Isolation and acceptance.
Surrender and power.


So much has happened over the last month. I haven't really written about it. Moment after moment was captured in a sifter...to be sorted, and today you will get what remains. What I keep, is the overall sense that something has moved. Transformation.

Speaking with a friend this week I put my finger on it.
"I'm not struggling."

Not that life doesn't get challenging. But the deep soul struggle seems to have dissipated for now. Inside, the child frolics with glee or soaks up the sunshine while napping in the long grass on a warm summer day, surrounded by gentle breezes and the slow buzzing of flies.

I couldn't write about it because it was delicate. Precarious. So new. It was all mine. In holding it in my hand, while not white-fisted, I could share with others.

Looking back, I wondered and tried to find if it was one specific moment where the change happened. It's a strange question, similar to my former Teacher's continual question "when does the scene really begin?" If each step and breath is a bridge to the next, it takes all of the past to arrive at where we are now.

Keeping that in mind, what I did need to arrive at and accept is the idea of alone. The weekend I fought and cried and struggled, having worked so long and hard to keep the black aloneness at bay...feeling the pain and isolation, and from there realize I am alone is where my earth shifted in a dramatic move. The day I surrendered, finally, to the fact that no matter who I love, or loves me, I was alone and the only thing I could hang onto was myself and my art...this was my pivotal moment.

The next step came a few weeks later while speaking with a friend. Words tumbled off my lips and in that very moment I felt a new truth. The period appeared at the end of the phrase and I caught a deep breath inside because of the profoundness of this particular light.
We were speaking about suicide.

"I don't understand how they could do it. The few I knew each had everything going for them. They were all successful."

"Success according to whom? You're speaking of a superficial idea of success. You have no idea what was happening in their hearts." I continued, "for the first time in my life, I have an idea. The difference between me and them is their isolation was so great, the bleakness so deep."

He responded "but with therapy, your isolation will go away. With time, dissolve."

"No it won't. It never goes away. I'll learn to live with it. We all have that inside. And most of us have found ways of covering it up so as not to feel the blackness. It never goes away."

Whoa.

"It never goes away."

In relaying the conversation to my shrink a couple days later, he said "in that sentence is the turning point."

That is the demon monster I've fought. Instead of slaying this particular beast, to thrive I am required to befriend it. It needs to become my ally. In doing so, the weight will not overwhelm.
No more running. I needed to learn to embrace my shadow. Embrace it and fuck it.
If I open my ass and let its thick, engorged dick slip in, we can rock together. Then who is really fucking who? Where is the balance of power? Shift the control so my muscles dictate the moves. In surrender to this beast, I can take control.

Within this time, there have been many changes. Potential disasters that, in remaining calm, have been averted. There are new explorations with my art and my sex. This seems to be a time where I am consciously taking risks in vulnerability, getting scared, stepping back a half step and then regroup to plow through, manifesting in an ongoing sexual buzz.

Change is the only constant. I haven't roped the beast of Alone permanently but with this awareness, the battle has shifted. The light is different. The energy richer.

I am in awe.

Guess what day it is?


Happy Birthday Hoss!!!

This man, from the first time I met him, has been a godsend in so many ways. He in his matter-of-fact substantial way has been a solid friend. A few years ago, he informed me that if I were ever sick, he'd be there. He was, in the last few years, the quiet angel that would push me back into my art. He'd rearrange my apartment for it to be not only functional, but showcase some of my work that I was hiding.

Many times, a need or strong want would pop in mind in the morning, and although I wouldn't share it with anyone, within 24 hours, he'd come forth and either hand it to me, or assist me with acquiring it. We had an enjoyable few weeks last year, painting together (when schedules worked out).

He was the first one to pretty much come out and let me know that there were those who loved me but I couldn't even see it, let alone open myself to it. Because of him, I consciously worked on acceptance of love.

Through him, others have come into my life and my heart. He introduced me to Qnetter and his partner for which I'll be forever grateful.

The guy is sexy as hell. His unabashed sex and freedom is a joy to behold. Generous.
He has created and surrounded himself with family. Loving, sexy intelligent people.

Tonight, that family will be gathered around a large table...sharing food, drink and immersion in each other and Hoss.

Happy Birthday.
Thank you.
Love you man.

Director Lian Lunson on musicians, poets, singers as spiritual warriors:

"So many great men have walked the earth. Women too. But I made a film about one of these men, so I'm going to stick with them for now-the searchers, the vastly complex and eternally wandering spiritual warriors. Musicians, poets, singers, artists, those who have been kind enough to take us with them on their journeys. But first they must venture ahead, through the dark night of the soul, through the bleakness of love, the contemplation of suffering, the search for God, for truth.

On and on they journey through the desert. After a while they return and tell us, the ones waiting in the safety of our own confines, what it's like out there. They talk of their encounters and how they have suffered and triumphed over temptation. These men are brave, brave warriors. They venture far off into these lands. They find God, they lose Him again, they go hungry, they thirst, but all the while they keep searching. They've gone ahead through sacrifice and turmoil to make the way easier for the more weak of heart.

These are the men I'm interested in."
Read the whole thing here

I've been seriously hankering to see this film and it opens today. Tomorrow, tomorrow!

I have very few plans this weekend and am excited about that. It's snippets of things...and I think Sunday is fully open. Breaks like that allow for good drawing time.

Still struggling to get the sleep from my eyes. If I didn't have a car appt at 9am, I would have stayed in bed. After the car, I'm free until happy hour with the bunny. We'll walk down to Utrecht, so I can replenish my paper and then tapas at Tangos.

Today's column from Morford:

"That's it, baby," Windows coos, stroking your calves, working its way up to your hard drive. "Just relax, don't worry about a thing." Then come the magic words, the line Windows knows you secretly want to hear, the one guaranteed to send you into OS orbit: "Baby, I'll do it so good you'll think you're using a new MacBook Pro in a wireless cafe in Paris."

Ummm...a warning. If you're a hardcord Windows user, you probably would be better off not reading Windows Gives No Tongue

Doubt? Fear?

It's been a day.
I popped in my headphones, listened pretty much non-stop to some nasty music, kept my sexual groove, and got a buttload of work done. Swiftly and efficiently. It made for a good day.


Taking a lot of risks lately. It's a really strange feeling putting yourself out on a limb while trying to keep listening to your deepest voice.

Just got back from dinner with a friend. I'm not going to out him because he was confiding in me. We were talking about some of his current struggles. He's not sure about a big decision that he may have to make at some point. Part of him sees it as his passion coming to fruition and the other part...well...you know all the doubts we have.

Some choices we must make. The big question - Are we running toward something or running from something?

Sound familiar?

We all go through it at various times.

I mentioned (which I need to keep reminding myself of) that there is doubt and there is fear. I'm sure the two could coexist. But the wisdom comes in discerning the difference. From the time I was little, I remember hearing "when in doubt, don't." Short, sweet and much truth. If there is doubt, you're better off staying put. That's not true with fear. It could be a step, large or small, which may carry a ton of fear. Fear doesn't mean no. Fear is just fear.

How to tell the difference between doubt and fear?
Dunno.
I know it when immersed in it. My body reacts in a very specific way to doubt. Unfortunately, although it does speak to me, it is a quiet voice. It doesn't scream loud until after I take the step I shouldn't. Then, I can backtrack, step back, or do over.
For me, doubt shows itself in a specific frenetic anxiety that settles in my heart. Fear is felt in my heart as well, but it's another kind of fluttering. Deeper pounding.

Fear doesn't leave until after I've taken the step. Then it falls away in the calmest most beautiful way, leaving an open space where I can take the deepest breaths.

Thing is, no one but ourselves can really tell if it's doubt stopping us or fear.
Life is so strange sometimes.

I'm bushed tonight...and off to bed.

Prix Fixe

Last year I was involved in a performance art piece at the Seattle Erotic Art Festival 2005. Although I tried, I couldn't write about it at the time. Recently there have been discussions about food play. It prompted me to finish my piece.


The premise:

Prix Fixe

From DC McGlothlen, the creator of Prix Fixe:

"About 20 years ago, some friends and I were on our way home to Bellevue from clubbing in Seattle. For reasons that escape me now, we stopped at the Mercer Island Denny’s.

We were seated in a booth against the back wall. In the center of the dining room were a large, even huge man and a slender, even skeletal woman.

The man had a voluptuousness that only a dedication to eating can bring about. The woman had a sensual nature that, it seemed, did not encompass allowing food to pass her lips.

The man ordered plate after plate of food, one at a time. He ordered side-dishes, mainly, and things that, at Denny’s, passed for appetizers.

He took a lovely pleasure in his eating. He paced himself but focused on the task at hand. He was unhurried.

His dinner companion did not eat at all. She never touched her place-setting. She never touched her water glass. She directed her energy to watching her friend eat.

There was a shivery luxury in the way she watched him eat. And a shy happiness in the way the man appreciated her watching him.

And they did not speak to each other at all. Not once. He spoke only to his waitress and then only to order more food or to thank her for food delivered.

His dinner companion mostly smiled. But there was longing in her bony face. And her longing was exultant, transcendent.

They shared a dynamic relationship with his food and with each other. Their experience of the Mercer Island Denny’s seemed to contain only these three elements.

It was like the experience you might have had of kissing a lover with such focus that the rest of the universe collapses down to enfold your impossibly proximal faces.

We left before they did. I’ve never been back. They might still be there.

Prix Fixe is not an attempt to recreate this event but to offer three informal variations upon the theme."


The three variations involved three couples. Each couple, one after the next, would take part in a two hour scene for a total 6 hours. The first were two women, then two men, then DCM and myself. The pairing was mindful, based on body size, one very heavy and one quite thin. That is, except for me. I'm not skinny.

~~~~~~~~~~


It was a small black stage, highlighting a white linen covered table and two chairs. Two elegant place settings. Flowers.
The Bear and I took our seats. We each had menus. The waiter, clad in his white coat, approached the table to take our order and fill water glasses.
Or...should I say, water glass.

Mine remained empty.

Glancing at the menu, I saw about 20 different selections...and I knew some of them well.
Reading the names, I could taste them on my tongue. They are my friends.

And yet, they are not.

One wine glass received a delicious deep red...
I could smell the grapes.

I watched as the Bear made his first selection.
Bread and a saucer of oil/vinegar was brought.

The feasting began.

Except for periodic glances to his plate or his glass, my eyes remained on his.

As he tasted, savoured the first course, I felt a swelling in my belly.
My thighs began to shake...


The Bear has a penetrating stare. He looks into your eyes and his gaze drives him right into your soul. If he wasn’t looking at his food, he was studying me.

The orgasm began. One of those full body releases that escapes every pore and hole. It came again. And again.

I became nervous because I knew our scene had just begun. If I was cumming now, what would the next 2 hours be like? Anxiety and apprehension took over. I needed to calm myself.

The waiter returned, and the Bear ordered another plate. A groan escaped my lips. I know this food. I crave this food. Watching him enjoy and savor every bite, every crumb, began to leave me wanting. How dare he delight in such bounty in front of me! Envy flooded up and turned to rage. I want this too!

I shook with fury.

Time passed. Plate after plate after plate. One glass of wine and then another. More bread.

My hands were on each side of my chair, gripping to keep control between the anger and the sexual tension.

He was getting full. I could see it and feel it. How could he continue to eat? What if his heart stopped from over indulgence? I know this man very well. I know some of his history.

Then memories. I remembered my problems with food. In my early 20’s I spent a few years with anorexic symptoms. Having been overweight in highschool, reaching 200 lbs, I worked hard to take it off.

The first time my heart was broken it was no longer a challenge. Even the idea of eating left me with a lump in my throat. It took all my energy to bite into a pear.

I decided I could only be loved if thin. My 200 lbs dropped to 125. People would stare and whisper I was too skinny.

Fat never felt good on me. Skinny didn’t either. Food is loaded.

In the last few years I’ve learned to love food and be mindful of moderation. Good, fantastic food, when sharing it with people I love became sex. I wanted his food. I needed to dance in his mouth.

I watched him eat.

Near the end I couldn’t take it anymore. My discomfort was great as I worried for his health. He saw my conflict. Tears sprang to my eyes as I expressed my terror with a look and then a slow tear down the right side of my face. A long, caring look. He saw and returned it, his face filled with love. I’ll never forget it.

The full two hours were spent in silence. Other than the moan that would escape from my lips the only sound was sounds of cooking or the Bear engaging with his meal.

To this day I think about that scene. Each time I attempted to write, my words always felt inadequate. Even now. Still.

My body betrays me as I try to share this with you. It is shaking. Prix Fixe was a quilt, pieced together with varied textures and colors - smells, tastes, emotions, memories, sexual pleasure.

Good morning.

I'm running a little behind today. No time to gather thoughts. Maybe later.

But here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

For Seattle folks, Rob Brezsny is in town today. He is doing a book reading at Elliott Bay Books tonight at 6pm. Or you can tune in to a radio interview today at 2:30 on KUOW. They have livestream.

Great quote from the Brezsny weekly email:

"In teaching my students, I try to figure out what questions I can ask that have no right answer. I seek to frame paradoxes, to force students to develop original thought." -Meg Gorman, Waldorf teacher

Morford writes about listening parties:

"You do not bring, say, Nickelback. You do not bring Green Day. Celine Dion will get you shot after the first bar. Someone once played Blink-182 and he has since been happily and relentlessly taunted and shall never live it down. You may very well bring "Stairway to Heaven," but only if it is "Stairway to Heaven" as performed by an all-lesbian country-punk band from Norway who recorded it on a four-track at some obscure festival just before their singer died from an aneurysm bungee jumping from her Harley.

In other words, you bring something interesting, unexpected. It can be a mainstream band, but the song should be sonically fascinating, well recorded, somehow unique, not something you will hear much on KROQ or that you can find all that easily on iTMS. Yes, there is a certain clunky snobbishness to it all. We do not care. It's our party. You may, of course, set your own parameters. Besides, after two drinks and a smoke, it all sounds really, really good."

Click here to read the whole thing.

'Bounty' For Killing Gays At World Pride
by 365Gay.com Newscenter Staff

July 11, 2006 - 11:00 am ET

"(Jerusalem) Hundreds of leaflets distributed to homes in Jerusalem's ultra-Orthodox area and other parts of the city overnight offer 20,000 Israeli new shekels or about $4,500 US to anyone who kills gays marching in next month's World Pride in Jerusalem."

Entire article here.

Did it.

I sent out a few emails to see if folks were free...and all have responded. Wheeee!
So, I just booked my flight.

Both flights are nonstop. I arrive at JFK on Wednesday, Sept 20 at 5:30 pm.
And I leave JFK on Wednesday, the 27th at 6pm.
Total: $243.60 with fees and taxes.

We have a few months, so can work out details later on.

Damn.
This very much rocks.

Well, well, well~

a Travelocity Farewatchers just came through my email.
Seattle to JFK, roundtrip, for $223.

I am tempted.

Draw instead of shoot.

Thanks to Angie Garner, she shares an article about her mom. How one person captures memories from their

Check out Fetching Sketching.

From the article:

"It slows you down -- and you see things in a different way," she said. "These drawings bring back memories in a very different way than all of those digital pictures."


I took a trip where I did this once. Normally, I carry my little sketchbook, or grab the back of an envelope and just move my hand. But about 20 years ago, on a trip to Disney World in Florida, with my sister and her kids, I purchased one of the Disney autograph books - the small ones that children buy to get autographs by the Disney characters. While waiting in all the lines for all the rides...I'd draw what I saw. The book was full by the end of the trip. I cherished that little book, but apparently not enough. Although it comes to mind periodically, I have no idea what happened to it. Disappeared with life.

This article is a good prod. Maybe I can push myself even further with my small sketches, but balance it out. I don't want to get hung up on creating good work all the time. But, I love my neighborhood. What's stopping me from sketching it...and sharing that with family and friends?

Nothing.

I really, really wish...


...I weren't so tired.

You see, I want to dig into another drawing. I only captured about 4 hours of sleep last night, waking at 4:30 this morning. And it was a busy weekend. Yesterday was a fabulous day with everyone. I've decided that all my New Yorkers ought to move to Seattle. Better weather. ;-)

It's hard saying goodbye. It was also difficult in April as well, when I was leaving NYC.

Anyway, I'm trying hard to be mindful of my downtime, and not "should" or guilt myself into drawing. The spirit is definitely willing. Other than dinner plans with Michael on Wednesday, I want to be selfish with some alone time. Hungry to get messy with charcoal. It's as if I can't get enough of it and need to touch it each day, but that hasn't been possible. This is a new change that I'm definitely enjoying.

Yesterday, while going around with rogueboi, his Papabear, and Qnetter, we stumbled upon the last performance by Paper Trail Productions. It seems, for the last few years, they perform Shakespeare on the Fremont Troll. This year it was Romeo and Juliet. We caught the balcony scene. Juliet was literally on the troll's head, and Romeo down near his left hand. A lot of fun.

Maybe if I ask nicely, Rogueboi will post some pix once he's recovered from his trip.

We ended the day around the big ass table at Hoss's. An amazing dinner with great food and even more great people flew by too fast, and then it was time to make a trip to the airport.

Life is good. And tonight will be an early night.

Oh my gosh~

Remember the One Red Paperclip guy that I linked to a while back? He wondered if he could get a house by trading. He began with one red paperclip on July 12, 2005, and in June...he got his house!!! He will take possession of it on July 12, 2006, exactly a year from when he began.

On the right side of his blog it lists the progression of the trades. Click on each image to reveal the blog entry.

Dude, you rock!

I am so blessed...

....because I have the best chosen family in the whole entire world.

That is all.

Today...and this past week.


Got up slow.
Did a load of laundry.
TV surfed for a bit.
Solitaire.
Puzzles.
Walked.
Rested.

It was a slow and easy day. I thought, because I kept a quiet day on Thursday, that today would possibly have more energy.
It did. But not as much as I had hoped. It is what it is.

I considered hitting the bar tonight. There's some leather contest and it would have been fun to see a bunch of the guys. But I realized I wasn't up to socializing, mad flirting and some playing. So, I grabbed a friend and we went to a movie. It is an indy film, locally shot. The filmmaker is a Seattle guy. It's screened at many film fests, and Landmark Theaters seems to be doing the distribution on this one. The director, Rick Stevenson, was there tonight and so we enjoyed a Q & A afterward. Nice, very nice guy. I was impressed with him...

The movie is a sweet film. Dark comedy. Expiration Date.
Killer milk trucks and a narcoleptic dog.

I hoped to be able to do more drawings today, but really didn't have the strength.
I hoped to be able to write today as well.
This is the only writing that happened.

My shrink once told me that as I continue to heal, I will regain more energy. Yes, being an introvert, I need the alone to regroup...because big groups are draining, but he keeps reassuring me that it won't be as extreme as it's been and is.

What I have noticed since I've begun art again is that I need lots of down time away from people to collect the energy to create. Maybe that will balance out as well.

A lot of magic has happened this week. Some I want to share, and some I'm keeping more private.
There's been some letting go, which has manifested itself in a drawing.
Grieving and mourning in a different way than the past.
Cleaner.
Powerful.
I promise. I will write about that soon.

Awareness of a big truth that came to light this week...regarding isolation.

Greater connection with myself.
Quieter mind...very little angst.
Many emotions.
Watching new friendships unfold in a deeper way.
Some warm fuzzies, butterflies and hot lusty thoughts.
Actually, most of the week has been spent in an aroused state.

I feel stronger.
Much stronger.

I also feel so incredibly blessed that my art seems to have returned. Not that it went anywhere. Guess it's more that I am learning to be vulnerable to myself.
I want to write about that in more depth as well.

Trust me, this is still all scary stuff. But there seems to be a determination that is larger than the fear.


Tomorrow is a full day, from picking Kerry and Michael up at the cruise boat in the morning, to showing them Seattle, dim sum with the Seattle crew, more sightseeing...ending with a dinner at Hoss's...and then a trip to the airport.
So...Time for bed.

"...pass the scotch."


"It is like some sort of virus. It is like some sort of weird and painful rash on your face that makes you embarrassed to walk out the door and so you sit there day after day, waiting for it to go away, slathering on ointment and Bactine and scotch. And yet still it lingers.

Some days the pain is so searing and hot you want to cut off your own head with a nail file. Other days it is numb and pain-free and seemingly OK, to the point where you think it might finally be all gone and you allow yourself a hint of a whisper of a positive feeling, right up until you look in the mirror, and scream.

George W. Bush is just like that."

Those are the opening paragraphs of today's column by Mark Morford.

There is more to write about but it will have to wait. I'm headed out the door to pick up my coworker, and then catch a boat.

I will say that in the quiet, yesterday was incredibly powerful. Some additional healing that even led to a new drawing. It was subject matter that I struggled with for 5 years...painted over and over.

Yesterday. Short. Quick. Intense.
Still immersed in sexual energy.

There it was.

Self care~


Tomorrow we are having an all day staff retreat.

I know these are important. From seeing the agenda, we'll be delving into some pretty needed stuff. A donor loaned us his vacation home across the bay, so not only will we ferry over but I'll have water views for the day. I love my coworkers.

And...

...meetings and retreats not only do not feed but suck all the energy out of me.

So how to prep?

I've made plans with the only other introvert in the office. Instead of carpooling with the others, he and I are going together. At least the before and after won't be filled with incessant chatter.
Seeing I'm taking today off because I'm normally off on Fridays, I've opted for quiet day.

In addition to going for a long walk, doing some cleaning, pulling out a piece of writing that I've struggled with in the past...I'm going to catch a matinee in my favorite theater of a movie I've wanted to see. Today is the last day at the Harvard Exit for Peaceful Warrior. I like the during the week matinees at the Harvard because normally there's only a handful of people.

While googling for the movie site I found this. It lists the characteristics of a peaceful warrior, right in tune with buddhist philosophy. The idea of a peaceful warrior, in our space in time, seems paradoxical. But it's not. I can actually envision what our world would be like if we all encompassed the idea of peaceful warrior. So much so it makes me cry.

Today will also be a drawing day. It excites me.

Last night, I worked a few pieces. A surprise email ignited my body. Raging sexual desire dripped from every pore. Instead of wanking off in the traditional sense, I opted to channel it in my art. In doing so, it extended and expanded the energy. Not only did I go to bed in a hot state but was carried through the night into morning. I woke with fantasies and then opted for physical release.

Regardless of whether the final pieces are good or not, combining fiery sexual energy into the act of painting makes me very, very happy. Those are the times I feel most complete and Artist. To flow between my cunt, my belly, my hand and my eye using paper, brushes, charcoal, cocks, toys...whatever...

...that is the life I seek to continually immerse myself in.

It quiets the intellect and the analyst in myself and rips open the door for the Beast.

Today is…

…one of those days where I just want to stay tucked away from the world, under ALL my covers.

For me, our world is a very uncomfortable place to be. I need to feel really strong and brave to step into it. When I'm feeling all discombobbled inside, like today...it seems near impossible to be out there.

Good morning.

Here is this week's Freewill Astrology.

Morford writes about the death of the newspaper. Or not.

"Like anyone who works in or around or underneath an ink 'n' grit newspaper these days, I get asked this all the time: Is the newspaper dead? Aren't all the nation's print rags suffering a horrible hemorrhaging of money and readership and cred? How much longer can dead-tree news possibly last in the age of blogs and cell phones and ADD media? Why are you naked? Does this look overly tumescent to you? And so on.

And the answer to most of those questions is, of course, yes. And no. And sort of. And maybe you should quit touching that."

The whole column here.

Notes~

It's almost noon and I've yet to have breakfast. Why?
I slept in until 10. Majorly rare occurrence. Solid 8 hours, then when then sun hit my eyes, I used a pillow to shield me from the rays and it seems I fell back to sleep. Yes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While walking back with coffee in hand, I sat in the courtyard and enjoyed the morning. The sun disappeared, and it's a great grey day. I took in the quiet of the neighborhood.

Then, sounds of life.

The rhythmic footsteps of runners as they approached my block. A dog began barking and wouldn't stop for a while. Someone across the street began playing the piano. And a woman somewhere was having amazing sex. Orgasm after orgasm. Nice...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Didn't make it to Superman at IMAX yesterday. All sold out. But, walked around Seattle Center for a while, sat near the big fountain and watched the children play in the water. Every once in a while the fountain would stop spraying. Children, like little bugs, would tentatively approach...and then...BAM! Much squealing and laughter.

Picked up tickets for another IMAX film - Greece: Secrets of the Past. Then home to have a bunch of sex. It was impulsive and perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Needed food afterward, and so we ended up at Cafe Septieme. Yes, you heard that right.

For the last 3 weeks, I've struggled with the idea of returning to the cafe. What prompted my angst was bumping into one of the waitstaff at that time. They mentioned that they were hoping the regulars who had disappeared would return. They missed us. After much thought and a few shrink sessions, it felt like the right time to return. I personally don't care what others do. It's an individual choice. Do what is right for you.

Last night, I sat at the sidewalk table and one waiter, who I hadn't see in almost a few months, came up behind me and put his arms around me:

"M...what are you doing here?"
"Well a little bird told me that some of you wanted the regulars back. Is that correct?"
"Yes. We're really glad to see you."

While sitting there, a couple of friends walked past, and after speaking with them a bit, they decided to return as well, so popped in and grabbed a table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think I mentioned a while back that I was being heavily recruited to be part of a certain leather organization here in town. My energy is limited, and I detest meetings, committees and drama. For me, it's a massive energy suck. If one reason isn't enough, I have a list of them. It just doesn't feel like a good move. But, something is nagging at me, and we haven't formally met...so I am willing to take the time, do a face to face and talk. I'm trying to remain open and not use old behaviors or ideas to limit my world.

It seems they want my mind...my ideas (so they've explained). I kept saying, via email or in passing that they are not going to like my opinions. Recently, I've been included in a group email for a certain idea. Because I developed a very strong opinion and was cc'd, I jumped in. The idea was good, but I was adverse to how it would be achieved. Again, it confirmed to me the fact that I wasn't the right person to be a part of this organization. I am going to say things that folks don't want to hear.

Last night I bumped into the president and another member. They mentioned they really appreciated my thoughts and that is the very reason they want me, in whatever capacity I can tolerate. As little or as much. Pres said "I need someone who is going to tell us like it is wiithout worrying about kissing my ass. I have too many 'yes men' right now."

Huh.

At work, I know I'm seen as the gloom and doom guy because I bring up questions that haven't been looked at. Not that I shoot down ideas normally, but offer potential scenarios. It's more along the lines of "have you thought of this.." or "what if this happens?" or "we can't do it in that way because of audit requirements".

Not that every question needs to be answered, but if questions arise, don't play ostrich and live in a limited fantasy space. At least look at it.

Here is a group that is looking for that very thing from me. Huh.
I'm not quite sure what to do with that. I still have my priorities which are work, therapy and painting. I still don't want to expend energy in a group grope that is disguised as using the "seattle queer leather community" as its beneficiary when I believe our activism is best served when we work outside of the "community".

Don't get me wrong. Group gropes are needed, and important. But be honest about it. Don't use philanthropy as the reason for mutual masturbation.

S/M and Leather really are a luxury. People who struggle for survival (in whatever capacity) can't indulge in workshops, conferences, bar scenes, titles, new hide. I have no desire to spend time catering to a large group when my excess time would be better served one on one, or working for a small organization that is struggling to keep its doors open while offering an invaluable service, such as homeless queer youth, or HIV/AIDS services, etc.

My two cents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now my belly is screaming for food.
Time to eat.