprigg of the Family Research Council and my tard of the day.
So enjoy your Memorial Day weekend but if you are gay and in New York for Fleet Week don't try and remake that famous Times Square photo. Dont kiss the one you love. I leave you with one question and a final quote ....
At what point do gay and lesbian people become full citizens of this country of ours?
"Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever."
Martin Luther King Jr. in a letter from a Birmingham jail.
tuneage, Sick Puppies - Odd One
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Letter From Afghanistan
I saw this tonight as both the House and the Senate Armed Services Committee prepare to vote on the end of DADT. It is a letter written by a Lt. Colonel serving in Afghanistan in which he talks about keeping secrets while fighting a war and the boyfriend waiting back home. I think it pretty much speaks for itself ....
"You don't know me. I'm in my early 40s, a career army officer, born and raised in the South. For the last 10 years, I've been in a committed relationship. But revealing who I am would mean breaking the law and risking getting fired, despite 18 years of service to our country, three combat deployments, promotions and a presidential commission to lead troops.
As I write this, it's just past 11 p.m. on Tuesday night in Afghanistan, a day that started like most other days. Yet, today was different. Today, I read that the White House struck a compromise with military leaders, gay advocacy groups and Congress in a deal that could—just might—make 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' a memory by Christmas. Throughout the day, family and friends called and emailed to ask me how it felt. I didn't know what to say because I think that, on some level, I just felt numb. And here in Afghanistan, it was something I couldn't share with anyone, and so I just went back to work.
When I joined the army as an ROTC cadet, I knew I was probably gay. I say "probably" because I had girlfriends on and off, and—to be honest—had convinced myself that I could cure that gay thing through enough prayer and enough girlfriends. Problem was, the sex never really worked. Never felt right. Never was right. So, I became good at other tricks. I was always "too drunk" or "had to get up early" or—pathetically—"was injured during rugby."
The deceit, of course, exacted a toll. I was drinking too much, had anger issues, became estranged from the ones I loved. I had decided that celibacy was the way to go when I met a fellow combat arms officer, who was gay. We had similar backgrounds and similar career paths—both at the top of our respective battalions. We were quite alike, except for one small detail: This officer, a West Point graduate, lived an open life. "I'm a damn good infantry officer, a distinguished honor graduate from Ranger school, promoted early to Major," he'd say. "I believe in the Army's core values. And I don't want to lie."
His determination scared me more than a little. I desperately loved my job. It felt like a calling to command my first unit. Here I was, a junior Captain, fast-tracking toward Major. The soldiers respected me, and it was rewarding to do something I was good at. To do what my fellow officer did—to live in the open—was too risky. What if people saw us together, that big gay officer and me? Might as well wear a boa in front of my troops, I thought. And so I cut him off, and fooled myself into believing that I could do without a partner until I retired from the army in another 20 years.
Over time, however, I found the courage to tell my closest army friends—and not one of them expressed any problems. Of course, I was breaking the law by telling them, and they were breaking the law by not informing the chain of command. But coming out, even in this small group, allowed me to live more honestly and, I believe, eventually find the man who would be my partner. At age 33, I developed the courage to love a civilian, with his own career, three degrees under his belt and a family with room for me, despite my half-dozen duffle bags stuffed with emotional baggage.
Since then, I know of at least four men under my command who were gay. Two of them lived quite openly because they believed that living a lie was counter to their ethical charge as soldiers; one was processed out of the Army under the Uniform Code of Military Justice; and the other was transferred. Another soldier was outed by an Evangelical roommate who had baited him into the revelation. He was not chaptered because we were a week from deployment and no one really believed that it was true. After he left the army, however, he told me that, indeed, he was gay. The fourth soldier I found out about after he died, when his longtime partner wrote to me, not knowing my orientation, to tell me how much this staff sergeant had loved the army; how we were the only family he'd ever known.
In my own life, my partner has none of the privileges of a spouse. We have weathered three long deployments like any other couple might. But should I die in the line of duty, my partner would get no support from any official channels. He would be notified after my brother, who is listed as my legal next of kin. My partner and I have happily accepted my various assignments because we're truly committed to the army, its soldiers and their families. But after our 10 years together, my partner has earned the right to be told first about my death. He has earned the right to make my health emergency decisions. And, he has earned the right to be recognized for his sacrifices just as any other spouse.
Today he sits alone, at our overseas home, waiting for my return from yet another war zone. He is in a foreign country, earning less than one fifth of his previous salary, alone in the home that we created together. What's worse—he is now in the closet for the first time in his life, even to his closest work friends. It's a small, predominately military expat community and chances are that someone he knows is someone who knows me.
I deeply believe that America is fighting the right fight in Afghanistan. I believe in this battle against our enemies. And, I believe that the U.S. Army is the single greatest force for good the world has ever known. But I want to tell the guys I eat lunch with every day about my partner. After all, these are the guys I risk my life with—the guys who think they know me. I can tell you every detail of how each of them met their wives; how one of them still feels guilty about an affair he never had, but thought about; how one of them cried so hard the day his son was born.
Yet they don't know much about my life, except the most superficial details. Over the years, I have become good at evading and changing subjects artfully. To slip up—using the wrong pronoun when describing whom I was with during R&R, or mentioning whom I talked to on Skype last night—is no longer something I worry about. I have become so good at this lying game it eats at my soul.
A week ago, two of my friends were killed in a bombing. The days since then have bled into each other. Between the fighting and the routine, it is hard to find the time for contemplation, and it is usually not until the evening that I allow myself to think about these things.
Now, on Tuesday night, sitting on the base, reflecting on what may have happened today, I consider my numbness and I realize it's a different kind of armor, developed over years of false starts and broken promises by politicians who talk a mean game but then don't deliver.
The military is a covenant between a soldier and his commander. And I need our Commander-in-Chief to keep his promise to my partner and me. I will risk my life, and in return, I ask to be treated simply like anyone else in the service—nothing more and nothing less.
Anonymous"
United States Senate Armed Services Committee :
Main Phone Number: 202-224-3871
Fax Number: 202-228-0036
"You don't know me. I'm in my early 40s, a career army officer, born and raised in the South. For the last 10 years, I've been in a committed relationship. But revealing who I am would mean breaking the law and risking getting fired, despite 18 years of service to our country, three combat deployments, promotions and a presidential commission to lead troops.
As I write this, it's just past 11 p.m. on Tuesday night in Afghanistan, a day that started like most other days. Yet, today was different. Today, I read that the White House struck a compromise with military leaders, gay advocacy groups and Congress in a deal that could—just might—make 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' a memory by Christmas. Throughout the day, family and friends called and emailed to ask me how it felt. I didn't know what to say because I think that, on some level, I just felt numb. And here in Afghanistan, it was something I couldn't share with anyone, and so I just went back to work.
When I joined the army as an ROTC cadet, I knew I was probably gay. I say "probably" because I had girlfriends on and off, and—to be honest—had convinced myself that I could cure that gay thing through enough prayer and enough girlfriends. Problem was, the sex never really worked. Never felt right. Never was right. So, I became good at other tricks. I was always "too drunk" or "had to get up early" or—pathetically—"was injured during rugby."
The deceit, of course, exacted a toll. I was drinking too much, had anger issues, became estranged from the ones I loved. I had decided that celibacy was the way to go when I met a fellow combat arms officer, who was gay. We had similar backgrounds and similar career paths—both at the top of our respective battalions. We were quite alike, except for one small detail: This officer, a West Point graduate, lived an open life. "I'm a damn good infantry officer, a distinguished honor graduate from Ranger school, promoted early to Major," he'd say. "I believe in the Army's core values. And I don't want to lie."
His determination scared me more than a little. I desperately loved my job. It felt like a calling to command my first unit. Here I was, a junior Captain, fast-tracking toward Major. The soldiers respected me, and it was rewarding to do something I was good at. To do what my fellow officer did—to live in the open—was too risky. What if people saw us together, that big gay officer and me? Might as well wear a boa in front of my troops, I thought. And so I cut him off, and fooled myself into believing that I could do without a partner until I retired from the army in another 20 years.
Over time, however, I found the courage to tell my closest army friends—and not one of them expressed any problems. Of course, I was breaking the law by telling them, and they were breaking the law by not informing the chain of command. But coming out, even in this small group, allowed me to live more honestly and, I believe, eventually find the man who would be my partner. At age 33, I developed the courage to love a civilian, with his own career, three degrees under his belt and a family with room for me, despite my half-dozen duffle bags stuffed with emotional baggage.
Since then, I know of at least four men under my command who were gay. Two of them lived quite openly because they believed that living a lie was counter to their ethical charge as soldiers; one was processed out of the Army under the Uniform Code of Military Justice; and the other was transferred. Another soldier was outed by an Evangelical roommate who had baited him into the revelation. He was not chaptered because we were a week from deployment and no one really believed that it was true. After he left the army, however, he told me that, indeed, he was gay. The fourth soldier I found out about after he died, when his longtime partner wrote to me, not knowing my orientation, to tell me how much this staff sergeant had loved the army; how we were the only family he'd ever known.
In my own life, my partner has none of the privileges of a spouse. We have weathered three long deployments like any other couple might. But should I die in the line of duty, my partner would get no support from any official channels. He would be notified after my brother, who is listed as my legal next of kin. My partner and I have happily accepted my various assignments because we're truly committed to the army, its soldiers and their families. But after our 10 years together, my partner has earned the right to be told first about my death. He has earned the right to make my health emergency decisions. And, he has earned the right to be recognized for his sacrifices just as any other spouse.
Today he sits alone, at our overseas home, waiting for my return from yet another war zone. He is in a foreign country, earning less than one fifth of his previous salary, alone in the home that we created together. What's worse—he is now in the closet for the first time in his life, even to his closest work friends. It's a small, predominately military expat community and chances are that someone he knows is someone who knows me.
I deeply believe that America is fighting the right fight in Afghanistan. I believe in this battle against our enemies. And, I believe that the U.S. Army is the single greatest force for good the world has ever known. But I want to tell the guys I eat lunch with every day about my partner. After all, these are the guys I risk my life with—the guys who think they know me. I can tell you every detail of how each of them met their wives; how one of them still feels guilty about an affair he never had, but thought about; how one of them cried so hard the day his son was born.
Yet they don't know much about my life, except the most superficial details. Over the years, I have become good at evading and changing subjects artfully. To slip up—using the wrong pronoun when describing whom I was with during R&R, or mentioning whom I talked to on Skype last night—is no longer something I worry about. I have become so good at this lying game it eats at my soul.
A week ago, two of my friends were killed in a bombing. The days since then have bled into each other. Between the fighting and the routine, it is hard to find the time for contemplation, and it is usually not until the evening that I allow myself to think about these things.
Now, on Tuesday night, sitting on the base, reflecting on what may have happened today, I consider my numbness and I realize it's a different kind of armor, developed over years of false starts and broken promises by politicians who talk a mean game but then don't deliver.
The military is a covenant between a soldier and his commander. And I need our Commander-in-Chief to keep his promise to my partner and me. I will risk my life, and in return, I ask to be treated simply like anyone else in the service—nothing more and nothing less.
Anonymous"
United States Senate Armed Services Committee :
Main Phone Number: 202-224-3871
Fax Number: 202-228-0036
Go Flyers !!!!!
Saturday night at 8 my Philadelphia Flyers return to the Stanley Cup finals for the first time since 1997. For you none hockey fans the Stanley Cup is the ‘holy grail’ of the NHL. The finals can become a grueling seven game death match. And yes I take my hockey seriously.
I started playing field hockey before any other sport and played till I graduated from high school. Sadly, as with many things, I was never as good as my sister so my career ended there. Hey how many arrogant dark brooding lesbian field hockey players does the world need? I have also played ice hockey off and on for years. I remember when I went to skate with my brother and his PSU friends for the first time. I may be 5’ 10” tall but still they laughed. A girl wanted to play hockey with the macho guys? How rude! Now the typical ice hockey skate adds four or five inches to your height. The laughing stopped. After that I had a lot of good times with those guys. I often woke the next morning bruised and sore but they always treated me as an equal.
Thinking of my brother I have to laugh. He informed me that he has grown a ‘playoff beard’, you know one of those ‘I’m not shaving till the last game’ superstitious things. Now, sorry, but the kid can’t grow a mustache so I just can’t picture it.
Hockey is a very superstitious sport, not that I believe any of it mind you. Wayne Gretzky would never get his hair cut on the road and Patrick Roy would talk to his goal before the game. Everybody seems to grow the playoff beards. The team captain of conference champions almost never touches the trophy for fear the hockey gods will think they are satisfied and not let them hoist Lord Stanley’s Cup. That was the case with the Chicago Blackhawks captain Jonathan Towes. But not Flyers captain Mike Richards (vid) who picked it right up saying “Well, we have not done anything conventional all year or in the playoffs, so why start now?” I had to smile.
This year I have my own good luck ritual which seems to be working just fine. I’ll continue to do may part and hopefully celebrate a Stanley Cup championship in a couple weeks. What is it? I’m sorry but it’s a very personal thing so I’ll have to keep it to myself and a few select others. But thinking of it I have to smile yet again.
Go Flyers !!!!!!
tuneage, God Bless America (yes another superstition)
I started playing field hockey before any other sport and played till I graduated from high school. Sadly, as with many things, I was never as good as my sister so my career ended there. Hey how many arrogant dark brooding lesbian field hockey players does the world need? I have also played ice hockey off and on for years. I remember when I went to skate with my brother and his PSU friends for the first time. I may be 5’ 10” tall but still they laughed. A girl wanted to play hockey with the macho guys? How rude! Now the typical ice hockey skate adds four or five inches to your height. The laughing stopped. After that I had a lot of good times with those guys. I often woke the next morning bruised and sore but they always treated me as an equal.
Thinking of my brother I have to laugh. He informed me that he has grown a ‘playoff beard’, you know one of those ‘I’m not shaving till the last game’ superstitious things. Now, sorry, but the kid can’t grow a mustache so I just can’t picture it.
Hockey is a very superstitious sport, not that I believe any of it mind you. Wayne Gretzky would never get his hair cut on the road and Patrick Roy would talk to his goal before the game. Everybody seems to grow the playoff beards. The team captain of conference champions almost never touches the trophy for fear the hockey gods will think they are satisfied and not let them hoist Lord Stanley’s Cup. That was the case with the Chicago Blackhawks captain Jonathan Towes. But not Flyers captain Mike Richards (vid) who picked it right up saying “Well, we have not done anything conventional all year or in the playoffs, so why start now?” I had to smile.
This year I have my own good luck ritual which seems to be working just fine. I’ll continue to do may part and hopefully celebrate a Stanley Cup championship in a couple weeks. What is it? I’m sorry but it’s a very personal thing so I’ll have to keep it to myself and a few select others. But thinking of it I have to smile yet again.
Go Flyers !!!!!!
tuneage, God Bless America (yes another superstition)
Monday, May 24, 2010
Friends
Tonight I start my second stint at bartending and I’m drawn to an earlier post (4.10) where I said what I thought the cost was the first time around. It was physically draining though not as bad as I thought at the time. Emotionally I seem to have survived too. That leaves how hard it was on my friends. So as I think about this I can not help but think about my friends in general.
Friends, I have never in my life had many. Not including family I can count on one hand the number of people I call close friends and only two or three that I see often enough. I have a couple more in sl I would say are close to me. I trust and love all of them.
Of all of them only a couple of them go back farther than two years. They have been through my battles with me and know me like a well worn book. Than I have a very very special friend who, while not going through them, knows pretty much all of it. I love all of them dearly but these three mean so much to me.
I find it hard to make friends or, I should say, good friends. At times I find it very hard to be a trusting person. I can get totally self conscious and slide into dark moods without warning. I can be so cocky and arrogant but also be shy to the point I just want to withdraw into the corner. I can be a total social misfit.
But I want to say something to all my friends. I try my best to be honest with you, dependable, and kind. I would never intentionally lie to you or betray your friendship. I trust you completely and will always be there for you. Not a day goes by I don’t look forward to seeing you. I would do anything for you, maybe even bail you out of jail this time.
“A friend is somebody that knows all about you and loves you just the same.”
Elbert Hubbard
Sounds about right
It's time for 'Peanut' to get back to work ....
tuneage, Radiohead - Creep
Friends, I have never in my life had many. Not including family I can count on one hand the number of people I call close friends and only two or three that I see often enough. I have a couple more in sl I would say are close to me. I trust and love all of them.
Of all of them only a couple of them go back farther than two years. They have been through my battles with me and know me like a well worn book. Than I have a very very special friend who, while not going through them, knows pretty much all of it. I love all of them dearly but these three mean so much to me.
I find it hard to make friends or, I should say, good friends. At times I find it very hard to be a trusting person. I can get totally self conscious and slide into dark moods without warning. I can be so cocky and arrogant but also be shy to the point I just want to withdraw into the corner. I can be a total social misfit.
But I want to say something to all my friends. I try my best to be honest with you, dependable, and kind. I would never intentionally lie to you or betray your friendship. I trust you completely and will always be there for you. Not a day goes by I don’t look forward to seeing you. I would do anything for you, maybe even bail you out of jail this time.
“A friend is somebody that knows all about you and loves you just the same.”
Elbert Hubbard
Sounds about right
It's time for 'Peanut' to get back to work ....
tuneage, Radiohead - Creep
Friday, May 21, 2010
Observations from the Roof 5.21
After a rather melancholy start to the day I find myself feeling much better as darkness falls. Sitting on the roof with fiends surrounded by empty pizza boxes, a cooler of beer, a bucket of limes, and the trusty beer can ashtrays we watch as the sun dips below the rooftops.
I am writing this mainly to quash all rumors that I had anything to do with the theft of five paintings, worth an estimated $613 million, from the Paris Museum of Modern Art. After all there were no van Goghs taken in the theft. But I’m always up for a good quote so I give you Pierre Cornette de Saint-Cyr, director of the Palais de Tokyo museum. ''These five paintings are un-sellable, so thieves, sirs, you are imbeciles, now return them.'' I can only imagine that with a French accent.
In other news of the weird the Jonas Brothers (gag) performed a free concert in Central Park this morning. You probably wonder why I even care. Well seems all those fans decided to spend the day in the city turning the gallery circuit into a teen day from hell. Like OMG !
Finally my tard award today goes to a member of the Texas School Board which voted today on curriculum for the next ten years. This tard in waiting wanted to refer to the president by his full name, Barack Hussein Obama, but was howled down by the few liberal members of the board. The full names of no other presidents are used.
I must close my laptop now as I have been informed nobody sits on the roof in the Village with their laptop. ‘It just isn’t done!’
Like OMG !
tuneage, Marilyn Manson - Personal Jesus
I am writing this mainly to quash all rumors that I had anything to do with the theft of five paintings, worth an estimated $613 million, from the Paris Museum of Modern Art. After all there were no van Goghs taken in the theft. But I’m always up for a good quote so I give you Pierre Cornette de Saint-Cyr, director of the Palais de Tokyo museum. ''These five paintings are un-sellable, so thieves, sirs, you are imbeciles, now return them.'' I can only imagine that with a French accent.
In other news of the weird the Jonas Brothers (gag) performed a free concert in Central Park this morning. You probably wonder why I even care. Well seems all those fans decided to spend the day in the city turning the gallery circuit into a teen day from hell. Like OMG !
Finally my tard award today goes to a member of the Texas School Board which voted today on curriculum for the next ten years. This tard in waiting wanted to refer to the president by his full name, Barack Hussein Obama, but was howled down by the few liberal members of the board. The full names of no other presidents are used.
I must close my laptop now as I have been informed nobody sits on the roof in the Village with their laptop. ‘It just isn’t done!’
Like OMG !
tuneage, Marilyn Manson - Personal Jesus
Observations from the Window 5.21
Even for the city it’s a beautiful morning outside, one of those rare mornings where even the city air smells clean. The smell of fresh coffee and cut flowers in the shop across the street was so strong I can still smell it on my shirt. But I just sit in the window trying to fight off a somber mood.
After a string of weeks where I seemingly could do no wrong, my mind so positive it started to worry me, I seem to unable to think at all. I sit looking at the street below as my mind spirals down those familiar dark steps and I don’t know why. As if some frayed wire in my mind suddenly sparks to life sending the whole thing into overload. It happens so often that I should understand it better by now but I don’t. I never have been able to figure out the cause.
I have so much to be happy about right now. It’s now only weeks away from my time in Stone Harbor with Fred’s and the beach house. My sister is going to her prom, I’m so proud of her, and that does bring a smile to my face.
But I just can’t understand why I have to be so hard on people. I always have been defensive to a fault. I don’t want to let people in and when I do it seems sometimes I go out of my way to push them back out. Years ago I was told by somebody close to me my sometimes arrogance was just a cover for a deep sense of insecurity. Needless to say I haven’t talked to this person in years.
I need the mountains but they are so far away. Maybe I should just go up to the top of the Empire State Building and see if that works the same way. I wonder how I could sneak my cooler up there.
It’s as if sometimes the gods love me and hate me at the same time.
Karma
tuneage, Howie Day - Collide
After a string of weeks where I seemingly could do no wrong, my mind so positive it started to worry me, I seem to unable to think at all. I sit looking at the street below as my mind spirals down those familiar dark steps and I don’t know why. As if some frayed wire in my mind suddenly sparks to life sending the whole thing into overload. It happens so often that I should understand it better by now but I don’t. I never have been able to figure out the cause.
I have so much to be happy about right now. It’s now only weeks away from my time in Stone Harbor with Fred’s and the beach house. My sister is going to her prom, I’m so proud of her, and that does bring a smile to my face.
But I just can’t understand why I have to be so hard on people. I always have been defensive to a fault. I don’t want to let people in and when I do it seems sometimes I go out of my way to push them back out. Years ago I was told by somebody close to me my sometimes arrogance was just a cover for a deep sense of insecurity. Needless to say I haven’t talked to this person in years.
I need the mountains but they are so far away. Maybe I should just go up to the top of the Empire State Building and see if that works the same way. I wonder how I could sneak my cooler up there.
It’s as if sometimes the gods love me and hate me at the same time.
Karma
tuneage, Howie Day - Collide
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Observations on Art 5.18
So my friend sent me an email yesterday with this article from the Washington Post. It kind of goes with a post I did a couple days ago in the ‘what is art’ vein. The work is called ‘Stolen Pieces’ and literally is that, a case full of stolen pieces of other works, “snatched or snapped off by the duo over a two-year crime spree. The artists did the deeds between July 28, 1995, and July 29, 1997, in museums all around the world.”
Now I don’t know but to me this isn’t art as much as, yes, a two year crime spree. I will let you read the article but one thing stands out to me. The writer says “As budding radicals, it does seem as though Eva and Franco Mattes wanted to give the finger to the art world and art history, with its hero worship, its veneration of dead objects, its stale preciosities.” The history of art and its stale dead objects is a direct line to our beginnings. It leads back to the very beginning of time and without that line what do we have? It is really a true history in that it can't be rewritten according to the whims of whatever current world power or, for that matter, the Texas school board.
In her email my friend added “is stealing pieces of other people's work a creative impulse? It seems to me this is just an attention grabbing device without any creative side to it.” Exactly, I have to totally agree with this. When i read the article that was the first thing I thought of and now, reading it again, it is the one thing that sticks in my head.
Honestly I never was one to think about what art is. I was so involved in my own art and the history itself that i never took the time. But i seem to have this thought provoking friend who likes to make me think. Thinking isn't always a bad thing i guess but I’m starting to ramble on here. One thing I do know, as an artist, if I found these other supposed artists prying something off a work of mine I think I would have to break their dirty thieving fingers.
But that is just me.
tuneage, Lily Allen - 22
Now I don’t know but to me this isn’t art as much as, yes, a two year crime spree. I will let you read the article but one thing stands out to me. The writer says “As budding radicals, it does seem as though Eva and Franco Mattes wanted to give the finger to the art world and art history, with its hero worship, its veneration of dead objects, its stale preciosities.” The history of art and its stale dead objects is a direct line to our beginnings. It leads back to the very beginning of time and without that line what do we have? It is really a true history in that it can't be rewritten according to the whims of whatever current world power or, for that matter, the Texas school board.
In her email my friend added “is stealing pieces of other people's work a creative impulse? It seems to me this is just an attention grabbing device without any creative side to it.” Exactly, I have to totally agree with this. When i read the article that was the first thing I thought of and now, reading it again, it is the one thing that sticks in my head.
Honestly I never was one to think about what art is. I was so involved in my own art and the history itself that i never took the time. But i seem to have this thought provoking friend who likes to make me think. Thinking isn't always a bad thing i guess but I’m starting to ramble on here. One thing I do know, as an artist, if I found these other supposed artists prying something off a work of mine I think I would have to break their dirty thieving fingers.
But that is just me.
tuneage, Lily Allen - 22
Monday, May 17, 2010
Observations from the Window 5.17
Every have one of those days when the brain just doesn’t seem to want to function at all? Not in a bad way but its like you look inside your head and see a sign hanging, ‘sorry, being odd today!’ So I just hangout in my window and watch the street, watching and waiting, waiting and watching.
Maybe it’s a hangover from an awesome weekend. My beloved Philadelphia Flyers (hockey peeps, hockey!) made history Friday night. Down three games to none in a best of seven series the came back to win game seven, a game in which they were also down three goals to none in the first period, only the third team in NHL history to accomplish that. From there it just got better and better as the weekend moved on. Suffice to say there were plenty of ins and outs to the quirky subplots that make up my crazy life.
So here I spend my afternoon. I have totally given up on my vendor across the street ever having sunscreen. I’ll just have to run to Walgreens or some such place. Stand in line with all those people buying their crazy pills.
Now I have to laugh because I had to explain, in an email, what I used to do with my failed works of art. I know people that paint over theirs and are perfectly happy with that. But that always seemed wrong to me so I would take mine out in the woods and burned them. Yes burned them in a drum, flames, queue up the Wagner, talking shades of Viking funerals here.
Still watching but I’m not quite sure what I’m waiting for. Got to get to Walgreens.
tuneage, Poets of the Fall - Dreaming Wide Awake
Maybe it’s a hangover from an awesome weekend. My beloved Philadelphia Flyers (hockey peeps, hockey!) made history Friday night. Down three games to none in a best of seven series the came back to win game seven, a game in which they were also down three goals to none in the first period, only the third team in NHL history to accomplish that. From there it just got better and better as the weekend moved on. Suffice to say there were plenty of ins and outs to the quirky subplots that make up my crazy life.
So here I spend my afternoon. I have totally given up on my vendor across the street ever having sunscreen. I’ll just have to run to Walgreens or some such place. Stand in line with all those people buying their crazy pills.
Now I have to laugh because I had to explain, in an email, what I used to do with my failed works of art. I know people that paint over theirs and are perfectly happy with that. But that always seemed wrong to me so I would take mine out in the woods and burned them. Yes burned them in a drum, flames, queue up the Wagner, talking shades of Viking funerals here.
Still watching but I’m not quite sure what I’m waiting for. Got to get to Walgreens.
tuneage, Poets of the Fall - Dreaming Wide Awake
Friday, May 14, 2010
Lesbian Love
I can’t believe I, of all people, am writing this. I have only ever had a couple of serious relationships in my life, the last ending brutally years ago. But two of my best friends are deeply in love and this came up in a conversation a couple nights ago. Why do some people insist on calling it ‘lesbian love’? It is love between two people no different than any other. It just happens to be two women that are in love. Of course I had to ponder this as I sit in the window, it’s what I do.
It being two women it does get a bit tricky I guess. People might assume because it is two women love is so much easier. They might assume two women would have similar likes and dislikes whether socially, intellectually, emotionally, or for that matter sexually. If you are one who thinks this is true let me say this, you totally have no idea how wrong you are. Just dealing with this assumption is enough to push a girl's sanity to the brink.
All you know is that they are two women in love. After that all bets are off.
Some women are more emotional than others and some are emotional but just hide it. But not all women are as understanding, motherly, or caring as others. Some women thrive being the center of attention and some are just born antisocial. Some just like to sit in a bar and watch sports, I might know her.
And the funniest thing of all is the theory that because both women get PMS and the hormonal craziness they are going to handle it better. Oh My God! Just because both get these things, even know when it is going to happen, doesn’t mean they will cope with it any better. Imagine two of us having it at the same time. There isn’t better proof that a women doesn’t choose to be gay.
And what about sex? Sorry I’m so not even touching that. Say the words ‘lesbian love’ and where will a guys mind turn? Exactly.
So ‘lesbian love’, is it better because it’s two women? Is it really such a different thing? Two women’s hearts, minds, and very souls decide they need to be together. But that is love, period. Not just love between women.
It’s a constant work in progress just like life itself.
tuneage, Train - Soul Sister
It being two women it does get a bit tricky I guess. People might assume because it is two women love is so much easier. They might assume two women would have similar likes and dislikes whether socially, intellectually, emotionally, or for that matter sexually. If you are one who thinks this is true let me say this, you totally have no idea how wrong you are. Just dealing with this assumption is enough to push a girl's sanity to the brink.
All you know is that they are two women in love. After that all bets are off.
Some women are more emotional than others and some are emotional but just hide it. But not all women are as understanding, motherly, or caring as others. Some women thrive being the center of attention and some are just born antisocial. Some just like to sit in a bar and watch sports, I might know her.
And the funniest thing of all is the theory that because both women get PMS and the hormonal craziness they are going to handle it better. Oh My God! Just because both get these things, even know when it is going to happen, doesn’t mean they will cope with it any better. Imagine two of us having it at the same time. There isn’t better proof that a women doesn’t choose to be gay.
And what about sex? Sorry I’m so not even touching that. Say the words ‘lesbian love’ and where will a guys mind turn? Exactly.
So ‘lesbian love’, is it better because it’s two women? Is it really such a different thing? Two women’s hearts, minds, and very souls decide they need to be together. But that is love, period. Not just love between women.
It’s a constant work in progress just like life itself.
tuneage, Train - Soul Sister
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Observations on Art 5.13
Two recent articles from the ‘Times’ have me thinking yet again. Both, at least in my mind, ask a question. Neither of which I have an answer for and, quite honestly, I don’t know if there is an answer for either. I just though I would throw the links out there and make you think about it so I can stop. I have other things to do!
The first was about a work by the artist Caleb Larsen titled 'A Tool to Deceive and Slaughter'. It contains a program that will relist it on ebay every week in perpetuity. You could own it for a week, a month, or forever. But is it art if it can ‘think’? Maybe not think in a literal sense but think just the same. Can anything be called ‘art’ just because the person making it is artist and has a degree that says so?
The other was an article, more an essay, on anonymous bidding on art auctions. An anonymous telephone bidder recently paid 106.5 million dollars for Picasso’s 'Nude, Green Leaves and Bust,' a painting he did in just one day in 1964. This is now the most ever paid for a painting. Anonymous bidding was a pet peeve of an ethics professor I once had. He tried to make us think about the morality of it. His though being that it is a crime against ‘art’ to pay tens of millions, and now a hundred million, on a painting to hang on your wall, maybe never to be seen in public again. "At least tell us your name" he would say. As the article itself says “I wished someone like that would give $100 million to the New York Public Library and just let it go at that.”
Links:
Art That Sells Itself
The Coy Art of the Mystery Bidder
ebay, 'A Tool to Deceive and Slaughter'
(The ebay link is just search for the work because, as i write this, there are only three hours left on the current auction. There is one bid for $6858. *shrugs.)
tuneage, The Kills - Black Balloon
The first was about a work by the artist Caleb Larsen titled 'A Tool to Deceive and Slaughter'. It contains a program that will relist it on ebay every week in perpetuity. You could own it for a week, a month, or forever. But is it art if it can ‘think’? Maybe not think in a literal sense but think just the same. Can anything be called ‘art’ just because the person making it is artist and has a degree that says so?
The other was an article, more an essay, on anonymous bidding on art auctions. An anonymous telephone bidder recently paid 106.5 million dollars for Picasso’s 'Nude, Green Leaves and Bust,' a painting he did in just one day in 1964. This is now the most ever paid for a painting. Anonymous bidding was a pet peeve of an ethics professor I once had. He tried to make us think about the morality of it. His though being that it is a crime against ‘art’ to pay tens of millions, and now a hundred million, on a painting to hang on your wall, maybe never to be seen in public again. "At least tell us your name" he would say. As the article itself says “I wished someone like that would give $100 million to the New York Public Library and just let it go at that.”
Links:
Art That Sells Itself
The Coy Art of the Mystery Bidder
ebay, 'A Tool to Deceive and Slaughter'
(The ebay link is just search for the work because, as i write this, there are only three hours left on the current auction. There is one bid for $6858. *shrugs.)
tuneage, The Kills - Black Balloon
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Observations from the Window 5.12
Twenty plus years of what some would call bad habits. The loner, the dark girl in the corner of the room at the party, the girl in the booth alone in the back of the bar, the anti-social one taking it all in. But I never felt like an outcast, not until now. And why you ask? Simple because I spread hummus on my bagel in the morning as I did not know there was a ‘bagel bible’ and now I feel shame. But that goes a long way in explaining why there are twenty flavors of crème cheese at the bagelry and not one of hummus. I'll try to be better.
I started running again a couple days ago. I had no idea where to run because I just like to run out the door and be off. I don’t want to have to take a bus or subway up to the park and than run. So I ran up around NYU which wasn’t a bad idea at all as you have to love the scenery up there. But I found out yesterday morning that if you are going to run around NYU don’t wear PSU field hockey sweats. It seems to be frowned upon. Than again I could always replace the number on my chest with a gesture of some kind. Something that anybody would understand.
And you have to love people in this city. Where else can you overhear some conversations? Like the twenty something goth girl talking to the forty something lawyer type, both drunk, discussing the best place to get a cab home at 6 in the evening. I should have listened closer to that one. Or the tourists asking where they can get their fake Chanel or Dior handbags. You know, the ones with the tags that say Channel and fall off ten minutes after you get home. Hey just buy them online like everybody else does now.
And finally, how did people live before the cell phone? How did I live before my Droid? It seems I’m constantly talking and texting now, staying connected to Court, my sister, and friends. I’ll be sitting watching the Flyer’s game tonight enjoying my brother’s one word commentaries as much as the game. You haven’t lived until you get ‘what the fuck was that’ on your phone. But sorry Ash, I refuse to go bluetooth like you. I may be a pseudo geek but this half of the tall dark team refuses to look the part.
Sadly it had to happen sooner or later ….
tuneage, Lady Gaga - Bad Romance
I started running again a couple days ago. I had no idea where to run because I just like to run out the door and be off. I don’t want to have to take a bus or subway up to the park and than run. So I ran up around NYU which wasn’t a bad idea at all as you have to love the scenery up there. But I found out yesterday morning that if you are going to run around NYU don’t wear PSU field hockey sweats. It seems to be frowned upon. Than again I could always replace the number on my chest with a gesture of some kind. Something that anybody would understand.
And you have to love people in this city. Where else can you overhear some conversations? Like the twenty something goth girl talking to the forty something lawyer type, both drunk, discussing the best place to get a cab home at 6 in the evening. I should have listened closer to that one. Or the tourists asking where they can get their fake Chanel or Dior handbags. You know, the ones with the tags that say Channel and fall off ten minutes after you get home. Hey just buy them online like everybody else does now.
And finally, how did people live before the cell phone? How did I live before my Droid? It seems I’m constantly talking and texting now, staying connected to Court, my sister, and friends. I’ll be sitting watching the Flyer’s game tonight enjoying my brother’s one word commentaries as much as the game. You haven’t lived until you get ‘what the fuck was that’ on your phone. But sorry Ash, I refuse to go bluetooth like you. I may be a pseudo geek but this half of the tall dark team refuses to look the part.
Sadly it had to happen sooner or later ….
tuneage, Lady Gaga - Bad Romance
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mom
I was reading a Mothers Day blog post today that had me thinking. As you all know by now thinking is not always a good thing for me to be doing. But I could so relate to this girl because her mom had died of cancer at a young age.
I owe my mom so much. She was the first one to see something special behind my dark eyes. She would drag me around Philadelphia museums when I was barely old enough to walk. She was the first one to stick my fingers in paint, which was something that ended in quite a mess if I remember it correctly. And the first one to take me to wander the streets of New York and to visit MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) which was one of her favorite places in the world. She always praised my art but was also never afraid to criticize it.
When, as a teenager, I suddenly informed my parents I was gay she just hugged me and went about her business like I hadn’t just changed her life forever. From than on I knew I would be fine. She was the one who, in my rebellious high school years, kept me grounded when things could have gone so wrong.
She was always there for me until one day she wasn’t.
Everything I’ll ever be as an artist I owe to my mom and every time I look at a painting I wonder what she would have thought of it. Every day I wish I could thank her somehow.
I’ll leave you with a very fitting quote from the blog I read.
“This mother’s day be sure to tell them how much you care for all they have done for you, for you may never get another chance. Learn about their lives and you may learn something about yourself.” Miss Destructo
tuneage, one of mom's favs
I owe my mom so much. She was the first one to see something special behind my dark eyes. She would drag me around Philadelphia museums when I was barely old enough to walk. She was the first one to stick my fingers in paint, which was something that ended in quite a mess if I remember it correctly. And the first one to take me to wander the streets of New York and to visit MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) which was one of her favorite places in the world. She always praised my art but was also never afraid to criticize it.
When, as a teenager, I suddenly informed my parents I was gay she just hugged me and went about her business like I hadn’t just changed her life forever. From than on I knew I would be fine. She was the one who, in my rebellious high school years, kept me grounded when things could have gone so wrong.
She was always there for me until one day she wasn’t.
Everything I’ll ever be as an artist I owe to my mom and every time I look at a painting I wonder what she would have thought of it. Every day I wish I could thank her somehow.
I’ll leave you with a very fitting quote from the blog I read.
“This mother’s day be sure to tell them how much you care for all they have done for you, for you may never get another chance. Learn about their lives and you may learn something about yourself.” Miss Destructo
tuneage, one of mom's favs
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Observations from the Gallery 5.8
Yesterday Chloe and I had a chance to attend a show at the Gagosian Gallery in Chelsea. The show, ‘Claude Monet: Late Work’, is a stunning display of 27 Monets dating from 1904 till 1922. A few I had seen before but most I had not including several of his ‘Water Lilly’ paintings that I had never seen and instantly fell in love with. Monet painted over 200 of his 'Nympheas' in the later years of his life. Ill be lucky if i paint 200 of anything in my whole life! So if anybody happens to be in the area it’s worth a look. Maybe while you are there you could order me a copy of the show book, please? Save it for my birthday if you must.
"The instantaneity of Monet, far from being passive, requires an unusual power of generalization, of abstraction… Monet declares: here is nature, not as you or I habitually see it, but as you are able to see it, not in this or that particular effect but in others like it. The vision I propose to you is superior; my painting will change your reality." Michel Butor, 1962, from the show press release.
Last night also marked the opening of the new Richard Galpin installation, ‘Viewing Station’, at High Line Park. So i guess I am going to have to get up the High Line sometime too. This would be an awesome time of year to take some pics there.
'A new interactive public art exhibit that offers abstracted views of buildings and streetscapes adjacent to the High Line. Viewing Station invites park visitors to peek into a view finder that aligns with a screen cut with geometric shapes. The resulting view emphasizes neighboring buildings' texture and color.’ from the High Line blog.
And finally, just hours after the Times Square bomb scare, firefighters and the NYPD bomb squad rushed to a storefront on Broadway after getting calls from people who thought they saw a bomb inside the window. What they found was an art display that included a fog machine, a fake time bomb and vials of liquid, turned out to be perfume, that looked like pipe bombs. The piece was created by artist Lisa Kirk, and the perfume is called 'Revolution,' which is meant to smell like smoke, gasoline, tear gas, and burnt rubber. Yummy, I can't wait to get some of that and go out dancing.
Think people, Think!
tuneage, Green Day - Last Of The American Girls
"The instantaneity of Monet, far from being passive, requires an unusual power of generalization, of abstraction… Monet declares: here is nature, not as you or I habitually see it, but as you are able to see it, not in this or that particular effect but in others like it. The vision I propose to you is superior; my painting will change your reality." Michel Butor, 1962, from the show press release.
Last night also marked the opening of the new Richard Galpin installation, ‘Viewing Station’, at High Line Park. So i guess I am going to have to get up the High Line sometime too. This would be an awesome time of year to take some pics there.
'A new interactive public art exhibit that offers abstracted views of buildings and streetscapes adjacent to the High Line. Viewing Station invites park visitors to peek into a view finder that aligns with a screen cut with geometric shapes. The resulting view emphasizes neighboring buildings' texture and color.’ from the High Line blog.
And finally, just hours after the Times Square bomb scare, firefighters and the NYPD bomb squad rushed to a storefront on Broadway after getting calls from people who thought they saw a bomb inside the window. What they found was an art display that included a fog machine, a fake time bomb and vials of liquid, turned out to be perfume, that looked like pipe bombs. The piece was created by artist Lisa Kirk, and the perfume is called 'Revolution,' which is meant to smell like smoke, gasoline, tear gas, and burnt rubber. Yummy, I can't wait to get some of that and go out dancing.
Think people, Think!
tuneage, Green Day - Last Of The American Girls
Friday, May 7, 2010
Cocaine
It’s a totally awesome Clapton tune, it’s a drug, and it’s my worst fucking nightmare.
Unless you have been there you can’t understand how it can take over your brain. You want it, need it, you think you are going to die if you don’t have it. Once it has its claws in you there isn’t anything, anything, you won’t do to get more.
I know because there was a time in my life that it owned me. I know the feeling, the desire. I know what it feels like to wake up in the morning and have a snort before you even get out of bed. I know what it feels like to walk into a dark alley with my hands full of bills, not caring if I walk out, just wanting what is in there. Needing what is in there.
There was a time I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. To be honest there was a time I looked in the mirror and wished I was dead. But that was so long ago.
When I moved to NY one of my worst fears, one of everybody’s fears, was that I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. That I would think I would be able to handle it, just once, just to feel that buzz again, the euphoria. Just once can’t hurt. I can handle that. But I know I can’t. Once you have been to hell you really can’t go back for a visit. If you go back it’s for good.
So everyday I struggle with it. What once I paid thousands for I could now easily get for free. But I know I’m better than that now. I know I would disappoint so many people if I went back. Family and friends that stood by me and helped me survive the last time. And new friends who, rightly or wrongly, have faith in me now.
And most of all I know my mom is looking down from somewhere and I really don’t want to disappoint her. I owe her so much.
So it’s almost mother’s day mom, I’m doing my best.
But it’s so fucking hard.
tuneage, Apocalyptica & Cristina Scabbia - S.O.S.
(postscript - So after some sleep I best add a little explanation. In my world i can't help seeing drugs, i can't run and hide in the mountains anymore. Not that I am tempted in any way but I don't have the clear negative reaction that i have had for years. Maybe that's a good thing but I'm not sure. So I just thought I needed to slap myself a little and this was it. Not that I need anybody else doing it so don't form a line !! kt.)
Unless you have been there you can’t understand how it can take over your brain. You want it, need it, you think you are going to die if you don’t have it. Once it has its claws in you there isn’t anything, anything, you won’t do to get more.
I know because there was a time in my life that it owned me. I know the feeling, the desire. I know what it feels like to wake up in the morning and have a snort before you even get out of bed. I know what it feels like to walk into a dark alley with my hands full of bills, not caring if I walk out, just wanting what is in there. Needing what is in there.
There was a time I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. To be honest there was a time I looked in the mirror and wished I was dead. But that was so long ago.
When I moved to NY one of my worst fears, one of everybody’s fears, was that I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. That I would think I would be able to handle it, just once, just to feel that buzz again, the euphoria. Just once can’t hurt. I can handle that. But I know I can’t. Once you have been to hell you really can’t go back for a visit. If you go back it’s for good.
So everyday I struggle with it. What once I paid thousands for I could now easily get for free. But I know I’m better than that now. I know I would disappoint so many people if I went back. Family and friends that stood by me and helped me survive the last time. And new friends who, rightly or wrongly, have faith in me now.
And most of all I know my mom is looking down from somewhere and I really don’t want to disappoint her. I owe her so much.
So it’s almost mother’s day mom, I’m doing my best.
But it’s so fucking hard.
tuneage, Apocalyptica & Cristina Scabbia - S.O.S.
(postscript - So after some sleep I best add a little explanation. In my world i can't help seeing drugs, i can't run and hide in the mountains anymore. Not that I am tempted in any way but I don't have the clear negative reaction that i have had for years. Maybe that's a good thing but I'm not sure. So I just thought I needed to slap myself a little and this was it. Not that I need anybody else doing it so don't form a line !! kt.)
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Observations from the Window 5.4.1
Just a few updates of today's earlier post.
In an addition to the tard quote of the day competition I give you Italian Bishop Francesco Nole who said in an interview “Nothing surprises me anymore. Homosexuality, which is a disease, has become something normal. They sprout like poisonous mushrooms, and instead of feeling shame they celebrate this plague and the church itself minimalises these sins.” He went on to add that ‘irregulars’ shouldn’t be given funerals or communion either. Now I'm not the least bit religious but this pretty much disgusts me so I declare him the winner by fiat.
A day after being arrested as he sat on a Dubai bound jet at JFK, Faisal Shahzad was charged with terrorism and attempting to use a weapon of mass destruction in the attempted Times Square bombing. Hopefully they didn’t use the word terror in the indictment.
In a related matter, as I stood outside the gallery today I was passed by machine-gun toting NYC police officers. By email a good friend confirmed my worst fears. The roundup of all those knee jerk liberal homosexual artist types had begun. As i write this we are hiding out in one of our local coffee shops disguised as wingnuts.
Ok now about my nameless friend, you can find her everywhere in this blog known only as my friend. My good friend Val has remained nameless because she doesn’t stand behind me yelling ‘hey I have a name!’ like Ash did. But from this point on my friend will be known by here name, which I think I mentioned is Val. So take a bow .... I can't finish this line.
“Insanity - a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world.”
R. D. Laing
I'm so there ....
bonus tuneage, The Dandy Warhols - Bohemian Like You
In an addition to the tard quote of the day competition I give you Italian Bishop Francesco Nole who said in an interview “Nothing surprises me anymore. Homosexuality, which is a disease, has become something normal. They sprout like poisonous mushrooms, and instead of feeling shame they celebrate this plague and the church itself minimalises these sins.” He went on to add that ‘irregulars’ shouldn’t be given funerals or communion either. Now I'm not the least bit religious but this pretty much disgusts me so I declare him the winner by fiat.
A day after being arrested as he sat on a Dubai bound jet at JFK, Faisal Shahzad was charged with terrorism and attempting to use a weapon of mass destruction in the attempted Times Square bombing. Hopefully they didn’t use the word terror in the indictment.
In a related matter, as I stood outside the gallery today I was passed by machine-gun toting NYC police officers. By email a good friend confirmed my worst fears. The roundup of all those knee jerk liberal homosexual artist types had begun. As i write this we are hiding out in one of our local coffee shops disguised as wingnuts.
Ok now about my nameless friend, you can find her everywhere in this blog known only as my friend. My good friend Val has remained nameless because she doesn’t stand behind me yelling ‘hey I have a name!’ like Ash did. But from this point on my friend will be known by here name, which I think I mentioned is Val. So take a bow .... I can't finish this line.
“Insanity - a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world.”
R. D. Laing
I'm so there ....
bonus tuneage, The Dandy Warhols - Bohemian Like You
Observations from the Window 5.4
Isn't it rather fitting that a vendor was the one who spotted the smoking SUV in Time Square? We should get rid of more of them.
What is homofascism? Have I missed something here? I must turn to my expert on all things defined, the Urban Dictionary. It defines homofacism as 'hysterical term used to describe any attempt made by gays and lesbians to protect their dignity and freedom.' Oh! Well than sign me up for that. I hope I get a tshirt that has lesbofascist printed on it, but it better not be pink.
Soon to be out country music singer Chely Wright is accused of being a faux lesbian to promote her first new album in five years. If one has to now pretend to be gay to sell country music the world truly is turned upside down.
For an absolute tard quote of the day I give you Rush Limbaugh, the TIC, or Tard in Chief. Talking about the oil spill in the gulf he came up with this gem. "The ocean will take care of this on its own if it was left alone and left out there. It's natural. It's as natural as the ocean water is." On top of that he calls the spill ‘Obama’s Katrina’ and came up with theory that it was eco-terrorism to stop President Obama’s off shore oil drilling plan. So now it seems we have treehuggers five thousand feet below the surface. Hugging what?
Not to be outdone Fox & Friends asks if there is a rule within the Obama administration that saying the word terror shouldn't be used in connection with the Time Square bombing attempt. “We just interviewed though, the Secretary of Homeland Security, Janet Napolitano, who refuses to say the word terror. Is this a mandate within the Obama administration, not saying the word terror?" While not specifically saying the word terror, when asked Napolitano said she would not rule it out. If I'm not mistaken they also said President Obama regularly disses your mom.
And finally conservative mag Newsmax has discovered the greatest technological device ever conceived and would like to give it to you for free, because the terrorists are coming, the government wants you to have one, and how else are you going to listen to the TIC for crucial updates from your hole in the backyard? Just crank this baby a few times, even a tard can do it, just like that. But don't forget to cancel your 'free' subscription in four months or pay $40 for the year. So here you have Newsmax using governmental advice to sell Chinese stuff to self-proclaimed real Americans who are against government.
Seriously, you just can't make this shit up.
I look out the window and smile ....
tuneage, Eve's Plum - Die Like Someone
What is homofascism? Have I missed something here? I must turn to my expert on all things defined, the Urban Dictionary. It defines homofacism as 'hysterical term used to describe any attempt made by gays and lesbians to protect their dignity and freedom.' Oh! Well than sign me up for that. I hope I get a tshirt that has lesbofascist printed on it, but it better not be pink.
Soon to be out country music singer Chely Wright is accused of being a faux lesbian to promote her first new album in five years. If one has to now pretend to be gay to sell country music the world truly is turned upside down.
For an absolute tard quote of the day I give you Rush Limbaugh, the TIC, or Tard in Chief. Talking about the oil spill in the gulf he came up with this gem. "The ocean will take care of this on its own if it was left alone and left out there. It's natural. It's as natural as the ocean water is." On top of that he calls the spill ‘Obama’s Katrina’ and came up with theory that it was eco-terrorism to stop President Obama’s off shore oil drilling plan. So now it seems we have treehuggers five thousand feet below the surface. Hugging what?
Not to be outdone Fox & Friends asks if there is a rule within the Obama administration that saying the word terror shouldn't be used in connection with the Time Square bombing attempt. “We just interviewed though, the Secretary of Homeland Security, Janet Napolitano, who refuses to say the word terror. Is this a mandate within the Obama administration, not saying the word terror?" While not specifically saying the word terror, when asked Napolitano said she would not rule it out. If I'm not mistaken they also said President Obama regularly disses your mom.
And finally conservative mag Newsmax has discovered the greatest technological device ever conceived and would like to give it to you for free, because the terrorists are coming, the government wants you to have one, and how else are you going to listen to the TIC for crucial updates from your hole in the backyard? Just crank this baby a few times, even a tard can do it, just like that. But don't forget to cancel your 'free' subscription in four months or pay $40 for the year. So here you have Newsmax using governmental advice to sell Chinese stuff to self-proclaimed real Americans who are against government.
Seriously, you just can't make this shit up.
I look out the window and smile ....
tuneage, Eve's Plum - Die Like Someone
Monday, May 3, 2010
Observations from my Bed 5.3
After a hectic weekend, really a hectic week, I’m taking a day off to veg and blog from a new locale. Sitting cross-legged in my big comfy bed, a bed that is way too big for the room it is in. I have thought of getting a new one but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I glance through the open door and see my window seat not too far away and glancing through that my mind returns to the mountains and I smile as I think how magic that place still is for me.
A short drive out from State College followed by a hike into the woods to *my* place, a spot all my own in the mountains. A secret spot I have never shown anybody. One time Sean tried to follow me by GPS, convinced I was doing like Cheech and Chong and growing weed in the woods. Poor child doesn’t realize you can turn GPS off. I worry that one day he will graduate, be working outside, and wonder off into his own woods, lost forever.
I can sit there on the ledge, looking into the valley below, and everything in my mind seems to melt away. All the problems, stresses, and worries of my life gone for as long as I want them too be. Just me alone with a clean slate and the trees, the birds, the foraging deer, and an occasional wondering bear. And, if I’m being truthful here, maybe now and than a beer too. But that’s for another time.
So here I am camped out in bed for the day. Doing a little of this and a little of that. Stocked with coffee, a jumbo box of Cheezits, and my cell phone turned off, I'm ready to do pretty much nothing at all until somebody makes me. Sometimes life is best when you just don’t participate. Now I have a little of this to do.
Than I sigh, damnit, I need a smoke. Guess I’ll be writing from the roof next ….
tuneage, Christina Aguilera - Not Myself Tonight
(i don't usually review my vids but, OMFG !!)
A short drive out from State College followed by a hike into the woods to *my* place, a spot all my own in the mountains. A secret spot I have never shown anybody. One time Sean tried to follow me by GPS, convinced I was doing like Cheech and Chong and growing weed in the woods. Poor child doesn’t realize you can turn GPS off. I worry that one day he will graduate, be working outside, and wonder off into his own woods, lost forever.
I can sit there on the ledge, looking into the valley below, and everything in my mind seems to melt away. All the problems, stresses, and worries of my life gone for as long as I want them too be. Just me alone with a clean slate and the trees, the birds, the foraging deer, and an occasional wondering bear. And, if I’m being truthful here, maybe now and than a beer too. But that’s for another time.
So here I am camped out in bed for the day. Doing a little of this and a little of that. Stocked with coffee, a jumbo box of Cheezits, and my cell phone turned off, I'm ready to do pretty much nothing at all until somebody makes me. Sometimes life is best when you just don’t participate. Now I have a little of this to do.
Than I sigh, damnit, I need a smoke. Guess I’ll be writing from the roof next ….
tuneage, Christina Aguilera - Not Myself Tonight
(i don't usually review my vids but, OMFG !!)
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Observations from the Mountains 5.1
Cruising down I80 on a warm Pennsylvania morning, top down, heavy metal crap blaring from the speakers, I watch for each sign as State College draws nearer and nearer. I speed up as I quickly cruise down I99, knowing it isn’t far now. Finally onto 322 and there in the distance, rising out of the morning fog, is Beaver Stadium. I have to smile to myself because it’s been awhile. Four months but it seems like so much longer.
I cruise slowly through the Penn State campus and head to my brothers apartment where I find him with a keg on the deck. Some things just never change. We sit on the deck drinking away the afternoon with his friends and I start to feel like the ‘den mother’ all over again.
Later I head over to Court’s house, before I moved to the Village my home for over a year. I pull Foxy into the familiar driveway and just sit and look for a few minutes. Than, as I get out of the car, out comes Court with a cold Corona in her hand. ‘Welcome home’ she says as drain half the bottle. Normally I try not to get to emotional (shutit!) but I really could have cried at this point.
Maybe it’s a sort of comfort zone in my life. A zone between my life in the Village and my dad’s, where I cant help but be reminded of my mom and the turmoil of my earlier life. Sometimes this feels more like home than anyplace I have ever known. And, if I’m honest with myself, it has for years.
There is a line in Last Tango in Paris. I don’t remember the line from the movie but I just saw it some magazine article and its rather fitting.
‘It’s over, and then it begins again.’
tuneage, Three Days Grace - The Good Life
I cruise slowly through the Penn State campus and head to my brothers apartment where I find him with a keg on the deck. Some things just never change. We sit on the deck drinking away the afternoon with his friends and I start to feel like the ‘den mother’ all over again.
Later I head over to Court’s house, before I moved to the Village my home for over a year. I pull Foxy into the familiar driveway and just sit and look for a few minutes. Than, as I get out of the car, out comes Court with a cold Corona in her hand. ‘Welcome home’ she says as drain half the bottle. Normally I try not to get to emotional (shutit!) but I really could have cried at this point.
Maybe it’s a sort of comfort zone in my life. A zone between my life in the Village and my dad’s, where I cant help but be reminded of my mom and the turmoil of my earlier life. Sometimes this feels more like home than anyplace I have ever known. And, if I’m honest with myself, it has for years.
There is a line in Last Tango in Paris. I don’t remember the line from the movie but I just saw it some magazine article and its rather fitting.
‘It’s over, and then it begins again.’
tuneage, Three Days Grace - The Good Life
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