My bad

Being new to this blog thing, it sure is easy to come up with other shit to do rather than write here, well, I didn't life did.

A week ago Friday, I had absolutely nothing to do...not one thing.  So we headed out to the opposite end of town to enjoy a drive through the neighborhoods in the sun.  We took Caesar Chavez till you couldn't any more, got turned around back and forth, minimal yelling occurred, it was a gorgeous day.  We decided to take full advantage and go in the Goodwill outlet, commonly referred to as "the bins."

Bin after bin of shit they couldn't sell at goodwill, or was too dirty to sell, or didn't work etc.  They tell you it's all by the pound but, it isn't.  Everything I found that I liked was on a giant menu board reminding me, that, everything is priced per pound...except the shit "you" picked out.  A new bin of just shoes was introduced to the hordes of piranha.  Small shop owners, crackheads, old people, young people...basically Skidmore fountain on Saturday gathered around waiting for the wheels to be chocked, so they could begging feeding.

What a sight!

A few minutes later, my phone rang, not a number I know, but it's close.  I couldn't get to the call in time so I went to listen to the voicemail.

My heart sank.

It was my step-dad.  Not current step-dad, or previous one...fuck, I lost count, it was the first one, the one that I spent every day after school with, the one that taught me my hands were made to play guitar.  Told me I was smart, that masturbating wasn't dirty, and he would love me no matter what.  When he found out I was gay, and not from me, he was hurt a bit, but understood my reflectance.  He was calling to tell me that he was dying, and didn't have much time.  As hard as that is to hear, it was the first time I had ever considered how hard that would be to tell someone.

So, needless to say, I am flying back to Indiana for a few days.  Hang out with the old man, play some guitar, cook some kick-ass food, have a drink...a last hurray, but I would much prefer this than a "you need to book a flight for a funeral"  call.  When I told him I was coming, he sounded so much better, that maybe he is trying to clear things up so he can go more easily, or that he is just stoked to see me.  Either way, it feels good, which I know is selfish and bullshit...I'm good with it.

So 2 days after this, Baxter's health takes a dive bomb...in a scary way.  Laying on his side, throwing up, no strength, eyesight, or bowel control, it didn't look good.  So we took to feeding him , like we did when gus was a baby, pumpkin, mixing the food with pumpkin soothes the stomach....and 4 days later, this 14 year old cockerspaniel is playing and wagging his tail again!

...is it summer yet?

So before moving here, I heard that it rained, a lot, and it affected people.  I did the research.  The rainfall totals here are far less than most places in the midwest, southeast, fuck, everywhere but the desert.  The part they don't tell you, it's not the rain, it's maybe not the grey, its the fact it lasts for 8 months.  No joke.

How could I let the weather beat me?  I am above all of this clinical scare tactic the media has installed in us around the time you would celebrate your mitzvah. 

Idiot.

To admit defeat to rain cloud, to the nourishment of green, the propellant of life in the PNW, is okay.  I am not from California.  The shit I put up with before, severe storms for at least 2 months a year, extreme in one form of another every season, I am glad that is over, I wasn't prepared.


I am now.  This summer, i get tan, I spend it outside all day everyday, I get fit...not because I am trying, but because it takes a lot of calories to bike across town to visit one of 12 things going on, on any Saturday. 

September was a long time ago. 

Hiking in the rain is cool in October.  The wet hike loses much glamor after a time or two, and it's April, and I just want it to be warm enough to walk in the shade without a coat.  I am not even considering a hike...well wishing for one is a proper way to say it, but it's too chilly still, just not ready. 
Besides going to the bar, or a walk, what can I do?  I miss forgetting to apply sunscreen.

There is only so many times I can post a picture of the fucking bridge on facebook. 

Religiosity

So, after a pissed off start to my day, enduring a mind-fuck from a "friend,"  I hung out with a real friend.  She came to hang out, met Mr. Gus (he says hi).  Gus found a friend, for the first time since living in this apartment, he was cool with someone.  That fucking rules, so hard, I was worried I couldn't take him to get his next set of shots because of his tension level....today a measurable undo-able progress was made.  Yeah!

So anyways, we were talking about a new goth bar she has a crush on.  Ah, the goth kids...how I miss you so.  Not that I wore corpse paint and solid black and mourned the death of art with a viel on my face...no, but we have many things in common.

In highschool I was the first kid to wear that Marylin Manson t-shirt, I wasn't the roudiest kid, the most badass, the funniest, smartest, dumbest, gifted, advantaged, or otherwise.  I was normal, the only difference is, like only a few others I knew, I was "awake."  I understood the goth kids because I myself was an outcast because of stereotypes and ignorance.

We didn't buy it, the top 10 charts, the Nikes, the name brand jeans, "The Rachel" haircut, the " you need to do this next in life bullshit.

No we got kicked out of art class...we got sent to the principals office for speaking our minds, and we got reprimanded for telling the truth.  It's called being awake, I used quotations before, fuck those, we are past that now.  We got baked in Jesse's truck before 1st period, and passed out in 3rd, to wake up 4th in time for lunch.  Then we got a second helping of carbs, chased it with a coke, and played decoy so our friends could smoke cigarettes and continue with the day...they were 18 and enlisted in the military, cut some fucking slack.  We ask a few questions in a student convocation and all of a sudden, our handbooks are ripped up and the faculty is in a tizzy.

Back to the goth thing.... I wore a Manson shirt to school when I lived in North Carolina, the teachers like the cleverness of the shirt, and the fact I was okay and confident to wear it...in Missouri, they called my parents to tell them the student body was praying for me...(this kind of shit causes Columbines, knock it off, you aren't helping.)  When I moved back to Indiana,  we had to break christian protest lines to see manson in concert..."going to hell,"  "Jesus loves me," and "you are satan" all from the same protest group...glad they got together before hand to gain solidarity in their protest.  Instead of telling people what they are doing wrong, protesting and making a community not involved with the conflict uncomfortable, maybe you should just educate your children, and volunteer that time and energy to help someone that needs it, maybe act like the "christian" you are criticizing others for not being... maybe.

I know focusing energy on your own community is a hard bite to swallow, but so are babies.