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“it is difficult to think of you without me in the sentence”

Why does it seem that the people with the biggest hearts are the ones who have those hearts trampled the most often? This isn’t about me. It could be; I have often had people in my life who take advantage of my good nature — or rather, who I have allowed to take advantage of me. I’m not saying these people have been necessarily malicious or unkind, but that I have encouraged them to get what they need from our time together and then leave.

This is about my friend David Eugene. If you know nothing else, know that he is a guy who will pull through when you need him, but he may not be around all the time. He is generous to a fault, often taking on so many projects that there is no way to finish them all in time. David Eugene sacrifices his time and his happiness to make sure everyone else’s needs are met. It is almost a sickness how much he takes on in his life.

There is something about David Eugene that attracts others to him, a certain je ne c’est quoi that keeps people interested in everything he does. This has resulted in a number of obsessed people fauning all over David Eugene, making inappropriate gestures and comments. I will admit that I have even been infatuated with him. He has such a strong natural charisma. I wanted to be around him so bad that it kept me up some nights.

Such intense fascinations seem to have left David Eugene alone… having no lasting friendships and only the memory of long-term relationships. But it seems that he does everything right. He does not seem directly responsible for this problem. Rather, the endless people throwing themselves at him seems to be a symptom of an intangible that only he has. Every few weeks, David Eugene meets someone new. Often, he is very interested in them and they seem equally interested in him. This initial getting to know one another period is both intense and wonderful. David Eugene starts to see a wedding, a home, dogs, and the life he has always wanted. The guy of the moment seems to share this vision — saying everything they know David Eugene wants to hear.

It doesn’t last. Soon, this new guy moves on, scared away by the seriousness of this plan. David Eugene is left alone — again. How can it be fair that such an amazing person could be used and discarded? Why do people treat the most generous of us like trash? And more importantly, how can this cycle be broken?

I feel awful for him, but I don’t know how I can help David Eugene. Perhaps, it isn’t something I can fix. Perhaps, it isn’t something I should try to fix. It hurts me to know that he is in pain and I cannot help him. I hope he knows that he has at least one friend who is still here for the long-term, who doesn’t expect any more from him than he can give. I hope David Eugene finds happiness.

Here are some things I have written about longing, obsession, friendship:

Preston’s Hold

for Johnny

The fear. Consuming fear and self-denial.
A dream of love – a school-boy fantasy –
crushed by the vise of injustice for self, by
society. I can’t give myself to you if you hide.

Can two people know each other in darkness?
Can a heart survive the cruel coldness
of lonliness? Kiss me (I know it won’t happen)
Dream of me – of us. Kill the fear of damnation.

It is over and you are gone. I always held on
too loosely, never tried hard enough. I needed
your hands, your touch, your morning voice –
soft and honest. I needed plans, and you…

Kiss me again, this time tenderly, and tell me
it is all okay – love me from wherever you are.
More importantly, be my friend – remind me
of who I wanted and who I wanted to be.

Need is dangerous – I still feel you.

Brian Fuchs 6.5.1999

twenty-four

Will this winter chill lift from my heart and allow me to find love? In the ice covered and mad city I can’t see anyone worth knowing, worth loving. I need my knight. This curse is too much.

Brian Fuchs 1.5.2001

Jerry pt 1

My heart still hurts and I still love you, my friend.
I don’t understand why you ran away. I never will.
Your boyfriend’s hold was too much;
his approval was too important to you.
So, you left.

You left me.

My arms will still be open, my home yours,
if you ever need it — need me.
My life has a space reserved for you,
beautiful friend.

Brian Fuchs 7.1.2005

27 March 2007

Images: art by Charley Harper

Featured Image Art: photo of David

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Basically, I’m a slob.

I have reached that point that I reach every few months — when I would rather just burn my place down and rebuild from the ashes than deal with cleaning. You’d think that I could keep up with it and not arrive at this point, but life just keeps happening. Once again, empty containers of whatevers are strewn about the living room, my boxes and out of place furniture have formed small tracks which I can use to get from room to room like some sort of small rodent, making paths in the brush.

Worst is the dishes. Without a dishwasher or motivation, the pile of dishes has become nearly unmanageable. I fear that I will find life forms within the structure that will need to be dealt with.

I don’t know how I let my house go like this. I hate that about me and hate that my cats have to live with it. I can’t have people over and have to greet friends at the door, denying them entrance. I want that to change. I have been making great strides in my life, but the next thing I want to alter about myself is my ability to keep up with my home. Only then will I be able to feel comfortable having a relationship with someone. I couldn’t bear to invite someone over as it is. And my idea of a great time spent with someone is watching movies at home…

*insert continuation of this rant here*

So, if anyone has suggestions — helpful suggestions — on how to improve this part of myself, comment with them. That said, I am going to clean a little.

25 March 2007

Featured Image Art: Sue Woodfine, painting of nasturtium

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It was March 10, 2002 — a Sunday morning. I was at work, shelving a cart in the corner of the store where the history, biography, & social sciences sections were kept. I had paused for a moment to read the inside flap on the book.  I had taken entirely too much time looking decided to place it on hold for myself so I could look at it later. I took it to the front and placed it on the employee hold shelf. Bettina announced that I had a phone call. I knew it would be my parents and it irritated me that they could never figure out to not call me before we open.

When I answered the phone, it was my dad. There were no pleasantries; he simply said I needed to leave work and drive to Stillwater immediately. Not really catching on to the tone, I informed him that I couldn’t leave work, but wanted to know what was going on. “Mimi has been taken to the hospital and is probably not going to make it.” That still breaks my heart. My brain went numb and my eyes blurry. I said I would leave and be there as soon as possible. As soon as I hung up, I went back to the office, told Bettina I needed to go, and fell apart. She comforted me, telling me not to worry about work and instructing me to do what I needed to do. I left work, went home to let Justin (who was my roommate at the time) know where I’d be, and rushed to Stillwater. On the way, my cousin Becky called to make sure I knew what was going on.

I arrived in Stillwater about an hour and a half after the initial phone call. As I walked in, I was met by my mom, who was bawling. The entire tone of the house was energetic and sad — each family member’s arrival starting the tears over again.

“Mimi” is my mom’s mom, Bonita Christine “Chris” Tucker. She was the matriarch of our family; the force that connected us all and kept us together. She orchestrated every event that brought us together, reminded us to connect with one another, and nagged us all mercilessly. Mimi was an extremely confident woman who knew who she was. She was totally devoted to her husband, her God, & the other members of her church. She was generous with her money and her time, but was never afraid to tell you her opinion on what you were doing. Evidently, there wasn’t enough money to be made as a writer to justify her supporting it. I cherished talking to her. I would sit with her and talk about people for hours… she knew absolutely everything going on in Stillwater. But it never seemed like gossip. Mimi was a very good-hearted person.

By the time I arrived in Stillwater, she had passed away. After the watery greetings from my mom and aunt, I settled in with my brothers and cousin — those I always hang out with when everyone is together. Star, my grandparents’ cat, was the hero of this story. Even though he was unable to save her, he did what he could. Apparently, he went to my grandpa (Papa), woke him up, and led him to where Mimi had fallen. We suspect either a massive heart attack, stroke, or aneurysm, as her arms were still by her side and she hadn’t tried to stop her fall.

Bonita
on viewing my Mimi’s body

She looks perfect,
her familiar red dress matched
beautifully with the soft pink lining,
the red heart draped around her neck.
As if she’d just come in
from church for a nap —
a lazy Sunday afternoon,
shy lay resting — calm, peaceful.
Tears stream down my grandpa’s
too often stoic face.
His wife — the woman he
devoted his entire life to —
his best friend.
“She really is a beautiful lady.”

Brian Fuchs 3.12.2002

That week was surreal. I still don’t remember much of it. Of course, it culminated in a beautiful funeral. I had gone back home to Tulsa to get some clothes and for the funeral I chose the shirt she had just given me for Christmas. The shirt was a gold knit with a collar. I wore khaki pants. I wouldn’t have felt right in dark colors and I really wanted to celebrate life. The funeral was made that much more difficult when I discovered that my cousins’ nanny was sitting with them and I couldn’t sit with my immediate family because of it. Furthermore, I ended up next to my mom’s friend, who had apparently not figured out that I was an adult and kept talking to me as if I were a child.

When the funeral was over, my two best friends came up to me and asked if I was okay. I had really been fine all week, only crying on Sunday morning. I shook my head no and buried myself in their arms and cried. I felt like the world had just ended. A few days later, I left on a trip with them, where I was able to sort through things slowly throughout the next week. Which isn’t to say I felt any better about it all.

untitled (‘100 days’)

It’s been one hundred days
and if feels like it all happened
just this morning.
I’m starting to realize she’s gone —
finally missing her and ultimately
knowing I can never see her again.

I hate that morning —
when Mimi died.
Loneliness overtook me and
pain was invited in.
All I needed was a hug
from Bettina, JD, Travis, Becky,
Mom — but they weren’t there.
I’m cold inside and sad.
I miss her.

Brian Fuchs 6.18.2002

It took a long time to accept that Mimi was gone. I imagine I will have that hole in my heart for the rest of my life. I haven’t even been able to return to her house for any length of time and feel comfortable. That always makes me feel guilty because I do want to visit Papa, who is remarried, but there is too much history in that place. But it is also important to remember that I got to know Mimi. I had the amazing opportunity to be a member of a family with her at the head.

That is when I first realized my life had become about death. It had only been 447 days since my grandma Fuchs (“G”) had passed away. Since then, I have lost 2 friends and 2 great-grandmothers. I am ready to have my life defined by something else; be defined by love or friendship or family. I have felt rather selfish about these deaths over these past 6 years. They are important to me, but moving on is much more important.

21 March 2007

Images: photo of Christine Tucker; vintage illustration of child dressed as a cardinal

Featured Image Art: photo of Christine Tucker

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This is little more than a series of ramblings that are only remotely connected to one another.

The mind is fascinating to me — what I really mean to say is unsettling. Creativity, knowledge, wisdom, intellegence, instict, intuition, memory. Such an array of abstracts that make each of us who we are. I was watching TV earlier and a notion was mentioned that has supplanted the inane items I was thinking about at the time. “We focus so much on the tangible, we have forgotten about the intangible.”

This applies to my life as much as anyone else’s. I don’t know why I needed a show to remind me of it. Perhaps I didn’t; it is entirely possible that I needed to be reminded of that today and the events were all set in place to make certain I received the message.

My life is in contant flux — morphing from one thing to another. I spend only a few months as each version of myself before moving on to the next… sometimes the change is so constant and uneventful that I am never the same person from one day to the next. I think that could apply to anyone, as these are fairly universal concepts. Two things really interested me on this subject. The first is why a person remembers events in the way they do. The second, friendships and their evolution (which I intend to cover later).

As I recounted in my previous post, I can remember certain moments throughout my life. I can remember making a girl cry in 3rd grade. I don’t know what I did though. I remember watching one kid kick over another kids cardboard brick construction when I was in kindergarten — I also remember waiting in line to go to the restroom and being kissed by a girl in my class. But the rest is a blur. I remember having the cast put on my legs, but don’t remember not being able to walk.

I don’t know what my purpose is for writing this. I guess I just started thinking about things a lot lately. This current version of myself is a creation of introspection rather than external events, so perhaps that is why I am thinking so much. I know a lot has to do with my high school reunion coming up. If I make it (and I intend to), I don’t really have much memory of the majority of the people who are likely to remember me. That sounds conceited, but that isn’t quite the case. I’m just nice most of the time. People like that.

I am worried that I don’t remember enough, but one can hardly live in the moment and dwell on the past simultaneously. ADHD is a fun tool for pulling random thoughts out of your head, but a terrible tool for making valid points about those thoughts.

I fear that I will not find someone who has the patience for me and my many thoughts and who is intellectually interesting enough for me to relate to. I don’t think being particular is wrong, but it has left me alone for the past 27 years. Or perhaps I am overthinking… as usual.

I don’t get to relive yesterday. Maybe all of this is really about that. The less I remember, the more of my life is actually gone. I don’t want to wake up at 70, realizing I have been alone all my life and wondering when I could have changed who I am. That time must be now, but I don’t know if I have to correct tools.

Of the intagibles of the mind go, wisdom is the most important to me. It is vastly more important than memory, which is simply recollection of moments. Perhaps I need to stop obsessing over the lost moments and focus more on the experience of being me today and what I can learn from myself and from the people/places/things I encounter today. What lessons are worth carrying with me and inserting into my understanding of the universe? And I know I need shift my focus away from the tangible. What I can buy today is not important.

19 March 2007

Featured Image Art: AI Image (created using Wonder AI)

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3+17+1997=10 or “Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.” -Frank O’Hara

This might mean nothing to anyone but me, but it felt important to share it. Today, St Patrick’s Day, 2007, marks the 10th anniversary of me coming out to my friends as gay. It has been quite a journey, but this is an account of what happened before. To understand the full extent of where I am, it is important to first understand where I was. This poem by Frank O’Hara expresses it in ways I couldn’t.

February

The scene is the same,
and though I try to imagine
plinking starry guitars,

and while I spend my
time listening to a foreign
contralto sing the truth,

the earth is everywhere,
brown and aching. At first
it seemed that this life

would be different: born
again in someone else’s
arms, after seasons of childhood

and error and defense.
I thought freshly and tried
to change the color of my

habit. New metrics would be
mine in this excess of
love! but I was a braggart

to hope so. My old hurts
kept attacking me at odd
moments, after too many

songs, on public conveyances,
in the blue light of bars. Ah!
I cried, do not blame me,

save your temper for the
others! and at the same instant
in the same breath cried,

break me! I dare you, for
which of us am I? you will
break yourself! And this

became only too true, the
worst of all possible vistas,
my lone dark land.

–Frank O’Hara

That was me. It still is from time to time, wondering how my life is really different and hoping that I have really changed — grown. I was lost. I had desperately tried to force myself into someone I am not, agrily trying to “not be gay.”

The feeling that I was different started as early as 5 or 6. I didn’t know how, but I felt like there was something about me that wasn’t “normal.” What’s more, as a young child, I knew that there were things I needed to hide from my parents — things they wouldn’t understand. I don’t know how we come to these conclusions. My first crush on a boy happened in 4th grade, but I didn’t think much of it.

I remember a number of times during church activities, specifically Bible Bowl, when I would drift off into my own world of introspection, wondering how much love I would find in these people if they knew this awful truth about me. I pretended to have crushes, marking my papers with the most obvious name, hoping to be caught pining for one of my teammates. I quickly became outspoken over my disdain for the public education system’s willingness to teach homosexuality as acceptable. I was turning on myself and was only 14.

The one thing I took away from that part of my life was self-loathing. And I could have ended up with some great experiences and memories, but the pain of being something you don’t want to be was very difficult to deal with.

A couple years later, I found myself washing dishes daily at my first job. I had gotten in through a series of somewhat unusual events, but was enjoying it greatly. I had started to realize that I would have to face this part of myself. I couldn’t hide behind hatred any longer, but I was terrified at what that would mean.

The climate of the world for gays was very different in 1995 & 1996. From my teenaged perspective, it seemed like the dark ages. I didn’t want to indetify with them. There were no gay characters on television, no role models. If I were to accept being gay as who I actually am, I felt that I would be giving up; giving in to what I had been taught to believe is wrong. Furthermore, I was saying to the world that I accepted that I would have no place to fit in; no safe place to run to when life became too much.

Let me back up for just a second. I don’t actually remember my parents (or their parents) having ever spoken about the issue of homosexuality. I never had reason to believe they had thought about it at all. Neither do I recall any lessons in church concerning it. I remember lessons on love and compassion, but never about how wrong gays were. My lessons on this subject were from specific people, friends, who had “moral” objections to certain “lifestyle choices.” I didn’t want to be anything that would upset these people.

I was feeling rather exhausted about the whole issue and was no longer doing well in school. I spent my days worrying about turning into this pariah I didn’t want to be, all the while sitting in the car with my friends, or over at their house, a little removed from the group… from the situation. I was starting to feel like I was enormous, trapsing around people’s houses, hopind desperately to blend in and not be noticed, but failing. I started to discuss issues with my coworker and friend, hoping to find wisdom in her words. It turned out to not be so easy.

In June 1996, I made one of the weirdest mistakes of my life. I went on a class trip to France for 2 weeks. The teacher going with us was unable to attend at the last minute, due to a medical emergency, and I was left with a group of students, all a year older than me, who wouldn’t even talk to me or include me in their group… and the teacher wouldn’t be there. My 2 weeks in France would basically be on my own. And so they were. I befriended a few people from a group from Idaho, but basically did my own thing. As long as I was on the bus when I was supposed to be, nobody seemed to take much notice.

Everything was going great, until a rainy day in Paris. There wasn’t much we could go do that evening, but the guys I was sharing a room with went to hang out with the girls, so I was alone… with my thoughts… and having been in France for a few days, the newness having worn off, I was thinking about the same things that kept me sad and angry at home. That night I accepted it. I didn’t like it, but I realized that I couldn’t be anyone but who I am. The rest of the trip was very hard; I barely enjoyed myself. I would hang out with the bus driver, Kamal, or our tour guide, Arnaud, at almost every stop. I didn’t feel like I should be there anymore.

My biggest regret about that trip is not hiding my bitterness when I returned home. My family and friends were waiting at the gate to greet me; I was so happy to see them. But I was difficult and cranky and spoiled the mood for everyone.

I spent most of my senior year trying to convice people I was straight. But a huge weight had been lifted. The distraction that made the previous year so hard was gone, but I would eventually need to tell someone else.

Travis, one of my two best friends, had spent spring break in Mexico (I think), leaving myself and JD to spend a fun filled week of working more hours at our jobs. We did want to do something though, so we spent the week at my uncle’s cabin just outside of town. Travis returned that weekend and we all hung out on Sunday. I was a little down; Travis could tell. I drove home, talking to Travis on the CB (yes, it’s true) the entire way. He had followed me and pulled in behind me at my house. He and I talked about things. I wasn’t really ready to tell him everything, but I told him that I could never see myself marrying a woman and having kids with her. If felt like enough for that moment. He was very comforting, much more so than most friends. He told me that JD had asked if Travis thought I was gay. Travis laughed it off as a silly notion. I felt extremely exposed.

The next day was my favorite holiday of the year, St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t know why I love it, but I do. The first thing I did in my first class was to write a letter, expressing to both Travis & JD how I felt and about who I am. I told them of the many days, wanting to no longer live. I told them how painful it had been to let them down. And I told them that I am gay. I couldn’t face them, knowing that I was losing my two best friends.

I had an eye appointment and then work after school. I was almost finished at work when Travis & JD showed up. I tried to avoid them, but they seemed angry. I just walked out to the parking lot, letting them follow me. I intended to go home and forget the day had ever happened. But my car was missing. Defeated, I got into Travis’ car. We drove around a little; they told me they had gotten permission from my mom to keep me away all night. They told me that they didn’t care that I am gay, but they were angry that I had been so depressed and didn’t tell them.

Somehow, we ended up at Red Lobster, where they continued to assure me that they still loved me. It felt nice, but was painful at the same time. We drove around for a long time, talking (I was crying). I think I stayed at Travis’ that night. And that was it. It was done. I didn’t have to hide myself anymore. The last few months we lived in Stillwater were the happiest as a teenager that I can remember. Life had been so painful for me for so long.

A month later, Ellen Degeneres came out, bursting the doors wide open for gay men and women everywhere. It felt good to be a part of something from the begining. It still does.

I didn’t tell my family for a long time after this, but I will save that for another time. It deserves the same attention.

Today, I am very happy with who I am. It feels so good to be me and I am glad I came out when I did. I hope that there is a day when being gay doesn’t break children into secrecy. I hope that day comes soon.

St Patrick’s Moon

St Patrick’s moon shone
gently on us as we left
Texas, back to our lives.
The brief stays seem sad
and this was the last visit
with all of us single.

St Patrick’s moon shone
on the new baby — born
to make some forget
the tragedy its birthday
marked — the sadness of
this anniversary of death.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the just-cracked blinds
on Laurisa’s face — the new
life growing within her body.
More family, more joy,
more love to make us forget.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the rear window of
JD’s car onto my face as
I smiled. My life seems
to be getting closer to real.
I laughed a little because
life can be so wonderful.

Brian Fuchs (3.17.2003)

17 March 2007

Images: photo of Frank O’Hara; illustration of Celtic knot shamrock; photo of Brian; photo of Brian & JD

Featured Image Art: photo of Brian in Red River, NM

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As promised, this should explain my feelings on my recent switch to a vegetarian diet. I would like to preface this briefly. This is my personal belief and I am not preaching this way of life as right for everyone. Each person brings their own set of beliefs with them through life, and they are just as valid as mine. I offer this as explanation for my own actions. I do not judge others for making different choices with their lives.

I feel obligated to explain myself. Let me try to make sense of what is going on in my head, but don’t be surprised if contradictions arise, as my brain is rarely at peace with itself. This will also be a bit longwinded.

In January, I made the decision to stop eating meat. So, I stopped. I failed to take into account that so few people make this life choice. I forgot that there would be plenty who would not understand and who would forget that I no longer consume animals. I had not planned out what I would say to those who questioned me. I had no speech prepared. What’s worse, I didn’t even have a clear sense of purpose.

It actually all started about twelve years ago. I had become interested in adopting a vegetarian diet back when I was in high school, but had great fears of alienation from my friends. A minor medical problem helped prompt me to follow through with my plans, since I was not supposed to eat fried foods or red meat. I slowly phased poultry, pork, & red meat out, opting for fish or non-meat choices. Slowly, I changed my diet, but never officially (or fully) eliminated meat from my diet. I simply repressed my reasons for cutting back and found that not thinking about it was easier than dealing with the moral dilemma.

Several years later, my convictions gone, I was once again eating beef. And I didn’t give any more thought to it. So much was happening in my life, and I was not the center of my existence for many years. This made it easy to not focus on what I felt or believed, worrying too often about how my decisions would affect my friends and family.

As long as two years ago, I was reevaluating my life and again considering cutting meat out of my diet. I think I needed to grow up to understand how right I believed that decision would be. Over the past year, I have tried varying degrees of not eating meat, trying to stop, but failing.

I was eating lamb when it dawned on me. I had an overwhelming need to purge the animal from my body — to remove it’s masticated carcass from within me. It made me cry. I couldn’t believe how barbaric it now seemed to have actually ordered slabs of an animal with thoughts and feelings. It just seemed so simple a solution too — don’t eat anything possessing intelligence.

I really was unsure of what I meant by this and how this would play out. I honestly expected to revert back to not giving my burgers a second thought. I considered eating fish, but couldn’t justify that until I had sorted out what my feelings were. I knew what I wasn’t willing to eat any longer: cattle, pigs, chickens, moose, sheep, turkeys, deer, cephalopods, etc. If it was having thoughts about something, it was off my menu.

So, that is the reason. I believe that it is wrong to continue eating meat when you believe that the animals you are eating can think and feel. I also feel that it is wrong to keep animals in buildings, feeding them genetically manipulated “food,” just for the convenience of having prey when we want it. I believe that we have evolved as a species to a point that renders the eating of meat archaic, barbaric, & unnecessary.

I welcome comments or messages on this subject. It is still a loose mass of barely solid concepts for me. It is coming together slowly and it just feels right. Thanks for taking the time to read this.

Here are a few quotes from others who got it:

One farmer says to me, “You cannot live on vegetable food solely, for it furnishes nothing to make the bones with;” and so he religiously devotes a part of his day to supplying himself with the raw material of bones; walking all the while he talks behind his oxen, which, with vegetable-made bones, jerk him and his lumbering plow along in spite of every obstacle. ~Henry David Thoreau

I did not become a vegetarian for my health; I did it for the health of the chickens. ~Isaac Bashevis Singer, quoted in You Said a Mouthful edited by Ronald D. Fuchs

I have no doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the human race, in its gradual improvement, to leave off eating animals, as surely as the savage tribes have left off eating each other…. ~Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854

A man of my spiritual intensity does not eat corpses. ~George Bernard Shaw

I have always eaten animal flesh with a somewhat guilty conscience. ~Albert Einstein

My refusing to eat meat occasioned inconveniency, and I have been frequently chided for my singularity. But my light repast allows for greater progress, for greater clearness of head and quicker comprehension. ~Benjamin Franklin

Images: vintage illustration of cauliflower; AI Image of sheep (created using Wonder AI)

Featured Image Art: Eileen Hood, “Sheep & Lambs” (1917)

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Life can really slap you in the face sometimes. I got a gentle reminder that I am not in control on Monday. My brother called me at work; I knew something was wrong, since he had never called me at work before. “Don’t freak out,” he said, “but Dad had another heart attack. He is fine; they flew him to Mercy Hospital in [Oklahoma] City.”

Don’t freak out? Is it ever possible to not freak out when you are told not to freak out? Of course, the first thing I thought of is that I hope Mom doesn’t reach for a bottle. That just wouldn’t help anything, but knew that it was a strong possibility. Brent gave me all the information he had and told me that he would keep me posted. I was pretty much useless the rest of the day at work.

When I got home, I called Brent. Everything seemed to have gone smoothly. The heart attack started around 1:00 p.m. & by 3:45 p.m. they had finished putting in a stent at a hospital 60 miles away. My dad had wanted to play a joke on my mom at the hospital. He wanted the nurse to get him a toe tag and pull the sheet up over his head for her arrival. She would not have been amused, so I am thankful that the nurse refused. I do, however, find it funny myself.

I finally talked to him that evening. He sounded fine & had plenty of energy. What scares me is that it was a massive attack and his doctor said he was lucky to have gone to the hospital when he did; he might not have survived otherwise. I am not ready at all for something like that to happen. Not only can I not imagine losing one of my parents, but mine are both great friends and people I would want to know even if I wasn’t related to them. They are good people, wonderfully naïve about the indecencies in the world. Wholesome.

It has really made me think though. I guess this is a typical reaction — the assessment of the family bond and the closeness to those who just went through whatever ordeal. “Why?” has never been important to me. I really don’t care “why” events occur. My dad’s heart attack is no exception to that. It really doesn’t matter, what matters is “how do we keep it from happening again?” The doctor informed him, as doctors will do, that he needs to quit smoking. But in this case, he has a point… a strong one. The heart attack, in all of its ferocity, was brought on almost entirely because of smoking. Dad spends long hours working outside and is in excellent health in many respects. However, he does tend to cough a lot (more and more recently, I’ve noticed). I guess it is time to stop, if he can. And I hope sincerely that he can. He is too important to too many people.

Any blessings from this? Maybe. My brothers both have a tendancy to drop their kids off with my parents. I understand this. They have to make ends meet and you do what you can to struggle through with a young family. I get it. But Mom & Dad have both been pretty exhausted with it all lately. They’ve needed a break. Mom’s back needs some time & Dad just needs some time off for his mental health. Now, it seems they will get a little break. It is unfortunate that it had to happen in this way though.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Bradley is facing the end of his marriage. It has been coming for some time. When they first got married, Jess was great. I still think she is a good person and fun to be around. But she and Brad, who enjoyed a weirdly romantic & tumultuous relationship, have drifted apart rather calmly.

This would all be much ado about nothing if it wasn’t for the two kids. Brad & Jess have two boys, who are being used, as happens so often, to cause Brad more pain. He is repetedly denied seeing his boys by Jess, who has decided to move in with her mother, who is in the midst of mourning her husband, and who until very recently had nothing to do with the kids. Even now, her version of watching them is to take them to the neighbor’s house and have her watch them.

It angers me.

Bradley has a strong case for custody of those two boys, but I am afraid he will never try to make it, as he clings to hope that the marriage will survive. I just wish there was a better solution to the entire situation… that I would have confidence that I will know my nephews as they grow up. I am not so sure.

The boat has been rocked. We are in a cosmic reality show and all the viewers are waiting to see what we will do next. It is a great cliffhanger to the end of this season, but the choices we make in the near future could dictate entire decades of our lives.

Images: photo by Oliver Wilks; art by Brian Fuchs; Joan Arend Kickbush, Foxes (c.1969)

Featured Image Art: Jirayr Zorthian, Fox Skulk Den (1957)

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I am officially over being sad. That’s right, over it. Where has all this sadness gotten me? Tired, fat, unmotivated, uninteresting, bitchy, unfriendly, & bored. I have had it up to here (holding hand up to non-specific head part) with this crap!

I recently told a friend that I was sorry she had to see the me she sees because the one inside is so different. It was misconstrued, but easily. What I meant by that is that regardless of this outward façade, I am a very different person inside. My moods are different, my emotions are different, and yes, my body is different. There is nothing wrong with the way I look, but it isn’t reflective of the real me. I wish people could see the person I know, because that one is who I feel I am. I am sorry that they must settle for this imposter.

So, what am I doing about this? Anyone who has known me for any longer than 5 minutes knows that I lose track of things… forget to do routine tasks. I am famous for losing focus and being often lost out on a far tangent, too stretched away from the point to recover. This is my fatal flaw. But I can do it. It just requires that I write it down. If I can write these things out for a long enough time, I will encompass that next day when I feel motivated to do it again, thereby ensuring that I continue to do these whatevers. But it makes me feel terribly nerdy to refer to lists and schedules in my personal life to accomplish mundane tasks.

Vanity must die.

So, I’ve made the pact with myself. I have gathered advice from the few who were privileged with insights into my deterioration. I am determined to become a new me. Two weeks from now, this pact could be all but forgotten, but at the moment I really want to do this. We’ll see where this all takes me.

Thanks to everyone for being so kind. My life is full of the most generous people I have ever known and I appreciate every one of you.

Featured Image Art: Kenojuak Ashevak, “Displaying Feathers”

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When Heather & I made plans to see this movie, I didn’t think I would like it. It looked like it was self-important silliness masquerading as serious clichéd arthouse cinema. I was wrong.

Shortbus is one of the most beautiful movies I have seen. I was so moved on a number of levels, but I would want to ruin anything by giving away even a small portion of the plot. I cannot think of a greater assemblage of fine actors in recent films; each one flawlessly executed his or her particular role. I cared about every character, even the minor ones.

I will own this one. I highly recommend that everyone see this film. I won’t lie, 87.2% of you will be offended. But for those who can let the film move you in the ways it should, I believe this one will be quite an experience for you. Bonus: Freakin’ great soundtrack!

Up To The Challenge?

Apparently, things aren’t going as swimmingly at work as I would’ve hoped they were. I have been pretty flaky, but I thought nobody had really noticed. Wrong. I was spoken to about getting my work done and was forced to step up and be efficient. I am more than capable. I love my job & really get irritated when I perform below my own standards. I guess I have just been in a funk.

One of these days, I am going to amaze bossman with my talents. Oh, I will.

Meanwhile, I feel oddly inspired by Shortbus, but the things I am inspired to do would actually make me happy. I’m not sure we can have that!

Images: stills from Shortbus (2006)

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Brrr…

Today felt warm, which bothered me. It was only 19°. It has been very cold. My fingers feel numb after running to my car & back inside most mornings and the wind has just brought more arctic air than I remember from all of last winter. The gale blows through the small spaces in my north facing door, making it nearly impossible to keep my places warm. It seems too big now, vaulted ceilings no longer holding the aethetic they did over the summer. During those warmer days, I would open up windows throughout the house and enjoy the 65° air gently moving through. Nature was welcome into my home. It has overstayed.

I purchased two space heaters — an attempt to keep the temperature up, as the floor radiators just aren’t enough. It is working out fine, but I am told that my place is still too cold and my friends don’t take their coats off, leaving after only a few minutes. They don’t want to be here. Under those conditions, neither do I. I have acclimated to this environment and rarely feel chilly anymore, but a home without visitors is depressing. I think I should like to find a new place next summer, before the mercury drops. I think I am stuck for now though. Not only do I feel an obligation to my family (my aunt & uncle own my duplex), but I promised myself last year to not move during the winter again.

Wall To Wall Sadness:

Jess leaves for Arizona on Monday. I had promised her not to blog about her, but I want the world to know that I will miss her. I will miss her opinions. I will miss her “rawr!” I will miss her NBC peacock t-shirt. I will miss her advice, even when I don’t want it. I will miss her red hair. I will miss her dancing. I will miss our secret long-nosed greeting. I will miss her bitterness. I will miss her caring. I will miss her coaxing me to do things when I don’t know I really want to do things. I will miss her advice when I really need it. I will miss her laugh. I will miss her ruminating. I will miss her concern for Heather. I will miss her point, pause, “yes.” I will miss her long skirts. I will miss her beautiful face. I will miss the way she knows how utterly important she is. Jess, I love you and will miss you.

Featured Image Art: photo of Jess

Featured Image Art: Aksel Waldemar Johannessen, “Skiläufer in verschneiter Landschaft”

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We’re Off To See The Blizzard

I ended my trip home by spending a few hours with Becky. I loved seeing her and was glad to finally reconnect. It had been far too long since we’d had a chance to hang out. I wish I could be around her all the time. She is so much fun.

The rest of Sunday was spent on a plane. 9 hours in the same seat… it isn’t fun. I was seated next to a woman who just loved to talk and I tried to not accidentally indicate that I may want to talk to her. It was a largely successful effort and I was able to spend my trip in silence. I did read My Fine Feathered Friend, which I had purchased in Stillwater for 20¢. I enjoyed it and was glad I didn’t pay cover price for it. I will most likely read it again and again, but it was too short.

When I arrived in Anchorage, it was very late… after midnight. Heather had arrived early to pick me up at 11:30, when the plane was suppose to land. I felt bad that she had to wait, but I couldn’t have known ahead of time. She helped me get my stuff into her car. I detected a bit of congestion starting, but I assumed it was a symptom of being on the plane for as long as I was. On the short drive home, I enjoyed the view of the week-old blanket of snow covering the city. It was January cold, but I felt warm to be at home.

How strange, I remarked, that this place feels like home. Heather agreed. She helped get my stuff into the house and hung out for a little bit. We both decided it was time for bed and she left. I was scheduled to be at work at 6:00 a.m.

a sick body is a prison

I woke up Monday morning very early. It was 5:00 and I couldn’t talk. I could barely breathe. The tickle from the night before was now a full-blown illness. I debated a little, waited until 6:00, & called the store. Work was not going to happen… not until I had a little medicine. I pretty much felt crappy all day. I missed the luncheon for Grant, which sucks. I missed work and getting payroll done correctly, which I am just now paying for.

I returned to work on Tuesday. I didn’t quite feel 100%, but wasn’t quite sick either. Tuesday was great, Wednesday was good. I was sleeping a lot, which was expected. I hadn’t had to do anything for 2 weeks. Thursday hit me like a ton of bricks. I was completely congested again. My head hurt and I could barely think correctly. I spent the entire day at work trying to stay motivated and awake. As soon as I got home, I crashed.

After a few hours I woke up, still feeling like poo and lethargic. I showered, which helped a bit. Heather called at 9:00 p.m. about the movie plans. I had totally forgotten, but agreed to go. I was a bit cranky. The movie, The Film Is Not Yet Rated, was amazing. Shocking, really. I recommend it.

Today, Friday, has been just as bad. I feel horrible. I did get to the store for some DayQuil & NyQuil. I hope they help. I can’t miss work… I have too much to do.

Okay, I will stop complaining now. 😉

I love snow.

Image: Cuno Amiet, “Baum in Winterlandschaft”

Featured Image Art: Alexej Kondratjewitsch, “Sawrassow”

 

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Día de los Muertos:

I woke this morning at 5:00 after nearly 14 hours of sleep.  My body aparently needed the rest.  I did, unfortunately, sleep through November 1 and was not awake to wish everyone a happy Día de los Muertos.  I hope everyone had a great day and celebrated those who are no longer with us in their own way.

I came with Mom to Oklahoma City to watch the girls for a couple days.  It also gives me a chance to stop by Borders to ship some things to myself.  I need to get out of here a little bit today.

I hate that I haven’t been able to visit with everyone I wanted to, but it is hard to squeeze everything into 2 weeks.  I am really looking forward to getting back to Anchorage and to work.  I miss my life, my couch, my friends, and the kibs.*

Call of the Wild:

Bradley’s friend is seriously considering moving to Alaska.  He would certainly have a place to stay (my house), but I feel bad for Brad.  John is his best friend and it would be nice to keep all of his friends close.  Bradley is one of the best people in the world and I only want happiness for him.  I really hope that John can find what he is looking for in life and remain Brad’s confidant and close friend.

On that note, I really need everyone to pray for Brad.  He is such a generous and gentle soul who has really been dealt a bad hand in life.  He is always up against the world and I really wish everything would be easier for him.  I really want him to come to Alaska, but he needs to be near his kids.  It is just another “between a rock and a hard place” kind of situation.

Happy Birthday, Travis.

Images: AI image (created using Wonder AI); Alfred Wierusz-Kowalski, “Wilk”

Featured Image Art: AI images (created using Wonder AI)

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Game Day:
Last Friday night, Bradley & I went to his friend John’s house to use his internet connection. John works until 2:00 a.m., so he isn’t oblivious to the reason behind our 11:30 p.m. visits to his empty house (except for the bird… and I might help kill the bird). Anyway, we have a tendancy to stay until morning, as we talk when John returns (this WILL be happening again tomorrow night).

So, Saturday was a day of sleep. I woke up pretty late to sounds of a football game. I hadn’t been around my mom & OSU football since high school. I had forgotten. It is high-spirited, fun, loud,… weird. She loves football. My dad, on the other hand, finds football too trivial to be bothered with. Largely, Brad & I agree. Brent will watch on occasion. This particular game was a biggie though. I remember vaguely asking who we were playing as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. Nebraska.

We were losing and by halftime, Mom had decided to not finish watching and, in fact, never watch another game again. Dramatics. She & I drove in to get some sodas. Since she didn’t want to watch the game, I took along Sugarland & Rascal Flatts, knowing she would enjoy them both. Curiousity did eventually get the best of her and she switched the radio to the OSU station. We had scored a number of times and were now winning the game. We had to return home.

We did beat Nebraska.

Mom was so excited during the game that I felt guilty at making any negative comments towards her. It was fun and so odd, being sports related. I, if it wasn’t obvious, am not a sports fan at all. I do care if Oklahoma State wins, which is good. And I care if OU loses, which is good. But overall, I have no passion for anything sports related. Spending happy moments with Mom, however trivial, is awesome though.

Winds Of Change:
The wind is really blowing hard today. It is great to experience wind again, as Alaska’s version of wind is rather pathetic. Problem: allergies. After a week, they have finally started to bother me, no doubt because the wind kicked up something. I don’t like feeling sick on vacation, but will if this keeps up all week.

Today, Mom & Ann (her sister) went to a funeral in Oklahoma City. I felt bad that I couldn’t go when Ann asked me to go. They are fun together. I am turning into those two. I am both happy and frustrated about that, but can do nothing about it. There is no need to overthink it. I will go see Ann tomorrow while I am in Tulsa. I wish I had longer to spend with everyone. I have a lot of love to spread around, but such a small amount of time to do it in. And still I find myself in solitude a lot. Curious.

I hope there is snow on the ground when I return to Anchorage… even just a little bit.

Image: photo of Quarterback Bobby Reid of Oklahoma State University’s football team during the 28 September gate against Nebraska

Featured Image Art: AI image (created using Wonder AI)

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Great Expectations:
I had been looking forward to dinner with my Tulsa friends since I made plans to be in Oklahoma. But when it came time for it to happen, there was nobody around to eat with. I am excluding Jess & Justin, who I love, but talk to fairly regularly. I couldn’t wait to see Meghan, Emily, Jeff, Jill, Molly, Marla… someone. But none responded tothe invite.

I had a great dinner with Justin & Jess. We went briefly to Target, where I got a shirt to wear so I didn’t have to drive home from the club smelling like an ashtray. Then we decided to eat at On The Border. I love that place and was not disappointed in last night’s fare. And I ordered my Sprite, no ice, with limes. Limes, being not expensive here, are generously given. I got an entire glass full. I love it.

I wanted to spend more time with Justin, but he had to wake early, so he had to go. I made plans to spend more time on Tuesday. I can’t wait to see him. He is so important to me. The three of us went to Barnes & Noble, where I had hoped to find a magazine. I did not. I did, however, get to see Bettina, Ray, Jill, & Matt. I really do miss that place, but I am glad I am making Borders my home now.

Of Unicorns & Men:
Jess & I went to The Majestic for some dancing fun. It was just as I remembered it, a loud, dark, sweaty place where shirts don’t stay on for long. Everyone was gyrating and having a great time. It was the Halloween celebration and costumes were out in full force. Many an angel graced the club — one in particular repeatedly poked his sharp wings into my back. I liked it more than I should.

Of course, all of these costumes led to a contest, hosted by a unicorn. The costumes were sad. The gays should be able to do better, but the evening was pretty fun. I love the darker music of Halloween clubbing. Jess remarked that it was a good thing I changed out of my “Unicorn Rodeo” shirt before getting there. I was thinking I wish I hadn’t. That attention would have been okay.

I love dancing and really need to go more often. Anchorage needs a good gay club.

The rest of this week should prove fun. I am very excited that I got to go to Tulsa. I really miss Tulsa. It still feels like home to me. I could easily move back today and not miss a beat. But now Anchorage is also feeling like home and would surely miss it just as much… or at least the people.

Images: Peter Stanick, art of woman; unknown cartoon illustration

Featured Image Art: AI image (created using Wonder AI)

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Grand Day Out!

I had a fantastic day with my family. It started really early, when waffles were the reason for waking me up. Too early. I was cranky, but got over it after a while. Dad & I drove Mom’s car into town to get a tune up so I can borrow it for the weekend. While the car was at the shop, we went to Curly’s (a local burger place that is great), an antique store, a thrift store, & a used book store. I ended up with a copy of Heidi, a thesaurus, & a “fat devil” salt shaker. I didn’t need any of it, but the shopping was fun.

When it was determined that the car would not be ready for another 6 hours, we went back to the farm to hang out for a while. At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep because Mom woke me up to watch the girls while she and Dad returned for her car. Brad had stopped by at that moment and he and I hung out and talked while watching KC & Avery.

When Mom & Dad came back, they brought pizza. Laurisa wasn’t far behind. We all ate, talked, and generally had a good time. Unfortunately, Laurisa and the girls had to leave and the evening became a lot more calm.

Not long after that, Mom got a call about a family member who passed away. She retired to her room, where she was on the phone the rest of the evening, talking and making plans for going to the funeral. Dad, Brad, & I talked for a couple hours. We ripped music, made CDs, & talked about whatever. It was nice, but I hated that Mom was in pain in her room.

Now, I am at John’s house. John is Brad’s best friend. He has been kind enough to allow me to use his internet connection. And to sit around and talk, which is fun to do and different from sitting in Mom & Dad’s quiet house trying to not make any noise. My brain is functioning at a different time.

Images: AI images (created using Wonder AI)