Sunday, December 20, 2009

Home for the holidays

I'm at home, and I'm not really compelled to drink, but I'm so empty.
I spent the weekend out with my friends (read:barhopping) and didn't
drink. Wasn't really even tempted. But still, I feel so much remorse
and emptiness. It's been 21 days. 3 weeks sober.

I feel totally decompressed, totally physically adjusted to my new
sobriety. But socially, personally... What do I have?

Shrink asked me the other day: "what is going to keep you sober?" and
I have no clue. Am I recovering for my music?for my writing? For my
future?

The story of the Buddha is long, but his path to enlightment was
arched around two seven year periods. One, the period where he was a
total ascetic, starving himself and meditating for months and years on
end. The other, he was indulgent and self-pleasing, all in the name of
the elimination of dukkha, suffering. He left both and found the
middle way.

New favorite thing: music in the shower so loud that I can't hear how
out of tune I am.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Day 19

No deep thoughts on sobriety today. I did learn a trigger: finishing
things. Being done with finals has made me want to drink more than
anything else so far. I'm displacing less, but smoking seems to help
not craving a drink.

And I still have the beard.

Friday, December 11, 2009

it's a move I'm calling the deuce

Every female duo has this dichotomy: the Hot One, and the Other One. Usually, the OO isn't unhot, just less hot than the HO. Here's the move, and it's simple.

Hit on the OO. simple, easy, like fish in barrel. Make conversation. Relax for a minute and realize that the OO has had to exercise her non-genital charms more than the HO and thus, might be better at conversation.

NOTE: if she isn't smarter than the HO, abandon ship and bail. This is the dreaded "head up ass" OO which means that she isn't DTF and that the HO is vapid and too dumb to recognize regular validation. The end result is cockblock by jealous HO who wants the usual tribute to her beauty, which is your rapt and celibate drink purchases.

If the OOis at all interesting, she should be flattered by your attention and break away from the HO. This OO has been subsisting on friend bomb diving wingmen for years and needs a catch of her own. Be that catch.

Oh, wait, what's that? HO is getting in the way right around hook-up two? yup, there's that old green eyed monster. She's jealous. the OO is getting play and the HO is not. This is unnatural and unnerving for all (fact: the OO will be more nervous and jittery than usual. It's the not the calorie boost from semen).

Right the natural order and give the HO what she wants.

There, doesn't everyone feel better?

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

This is a collection of the tracks I wish I had had in high school, to help me understand and deal with awakening to my bisexuality. The time that we need music the most in our youth.
Micheal-Franz Ferdinand. A great song with a great line “sticky hair, sticky hips,
stubble on my sticky lips” is even better because my first male crush was named Mykul. I’ll allow for HOMOphone jokes here.

I’ll cover you- Rent
. A great love song for any couple, but sung between a bio-male and trans-woman, so better because it’s queer.

Someone to Love-Queen. Sometimes you just have to sing it out, and while he wasn’t always out, Freddie could always sing.

You’ve got a fast car-Tracy Chapman. I agree that artists shouldn’t use their sexual orientation to establish a market niche (tracy has never discussed her sexuality, but has been outed by a lover), and this song is good medicine for anyone, especially teenage boys and girls who need some escapist fantasy.

In these shoes?-Kirsty Maccoll. Within each of us, there is some fabulous diva. Channel the diva, when appropriate.

Origin of Love-Rufus Wainwright. Hedwig and the Angry Inch is something like a comedy of errors for the queer community, but it does have this truly romantic and melancholy gem in it. Rufus Wainwright does it best, though.

Sweet Transvestite- Rocky Horror Picture Show. Rocky is the first mainstream outlet for the drag in all of us.

Falling is like this- Ani DiFranco. It is somewhat obligatory to include the most vocal gay-rights proponent in music on this playlist, but beyond that, this song talks about love as genderless, which is both comforting and emotionally informative.

The bitch of living-spring awakening. There is nothing more gay teen than painfully unrequited love (and of course, quiet undertones of divine masturbation). Plus, knowing about Spring Awakening in 2003 would have made me the coolest kid in choir.

I’m still standing-Sir Elton John. Along with Ani and Freddie, Elton belongs on this list as queer musical royalty. This upbeat tune never fails to improve my day, and it’s impossible to not sing along.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Day 8-the sober beard.

Sobriety is like a beard. You must make a daily, inconvienient
decision to abstain from an act. No matter how much you itch today,
you've put in days of work beforehand to earn that glorious,
defeatable itch.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Day 4

Had a therapy meeting today. Supposed to talk about what I'm doing,
how I'm going to quit.

H1n1 strikes again. My therapist is down for the count. I still went
in, to talk about what's in my head with someone. I got a schedule for
AA. We'll see if I use it. I spent the rest of the day with
JoanieDrama and Killspy. It was nice. Alot of laughter and tv. I
guess this is my new life.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Last night

Last night, I had a dream. I was driving to a place called Sierra
Bend, somewhere in the mountainous eastern part of my state. I tend to
enjoy these drives, taking the long, snaky, uncertain path to my
destination. On this road to Sierra Bend, there were many switchbacks,
gravel sections, and bridges. There was traffic. I was low on fuel. I
was lost. And I was so busy driving that I couldn't look at the map or
the fuel gauge or do anything but dodge other cars and obstacles.

Moving was so hard that I didn't have time to know where I was going.
Still day three.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Sobriety

I just can't tell. I really want to stop drinking, to get my life on
track. But I've always wanted to be better than an I am, to fix the
chronic problems that seem to be fundamentally at fault for my
problems. Further, no one seems to believe I have a problem when I
present them with the facts.
Am I the only one who thinks I have a problem?

Day 2. I need a structure and a coach.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Alcohol

So I've realized that I have no control over my drinking. It is costing me so much and all I've got for it is shame, bad habits, and a bad reputation. I'm hurting and scared. I wanna be sober for a week, but I don't know that I can. I am such a failure.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Existentialism and Mysterious Skin

When I heard that there was to be an assignment on a queer-themed movie, I quickly checked the list for one of my favorite movies, Mysterious Skin.  Its a film about alienation, about anger, about personality and adjustment.  It is a film that evokes the strongest of feelings from me, even though I hold so little in common with the main characters.  The story follows two mid-western boys in their attempts to assimilate and recover from childhood molestation.  It is not a movie about being gay, but it is a movie about being secretly lost within oneself.
​ I always look towards the title of a film for guidance towards the meaning of the movie.  The words “Mysterious Skin” don't ever appear in the dialogue of the film.  This means that the screenwriter decided on those words, separate and apart from just pulling them from the dialogue, so they are an additional clue.  When we understand what the words mean, we understand more about what the film means.
​We all have a “mysterious skin”.  It is the skin we have.  The existentialists called the concept “absurdity”, the pointlessness and guidelessness of life.  There is no compass to our self-definition, our essence, and in fact, in the wanderings, we define ourself in trying. Further, there is no way to define ourselves correctly, except as exposed in our living.  Worse, our essence cannot be completely known until our life is complete.  This is the human plight, trying to make sense of our selves and life, having no guide and no conclusion.
​The movie opens with a very confusing image.  A smiling, cute, dark-haired little boy, perhaps 7 or 8 years old, is surrounded by falling, colorful objects, which eventually focus enough for us to see that they are fruit loops.  This is an alien, strange image, and even worse, it blinks away once we see the boys face fully.  He is smiling, his eyes are closed, he is lost in the sensation of the fruit loops falling onto and bouncing off of his face.  The meaning of this image is not at all clear.  The audience is lost and confused by it.
​Words flash across the screen, “Brian Lackey Summer 1981”.  Unfortunately, we gain no clues about our smiling, dark-haired hero because another boy comes on the screen, this one blonde and not smiling.  Brian, narrating as a young man, starts telling a story about time he lost as an 8 year old.  He refers to 5 hours between a little league game and being found in his cellar which he cannot recall.  He is lost.  He doesn't know where that part of his self went.  We learn that he begins to have blackouts and nosebleeds, that he starts to wet the bed.  Whatever he lost, it is causing him great stress.  He sees a UFO that summer too, and pairs it with the lost time as the powerful, mysterious experiences he has that summer.
​Life is stressful.  Every child, every person has anxieties and confusion related to their self-identity.  It is a result of the absurdity of life.  There are points in life where we recognize that all our decisions occur as degrees of certainty, and that every decision we make has some elements of guess work to it.  Some decisions are entirely arbitary guesses.  We are confused and unsure about this, and sometimes blame our feelings on experiences that aren't actually related.  Brian links the lost time and the UFO as events in the same time frame, but can never be sure that they are any more or less related than that.
​The next scene in the movie, we meet our first boy again, but this time he is not smiling, and his face is obscured by the shadows of window blinds.  The text overlay that precedes the scene informs us that our boys name is Neil McCormack, and that he is talking from the same summer as Brian, 1981.  The narration even starts a parallel.  They both begin with the words, “The summer that I was 8 years old...” Brian talks about his lost time, but Neil goes on to say “...I came for the first time.”  Neil, also as an older version of himself, is narrating the story of his first orgasm, watching his mother and her boyfriend have sex in his back yard, on a swing set.  
​The viewer is jarred by the blunt, rough, and vulgar nature of the voice, contrasted with the image of this seemingly innocent young boy.  Even more jarring is the confession that he is referring to his mother's boyfriend, Alfred,  as “all marlboro man, dumb as a fucking rock, what I would years later call to call 'my type.”  Our experience with Neil is getting stranger and stranger, and stranger still is the superimposition of another man, in a different place, with better lighting and a different mustache, with similar orgasmic faces.  The superimposition occurs where we are looking through Neil's point of view, so we must believe that he has seen this view, of this man, before.  This scene ends with the disturbing and strange words “...When I came, I couldn't wait to tell Coach.”
​Neil directs us back to the beginning of the story, where we meet Coach.  He is, in fact, the same man we have seen, mirrored by Alfred.  The story told goes to a private meeting between Coach and Neil, and a private trip back to Coaches house, which is loaded with toys, video games, and soda.  It is clear to the viewer that Coach is a pedophile and Neil is unaware.  The exposition of the abuse continues in a romantic story arch, ending in a scene in the kitchen.  Neil accidentally spills some cereal on the floor, and Coach makes it fun by throwing his cereal on the floor, too.  When all of the cereal is tossed, Coach lowers Neil onto the floor and kisses him.
​This is the loss of identity that Neil suffers.  Where Brian lost time, Neil lost his innocence.  He compares the spilt cereal on the floor to a shattered Kaleidoscope, hinting at his own feelings inside.  Neil says “...the taste of coaches tongue seared my mouth.”  Afterwards, Coach tries to convince him that he liked it, and that liking it is ok, and that everything will be ok.
​Neil is confused.  He acted with shame and confusion during the scene on the floor, whimpering with fear.  Afterwards, he is looking at the floor until he slowly makes eye contact with Coach, as Coach assures him that everything will be alright.  He has found a compass.  He trusts Coach, so despite his own inner turmoil, he will believe Coach.  We all have had these false guides.  We have all placed our faith on people who failed us, on ideals that that we have left behind, on bands or trends that we have outgrown.  The confusion of life gives us anxiety, and we seek certainty where ever we can find it, even if that certainty is misguided or wrong.
​In the next scenes, we discover Neil to have grown into a destructive and angry boy.  On Halloween, he forces another boy to hold lit fireworks in his mouth, and then masturbates him after they go off, to make him feel better.  A cut-scene later, Neil is 15 and turning tricks with older men at a cruising park.  His tricks aren't concerned about using protection because of his age and the size of the town, and he is proud to be turning tricks.  He even shows his best friend, Wendy, bruises on his penis from one of them.  After that conversation, they talk about a movie of their lives being played on a drive-in theatre screen and the voice of God coming through one of the speakers in the parking lot.  Neil says “I hear him.”  It is a rare moment for him, soft and escapist, juxtaposed to the harsh and dismissive norm we expect from him.
​On that same Halloween night in 1981, Brian gets lost outside of a haunted house and is approached by a strange figure.  He passes out again, and wakes up an hour later with a nosebleed, just like the first time.  Another cut-scene, and we find Brian is watching a TV special on aliens.  He believes his lost time is due to alien abductions.  He spends time learning about his abductions and memories about them, recording a dream journal and drawing what he can recall of the aliens.  This has become his compass, his map to understanding himself.
​The boys grow older, into 19.  The first clue of how these boys are involved with each other comes when Brian remembers that he is wearing a little league uniform in one of his dreams.  He looks at a photo and roster, and identifies N. McCormick as a boy that was in one of his dreams.  Brian starts to become friends with Neil's friends, waiting for him to return from New York so they can discuss the dreams and lost time, to better understand what happened.
​Neil is in New York City, turning tricks and learning about safe sex.  He meets a john with lesions and is asked, instead of sex, to simply rub his back.  This is jarring for the boy, being valued for his touch, not his sex.  He is disturbed by it, and talks to Wendy about how important to his identity the abuse was.  Coach made him feel loved and special.  He says, “I was his one true love.”
​Christmas comes.  Neil comes back from New York, to meet Brian.  They have a very telling line of dialogue.  Neil says “We have a lot in common, don't we?” and Brian replies, “I think so.”  Both is certain that they know what they are talking about, but both are misguided.  In the vagueness and the confusion, they have both invented stories to serve as guides.  Neil, as lover, Brian, as abductee, to replace their shared history as victim.
​As the boys talk, Brian becomes more and more clear about what happened to them.  Neil leads into the story with “I was his favorite,” trying to preserve his fiction. They share their stories, it becomes clear to Brian that the blackouts came to repress the memories of coach abusing him.  They find their own histories in this sharing.  They find that the guideposts, the compass they found for themselves, failed under the weight of the truth.  Neil will never again feel like the trophy that Coach made him feel like.  Brian will never again be able to deny and repress his abuse.  They are back to confusion and absurdity, but they at least understand themselves in a way that is more based on truth. We are lost victims, and life is something like a compromise between comfort and truth

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Hollywoods knows: summer lovin ain't so easy!

This summer was disappointing. It was surprisingly lame. I
did, however, have an excellent vacation to Austin texas to see
family. My parents have never learned to relax, but it's a hobby I'm
going to keep.

Well, I was. The new mock case is up this Weekend, so I'm trying to
get dick deep in it and get ready for this season. I don't want our
team to struggle, but we graduated some world class mockers last year,
so we need to make up for that with preparedness, chemistry, and
enthusiasm.

Friday, May 1, 2009

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

GUESS WHO GOT A PHONE CALL PUT ON THE SEX IS FUN CALL IN SHOW!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Hollywood knows: how to make another blog the people will ignore.

hollywood-democrazy.blogspot.com

Check it out.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Hollywood Knows: there's a reason he's not getting any.

The Reasons I'm Not Getting Laid:

my most intimate relationship right now is with my snuggie.
I'm no longer the pretty son, but I maintain my coquettish attitude.
I'm living off my credit card, because I party away my real money.
I have a blog.
I have a blog that no one reads.
I have a blog that no one reads explaining that I know everything and should be listened to dogmatically.
I'm bisexual, which is offputting to most southern women.
I'm closeted bisexual, which isn't convincing enough for most men.
I have to be wary during hunting season. I could be mistaken for BigFoot and shot for scientific study.
I'm fat.
I don't shave much or well.
I wear blazers with t-shirts, when I'm not wearing a neutral sweater.
I look like a professor.
I look like a proffesor taking a break from his poorly lit one room apartment to look at the college girls I couldn't hook up with when I was in college.
I plan on being that professor.
I talk about sex academically and casually.
I talk about philosophy, in public, with more conviction than regard.
I have a hairy ass.
I talk too loud when I'm drunk.
I'm always drunk.

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Hollywood Knows: he looks ridiculous, but he loves his snuggy.

My first commercial:

are you fat and lazy?

Patsy: boy, Am I ever!

Is this you?

Close up shot on trying to type through blanket, get popcorn, spill milk.

Then Have I got a product for you! It's called a snugglebuddy!Snuggle buddy has one small change that makes one HUGE difference.With stealthily located elongated external ventialtion exit, or SLEEVE, we solve all your problems.

Snugglebuddy! It's all you've ever wanted, if all you've ever wanted was a blanket with SLEEVE technology!But, wait there's more... If you call today, we'll upgrade you to the extra doubleplusgood Snugglebuddy, with EXTRA SLEEVE TECHNOLOGY.

Have you ever needed to hold a glass AND a plate while wearing a blanket?

Or type with two hands?

Hold two fire arms?

Load one firearm?

Carry a baby?

Masturbate while cleaning the tears off your face so you can see the porn more clearly?

Then the Snugglebuddy doubleplusgood edition is right FOR YOU!

And if you call in the next ten minutes, we'll include a free crack whore* to blow you under the snugglebuddy!

*Gender of crack whore cannot be guaranteed, or sometimes even determined.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Hollywood knows: talk about marriage should be done with discretion.

My roommate, Tex, and his girlfriend, Non-Neurotic Dancer, are making dinner. I love it when they do this, because Tex is a great cook and includes me in the portion sizes. I try to reciprocate, but they eat together and I can rarely break into their plans enough to feed them.

It's chili tonight, I'm having a 2006 Bull's Blood.

That aside, Tex does his own taxes. He's doing them as the beans boil and NND tidies up a bit. They're discussing why he does his own taxes and how difficult it is when I hear this bombshell: "When we're married and have assets, It'll be harder."

WHA-HUH-HUT?!

Here is when marriage talk is appropriate:
Dad's got a gun and wants to open the floor for discussion.
Svetlana's visa is up, and her stripping gig is lucrative.
You've been together for 5 years, non-stop, and haven't gotten tired of your partner yet.
You've been together 7 years and the ultimatum comes.

Times when marriage talk is NOT appropriate:
either party is naked or drunk.
either party is in their first relationship.
either party has lost their virginity in the last 6 months.
either party is homeless or running away.
either party is unsure of their sexual orientation.
either party beleives the female orgasm is a myth.

Here is my personal opinion. I don't support marriage. I think it's a perverse lifestyle, and I think that married people are actively recruiting our children to their way. I get so tired of seeing two people holding hands on the street, openly broadcasting their sexual limits to one specific partner, trying to convince it's ok to sleep with the same person for life.

Now, I know we all get confused. Hell, I thought I wanted to be married once. I learned better, though, and now I see the clear truth. Marriage is unnatural and weird, and the people who do it are doomed to risk dealing with alimony, divorce, wine tasting, and never being able to flirt again.

Hollywood knows: waking up sucks.

So I stayed up till about 4 playing penny hold 'em, actually had a successful night, tripled my buy in twice. However, I didn't wake up till 2 pm. That puts me 4 hours behind. I skipped women's studies (yeah, I shoulda been able to klep out, I KNOW!) and still had to rush to get a shower and make it to mock trial. I have to make it to student senate by 5.

We got alot to handle. The emergency texting system is failing on campus, they're improving it, but I'm getting blown off by the school administration. The appropriations meeting is coming up, and we're take a 6.4% budget cut, retroactively, which is basically twice that for the next two fiscal quarters. We're trying to convince the paper to stop printing so many papers because they're going straight to the recycle. I love kicking ass on campus... when I have the energy.

This day will be an ode to red bull. I LOVE THAT SHIT!

Monday, February 16, 2009

Hollywood knows: Jesus wouldn't vote for most republicans.

He would, however, go all temple courtyard on your hummer-drivin' asses.

I should clarify: I'm an athiest.
Jesus is still alright with me, but there is no way, given the nature of God and the nature of reality, that God exists.

Ask me to prove it. I dare you.

Hollywood knows: anything you want to know.

This is a TOTAL cop-out, but let's give it a shot.

What do you want to know? I'll answer any questions. I swear to you that I know everything that can be known (yeah yeah yeah, google did it first).

Try me.

Hollywood knows: how to make a roux and when.

a roux is used to thicken sauces, usually white sauces.

Take fat (butter or oil) and heat to liquid, medium-low.
add an equal part of starch (usually flour).

cook on medium-low until it smells like nuts or turns a blonde color.

yeah, I'm still trying to figure out what this blog will be about. Things should get more interesting as I get drunker and madder.