Seen / Déjà vu
If you're at all interested, and I don't see why you should be, this page reads from the bottom up. The most recent entry is at the top.
I'll never understand the phenomenon of cruising. Okay, okay, I understand it intellectually, I can even understand the allure of it, but I'll never quite grasp the reality. Maybe that's why it's less prevalent among lesbians. Maybe I'm not the only one with this disconnect.
For those of you who think I'm talking about riding around town with the top down and checking out the goods, you go right ahead and keep thinking that. Probably better off that way.
For several years I commuted by a small park that was heavily trafficked. There was more action in that park on a weekday afternoon than on Melrose Place in a month. I know this because I also, for a time, used to bike through that park. After stumbling across a couple en flagrante, so to speak, I decided to ride around the park instead. It was an enlightening experience. I've never looked at a small park or rest stop quite the same way.
I had been riding through the park for a month or so thinking, "Isn't this wonderful? So many people are using this beautiful park, people really do appreciate these places." I've told you before, I'm slow on the uptake.
Which brings me to yesterday. We went for a walk because it was a fanfriggin'tastic afternoon and so perfect that the outdoors could not be denied. We went lookin' for sunshine (Ume for birds) and sights. We walked through an area that I knew beforehand was bound to have a few men also looking for something on the wild side, but I figured it wouldn't be much of a distraction. Well, well, wasn't I surprised? Nice weather isn't just for the nature lovers anymore... It was unbelievable. Fascinating in that poke the bruise type fashion I'm always on about. I've never seen anything quite so absurd and... I dunno, odd.
Here are all of these guys, middle aged white men mostly, strolling nonchalantly into well trod, and I mean, well trod, little trails that go off into the thickets from the walking paths of this area. And then strolling, just as nonchalantly, out, some 30 yards later. This just looks weird, guys.
And then there's us, walking along being geeky and whatnot and knowing that all around us there are guys goin' at it in the woods. Then strolling by us like they didn't just get... whatever. Life is weird and man does that ever throw it into relief.
We did spot a kingfisher in that stretch of park. Funky bird. Ume wanted to look at some pods growing on a tree there, but I kinda thought that maybe we ought to go to another area I knew wasn't quite so... populated. Not that I thought anyone there was overly interested in us, but there was this one guy who kept staring at us. He wasn't my type.
When we got back to the car and I was getting in, two women were getting out of the car next to us. They were older, a woman in her late fifties helping her mother out of the car. We chatted about how beautiful the day was (outside of our neighborhood people can be nice). A guy walked by and smiled and tipped his hat. I'm thinkin', how weird is this? I saw him back in the woods. And here we all are being friendly and sociable and I'm also thinkin', "Yeah buddy, I know why you're in such a good mood."
Just one of those things I haven't quite reconciled in my mind. I know sex is a human behavior thing... A natural act and all, but on the other hand, I don't want to feel uncomfortable about being in the nice, quasi solitary places there are in this cramped urban environment. Pisses me off. But if it wasn't the guys there, it'd probably be a bunch of unruly adolescents or some such. I went for a walk in a secluded city park not too long ago and found several people living in there. Thay had a whole campsight set up. You cannot get away from people in the city... so trying to manage your experience becomes... tricky. Of course, if I paid less attention to people and, like Ume, watched the trees or the sky or the grass, I might not have this problem.
Reading a small biography of Edward Gorey. A Strange Case of Edward Gorey, by Alexander Theroux.
I love Gorey and will miss his twisted brilliance. He passed away last year.
You may be familiar with his work if you've ever seen the animated opener to "Mystery" on PBS. He's known for those black and white ink renderings of darkly wonderful Victorian tableaus.
I have greatly admired his work since adolescence.
Good for some examples of his work:
If you want some biographical info as well...
I just ate too much. I should know better, but I was celebrating a significant life event and you know how that goes. "Whoohoo! I'm feelin' great! Havin' a grand ol' time! I think I'll stuff myself 'til I'm sick and I don't feel so good anymore! Whoohoo!"
Okay, okay, I wasn't that out of control. I rode my bike home from my impromptu feast and didn't wretch or anything. There's nothing I find more distasteful - no pun intended - than ruining good food by vomiting. I don't even like to ruin mediocre food by getting stressed while digesting it. I'm kinda picky about it.
You're probably wondering what brought on this moment of good cheer and binging... then again... maybe you're not, dunno. I'll tell those of you still hangin' on for the big news.
There are two major parts. One - the real BIG news: My father underwent and survived a major invasive surgery. He also managed to hold in there afterward to FINALLY hear the friggin' test results that took for-god-damned-ever to get back and reveal that, as of now, he's cancer free. So the crochety old bastard will remain with us and ornery for some time to come! I find this terribly reassuring because I'm not near done torturing that man for my screwed up childhood. What a relief!
Two: Not the most significant piece of the news, but reassuring to me, nevertheless... is that somehow over the last week and a half I managed to maintain my sanity. Against all odds. I'm thoroughly impressed with myself. I mean about the sanity, not in general. If you couldn't tell that I'm impressed with myself in general already, you've been skimming these entries - you're naughty. You think I write this stuff for my health?
I would like to say now that those doctors are unfreakin'believeable. Not just because they've prolonged my father's life with their amazing skills, but because they prolonged his life after he'd had them on his joke e-mail list for a month. My father's penchant for nasty humor is legendary. It's also offensive.
And his surgeon is a really nice, down to earth guy, which is a kind of miracle in itself. My father's follow up doctor, whom I thought was on the stiff side - blossomed under my father's unique attentions and even cracked a joke before he was discharged. I nearly fainted when I saw her smile.
A banana is a berry.
This is the kind of information my partner will come at me with out of the blue. Thus throwing off my world view and rendering me suspicious of all heretofore self-proclaimed fruit type objects.
Ume's had the audacity to vacate the premises and go traveling and adventuring without me. Me! The woman who can duct tape headlights into cars and stuff. What's she gonna do if her headlight falls out? Now that didn't sound exactly right... but you know what I mean. Woman's lost without me. Can't duct tape a headlight to save her life. She's dependent on my skills I'm tellin' ya. Got no business going off to parts unknown without me.
How's that for a pout?
I'm trying to decide if I outta put one of those third party hit counters on my site as Fortune City has so kindly removed that useless, but entertaining function...
In my search for information on the third party "free" hit counter phenomenon, I came across some interesting stuff. I excerpted a couple of bits of an article off of the Center for Democracy and Technology site (which is too cool).
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