It is 9:50 am. Wrote

It is 9:50 am. Wrote my journal and then slept in on the bus. My ankles have been hurting lately and I don’t know why. I haven’t been running or lifting with my legs since I’m in the middle section of the structural therapy massage thingy. Patrick said that my body will be out of balance the next week – till after session seven so I might want to lay off any kind of heavy legstuffs. Didn’t go out clubbing last night. Just haven’t felt like it. The chance to sit home and work on this website – and others – is just much more fun than being in a packed, smoky bar where the music is loud you have to scream to be heard. At the club Spin there’s the back wall of the first room – a big big bar – and there’s always wide-eyed guys standing against the wall. Waiting. Looking pitiful and in need of some deep dickin’. We call them les miserables. That or I think les gamines is more appropos. Had a latin saying a co-worker taught me that means ‘I shit on your cock.’ I forgot it though.

New pics are up. I need to buy a scanner and then I’ll really be in bidness.

It was really been a fun thing to see this blog grow and get discovered by people. I’m still having a bitch of a time getting the archives to work so bear with me. Plus I may have to sanitize a few names since not all the people referred to are ‘out and about.’

Dad called last night and Mom wants to come up for my tonsillectomy. Argh. And how I don’t know how major this is and this and that. Yes. I know this is surgery. They are cutting a part of my body out of my throat. I know this is no big deal. But I can’t do a goddamn thing about it until I’m there on the table and under the anesthetic and afterwards. They like to do proxy worry – it’s like a proxy server – except there’s no firewall. I have tried to recognize in my life when I use worry as a substitute for action. That people worry and pray and wring their hands when they should be amending and attending to a solution for their problems. Worrying is a big activity in my family. It keeps us from dealing with the present if we over-focus on the future. Or regret – focus too much on the past. That’s one reason I try to limit my intake of daily news – how many news items that I hear do I a) give a shit about b) affect my life hear and now and c) can do anything about? The tonsillectomy is out of my hands so I can’t worry about it. What if I die on the table? What if I can never talk/sing again? I can’t worry about that until I’m there. Plus – God knows what kind of pornographic stuff I’ll spout out to my mom as I’m coming off the anesthesia. And then if they both come up. I just picture waking up every few hours and their just staring at me, watching me like a TV. And mom will clean the house like a demon. I know she will. In the words of Pink: I don’t need no G to take care of me. I know dad just wants to visit so he can camp-out on the History Channel – he loves Nazi week. I think he likes to appropriate other people’s guilt. Plus I have to de-porn the house and my computer – no – I don’t mean get rid of any porn hanging around – that doesn’t phase them (hell, Playboy was on our coffeetable next to Cooking Light and Compute!’s Gazette (any C-64 heads out there??)).