Friday, December 21, 2007

Section Nine-Seventeen may have been hit

The thing is, as soon as something with that dramatic quality to be labeled 'blog-fodder' happens, I don't feel like posting anything any more.

Quick, a change of topic:

Friday, December 7, 2007

Precious Time

It's hard to watch Opopanax cross stitch diligently a beautiful piece for my mother. She will love it, yes, but I hope she still appreciates the gift when she knows what we mean to each other. Her works is so perfect, the next one's for us :)

Jebus was white?

Sometimes history is blatantly ignored to suit our current needs. The subject line refers to some KKK members who bare signs saying, "Jesus was white". Implying that we come from Jesus, and they only love whitie, so Jesus MUST have been white!

My mother is heavily religious. She believes everyone will go to hell unless they believe what she does. She also very much believes in the devil. We give authority to him by doing sinful things. For example, if I were to watch a horror movie with Satan in it, I would be giving him authority to affect me negatively. Anyone who does not believe what she does is hindering God and is in darkness.

So then, what the fuck is up with HER Pagan Christmas tree? She celebrates so many traditions deeply rooted in things she hates so much. If I should not pierce myself because it has a history in marking slaves, than why does she organize Easter egg hunts? Why isn't she cursed from the devil?

Everything we do comes from somewhere. Enjoy yourself, and keep it to yourself :)

Goodnight :p

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Happy Birthday Spider-Boy

Today was Karloff Jr.'s birthday.

He wasn't smothered in gifts, but he was hella satisfied and reminded us so throughout the day. He and I baked a chocolate cake together later on. As it cooled, Karloff, Opopanax and I made the specified birthday dinner. Which was grilled cheese and little pizzas. All through supper, Mini Karloff would give me long meaningful smiles, so pleased with the day and the care we took in making sure it was special. He is a sweet old soul.

Just before bed he asks, "You think after lunch tomorrow I could have another piece of this cake Mum?"

Days like today when we are all together, with life and love filling this big house, I am sweetly surrounded.

And I am lucky, lucky girl :)

Monday, December 3, 2007

A snowfall of paramount importance

So, as I stated in my last post, I've taken some time recently to reflect on my current situation.

Life has been increasingly hectic over the last few weeks. Between appointments, work, activity groups and social events our "pleasant country life" has become one long car ride in and out of the capital. Being the only one in the relationship with daily ties to the city - the blame can be laid squarely on my shoulders. This wouldn't be such a burden to me since I work and bring in a modest paycheck...

But here's the kicker - with the amount of money spent on the hotel's monthly rent and the money we spend on gas getting too and from the city each day (since the dogs are kept at the compound and must be tended to daily)...we actually end up paying for me to go to work!

Isn't that insane?

This is something we have known for a while now and discussed in detail.
But if I quit my job we would no longer be able to afford the hotel on just Karloff's paycheck. Of course, with no ties to work in the city I could just move out to the compound and my daughter could change schools in the new year to go to the school with May & Karloff's son. I mean, really, we intend on getting married next fall, so at the latest I would be moving then, anyway.

We had already spoken about how long I would stay with my company before I returned to school. It was only a matter of months before I planned on leaving in pursuit of better things. *Cute, tiny, better little things*

And of course, my company isn't great at keeping my schedule and work site consistant! They're always changing my hours and shipping me off to a new site in need of competent administration with a few hours notice at most! It's mentally exhausting and, frankly, it demoralizing! As soon as I get to know the ins and outs of the building and develope a repore with the staff and tenants, I get sent on to the next building at the other end of the and I get a two hour pay cut! And this is not just once or twice. No. 5 times. 5 times in the last 6 months!

What the fuck is that? I mean, really? What the fuck?

Life was becoming difficult.

But today put a stop to that. The day started off just like any other day waking up at the compound. The alarm went off at 6:30am and I reset the time, giving myself another 30 minutes of sweet precious sleep. When it went off again, I rolled over and did my best to arouse Karloff's interest (which he was more than willing to give) while May got a few more well deserved minutes of rest. Well, that was the theory, anyway. May wasn't really able to sleep through it (I've always been rather loud) but in the end we were all very happy if not necessarily ready to go to work.

We smoked a quick joint and I magicked myself into some clothes. While I was completing the various ritual sacrifices and spells to perform such a task (ie. getting myself ready in the morning), Karloff was off in the livingroom tending to the house fire (our large, constantly blazing fireplace that warms the compound). May & I were chatting in the bedroom when from the other room we heard her son's ominous four-year-old voice call out, "Oh-oh! You're going to be sorry for that!" Followed by Karloff's not so enthusiastic "I already am". We waited for him to come to us in the bedroom before we asked what was wrong. It seems he had been putting more wood in the fireplace but had closed the door a little too hard on one of the pieces of wood which had in turn broken the glass pane. It was unfortunate, but an accident and by no means anything to be upset over. We worked out the details of getting it fixed, then May & I were off - on to the capital at top speed in order to make it to my office on time!

Here's where things got tricky! Damn those canadian winters!

The car was completely stuck. May called the neighbour who agreed to help us out. He was out of town and would be a while getting back, so I went inside and called my work to let them know I would be late. We smoked another joint and waited for another two hours before we were able to get out. Shortly into our ride May & I passed a van being pulled out from a snow filled ditch. We laughed about how we should get out and take a picture to send to my boss with a message that I wouldn't be in today! But as we drove further and further away from the van the speed of the car got slower and slower as May & I really wondered if we could get away with it.

May drove at 23mph down the road for a while trying to convince me that this "could totally work, baby!" We formulated a plan ("no, we have to get out! we can't take a picture of "our car" from inside another'll look fake!") we got turned around and I got my phone/camera out...only to find that the van had been pulled free of the snow! damnit.

We were still headed back in the direction of the compound but now I had no excuse to stay home from work! I tried for a while to convince May to put us in a ditch "only just a little", but she said something about insurance, her car and CAA. Not being a driver, I had no idea what she was talking about. Certified Anglican Accountants?

So we drove back to the capital talking about how much it really sucked that this had to continue for so long and why did I have to wait to quit anyway. There was only one reason to keep that job and it involves two words I still find myself afraid to write in the public view. (Eternity Steve!)

Big brother could be watching....

Along the way I called Karloff and asked him how he felt about me quitting, and what started off as a joke became a serious discussion. I found myself composing my resignation letter in the back of May's datebook as we sped along the highway. I called the superintendant of my building and asked him about their sublet policy.

Then I called and dropped the big bomb on Gamera -

I'm moving out of town and you'll never see your grandchild again you horrible fiend!!!!

At least, I think that's how she took it. My mother & I have many an issue and I'm sure this one is only just starting, but don't worry, I'll keep you all posted. ;p

So we stopped by the hotel to speak to the landlord then headed into the office to type and hand in my resignation. My boss was disappointed, but not surprised. She knew the problems I was having getting in and out of town and she knew how I felt about my site changes. I told her I would be in until Friday (but not today), but she said she knew the weather would only be getting worse so if I can't come in it was okay. I gave her the keys and told her I'd try to make it in tomorrow but that she should call if they didn't *need* me.

We picked up some chicken for diner then headed to the hotel to smoke some more joints and pick up a few things. I saw a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a while and we caught up for a bit then May & I headed back to the compound. This morning while waiting for the neighbour, May had cut down a Yule tree to put up in the house. When we got back to the compound we started putting the lights up on the tree.

It's not done yet and we have nothing but a star for the top right now...but it's still beautiful. We'll keep going when I'm done this joint / post.

Karloff's checking his mail and it looks grim...shaky hands and phone calls fill the air...

Sunday, December 2, 2007

But I don't wanna go to the mall !? :(

Firstly, and quickly, I've been meaning to send you to this dirty and hilarious podcast

" ...two ex gutter
punks who fall in love,
buy a
retired farm in southeast wisconsin
and tell the world
their dirty secrets…
profane, rarely profound."

If it sounds like your bag, give it a listen. I for one will be filling my phone with DND podcasts for those treks back and forth from Capital City and the Compound.

In other news. I hear that The Christmas is happening soon. Shopping, you say? It scares me more than it excites me at this point. Why does everyone I know have their gifts bought?

H.e.l.p m.E


I've been reflecting on how long it's been since my last post. I've been quite absent from the blog since my "big day". I admit I still blush when I think of it or look down at my beautiful ring ~*v*~

I couldn't be happier than I am when I'm with Karloff and May! Every moment I have with them seems to stretch out forever - like the very concept of being apart is remote and distant. Yet, there is still never enough time. Eternity couldn't be long enough so share with them everything I want to and have to give.

In all honesty, Karloff has been on my ass to post something. My audience awaits, he says (what audience, I ask?!).

I've undertaken too many projects lately. Mainly trying to complete a gift for someone (who's birthday happened to be last Thursday! *gasp*). I've also thankfully found my copy of Eye of the World by Robert Jordan which I am currently reading to May & Karloff. We're all quite happy to have found it since our little reading sessions can now continue.

Just a few days ago Karloff picked out a cute little gift at the comic book shop for me...Genbu Kaiden from Fushigi Yuugi. He bought me the 1st & 2nd mangas of the series, which so far I've enjoyed. Unfortunately, I had the foolish idea of mentioning this to my brother, who promptyly told me that happens to the main character at the end of the series. THANKS!

Suppose worse things could happen. Truthfully, that has been a drop in the pond this week.

Mostly I find myself reflecting on my experiences as a leasing agent over the years. I've met some interesting people and seen some odd, sometimes unfortunate things. I've been solicited at work, harassed, threatened, followed, assaulted, screamed at, scared half out of my mind by swat teams, seen children ripped away from their junkie mother's arms, seen prositutes beaten on the street in front of my office window, been offered crack by the bum smoking in our lobby, gotten kittens pulled out of garbage compactors that had been dropped from the 12th floor of an apartment building, been questioned by police investigators over suspicious deaths...I haven't lost many residents of the buildings I've worked in...but it came close this week.

One of my tenants had quite a close brush with death this past week. I had only just spoken with the man an hour before he was rushed out of his apartment by the paramedics and the fire department. Had my superintendant and property manager, who broke down the door and were the first people on the scene, not receieved a call about a leak into another tenant's bathroom, they never would have gone into the apartment and broken in the door to get to the running bathtub and semi-conscious man. Thankfully they were able to get help to him before he was too far gone.

My property management company's head office has okayed our office sending him and his family a gift basket to show we care...(that we get his money...*sigh*)

You really wouldn't think property management would be stressful emotionally...but if you think about it, you work where people live. Life happens at home and all these things are unfortunate parts of some people's lives. It makes me sad.

I have a book that I write in sometimes...quotes, parts of songs, poems or plays, etc...
I haven't been able to find it lately, but there are two quotes I've wanted to add over the last few days. Somehow they seem relevent right now...

"You know I'm gonna lose
Gambling is for fools
But that's the way I like it, baby
I don't wanna live forever..."

- The Ace of Spades by Motorhead

Well, I know it hard for you to know the reason why
But I know you'll understand more when it's time to die
I don't believe this life you have will be the only one
You have to let your body sleep to let you soul live on"

- Sabbra Cadabra by Metallica / Black Sabbath

Friday, November 30, 2007

fry day

The internet should know to keep these things away from me when I'm so very tired:

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Yule (Buy It)

Christmas is coming up pretty rapidly, and it has me thinking about stuff. Not in the 'stuff & things' general sense, more in the Carlin-'a place for your stuff'-sense. I've been recently gifted some fairly snazzy electronics, but in all honesty, compared with the rest of the blessings this year they don't have the shine they may have once had.

Anyhow, here's a small photo collection of items that have caught my eye:

This is a photo of a key cutter from O's office. It's the only thing in this short list that wasn't currently available to buy, but I really wanted to point out a few things, like the odd gun terminology in use in the description. Personally I can't be bothered copying my keys manually, and I accidentally shot the dog with my full-auto key chucker.

The thing that really bothered me about this was the "Made in USA" sticker, indicating it was likely built during the 70s' great "the" shortage.

Now, listen, I can understand someone wanting to own a Transformers belt buckle despite the show being a walking toy commercial, (a state the neighbouring bat and spider-men are sliding into,) but this booth at the mall really made my eye twitch. A Ford logo? A bloody Honda logo?

Listen chummer, robots are forever but that crap pile you bought from your Mom after highschool (just so you could tack on a loud & shiny muffler,) is no replacement for engaging in the realities of your life, and no garish logo buckle is going to save you.

(I realize that it looks like there are a lot of jewel encrusted skull & crossbones in the top row, but you have to keep in mind that I was shopping in the pirate district.)

This is actually out in front of a relatively classy looking spa in Capital City. I admit, I have no idea what "fillers" are, but the idea of being able to get botox, /any/ botox, for $8.88 sent shivers through my supple, well formed, entirely immobile lips.

Actually, while I stand by the oddly cliched position that no one will be shooting poison into my face any time soon, for $50 I'll be happy to wash people in hot chocolate with a stiff brush.

So one night Opopanax and I run to the grocery store while May wrangles the children to their intended destination. If you've never been to a food basics it's just your standard chain grocery store with enough on the margins to try and keep them competitive with the great Wal. We actually saw another one of these charmers by the door, without its cardboard backing, but that backing turns this item from 'well, you know, not for my kids, but whatever' to 'do you have your phone I need to post this'.

The picture may be hard to make out, but the backing is like a brief history of modern combat. If I recall correnctly there's an apache helicopter, a tank or armoured personal carrier of some sort, Nick Út's Napalm Victim photo and some shots from Abu Ghraib.

Alright, the tank and the apache were definitely there, as well as some other scenes of big shiny combat, and I couldn't help but think '3? Do I really need to wait that long? This probably isn't lead based paint right, so we could just leave it in the baby's crib...'

Maybe I could also pick up a tot-gas mask and combat helmet like the fellow in the top right, so it'll just be a low moist rasp as my 5 year old crawls along my sleeping leg to bury a ghurka knife in my ribs while playing "GWOT".

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Friday, November 23, 2007

more moreness

And while I'm thinking of posting articles, Opopanax found this Maclean's article a while ago and I may as well post it. It's an interesting read, implying that our situation may have a decent legal standing in Canada if anyone had the lawyers to challenge it:

Chloe is a twentysomething legal assistant from Toronto, who hopes to go to law school one day. She's interested in kayaking, camping, painting and photography, "the 'old fashioned' way, with film." As for her thoughts on marriage, she's even more old fashioned: think, Old Testament. "I am interested in polygamy, which brings me here!" she wrote to Sisterwives, an online forum for women in polygamous marriages, for those considering it, and for "poly-friendly individuals, male and female."

Thursday, November 22, 2007

The Family

Here's an interesting article from Babble, about child rearing in a triad relationship, that I found on Polyamory In The News.

"Why do some kids have three parents?"

A group of our friends were spending a weekend at a cabin in the mountains, and our hosts' not-quite-three-year-old was starting to do the math. Over the squalls of nap-resisting toddlers, her mom responded without missing a beat: "Because they're lucky."

Big Questions On Big Days

Take #4 on this post:

We awoke under a blanket of snow, the first blizzard of the year making the world look like it had been redecorated by Tony Montana.

May and I have been discussing things for a while, but somehow this morning seemed different, the world had changed slightly. It would be easy to quote that ornery gunslinger with the missing fingers and say the world had moved on, but I've never really bought into the finality that winter is supposed to represent. Maybe it's just where I grew up, but going into the woods after a snow fall, the trees always seemed more alive while straining against their icy holdings - you see tracks everywhere, the hopping paths of birds, the big footed snuffling of rabbits, deer, foxes.. suddenly the evidence of passage stands clear.

Its easy for my brain to hide in the day to day static, and not consider the larger matters, but today is a day for beginnings, a day to mark our path as we've come, and to look to where we're going. And to ask some very large* questions.

Opopanax, how we adore you.

Wish us luck!

* and not necessarily legal in this country

Addendum: She said yes!

Friday, November 16, 2007

I'm such a dick.

This is largely a direct apology to the wonderfully demented hostess at antibarbie. I've been reading her site for a bit, and really enjoying it, but I have to admit I missed something pretty vital.

I even read the entire post, but somehow missed my new moniker attached to it. Of course, my brain finally uncoiling itself from a series of work related unpleasantries, I go back and there it is: my horrible misdeed staring me in the face.

Now for my penance:

8 Things I’m Passionate About:

1. My wonderful loves
2. Collecting as much information about everything as I can
3. Science, especially space and technologies useful in bringing a little equality to the world.
4. Tolerance, motherfucker.
5. Bringing a little rationality to the religion debate
6. Equality and minding of own business for all
7. Film
8. Chiba

8 Things I Want to Do Before I Die:

1. Get published
2. Make it into space
3. Learn to play bass
4. Save a culture from destruction
5. Mold my children into something they can be proud of
6. Take a nap
7. Have the freedom to travel at our whim
8. Become immortal

8 Things I Often Say:

1. That'll happen.
2. Uh, but I think we're going to be late?
3. Chupacabra! (My nickname for the wee boy.)
4. Poop. (You need a replacement around little ears.)
5. Dig.
6. Hella (as in "we're going to be hella late?")
7. Cum guzzling dog fucker!
8. Sure thing, love(ly)

8 Books I’ve Read Recently (or Still Reading):

1. The Official Driver's Handbook
2. Lord Jim (I heart Joseph Conrad)
3. Cell
4. Black House
5. The Power and The Glory (Bought it used and some fiend had ripped out the last page)
6. The Dosadi Experiment
7. The White Plague
8. Eye Of The World (Well, Opopanax is actually reading it to us.)

8 Songs I Could Listen to Over and Over:

1. Icky Thump by The White Stripes
2. Rawhide by The Dead Kennedys
3. Tear The Roof Off The Sucker by Parliament Funk
4. Nautical Disaster by The Tragically Hip
5. A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall by Bob Dylan
6. All Rights Reversed by The Chemical Brothers
7. Thou Shalt Always Kill by dan le sac vs scroobius pip
8. Start A War by The National (I insist you follow that link... in a new tab)

8 Things that Attract Me to my Best Friends:

I agreed with antibarbies list here, so I just changed the first item.

1. Truth
2. Wit
3. Humor
4. Candor
5. Loyalty
6. Individuality
7. Taste
8. Compassion

I tag assembling words to armory, she waits... and Bamboo Blitz.

And now, hopefully, let the healing begin.

Late Again, I Heart Saturdays

Pretty much every day we are late to get Opopanax to work. We try, we really do, and we are always hopeful for the next day. We set the alarm for at least 90 minutes before punch in time. We get things in order a bit, shower, brush teeth. But then... and it comes on without warning. It's messy, naked, sweaty love. There is a point where things relax and we lay and discuss the few things left to get in order. We get up, start looking for pants... but then it happens AGAIN, who starts it? I dunno? One can't tell these sorts of things. We think, surely there's time, isn't there always time? And in the throws of passion, one of us comes to the surface to realize we have only 20 minutes... but, of course isn't that enough time?

Later, we jump to our feet grabbing only necessary items and running to get shoes on. We rush out the door blowing kisses and leaping to the car. We smoke and listen to music loudly whilst still obeying the speed limit in order to keep my sweetness from worrying. She makes calls testing the waters at work while I focus on arriving alive. She leaves me sweet lip glossed kisses and sails away inside. And then she's gone.

Saturday is heaven.

On Sleeping In The Middle

This is absolutely relevant to the post
and no I'm not just extremely tired and
willing to giggle at anything.

I'm not sure how it came about, but somehow I ended up being the one sleeping in the middle. This isn't always true, but when it's a matter of choice and not just nodding off halfway through Clash Of The Titans, I'm the chosen fender of elbows.

I've come to some observational conclusions based on my time in the trench, and I've come to impart them into the silence of the early morning intertron:
  • The only option is to spoon.
  • A few inches can mean the difference between a comfortable sleep and bluish limbs.
  • The XKCD bed is a good idea, but even just a runnel and not a full out hole would be handy. I find my shoulders grow sore from always being under some one's pillow.
  • Your spine has more elasticity than you'd expect
  • A shelf over the bed would be crazy handy. And a little snake light for reading. And some monkey bars to help me in and out of bed without accidental elbowing or deblanketing of nearby sleepers. Scratch that, actual monkeys to help me in and out of bed. (Quietly now, Mr. Chuckles.)
  • Its a lot warmer at the center, but you're restricted in how low you can push the blanket to cool. This would probably be really easy to break down into a equation, but you'd have to factor in blanket hogging. (I believe blanket hogging has something to do with chaos theory, you know that old chestnut: 'If May hogs a blanket on a cold November night, somewhere in Japan Jeff Goldblum is eaten by a velociraptor.')
  • We need a bigger bed.
Monkey Sleep Force One, Assemble!

Friday, November 9, 2007


I'm having one of those moments where I feel especially lucky to be loved by two such strong, gorgeous and intelligent people, and I just wanted to record it in a shout to the world.


Thursday, November 8, 2007

The Battle For MacDonald's

There was an epic battle in the hallway outside the Hotel today.

It all started with a samosa. I normally wouldn't eat one myself, but May's samosa was looking soo good and I was just soo hungry. There were a few doubts about Karloff's cooking (or rather heating) technique...but I thought, no, I KNEW that if he made me a samosa tonight it would be heated through and through and I would LOVE it! I was so sure. So arrogant in my certainty.

The samosa was gross. Though to his credit, Karloff did a great job heating it up.

*props to daddy*

I was so hungry, though, that I figured if I could just swallow the wretched thing I would be fine.
The first bite was followed by a not-so-discreet grimace, which quickly had Karloff & May at my side asking what the problem was. I explained to them that, rather than eat something I would enjoy, I would just finish eating the (disgusting) samosa.

My gag reflex kicked in halfway through the ordeal and I called to May for ketchup - stat! She delivered a saucy counterstroke to the obscene pastry and I rapidly dispatched the subsisting components. I quickly turned to Dr. Pepper for comfort, though he was able to give me little in this time of need.

Throughout the later part of my suffering, Karloff was insisting that he get me something else to eat that I would enjoy more. Now, arguing with him seemed silly since I could just take three more (stomach turning) bites and be done with it, so naturally I let him wander off towards the kitchen in search of food.

Here's where I figured I had the upper hand. Where it all went wrong. My hubris...

I knew we really didn't have much in the way of food in the kitchen! I figured he'd look about for a while then give up and some back to our waiting arms in the smoking room. I should have known he wouldn't give up when he thought I needed something. Deep down, though...deep down...I knew. At least, I knew it was a possibility...the MacDonald's being soo close. But I knew we had no money for frivolous BigMac's...I knew he knew that.

May & I were still chatting when I heard the wind rush into the room from the window. I knew the only thing strong enough to cause that kind of draft was the front door opening. Immediately I questioned May(maybe she was in on it) but she merely suggested that he may be taking out the garbage. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing at once that I could trust her and that she could not be involved in this conspiracy. If May were to up to something and trying to distract me she would do a hell of a lot better than 'taking out the garbage'.

Though there was no way of knowing, I had made another fatal error in trusting May...

As soon as I made my way out into the living room and saw Karloff's shoes were missing I knew what was going on. I raced out the front door to find a very surprised and guilty looking Karloff, trying to sneak off to MacDonald's to get me a very unnecessary Big Mac. At this point I had already eaten that god awful samosa and I was no longer really hungry - making the expenditure of our limited funds unnecessary.

Of course I really couldn't argue this with Karloff before he took off in the instead I grabbed him and dragged him back to the door. He then walked back to the elevator and got in. I told him I would go with him (fully knowing he would never let me go the way I was dressed and without shoes). He then proceeded to push ME back to the door. This is when I realized he was serious and I may have a fight on my hands.

Things rapidly escalated and I jerked open the door and called May for back up. She ran out from the room and I yelled for her to grab him so he couldn't get away. That's when it came...the vile act of treachery from May! She grabbed ME! Not Karloff! ME!!! She let him run to the elevator as I fought against her to grab him. With my every limb flailing around seeking some kind of meager purchase on him, she carried me back to the door kicking and not quite screaming but speaking very loudly.

Et tu Brute

When Karloff finally got back he had a BigMac and an apple pie. I didn't want to eat and I was more than a little disappointed that the food was going to waste (despite the fact that it's MacDonald's and I don't really know if that actually qualifies as food, really). Karloff spoke of his random encounter with a drug dealer outside the MacDonald's (or was he just on break?), then I took the sandwich to the kitchen to put in the fridge for tomorrow. I've set the alarm for 5:30am and a breakfast BigMac will not be an unwelcome thing to me. I know, however, that the lettuce always makes the bread soggy the next day, so I decide to trim down the lettuce content of the sandwich. Not eliminate the lettuce entirely, just the big pieces, y'know?

So I open the sandwich and what do I find? What do I find in this sandwich Karloff fought so hard to get me and I fought so hard against? The sandwich that May betrayed me for?

Rocks. Motherfucking rocks.

Thanks McDick's.

PS: The pie was delicious!

We Eek

It has been one of those weeks where even three sets of hands isn't enough.

Lateness, illness, headaches, stomach aches, cleaning, working, waiting, wringing, rushing, visiting, pushing, panting, occasional prancing, and an animatronic Bob Hope, have kept us pretty busy.

There is talk of undertaking a little creative side project involving the collapse of modern civilization and the relative drowning of the world's surface area, so that's neat. (And just in the first episode!)

Monday, November 5, 2007

Fall Back

Dear Daylight Savings Time,

From hell's heart, I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.


Friday, November 2, 2007

American Politics Are My Hockey

No, not that Gary Hart

This post reminds me of something that's been skittering through my brain over the last few days, about the wisdom of calling races before their day.

I realize it may seem like very little can stop The Inevitable Hillary, but tell it to Gary Hart. There are still a couple of months till the primaries, Obama's glow is dulling, and Hillary's war stance may get her in trouble yet. Pre-emptive race calling is a bane of American politics.

Still, my choice, Dodd/Kucinich (or vice versa) 2008 is an unlikely dream. I guess it's not all bad if on one hand you hurdle some gender\race barriers, or on the other you get some quality policy representation.

(Alright, I lied, the picture is actually someone named Cowboy Bill Watts, but you knew what I meant, didn't you.)

About Cat

This is what happens when someone(s) leave(s) the door open in the morning.

- found on PunkAssBlog

Thursday, November 1, 2007

transmission from an outpost

I'm having one of those days where time dilates, gumming progress to a crawl. I think time has nearly stopped at this point, and I want to leave a note behind in case the langoliers get me.

A haiku:

long day chews at me
I yearn for the clock to start
time flows when gathered

Someone hit pause again already.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

The Great Big Checklist (Man Has Much To Fear)

The list of things I need to do every birthday:
Now if all this work wasn't getting in the way..


I know tradition demands this be a day of endings, but I can't help but think ahead to what my next birthday may hold.

We'll be out of the hotel, back at the compound, with a bonfire large enough to spite the moon. Another brow to kiss goodnight. The maelstrom behind us, emotions cooled to a standing point where everyone will hopefully feel comfortable to breath. A party maybe, so long as there's room enough for a sense of sacred in a clearing under the stars.

If the days remain half as merry, it will seem like tomorrow.

I'm sorry if this is a pretty obtuse post, but, well, its my birthday.

Monday, October 29, 2007

we spoke of was and when

Dear Son,

Never bring your family here again. Also, you're pretty much disowned.

Happy Birthday,

Sunday, October 28, 2007

not a mormon.

dear friendly crusader,

Why must your lifestyle be king? And even if you believed so, why must I do the same? I help those I can and live with high moral standards just like you. Can't we keep our views on eternity to ourselves. Why do you have to fear? Why do you question with only the desire to spread your own dogma. You have no desire to hear. You only flee with fear. Quick to judge and hand out sentence.

Why ask me how this makes you feel? I was once one of you. I know how you feel. I am the one who sought for a different way. I am the shunned. But I will not live this life restricted based on social or religious habits. And I find peace and joy in all I do knowing that.

I just thought you would have enough respect for me as a human-fucking-being to trust me. Are my acts not example enough of my worthiness. Philosophy should not change our affection for each other. We are the same. The highest of hopes for family life, children, and the world. Have I not always strived to be the informed advocate?

You say you have a hard time understanding why I live how I do? You've never heard of it before? Well, I've heard of your way. Known it intimately. And I actively choose to discard it. I believe it harmful to the human race. But you don't see me lunging long winded ignorant bullshit at you. We have free will and I'm choosing it. Sorry if it scares you, but your lack of relevant questions, or want of understanding, disappoints me, but I'm not surpised.

Why do those who profess love and tolerance have the hardest time expressing it? Why not perform the job you asked for.

Your friendly polyfidelitous atheist,


Subtractions (Everyone Tells Me I'm Close Minded)

I always thought what other people thought of me didn't matter. I guess I can still say the same, but now I've run into a different sort of problem.

I feel that getting involved with two wonderfully caring and devoted people has really added to my life significantly. I've never really been one to adhere to social norms, so if you don't like it, I really don't care. That's been my attitude and why should I change it to make others happy?

<"Don't worry about what I listen to, worry about your own life.">
<"Cause I'm not gonna change for you or anyone."

So far I've been lucky. No one's voiced how "displeased" they are with what I do with others in my bed, or told me I'm a horrible person for loving two people(OH MY GOD!!!). But like I said...I've been lucky. Maybe I have forgiving friends & family (they'd better be after all their shit!), maybe they all just know me well enough (how long has it been? since I was twelve?), or maybe no one really cares. The point is this - I haven't gotten any flak.

The same cannot be said for either of my significant others. What about how people feel about them? All I've done is added to my life while they may potentially have to subtract. Sure, I don't care what's thought of me...but what about the people they stand to lose? What about the phone calls not being returned and the stupid goodbye emails? Is this my fault? No. And I know that. But does that make it any better? No, of course not. I know it's not my fault she's lost a good friend, but that doesn't make it easier. It doesn't keep tears away or help comfort her.

It just makes me angry. I wish I could tell her not to let it bother her, that if this person was a true friend they would accept her choice of lifestyle. But it seems so heartless. I have nothing but contempt for narrow minded people. If there's one thing in this world that I can't stand it's people who are intolerant of other people's cultures...that and the Dutch.

Moral of this story - Don't take any guff from those fucking swine.

one expedition and a meal

Dealing with traffic on an expedition to town

I'm the last awake as a low-key Saturday sputters into unconsciousness on our most comfortable furniture. There was no bold event that marked the calendar, just a series of pleasant incidents leaving me looking forward to more days slipping by like this one.

How could anyone call this wrong?

Friday, October 26, 2007

October 25th, 2007

So many things happened today.

This morning on the road (Drivin' Sampler #4; some songs are made for country highways) we narrowly escaped The Man as we sped (at illegal speeds) down the vast rural highway racing the clock and my boss to work. I was deeply entrenched in a civil battle in the back seat between two opposing four year olds when suddenly I felt the car slowing down. Knowing the urgency in which I must high tail it to work, I abandoned all hope of truce and pulled out of the battle to see my girlfriend glaring at the police cruiser in the rear view mirror. "They're on to us!" I thought wildly. I glanced at the speedometer...we were still going 10 over the limit! The cop pulled ahead of us and flashed his lights at the guy directly in front of us who slows his car and pulls to the side of the road.

There's a moral here. Never be the fastest guy on the highway. A sexy lady told me that once.

Hours go by at work. Shit happens, but we're all still alive.

Now we're on the highway again. We're minus one, but it still feels like home. We're having deep thoughts and metaphysical ramblings (and we hate Deliah)...exorcisms are still "in" and I feel like throwing up. She's talking and I don't know what I'm thinking, but I'm looking out the window at the scenery passing by us. She's speaking of spiritual things and I see this burning field.
"What the fuck?", I say.
"I know, what the fuck!"
"No! What the fuck?!"
And we get out of the car (and I feel a pang of guilt for the boy in the car who is amazed by everything cool), and we draw closer to the flames. The fire stretches across the brief horizon and I know the picture she takes will never do it justice...just as I know the image will remain with me forever. Five days to Samhain...the death of the river only brings us closer to the birth of the sea.

Now I know why so many writers are drunks.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

random acts

The process of consumption that lead up to this blog finally being launched has also bludgeoned my brain into a fine jelly, from which no proper posting could escape alive*.

That said, I feel like the incident today, the motivator for getting this done, should be recorded. As far as my viewpoint allowed, it started briefly after it was suggested to me that I should pay attention to a specific piece of music. (The phrasing might have been "it sounds hawaiian".) A motorbike, mounted by a couple, flew over the back bumper of a gray four-door pulling quickly into the parking lot of a (chicken place?). I distinctly remember there being some sliding. We offered some assistance, but ours was just one cellphone in the flock. Leather came through, and no one seemed seriously injured.

We pressed on and found some ice cream.

*I'll probably delete this when I'm sober.