Seal:Soul

"... I've been loving you-ooouu-oouu for so long, I don't wanna stop nowwwwww..."

I've driven back and forth from south of town and College Place and back a lot in the past few days, always with Seal's latest album on the stereo. Thinking a good deal about the upcoming move, describing to anyone who'll listen my fascist tendencies.

Fascism being my term for pure, unadulterated self-interest. For not wanting to be accountable to anyone else, even my best friend. Barely to myself.

And the top of my list of New Year's Resolutions was: "learn to love better".

Getting Laid?

Good on ya.







I think I just realized the implications of a serious attempt to "cultivate friendship" until next Spring.
Yikes.

-- from "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan. In the week before their departure to Arrakis, when all the final scurrying about had reached a nearly unbearable frenzy, an old crone came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul.

Michael, let's discuss intimacy in bed later on.

Gayface strikes again!

The best part of this article is the pictures of gayface through history.

Although, as it stands, I don't think that historical readings of gayface are entirely appropriate, although current readings may be perfectly appropriate.

PS: Shakespeare = gay.

Work you love: 1 year, a retrospective

The reason I started working at Pho Sho was simple: I couldn't stand the last place I worked at, Coffee Connection Cafe. It wasn't that I didn't like to work hard or that the money wasn't good, it was that it became an abusive relationship, the type in which you have so much invested, your paycheck, your lively-hood, that leaving seems more painful than staying.

That all changed when I met Island and Chris, my current employers. They didn't care at first why I wanted a change. They saw me for who I was, firstly as a person, secondly as a good fit, and thirdly as a person who knows what panccetta is ("an italian bacon?"). It wasn't like that before. Before, I was an exploitable, not-to-be-trusted body that wasn't expected to know anything. Despite my education and honesty, my willingness to cover shifts and give up entire weekends, my former employers treated me and my co-workers with open hostility, brought people to tears, and seemed as though they didn't even trust each other. Finally, as my last college finals were approaching, I made a very scary change which has turned out to be the best professional decision I have made to date. I took another job.

I wasn't perfect before. I showed up hung-over, I became a mean person to line cooks and bussers, but I had no reason to want to be better, or even good. My natural affinity to relate to strangers and to endorse Walla Walla brought my only joy. 

My theory on love is that it is a quality that brings the desire to create more love, that it inspires beauty and a strong passion for self improvement. When you love what you do, you want to be the best at it, you want to bring your truest self.

In my current position, I am also not perfect. I sometimes grumble when challenges seem insurmountable, and I am indignant, although privately, when I give better service than my tips reflect. I have taken it fully upon myself, in love, that I can and will be the only person to improve this. In any case the rewards are abundant. I get to develop rich relationships with everyone there, from dishwashers to owners; I feel the type of love and support I miss still from the family I left behind in Colorado. No paycheck could reflect that kind of security. I can continue to build an affinity with diners and share a love for food, sometimes wine and sake, and always the joy of living in or visiting a real community.

A year hasn't been very long. It has really been quite short. The arrival of this anniversary has actually been a surprise, but so much has happened. I graduated from college. I surprised my family for Christmas. A relationship began and ended. I was in a wedding. I left a church. It's great that some things stay the same, like this job I love.

Do not be deceived by the fact that he was born on Caladan and lived his first fifteen years there. Arrakis, the planet known as Dune, is forever his place.


If I were a religious fanatic I might be flaying myself right now. Oh, I am sweating wickedness as though I drank it with my dinner.

NYT: Introducing Outdated Technology to Old People

I stumbled upon this New York Times article yesterday and was like, yeah, duh.

People have been using the internet as a tool for sex since the very beginning. In fact, the rapid growth of high-speed networks can be partially attributed to demand for streaming pornographic content and live video chat. The NYT takes an interest in the very most basic tools for the exchange of sexual content: craigslist, a text-only, utilitarian website which is basically an online format of the classifieds at the back of a newspaper. There is nothing sophisticated about craigslist, and while that may be the reason for its popularity, other websites and information technologies allow users to exchange richer media such as video and high resolution images. Welcome to 1997, NYT. I hear that you can use the computer to send electronic mail that arrives almost instantaneously. That will they think of next?

Print may be inviting its own end.

Although sex is solicited online in many places — legally and otherwise — the Casual Encounters listings are a major hub, offering to do for casual sex what the rest of the site does for no-fee apartments, temp jobs and old strollers.

Like bathhouses and sex clubs, the Casual Encounters section caters to the erotic underbelly of society, where courtship gives way to expediency and anonymity is a virtue (or at least a turn-on). The section was introduced in late 2000 and is available in all cities served by Craigslist, for users gay and straight, male and female. The ads range from prim to raunchy; a good number of people include photographs of precisely what they have to offer. (The site has a policy against posting pornographic pictures, but it does not seem to be enforced very vigorously.)

To begin your study of the life of Muad'Dib, then, take care that you first place him in his time: born in the 57th year of the Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV. And take the most special care that you locate Muad'Dib in his place: the planet Arrakis.

A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct. This every sister of the Bene Gesserit knows.

Thank you, Dylan, for your resourcefulness.

PIST.

So, I was unable to find my copy of Dune. Suspect either I'm losing my mind or have lent it out to recent fuckbuddy. Will retrieve and begin posting.

So that you may always know everything: Twitter

Let it be said that I was recently interested in a certain event for which television coverage may never exist.

If you want to know more about the event, go here (NSFW)* to find out. Suffice it to say that the event, while mainstream in its own discipline, is not generally mainstream.

The most useful tool for getting minute-to-minute updates, the whole weekend, were up-to-the-moment tweets from "journalists" at the event. I felt so very there. I learned from blogs and other sites about certain attitudes and biases, and I saw them all in action. And then the live stream. And the tweets. And instant google searches for images and video (done on the iPhone), I was there.

The existence of information and a location for that information have separated. They are considering divorce.



*(I have never used this particular acronym, and it makes me wonder [upon encountering it many times last weekend] who would be reading blogs about the adult industry and its stars and events at work. Here's another interesting item on a related topic.)

A WORLD WITHOUT BOOKS

I am going to post-- in a circadian mode-- two sentences from Frank Herbert's Dune. Here.
Then, when I have posted the entire book online, I plan to burn my very well-loved copy of this sci-fi classic.

Walla Walla: A town for winos

It occurred to me that I've had a lot of wine this week, and I didn't really pay for a drop of it.

The glass of wine is as ubiquitous here as dandelions and lilacs, but this spring lasts the year round. I tasted 13 wines today, at work, before lunch. I took three bottles home. I don't know what to do with them, and I was hoping you'd help me.

Haphazard, like a drunk white lady, I stumble through Walla Walla life, without having to worry about being sober enough to get back on the plane to Seattle.

Rapidly advancing technological world confronts man: a blog

The choice is simple. Fear or resignation.

Here is a list of very outdated technologies for which I am neither nostalgic nor longing, but which I have used in my lifetime:

Rotary phones
Incandescent light bulbs
Tape-recording answering machines
Disposable 35mm cameras
Phone books
Checks
Purchasing CDs and Tapes

But then again, I wonder if I have too many toes wet in the technology pool. For instance, I realized this week that I have Facebook and MySpace accounts, a new twitter account, and a blog, all of which I can manage at virtually any time from my smart phone. It has become time to ask myself if this is my salvation or damnation, although both effects are not entirely contrary.

Wanted: a long walk.

WATCHMEN!

OMG. We loved Watchmen. All of us. Except Luna didn't see it, but we know she'll love it, too. There's a lot of blog buzz about Dr. Manhattan's big blue cock. Check it out.

Let's get this straight:

I am deeply convicted of my own beauty.


Sometimes, other people help make it more real.

Making Hard Choices

Today is a day for reflection; actually, it's tomorrow, but I'm pre-empting it.

It's Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras, the Day-Before-Ash-Wednesday-and-the-Beginning-of-Lent.

Also, President Obama has just stated, "Nobody messes with Joe [Biden]."
It's his first address to the joint session of Congress, "the prose that was lacking in the poetry of his Inaugural address". And, of course, he's talking about making hard choices.

Sacking up. Reflecting on how we got here. Developing creative solutions for how to get out of this mess.


Today is the first time in a long time that I've been able to see my spiritual self and my patriotic self working in tandem. In order to do my part for this country, as an American, I have to be my best self. I have to be accountable for my passions, my responsibilities, for the people about whom I care.

I have got to be the best teacher I can be.
How do I even know how to begin?
It could begin concretely, with small steps that I can take during this Lent:
- I am forgoing those things that keep me away from being an excellent teacher,
- specifically long, lazy sessions of reading fiction or napping
- I am being proactive about making a daily connection with each of my students

I can work on my mindset about teaching and continue to instruct with compassion, hard work, and intelligence.

The next forty days starts now.

Like me, Sean Penn is Awkward, yet charming.

Also, check out pictures of the protest signs that greeted the gliteratti as they crossed Hollywood and Highland.

Guys I will definitely not be dating:

Even though I do have well-shaped, beautiful male anatomy, I don't think this guy and I are going to make it work. Even if it is before he hits 30.



Scary: I have all the life experience to totally be in the head of this guy. He, like I, resists definitions that do not fully describe how he would like to see himself. Also, he's brazen enough to defend his perceptions in public. I'm afraid, however, that I won't be appearing on Tyra any time soon. Sorry for getting your hopes up.

Horray for porn!

A very lovely add for clothes you can't afford.

Bagels!

Nothing is more satisfying than making something with your hands and holding it, saying "That, I made it!"

I can't stop thinking about bagels. Fuck law school. Only productive debt will exist in my future!

Poll:

What do you do when life hands you a crock of shit?
a) eat shit.
b) rinse out the crockery and re-use it for leftovers.
c) count your blessings.
d) throw the crock back and break life's face.
e) all of the above.

Things have changed, and change is no longer a hopeful game-winning dogma

Sometimes I listen to Bach toccatas. This you would only know if you have lived with me or knew me in high school. Toccatas, from the Italian to touch, are generally virtuosic pieces written for clavachord or organ. The most famous Bach toccata is the Toccata and Fugue in D minor, a brooding organ work often heard in conjunction with Halloween. While some of these works are joyous, it is no stretch to say that in these works I find an ominous complexity that suits my darker moods. I inherited a desire to hear similar forms by Chopin and Shostakovich who pen, respectively, newer and newer incarnations of the form. It is possible that I went on to become a hearald of the apocalypse in the vein of this musical tradition.

Like the music, in its indifferent exactitude, I find the circumstances of my life inspiring a deep, sullen contemplation. I turn to the music to reflect my perception, and now too, my life has ventured into a sort of dark cave, where organs play in minor chords and resolutions come rarely at the end of phrases.

I considered moving home today, the first time since I left a year and a half ago. Instead of panic-stricken, the notion engenders a horrifying resignation; it is the sense of defeat that moves one to inaction; it is the kick in the ribs you feel when you're already down for the count.

There is always hope, but that now too is a term bankrupted by dogma.

The Kimono Robe

...a must have for spring!

POLL!

"It's the kind of dancing that people do to worship."




WHAT DOES YOUR EASY-WEDNESDAY-SUNDAY DANCING LOOK LIKE?

Doesn't fuck on the first date...

... because first dates don't usually happen.

Other news:

1) Main event date postponed 'till the morrow.
2) My high school students will shortly be convinced that I've a secret husband.
3) Bruce secretly likes my music, under the condition that it's played body-vibratingly-loudly.
4) Removed about a pound of fur off Luna's body today. Waiting for Bruce in the trash.
5) Had a brilliant idea for a semi-autobiographical play; its hero hasn't got personality disorder.
6) Wondered why.
7) Have read more Agatha Christie works than I can count on my two hands since the new year.
8) Easily.

Home: it's a trap.

Mystery date

Dick is going on two dates. A friend date and a mystery date.



We don't know if these are men or women.

We don't know anything. And we means me and Andrew ______.

So here is my speculation:

Suspect one: the friend date

Je met this person when she worked picking cotton ol' Virginie. S/he was hauling huge bags of freshly picked cotton, which made Je wonder, "what is s/he thinking?" So Je pulled some moonshine out of her over-alls and they shared the secrets of their inner selves. S/he moved to Benton City in December, and s/he responded to Je's missed connections add on craigslist.

Suspect two: the main event

He will offer his hand in marriage, due in large part to her beauty, but mostly with the goal of exploiting her abundant resources. The marriage will feel great until he discovers she was already engaged.

Slanket or Snuggie: You decide

Best ever?



...or better yet?




Perfect for men, women AND children!

A shout out

I saw this guy perform in a very intimate setting in San Francisco, and I thought I'd give him a shout out. He had a friend with a flute. On friday nights, this particular club is the chosen den of SF's many rice queens.

(if only it were as easy as saying so.)

I'm going to go on a date.

I'm that guy

The guy who gets temporarily fired and goes to San Francisco.

I'm staying in the well appointed downtown pad of some friends and their dogs. Directly across the street is the opera house where I saw the Phillip Glass Ensemble perform Koyaniskatsi. Four blocks over is the city hall where Gavin Newsom performed a mass marriage ceremony for hundreds of same-sex couples in 2004. I woke up that morning and cried, listening to the account of all those people, some young, many old, who had waited for so long. Yes I'm that guy, in that city, and now I feel free.

Maggie Gyllenhaal will make your life better.

You've no need to see the movie Happy Endings. However, its finale is quite like Tom Cruise's cameo in Tropic Thunder: brilliant.



Seeing this film has given rise-- again-- to my latent desires to perform as a lounge singer. So I'll work on a collection of songs to learn for my accordion eventually. Batman took a trip to San Francisco and I have the house to myself to practice. Yum!

On Sunday...

"Michael hates enthusiasm."
"Enthusiasm leads to genocide."
"Actually, it's resource scarcity."

"Hey, it's Diana Ross!"

"Of course. Haven't you seen 'The Wiz'?"
"Yes. But it doesn't follow logically that she would be performing the theme song of a dinosaur movie!"
"It would if it were 1988."


We've just watched 'The Land Before Time' (executively produced by George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, if you'd believe it, and directed by Don Bluth of 'All Dogs Go To Heaven'). For some reason, school in Walla Walla was canceled today.

MLK Day

Who can declare a holiday?

For your birthday...

I decided that you should have a working toilet.
The plumber's going to be here @ 10am tomorrow.

What I'm doing right now.

A rainy Mexican Riviera day

I came prepared for everything. Three bathing suits and enough sun lotion for a swim team. Cash and credit cards. Paperwork and great beach books, a mobile blog publishing device, and the damn wedding pants. Somehow I forgot my umbrella and rain gear.

In my morning haze, it sounded like someone upstairs was taking a very long shower. It turned out it was just raining. A lot.

Rufus and The Judgment Day

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT WAS SOARING INTO THE CLIMAX OF BEAUTIFUL CHILD.

I only knew that I was dying-- on the way to meeting my maker.
Then I awoke.

It was a trap. I've been having nightmares about stalkers with knives and cellphones. Certainly one was hidden outside my bedroom door right now, ready to plunge his dagger into my jugular.

Then I realized that it was 3:25am and Rufus Wainwright was only crooning so damn loud at this ridiculous hour because my housemate forgot to turn off his alarm before leaving the country.

I'd have forgotten about it if I'd been able to fall asleep quickly after dismantling the alarm.

For about 20 minutes, I wondered if I'd conceived a child. Then hurried up to the bathroom to find out. Blood.

I was sure I'd be able to fall asleep easily after that. But then I began to consider the e-mail I received yesterday: the Judge wasn't pleased with the recommendation and really wants to hear from you. I probably need you to come in for a meeting... What does a Judge need with me?

Mobile Blogger Leaves Country, Leaves Officials Baffled

Famed blogger and social commentator Michael 'Smallface' Espinoza may leave the country today, intelligence experts say. Possible reasons for the sudden flight may involve the illegal export of mobile blogging devices.

"Smallface is involved in some risky business," says Seattle CIA field chief Maynard Schlessinger, "the proliferation of mobile blogging is a threat to national security, and frankly, to all humanity."

Espinoza has become an internationally infamous personality, which poses the concern that many copy-cat blogging incidents may take place.

"People as far away as Canada have attempted to post blogs without wires. Luckily, we have been able to stop them, but if this threat were to spread to Mexico, it could mean the end of wired blogging and human decency," warned Schlessinger.

Conspiracy theorists claim that Mexico is the definitive destination of the notorious blogger, and according to his own blog he plans to, "vacation on the beach and get a
Killer tan!"

Through the roof! And underground!

And the post-script: I might be fasting from Q-tip usage, coffee, heartbreak, sugar, cuss words, and dairy. But Bruce knows we sometimes break our own rules; albeit he still loves me.

I'm going on a blast. Okay, back.

I'm going on a fast.

We understood one another perfectly.

I re-read this passage from Joe Wenderoth's Letter's to Wendy's:
'December 3, 1996
Today I had fifteen dollars worth of coffees. I got them one at a time, and dined in. The first five were leisurely, but then the leisure disintegrated. I went through the last five in about five minutes. After awhile the register girl looked at her manager as if to say: "Is there something we should do?" The manager said nothing. I said nothing. We understood one another perfectly.'

"Some psychiatrists say that people who eat peanut butter sandwiches are lonely." -from You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown by Clark Gesner, based upon the comic strip Peanuts by Charles M. Schulz.

I LOVE Armageddon Week.

It's not pleasant to discuss in mixed company; however, the prolonged exposure to The Armageddon Video Gallery leads one to ponder further questions of The Apocalypse.

Should we survive, albeit in debilitating pain, what will friendship look like?
Will we simply develop relationships based upon material alliances?
Will we still be capable of developing friendship because of our subjectivities?



I won the game of Settlers of Catan last night by making friends with everyone and then surprising them by having hidden Victory Points. Cat Woman was in utter disbelief at my Dark Horse Victory.

Disaster!

Disasters on the Increase, Are These the End Days?

Disasters happen now more than ever according experts associated with apocalyptic theories. The evidence: volcanoes, floods, hurricanes (that fill the Gulf of Mexico!), and tsunamis, a virtual apocalypse-grade coincidence of disastrous events.

The possible cause of these events, according to the same experts, is the scheduled cosmic alignment on Dec. 21, 2012, at which time the sun will be perfectly aligned with the center of the galaxy. Such an alignment will bring about a political/natural event so cataclysmic that it will result in the end of the world.

Some theorists take solace in this event, as the "end" also marks the possibility of a new beginning.

"While this apocalypse will be marked by serious devastation, undoubtedly creating unbearable conditions on earth, it may be a chance to discover new ways of being, a sort of wake-up call for the responsible use of free will."

Other theorists are not so hopeful.

"The earth will be effectively purged of all life in 2012. We should consider ourselves to be the dinosaurs of this epoch."

Despite debate over the true effect of this impending apocalyptic event, one truth is unanimously agreed upon: "We know for sure that December 20, 2012 is the last day anyone should expect to carry on as normal. After that, we will all be dead or under tremendous, debilitating pain."

"Don't forget to take your pill!"

This from a man who only minutes before had exposed me to John Waters' Pink Flamingos, starring Divine. It was filthy.



But, in spite of exposing me to radical polemics, Bruce does got my back.

First Damn Blog of 2009

One of our plans for this year-- aside from loving Alfred more and drinking more, or less-- is to explore friendship. It could very well be the thing upon which all our ethics and ideas about ourselves hinge.

I suggested to Bruce that he do something he'd never done before-- read Agatha Christie's "Murder on the Orient Express". I find something utterly beautiful-- like the vulnerability of sleep-- in the complete at-homeness of an engrossed reader.