I'll be there...
PLEASE DISTRIBUTE WIDELY!
Silent March and Rally in Seattle.
Join Diverse Immigrant Groups and Allies in National Day of Action For Comprehensive Immigration Reform
May 1st Rally & Silent March for Immigrant Labor, Human and Civil Rights
WHERE: Judkins Park near 20th and Jackson (behind St. Mary's Church, 611 20th Avenue South, Seattle)
WHEN: 3:30 PM, Monday, May 1, 2006
WHAT: Rally and Silent March for Comprehensive Immigration Reform
(march ends at Federal Building downtown)
WHO: Diverse immigrant and allied communities, labor, faith, business
(If you have a large flag from your country, please call (206) 723-2203 x 208, we are looking to display flags from all countries)
WEAR: Black clothes and march silently
THIS IS NOT JUST ABOUT IMMIGRATION; THIS IS ABOUT WHO WE WANT TO BE AS AMERICA!
SAY YES TO THE FOUR ESSENTIAL PARTS OF COMPREHENSIVE REFORM:
1. A pathway to citizenship and legalization for undocumented immigrants
2. Ensure immigrants have civil rights and civil liberties protected
3. Reunite families that have been waiting years to be with their children and spouses
4. Ensure worker rights, regardless of immigration status
SAY NO TO "COMPROMISE" LEGISLATION THAT:
1. Expands indefinite detention and mandatory detention
2. Further militarizes the border
3. Gives unchecked power to the Administration
4. Erodes rights for all Americans
TO MARCH WITH HATE FREE ZONE WASHINGTON, LOOK FOR BANNER AT ST. MARY'S CHURCH. COME OUT AND SHOW YOUR SUPPORT!
FOR MORE INFORMATION, CALL:
Hate Free Zone Washington, (206) 723-2203 x 207, OR Comite Pro Amnistia (206) 324-6044
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
You know that feeling when you're camping in the woods and you wake up in the morning? The air is damp from the dawn dew. It has a distinct scent. And then, as you continue to wake, you then smell that crisp, comforting smell of campfires around you?
God I love that smell.
For some very strange reason, while sitting in my living room this afternoon, that's exactly what I can smell. It's been raining all day and so I understand the smell of dampness. But the smell of campfire? I haven't an idea. It doesn't smell like house fire.
Whatever it is...I'm basking in it.
God I love that smell.
For some very strange reason, while sitting in my living room this afternoon, that's exactly what I can smell. It's been raining all day and so I understand the smell of dampness. But the smell of campfire? I haven't an idea. It doesn't smell like house fire.
Whatever it is...I'm basking in it.
My Thursday art date~
For any of you in the Seattle area, check out the current show at the Frye Museum. Kudos to them for not only exhibiting this work, but it's in the front gallery. The show is called Swallow Harder. It's only up until May 14, so get there quick. Quietly tantalizing.
Upon entering the exhibit, I did my normal quick skim of all the work. Individually, some of the work didn't strike me in the way that good art does. But as I remained in the space, to look deeper...with the rest of my body, I felt myself encased in sultry, lusty and at times, taboo sex.
There are a couple pieces that are blatantly provocative. And, from sitting with the work a while, there are a few that I fell in love with.
In addition, check out their "Loss" exhibit. It's brilliant, It forces the viewer to engage and allows them to share some of their reaction and therefore energy. In that manner, it pushes against being a passive affair. That in and of itself creates an erotic experience.
When I entered the two rooms, I intentionally didn't read about the exhibit first. I always prefer the first impression to be my own visceral response. I wandered the two rooms and noticed a few things. First, my favorites weren't hanging and I missed them. But, from the placement of the paintings, fully filling the walls, top to bottom, with periodic large empty spaces...I enjoyed the contrast between empty and not empty. At the time, I didn't know what the curator had in mind for the empty patch. To me, the empty felt just as full as the rest of the walls. It added balance.
The second thing I noticed was I discovered new favorite paintings from the permanent collection. What a treat that was! I felt like a little kid at Christmas.
In each of the two rooms, there was a podium, designed to hold two journal type books. The left side page was a description of the show. The right side was blank, filled with lines, and room for name and email at the bottom. People were leaving their impressions of the show. I spent much time reading through the thoughts. Fascinating.
Some were absolutely furious that their favorites weren't hanging. A couple of folks used this venue to note their displeasure with the Swaller Harder show (feeling it was too pornographic). Others were titillated with the concept of the "Loss" exhibit.
It's a fun and worthwhile read.
"Loss" is the second part of a three part exhibit.
From the website:
"Showcasing paintings from the founding collection, this three-exhibition cycle examines the relationship between viewers as spectators and art as objects of desire. It uses innovative exhibition strategies to explore the complex relationships between consuming, collecting, memory, language, and interpretation.
What is it that prompts avid spectators of art to take the leap and become passionate collectors?
Lust (through February 26, 2006) imagines the viewing and collecting habits of Charles and Emma Frye, founders of the Frye Art Museum. Contemporary viewers are invited to envision the Fryes’ domestic sphere, where a mix of pedagogical value, personal eccentricity and early twentieth-century conventions of art display influenced the way this couple lived with their private collection of paintings long before offering it as a gift to the Seattle public. Artworks are hung very close to each other and skyed - hung virtually floor to ceiling - in a salon-style installation on walls of dark mulberry, a color preferred by the Fryes.
Instead of backdrop for individual paintings, the galleries seem to be some sort of performance, the dead past brushing itself off and standing up to stare back at us.
- Regina Hackett, Seattle Post Intelligencer
Loss (March 4, 2006–March 4, 2007) Since the Frye opened its doors in 1952, several paintings have become perennial favorites of Frye visitors. In this exhibition, some of these favorites are removed from the galleries and remain out of sight for several months. During this period, visitors are invited to remember, in writing, the missing works of art. Loss explores the idea that the painting one loves is as much a construction of memory and desire as it is a response to the direct encounter between a viewing subject and a viewed art object.
Love (July 1, 2006–March 4, 2007) juxtaposes written viewer remembrances from Loss with favorite paintings from the Collection, now returned to the galleries in fresh positions and a decidedly modern installation, in contrast to the display method of Lust.
This exhibition explores the idea that the painting one loves is as much a construction of memory and desire as it is a response to the direct encounter between viewing subject and viewed art object.
There is also another exhibit hanging, The Walser Greathouse Legacy. Gorgeous, gorgeous paintings. Most were paintings I had never seen on display before.
I need to return in the next week or so. Because I was mentally exhausted, I knew I wasn't taking the art in at full capacity.
Thank you Hoss and D for a wonderful evening.
For any of you in the Seattle area, check out the current show at the Frye Museum. Kudos to them for not only exhibiting this work, but it's in the front gallery. The show is called Swallow Harder. It's only up until May 14, so get there quick. Quietly tantalizing.
Upon entering the exhibit, I did my normal quick skim of all the work. Individually, some of the work didn't strike me in the way that good art does. But as I remained in the space, to look deeper...with the rest of my body, I felt myself encased in sultry, lusty and at times, taboo sex.
There are a couple pieces that are blatantly provocative. And, from sitting with the work a while, there are a few that I fell in love with.
In addition, check out their "Loss" exhibit. It's brilliant, It forces the viewer to engage and allows them to share some of their reaction and therefore energy. In that manner, it pushes against being a passive affair. That in and of itself creates an erotic experience.
When I entered the two rooms, I intentionally didn't read about the exhibit first. I always prefer the first impression to be my own visceral response. I wandered the two rooms and noticed a few things. First, my favorites weren't hanging and I missed them. But, from the placement of the paintings, fully filling the walls, top to bottom, with periodic large empty spaces...I enjoyed the contrast between empty and not empty. At the time, I didn't know what the curator had in mind for the empty patch. To me, the empty felt just as full as the rest of the walls. It added balance.
The second thing I noticed was I discovered new favorite paintings from the permanent collection. What a treat that was! I felt like a little kid at Christmas.
In each of the two rooms, there was a podium, designed to hold two journal type books. The left side page was a description of the show. The right side was blank, filled with lines, and room for name and email at the bottom. People were leaving their impressions of the show. I spent much time reading through the thoughts. Fascinating.
Some were absolutely furious that their favorites weren't hanging. A couple of folks used this venue to note their displeasure with the Swaller Harder show (feeling it was too pornographic). Others were titillated with the concept of the "Loss" exhibit.
It's a fun and worthwhile read.
"Loss" is the second part of a three part exhibit.
From the website:
"Showcasing paintings from the founding collection, this three-exhibition cycle examines the relationship between viewers as spectators and art as objects of desire. It uses innovative exhibition strategies to explore the complex relationships between consuming, collecting, memory, language, and interpretation.
What is it that prompts avid spectators of art to take the leap and become passionate collectors?
Lust (through February 26, 2006) imagines the viewing and collecting habits of Charles and Emma Frye, founders of the Frye Art Museum. Contemporary viewers are invited to envision the Fryes’ domestic sphere, where a mix of pedagogical value, personal eccentricity and early twentieth-century conventions of art display influenced the way this couple lived with their private collection of paintings long before offering it as a gift to the Seattle public. Artworks are hung very close to each other and skyed - hung virtually floor to ceiling - in a salon-style installation on walls of dark mulberry, a color preferred by the Fryes.
Instead of backdrop for individual paintings, the galleries seem to be some sort of performance, the dead past brushing itself off and standing up to stare back at us.
- Regina Hackett, Seattle Post Intelligencer
Loss (March 4, 2006–March 4, 2007) Since the Frye opened its doors in 1952, several paintings have become perennial favorites of Frye visitors. In this exhibition, some of these favorites are removed from the galleries and remain out of sight for several months. During this period, visitors are invited to remember, in writing, the missing works of art. Loss explores the idea that the painting one loves is as much a construction of memory and desire as it is a response to the direct encounter between a viewing subject and a viewed art object.
Love (July 1, 2006–March 4, 2007) juxtaposes written viewer remembrances from Loss with favorite paintings from the Collection, now returned to the galleries in fresh positions and a decidedly modern installation, in contrast to the display method of Lust.
This exhibition explores the idea that the painting one loves is as much a construction of memory and desire as it is a response to the direct encounter between viewing subject and viewed art object.
There is also another exhibit hanging, The Walser Greathouse Legacy. Gorgeous, gorgeous paintings. Most were paintings I had never seen on display before.
I need to return in the next week or so. Because I was mentally exhausted, I knew I wasn't taking the art in at full capacity.
Thank you Hoss and D for a wonderful evening.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Living With War
Gotta love 'em~
One of my coworkers...not only was he the only one to volunteer (not as squeamish because, as he responded.. "I'm a dad, I'll do it") to dig into my finger and pull out a four day old purple paint covered splinter that had lodged itself in there while painting the exterior trim for the new Hot Dish that Dan is opening, (and how long can I make this sentence?) after I emailed the staff and asked who'd be willing to perform such minor surgery...but he just sent me this.
That's the link to listen to Neil Young's new album "Living With War." It includes a song entitled "Let's Impeach The President."
There is also a blog devoted to Living With War, with articles and more links about the cd.
From this article:
"Harp magazine reported on its Web site Thursday that Demme had confirmed in an e-mail, “Neil just finished writing and recording -- with no warning -- a new album called 'Living With War.' It all happened in three days… It is a brilliant electric assault, accompanied by a 100-voice choir, on Bush and the war in Iraq… Truly mind blowing. Will be in stores soon.”
Gotta love 'em~
One of my coworkers...not only was he the only one to volunteer (not as squeamish because, as he responded.. "I'm a dad, I'll do it") to dig into my finger and pull out a four day old purple paint covered splinter that had lodged itself in there while painting the exterior trim for the new Hot Dish that Dan is opening, (and how long can I make this sentence?) after I emailed the staff and asked who'd be willing to perform such minor surgery...but he just sent me this.
That's the link to listen to Neil Young's new album "Living With War." It includes a song entitled "Let's Impeach The President."
There is also a blog devoted to Living With War, with articles and more links about the cd.
From this article:
"Harp magazine reported on its Web site Thursday that Demme had confirmed in an e-mail, “Neil just finished writing and recording -- with no warning -- a new album called 'Living With War.' It all happened in three days… It is a brilliant electric assault, accompanied by a 100-voice choir, on Bush and the war in Iraq… Truly mind blowing. Will be in stores soon.”
It's Friday.
It's warm and sunny. And most important, I have no plans. I'm off until Monday. Hear that? Nothing I need to do, no place I have to be...other than dinner tonight, tomorrow night and Sunday evening. I can actually be still and rest. Maybe, hopefully in doing so, my mind can gain some rejuvenation and I can think again.
Since my trip to NYC, I have not had the chance to really rest. The day before I left, I came face to face with a huge fact in therapy. There was no time to even process it while in NYC. Upon my return, between my cold, work and the increasing speed of internal movement in my sessions with the shrink...well...I'm exhausted.
While heading over to the Frye Museum for an art date with Hoss and D last night, it hit me hard. I was fried. In spite of my mental fog, I could enjoy the fascinating exhibits currently hanging. I want to write about it. Later.
For now, let's do Morford with Let Us Now Spit Upon The Earth.
"Bush on Earth Day. It's like Satan talking up the joys of Easter. It's like Paris Hilton chatting about treading the planet with humility and grace. It's like Jerry Falwell gushing about his love of "Brokeback Mountain," Eli Lilly extolling the virtues of meditation and green tea. It is, in a word, embarrassing. Humiliating. Intellectually bludgeoning. And hypocritical in a way, and at a depth, that is as nauseating to stomach as the testosterone levels at a Duke lacrosse frat party."
It's warm and sunny. And most important, I have no plans. I'm off until Monday. Hear that? Nothing I need to do, no place I have to be...other than dinner tonight, tomorrow night and Sunday evening. I can actually be still and rest. Maybe, hopefully in doing so, my mind can gain some rejuvenation and I can think again.
Since my trip to NYC, I have not had the chance to really rest. The day before I left, I came face to face with a huge fact in therapy. There was no time to even process it while in NYC. Upon my return, between my cold, work and the increasing speed of internal movement in my sessions with the shrink...well...I'm exhausted.
While heading over to the Frye Museum for an art date with Hoss and D last night, it hit me hard. I was fried. In spite of my mental fog, I could enjoy the fascinating exhibits currently hanging. I want to write about it. Later.
For now, let's do Morford with Let Us Now Spit Upon The Earth.
"Bush on Earth Day. It's like Satan talking up the joys of Easter. It's like Paris Hilton chatting about treading the planet with humility and grace. It's like Jerry Falwell gushing about his love of "Brokeback Mountain," Eli Lilly extolling the virtues of meditation and green tea. It is, in a word, embarrassing. Humiliating. Intellectually bludgeoning. And hypocritical in a way, and at a depth, that is as nauseating to stomach as the testosterone levels at a Duke lacrosse frat party."
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Everyone’s A F%@cking DJ
The Seattle Eagle presents a Fundraiser for the Seattle LGBT Community Center/.
"IPOD ENTHUSIASTS"-show us what you got
So you want to be a DJ?
That’s what everyone has said once in their life …well, now you can.
The Seattle Eagle and LGBT Center have teamed up their efforts to bring
"Everyone’s a F%#cking DJ" every Monday night starting Monday May 1st.
Here is the deal: bring in your ½ hour mixed mp3 set from your personal eclectic music selection for our eager ears to listen.
(Exceptable forms of players are anything that produces sound via headphone jacks…ipod,mp3 players, portable cd players etc…)
~Each Monday evening starts at 8pm, sign up with the bartender and goes until 1:30am
~Buy Stoli products and $1 goes to LGBT Community Center
Each night there will be a $25 cash prize to the best mix of the evening, in which the winners of each night will get to put their dj skills to the test in a winners spin-off which will be held at The Eagle on the 1st Saturday of the month on the 2 month intervals so 8 djs will tear it up from 2pm until 8pm on the Spin-off Saturday, the winner of the spin off will win a brand new iPod nano.
So get the hits pumping and the grounds shaking and let's spend the night playing to our hearts content.
Everyone’s a F%@cking DJ.
The Seattle Eagle presents a Fundraiser for the Seattle LGBT Community Center/.
"IPOD ENTHUSIASTS"-show us what you got
So you want to be a DJ?
That’s what everyone has said once in their life …well, now you can.
The Seattle Eagle and LGBT Center have teamed up their efforts to bring
"Everyone’s a F%#cking DJ" every Monday night starting Monday May 1st.
Here is the deal: bring in your ½ hour mixed mp3 set from your personal eclectic music selection for our eager ears to listen.
(Exceptable forms of players are anything that produces sound via headphone jacks…ipod,mp3 players, portable cd players etc…)
~Each Monday evening starts at 8pm, sign up with the bartender and goes until 1:30am
~Buy Stoli products and $1 goes to LGBT Community Center
Each night there will be a $25 cash prize to the best mix of the evening, in which the winners of each night will get to put their dj skills to the test in a winners spin-off which will be held at The Eagle on the 1st Saturday of the month on the 2 month intervals so 8 djs will tear it up from 2pm until 8pm on the Spin-off Saturday, the winner of the spin off will win a brand new iPod nano.
So get the hits pumping and the grounds shaking and let's spend the night playing to our hearts content.
Everyone’s a F%@cking DJ.
I haven't been up to some serious, meatier entries. Very busy at work and very busy inside my heart. So in the meantime...I have a few more links to share with you.
The first one for today is...from Rhode Island...presenting the Mustache Tattoo.
The first one for today is...from Rhode Island...presenting the Mustache Tattoo.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Little blurb from this morning with the shrink~
me: "In the last week, I have never felt more worthless in all my life. The feeling increases each day."
him: "No, that's not true. This is how you have felt your entire life. What's new is that you are now aware of these feelings."
Ouch. Now there's something for me to chew on.
Edited to add:
The ouch doesn't come from what may appear (out of context) to be a harsh statement on the part of my shrink, yet it comes from knowing the truth that fills his words. I love the fact that he won't be simply 'nice' with me, but will offer brutal honesty.
me: "In the last week, I have never felt more worthless in all my life. The feeling increases each day."
him: "No, that's not true. This is how you have felt your entire life. What's new is that you are now aware of these feelings."
Ouch. Now there's something for me to chew on.
Edited to add:
The ouch doesn't come from what may appear (out of context) to be a harsh statement on the part of my shrink, yet it comes from knowing the truth that fills his words. I love the fact that he won't be simply 'nice' with me, but will offer brutal honesty.
Very obscene real estate porn
For a paltry $53,000,000
Now this is the way to unload a home. Just double the asking price.
From the article: The 30,000-square-foot, six-bedroom manse has been on the market since the late 1990s, when it was listed at half that much.
For a paltry $53,000,000
Now this is the way to unload a home. Just double the asking price.
From the article: The 30,000-square-foot, six-bedroom manse has been on the market since the late 1990s, when it was listed at half that much.
" Got burning questions about how to use the bathroom? Just follow the cute doggies, and weep."
That's from today's Morford, Toilet-Paper Puppies In Hell .
Your weekly dose of Rob Brezsny can be found here.
That's from today's Morford, Toilet-Paper Puppies In Hell .
Your weekly dose of Rob Brezsny can be found here.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Bless me father for I have sinned...
...It has been 2 years since my last mammogram.
Finally…I made the damned appointment to get my boobs squished. I was only overdue by a year but, considering my mom and her mom each had double radical mastectomies due to cancer, I know there's no excuse for me to procrastinate.
Why is it that sometimes the easiest things get tucked to the side? It has never really been an exam that carries anxiety for me. It's fully paid for by my insurance, it's painless, and the breast center is only about 6 to 8 blocks from where I work. Can't get much simpler than that.
Geez Louise....
...It has been 2 years since my last mammogram.
Finally…I made the damned appointment to get my boobs squished. I was only overdue by a year but, considering my mom and her mom each had double radical mastectomies due to cancer, I know there's no excuse for me to procrastinate.
Why is it that sometimes the easiest things get tucked to the side? It has never really been an exam that carries anxiety for me. It's fully paid for by my insurance, it's painless, and the breast center is only about 6 to 8 blocks from where I work. Can't get much simpler than that.
Geez Louise....
Today's horoscope from Jonathan Cainer. Considering what I wrote just an hour and a half ago...it hits home.
For Caps:
"Would you like a lot more freedom, a lot more money and a lot more power? It is easily attained. Simply close down all access to your heart. Care about nobody. Feel innocent, childlike enthusiasm for nothing. Be callous and calculating. Be cold and clinical. You will then have plenty of 'success' but no depth, no warmth, no magic and no meaning. Your vulnerability now, is something to be proud of, not ashamed. It will yet make you wealthy in a way that no material accomplishment ever could."
For Caps:
"Would you like a lot more freedom, a lot more money and a lot more power? It is easily attained. Simply close down all access to your heart. Care about nobody. Feel innocent, childlike enthusiasm for nothing. Be callous and calculating. Be cold and clinical. You will then have plenty of 'success' but no depth, no warmth, no magic and no meaning. Your vulnerability now, is something to be proud of, not ashamed. It will yet make you wealthy in a way that no material accomplishment ever could."
Here's the remainder of last night's entry that I held onto a bit.
At the time I was just too tired to go through it and finish.
Rereading it now, I don't even know if any of it makes any sense. But here it is.
~~~~~~
Remember the abandonment feelings I spoke of last Friday? The ferocity is brutal. Although the shrink was away, per his suggestion, I'd connect with him through the weekend.
In one of my emails to him…I wrote:
“The abandonment and neediness is considerably growing. I know I have to go thru it. And it's frightening. I am so terrified you're going to leave me and you will hate me. It feels as if I need you....just to breathe.
I am making the connection (intellectually) that this is how I must have felt as a little kid. Thing is, I'm not ready to feel that reality with my heart.
Scary, scary, painful stuff.”
Yeah. See how dependent I’ve become on him? It’s big. HUGE. Actually, honestly, if it weren’t for him right now, (and I am so not being dramatic), I’d be dead.
Okay. So I don’t know if it happens with every therapist/client relationship, or if it’s relegated to the psychoanalytic type of treatment or if it simply depends upon the agreement the two have….
…but I unconsciously knew, and he later confirmed….that I would become dependent upon him. Essentially I’m replaying all my old, child, infant stuff with him. To retouch the old preverbal wounds, it had to happen. Returning to THAT place of vulnerability was and is a necessary step for my continued healing.
This weekend, I felt it...bigger. And it scared me. With the shrink, I am vulnerable in a way I’ve never been before. Each step has gone deeper and deeper. I don’t know if there is more depth to sink into. Every time I think that’s it, we've reached it, we could always take another step.
Sigh.
For the last 4 days, I woke each morning in a huge struggle. Maybe it’s time to cease therapy and stop. He’s gotten too close. Each day has developed with a greater understanding of how vulnerable I really am. It brings forth my survival instinct- RUN.
My feelings of worthliness, and neediness….actually, in yesterday’s email to the shrink, I wrote:
"All I know is I'm absolutely worthless...and the biggest leech that's ever lived."
Those feelings are fullface...smack in the center. Not a little here or there…but right out front.
The shrink replied with:
"Somehow someone taught you to believe this about yourself! Sad but true. I don't know about you, but it makes me mad!"
Powerful. And there are a couple things I need to deal with.
First, the acceptance that the feelings of worthliness were taught. Messages replayed over and over...
...I can't quite bite into that one yet. The fantasy I took to heart was that I did it to myself. It was the freak in me.
The second part that I can't deal with right now either is that this type of abuse...and I'm currently cringing at the use of the word, but I know it is...makes him angry. It's the deep idea that someone is looking out for me. Right now, I'm having a difficult time fighting for myself but he will.
Crap.
I have to deal with this.
I know I’m not the only person in the world who feels this way. I also know I’m not the only one who has actively worked on this.
But fuck. While going through it, it is the loneliest feeling in the universe. To have every cell in my body screaming “you are too much”…in a manner I’ve never before experienced. Yes, I grew up with the idea that I was too much. I’ve felt it on and off. Yet now, the impact of coming close to the place where it began, is…well…fucking frightening.
This sounds dramatic, I know. It is dramatic. How can it not be?
Yesterday was the blackest black thus far. This goes along with my painting (which I still have yet to write about). It's an ongoing struggle in believing I do not have the courage to move through this. Many things have required my strength. I would rise to the occasion. It is so very big. I can see myself committing passive suicide by slipping back and choosing…choosing to take the easy road. It involves living that life of “placid, mayonnaise” that I wrote about last week. The life I never wanted to live. The life that I made a concerted effort not to live and instead choose a life where I taste, and be, and smell, and paint, and fuck and play and think and love and feel….and touch and breathe….
….and now, I don’t know if I have the balls to continue to do so.
Maybe I’ll take the cheaters way out...and morph into blandness.
Or maybe, without notice, I'll find my strength again and it will see me through.
Or...more accurately, I need to lean on the shrink right now...and grab some of his strength. I must learn how to accept that from someone else. I didn't learn how when I was little...now is the time.
It is difficult for me to see possilibility. Even the possibility of Painter that scared the bejesus out of me, while in NYC…I can’t see it right now. I haven’t been able to see that for a few weeks.
It all hurts. Hurts bad.
To get to the other side I needed to step into the fire. The fire, in my case, being the origin of my fears, my insecurities, my feelings of worthliness. I know I need to feel it all...while stripping myself of my control and allowing another to be there and see me. Really see me.
I can see how my underbelly is exposed. I can see the grime and pus oozing. And with each minute, I fear that this person who has committed himself to standing by me, will leave. Each moment I fight my urge to turn away because of my shame. But how will I ever be able to trust others...truly trust friends, maybe potential partners, or most importantly, myself, unless I continue and finish what I've begun?
The hole is big. I know that it cannot be filled by anyone or anything...except myself.
I told a friend yesterday that he wasn’t broken. I can say that because I know I am. I’m so broken that I’m honestly not sure if I’m recoverable. I see my need. It is vast.
At the time I was just too tired to go through it and finish.
Rereading it now, I don't even know if any of it makes any sense. But here it is.
~~~~~~
Remember the abandonment feelings I spoke of last Friday? The ferocity is brutal. Although the shrink was away, per his suggestion, I'd connect with him through the weekend.
In one of my emails to him…I wrote:
“The abandonment and neediness is considerably growing. I know I have to go thru it. And it's frightening. I am so terrified you're going to leave me and you will hate me. It feels as if I need you....just to breathe.
I am making the connection (intellectually) that this is how I must have felt as a little kid. Thing is, I'm not ready to feel that reality with my heart.
Scary, scary, painful stuff.”
Yeah. See how dependent I’ve become on him? It’s big. HUGE. Actually, honestly, if it weren’t for him right now, (and I am so not being dramatic), I’d be dead.
Okay. So I don’t know if it happens with every therapist/client relationship, or if it’s relegated to the psychoanalytic type of treatment or if it simply depends upon the agreement the two have….
…but I unconsciously knew, and he later confirmed….that I would become dependent upon him. Essentially I’m replaying all my old, child, infant stuff with him. To retouch the old preverbal wounds, it had to happen. Returning to THAT place of vulnerability was and is a necessary step for my continued healing.
This weekend, I felt it...bigger. And it scared me. With the shrink, I am vulnerable in a way I’ve never been before. Each step has gone deeper and deeper. I don’t know if there is more depth to sink into. Every time I think that’s it, we've reached it, we could always take another step.
Sigh.
For the last 4 days, I woke each morning in a huge struggle. Maybe it’s time to cease therapy and stop. He’s gotten too close. Each day has developed with a greater understanding of how vulnerable I really am. It brings forth my survival instinct- RUN.
My feelings of worthliness, and neediness….actually, in yesterday’s email to the shrink, I wrote:
"All I know is I'm absolutely worthless...and the biggest leech that's ever lived."
Those feelings are fullface...smack in the center. Not a little here or there…but right out front.
The shrink replied with:
"Somehow someone taught you to believe this about yourself! Sad but true. I don't know about you, but it makes me mad!"
Powerful. And there are a couple things I need to deal with.
First, the acceptance that the feelings of worthliness were taught. Messages replayed over and over...
...I can't quite bite into that one yet. The fantasy I took to heart was that I did it to myself. It was the freak in me.
The second part that I can't deal with right now either is that this type of abuse...and I'm currently cringing at the use of the word, but I know it is...makes him angry. It's the deep idea that someone is looking out for me. Right now, I'm having a difficult time fighting for myself but he will.
Crap.
I have to deal with this.
I know I’m not the only person in the world who feels this way. I also know I’m not the only one who has actively worked on this.
But fuck. While going through it, it is the loneliest feeling in the universe. To have every cell in my body screaming “you are too much”…in a manner I’ve never before experienced. Yes, I grew up with the idea that I was too much. I’ve felt it on and off. Yet now, the impact of coming close to the place where it began, is…well…fucking frightening.
This sounds dramatic, I know. It is dramatic. How can it not be?
Yesterday was the blackest black thus far. This goes along with my painting (which I still have yet to write about). It's an ongoing struggle in believing I do not have the courage to move through this. Many things have required my strength. I would rise to the occasion. It is so very big. I can see myself committing passive suicide by slipping back and choosing…choosing to take the easy road. It involves living that life of “placid, mayonnaise” that I wrote about last week. The life I never wanted to live. The life that I made a concerted effort not to live and instead choose a life where I taste, and be, and smell, and paint, and fuck and play and think and love and feel….and touch and breathe….
….and now, I don’t know if I have the balls to continue to do so.
Maybe I’ll take the cheaters way out...and morph into blandness.
Or maybe, without notice, I'll find my strength again and it will see me through.
Or...more accurately, I need to lean on the shrink right now...and grab some of his strength. I must learn how to accept that from someone else. I didn't learn how when I was little...now is the time.
It is difficult for me to see possilibility. Even the possibility of Painter that scared the bejesus out of me, while in NYC…I can’t see it right now. I haven’t been able to see that for a few weeks.
It all hurts. Hurts bad.
To get to the other side I needed to step into the fire. The fire, in my case, being the origin of my fears, my insecurities, my feelings of worthliness. I know I need to feel it all...while stripping myself of my control and allowing another to be there and see me. Really see me.
I can see how my underbelly is exposed. I can see the grime and pus oozing. And with each minute, I fear that this person who has committed himself to standing by me, will leave. Each moment I fight my urge to turn away because of my shame. But how will I ever be able to trust others...truly trust friends, maybe potential partners, or most importantly, myself, unless I continue and finish what I've begun?
The hole is big. I know that it cannot be filled by anyone or anything...except myself.
I told a friend yesterday that he wasn’t broken. I can say that because I know I am. I’m so broken that I’m honestly not sure if I’m recoverable. I see my need. It is vast.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Blathering...
Yesterday felt like summer.
Why? Because it was the first day since last fall where not only did I sit outdoors at a sidewalk café table, but wore bare feet encased in sandals. My toes could feel the air.
Auxugen and I spent a couple wonderful hours in the sun at Septieme, enjoying margueritas, nachos and the required people watching. It’s always been a marker of sorts.
So that’s it for cheerful stuff. Oh yes, except for one other tidbit. I’ve been walking to work the last 3 weeks. And I’ve found the perfect street. I can take it most of the way to the office. It’s quiet…residential…and filled with blooms. The morning air is thick with the scent of spring flowers. It’s an amazing way to begin my day.
On my way home today, I smelled, for the first time this season, lilacs. Again, a smell that almost knocked me over. It was thick and glorious. I stopped and turned…seeking the source, and saw my first wonderful lilac bush for the year. It was full and the blooms were large.
This makes me happy. In spite of what I’m dealing with…I revel in these moments. They are my joy.
Tonight, I had just gotten home from work and the bunny called to chat. He said “it’s still gorgeous out. Are you going to spend the evening at Septieme?”
“Nah. Not tonight.”
After hanging up the phone, I wondered why I wouldn’t. I needed dinner and knew a small beet salad was calling my name. Topped with a nice merlot…it would be a good ending to an iffy day.
So although I no longer have wifi access at the Café, I brought my laptop to sit and write. The entry on service remains unfinished. Maybe I'd complete it tonight. I barely sat down and noticed that for some reason, it’s queer org. night in here. An NGLTF boardmember just walked in. A little while later, someone I met a few years back, who I think is affiliated with the Gill Foundation came in as well. In addition, I saw an old friend who updated me on the latest plans for the queer pride parade. He is part of a new grassroots effort to create a new Pride march and secede from the original organized Pride parade group.
This year there’s a big controversy with the parade. I’ve now been informed of what will be happening in response to the single-minded decision that the parade committee made, disregarding the voices of the majority of the community.
It is going to be a very interesting Pride weekend.
Maybe if I sit here and blab enough, I won’t even touch upon what’s happening in my very full internal world.
But...how can I keep quiet?
I stopped writing and looked up from the screen. My eyes landed upon a sign across the street: Coming Soon – Pho Bac 3
How many Pho joints can Broadway hold in a 3 block area? Between Pho and Thai, we are flooded.
What we need is an ice cream place. When I first moved here, back in ’98, there was a Ben & Jerry’s…and a Baskin Robbins. The B&J closed shop first. The Baskin shut down a few years back. No more ice cream. I can’t believe that people on the Hill don’t need ice cream. Especially between April and November.
We can't have enough ice cream.
I have a whole other chunk of entry...the other stuff, but I've decided to split it here....and will post the other later...or tomorrow morning. This entry has gotten long enough.
Talk with you later.
Yesterday felt like summer.
Why? Because it was the first day since last fall where not only did I sit outdoors at a sidewalk café table, but wore bare feet encased in sandals. My toes could feel the air.
Auxugen and I spent a couple wonderful hours in the sun at Septieme, enjoying margueritas, nachos and the required people watching. It’s always been a marker of sorts.
So that’s it for cheerful stuff. Oh yes, except for one other tidbit. I’ve been walking to work the last 3 weeks. And I’ve found the perfect street. I can take it most of the way to the office. It’s quiet…residential…and filled with blooms. The morning air is thick with the scent of spring flowers. It’s an amazing way to begin my day.
On my way home today, I smelled, for the first time this season, lilacs. Again, a smell that almost knocked me over. It was thick and glorious. I stopped and turned…seeking the source, and saw my first wonderful lilac bush for the year. It was full and the blooms were large.
This makes me happy. In spite of what I’m dealing with…I revel in these moments. They are my joy.
Tonight, I had just gotten home from work and the bunny called to chat. He said “it’s still gorgeous out. Are you going to spend the evening at Septieme?”
“Nah. Not tonight.”
After hanging up the phone, I wondered why I wouldn’t. I needed dinner and knew a small beet salad was calling my name. Topped with a nice merlot…it would be a good ending to an iffy day.
So although I no longer have wifi access at the Café, I brought my laptop to sit and write. The entry on service remains unfinished. Maybe I'd complete it tonight. I barely sat down and noticed that for some reason, it’s queer org. night in here. An NGLTF boardmember just walked in. A little while later, someone I met a few years back, who I think is affiliated with the Gill Foundation came in as well. In addition, I saw an old friend who updated me on the latest plans for the queer pride parade. He is part of a new grassroots effort to create a new Pride march and secede from the original organized Pride parade group.
This year there’s a big controversy with the parade. I’ve now been informed of what will be happening in response to the single-minded decision that the parade committee made, disregarding the voices of the majority of the community.
It is going to be a very interesting Pride weekend.
Maybe if I sit here and blab enough, I won’t even touch upon what’s happening in my very full internal world.
But...how can I keep quiet?
I stopped writing and looked up from the screen. My eyes landed upon a sign across the street: Coming Soon – Pho Bac 3
How many Pho joints can Broadway hold in a 3 block area? Between Pho and Thai, we are flooded.
What we need is an ice cream place. When I first moved here, back in ’98, there was a Ben & Jerry’s…and a Baskin Robbins. The B&J closed shop first. The Baskin shut down a few years back. No more ice cream. I can’t believe that people on the Hill don’t need ice cream. Especially between April and November.
We can't have enough ice cream.
I have a whole other chunk of entry...the other stuff, but I've decided to split it here....and will post the other later...or tomorrow morning. This entry has gotten long enough.
Talk with you later.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Rainbow leis, easter eggs and...
From Daddy, Papa and Me -
One family's experience at the White House for the easter egg roll.
And from the article from SFGate:
"President Bush briefly appeared in the morning to blow a whistle and start the first egg roll race, while first lady Laura Bush appeared for photos with children from Gulf Coast states hit by Hurricane Katrina.
Both left the event before the first gay and lesbian families arrived."
Sends a clear message, doesn't it?
From Daddy, Papa and Me -
One family's experience at the White House for the easter egg roll.
And from the article from SFGate:
"President Bush briefly appeared in the morning to blow a whistle and start the first egg roll race, while first lady Laura Bush appeared for photos with children from Gulf Coast states hit by Hurricane Katrina.
Both left the event before the first gay and lesbian families arrived."
Sends a clear message, doesn't it?
Oh this is good...
...You've gotta check it out.
I am the egg head, I'm the Commander, I'm the Decider
Koo-Koo-Kachoo
...You've gotta check it out.
I am the egg head, I'm the Commander, I'm the Decider
Koo-Koo-Kachoo
Friday, April 21, 2006
Tough day.
The shrink is gone for a week. Normally, not a big deal although depending on what's going on, some weeks can be more challenging. This time, oh this particular time, it has brought out all my abandonment stuff, all my feelings of worthlessness, all my crap in a way, with an intensity I've never before consciously felt.
Thing is, I know what's going on. I can objectively see how I'm reacting. I am acutely aware that what I'm thinking and therefore allowing myself to feel are old ghosts that have waited for this one moment to gang up on me full force.
It doesn't surprise me.
The last week has gifted me with some powerful messages that are slowly beginning to sink in. People, unbeknownst to each other, have been reflecting what they see as my power and beauty back at me. From a talk with Spencer about service and how I'm seen in that capacity, (blog entry in progress on that one), to the shrink trying to show me how much I really give back to him (and he's not talking about the money), to an amazing email I received yesterday from Qnetter relaying to me how I feed the sadists who play with me...it's all really big shit.
In the past, the words would simply fly over my head. From there, the next step was the words would attempt to hit but I'd deflect them either with jokes or sarcasm. Then a little at a time, I'd hear it, pay attention, and with a great deal of discomfort at least attempt to take them in. Lately, I am listening, and with much seriousness and mindfulness, work on holding the words close to my heart. I smell the energy in which it's given and try to surround myself with the love.
Honestly, at times it's uncomfortable. I'm trying on new clothes...styles I'm not used to wearing. It feels foreign. And I view it in awe...with almost a childlike surprise...
All this is wrapped up with a heavy truth I am still realizing in regards to my painting and why I am not painting. The painting truth began with one succinct statement made by Nayland when we met (another entry in progress). Nayland, you were on target. Not only that, but your words have haunted me every day since, many times each day. Thank you.
What's interesting is I'm being flooded with truths of the things that are most important to me. My service, my s/m and my painting. Not a coincidence.
Yes, it has been an electric few weeks.
No wonder now is a big freak out moment. It's a good thing none of you are sitting in my insides right now. I'd be handing each of you barf bags.
Now I need to get ready for lunch with a good friend and then it's off to the up and coming Hot Dish to check into some new art for the walls.
The shrink is gone for a week. Normally, not a big deal although depending on what's going on, some weeks can be more challenging. This time, oh this particular time, it has brought out all my abandonment stuff, all my feelings of worthlessness, all my crap in a way, with an intensity I've never before consciously felt.
Thing is, I know what's going on. I can objectively see how I'm reacting. I am acutely aware that what I'm thinking and therefore allowing myself to feel are old ghosts that have waited for this one moment to gang up on me full force.
It doesn't surprise me.
The last week has gifted me with some powerful messages that are slowly beginning to sink in. People, unbeknownst to each other, have been reflecting what they see as my power and beauty back at me. From a talk with Spencer about service and how I'm seen in that capacity, (blog entry in progress on that one), to the shrink trying to show me how much I really give back to him (and he's not talking about the money), to an amazing email I received yesterday from Qnetter relaying to me how I feed the sadists who play with me...it's all really big shit.
In the past, the words would simply fly over my head. From there, the next step was the words would attempt to hit but I'd deflect them either with jokes or sarcasm. Then a little at a time, I'd hear it, pay attention, and with a great deal of discomfort at least attempt to take them in. Lately, I am listening, and with much seriousness and mindfulness, work on holding the words close to my heart. I smell the energy in which it's given and try to surround myself with the love.
Honestly, at times it's uncomfortable. I'm trying on new clothes...styles I'm not used to wearing. It feels foreign. And I view it in awe...with almost a childlike surprise...
All this is wrapped up with a heavy truth I am still realizing in regards to my painting and why I am not painting. The painting truth began with one succinct statement made by Nayland when we met (another entry in progress). Nayland, you were on target. Not only that, but your words have haunted me every day since, many times each day. Thank you.
What's interesting is I'm being flooded with truths of the things that are most important to me. My service, my s/m and my painting. Not a coincidence.
Yes, it has been an electric few weeks.
No wonder now is a big freak out moment. It's a good thing none of you are sitting in my insides right now. I'd be handing each of you barf bags.
Now I need to get ready for lunch with a good friend and then it's off to the up and coming Hot Dish to check into some new art for the walls.
Today...I'm linking to articles.
"It is a time of great wonder and sporadic hope and hot liquid sighs masquerading as just another day in your life. It is a time of vital physical awakening and innovative technological excellence resulting in unprecedented levels of vibratory genital bliss. Wait, did you read that correctly? Yes, you read that correctly."
And to continue with the rest of Morford's column for today...
Thanks to H for the link to the following article by a leading Princeton University historian - The Worst President in History?
The article opens with:
"George W. Bush's presidency appears headed for colossal historical disgrace. Barring a cataclysmic event on the order of the terrorist attacks of September 11th, after which the public might rally around the White House once again, there seems to be little the administration can do to avoid being ranked on the lowest tier of U.S. presidents. And that may be the best-case scenario. Many historians are now wondering whether Bush, in fact, will be remembered as the very worst president in all of American history."
The third article is also a very good article brought to my attention by Matt. Take the time to read Vanishing Archives.
From the piece:
"Documents wind up missing from public archives for many reasons. Sometimes they're shelved or labeled incorrectly, or lost, and sometimes they're even stolen. But at the U.S. National Archives, documents have been disappearing since 1999 because intelligence officials have wanted them to. And under the terms of two disturbing agreements - with the CIA in 2001 and by the Air Force in 2002 - the National Archives has been allowing officials to reclassify declassified documents, which means removing them from the public eye. So far 55,000 pages, some of them from the 1950s, have vanished. This not only violates the mission of the National Archives; it is also antithetical to the natural flow of information in an open society. As time passes, the need for secrecy, which should always adhere to a very strict standard, usually diminishes. Apparently the CIA wants to turn back the hands of time."
"It is a time of great wonder and sporadic hope and hot liquid sighs masquerading as just another day in your life. It is a time of vital physical awakening and innovative technological excellence resulting in unprecedented levels of vibratory genital bliss. Wait, did you read that correctly? Yes, you read that correctly."
And to continue with the rest of Morford's column for today...
Thanks to H for the link to the following article by a leading Princeton University historian - The Worst President in History?
The article opens with:
"George W. Bush's presidency appears headed for colossal historical disgrace. Barring a cataclysmic event on the order of the terrorist attacks of September 11th, after which the public might rally around the White House once again, there seems to be little the administration can do to avoid being ranked on the lowest tier of U.S. presidents. And that may be the best-case scenario. Many historians are now wondering whether Bush, in fact, will be remembered as the very worst president in all of American history."
The third article is also a very good article brought to my attention by Matt. Take the time to read Vanishing Archives.
From the piece:
"Documents wind up missing from public archives for many reasons. Sometimes they're shelved or labeled incorrectly, or lost, and sometimes they're even stolen. But at the U.S. National Archives, documents have been disappearing since 1999 because intelligence officials have wanted them to. And under the terms of two disturbing agreements - with the CIA in 2001 and by the Air Force in 2002 - the National Archives has been allowing officials to reclassify declassified documents, which means removing them from the public eye. So far 55,000 pages, some of them from the 1950s, have vanished. This not only violates the mission of the National Archives; it is also antithetical to the natural flow of information in an open society. As time passes, the need for secrecy, which should always adhere to a very strict standard, usually diminishes. Apparently the CIA wants to turn back the hands of time."
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Not that it's a competition or anything...
...but it may seem that the Brooklyn Leather Posse has nothing on its Seattle counterpart. LOL (Although if y'all had been there...it would have been even that much more fun!)
Auxugen's birthday was April 3rd. It slipped by quietly. I spaced it. Totally. When I mentioned it to him, he responded with "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it." It seems he said the same thing to his roommate, also after the fact.
G (the roommate), got a few of us together to celebrate this week. We were 9. Auxugen, Hoss, his D., Qnetter's partner (Qnetter couldn't make it), the Bear and his bunny, G (Auxugen's roommate), Buddy and myself. We met at G's apartment. Auxugen knew we were all getting together for dinner, but that was it. He didn't know we were belated celebrating his birthday, nor did he expect what happened next.
Once we all arrived, we headed up the hill to Broadway. Just before turning onto Broadway, a large black bag was placed over Auxugen's head, and his hands were bound behind his back with a canvas belt. We parade him down the sidewalk and at the end of the block, turned into The Deluxe, for dinner.
Being Capitol Hill, no one really blinked an eye. On the street, they probably figured we were making a political statement. In the restaurant, the waitstaff and diners simply smiled and assumed it was just another night out for a group of friends.
The hood and tied hands remained, while we ordered drinks and toasted Auxugen. Our waiter referred to him in the third person as "hood boy"...such as "would hood boy like something to drink?"
Auxugen was able to order his drink, Long Island ice tea, but it sat in front of him until after the toast. A few of us tasted it for him. We had to make sure it was safe. :-)
The toast, in addition to birthday wishes, included directions for the future informing us of his birthday wishes (such as "it's my birthday but I hate surprises, or I don't want to do anything") We just need to know. Otherwise you always run the risk...
It was a wonderful evening with a fabulous group of loving, hot and sexy pervs. I'm thrilled we had the chance to share some of our lovin' and bestow some special attention on Auxugen. (Love you man. You're so totally worth it.)
If I get a hold of some of the photos, I'll post 'em.
...but it may seem that the Brooklyn Leather Posse has nothing on its Seattle counterpart. LOL (Although if y'all had been there...it would have been even that much more fun!)
Auxugen's birthday was April 3rd. It slipped by quietly. I spaced it. Totally. When I mentioned it to him, he responded with "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it." It seems he said the same thing to his roommate, also after the fact.
G (the roommate), got a few of us together to celebrate this week. We were 9. Auxugen, Hoss, his D., Qnetter's partner (Qnetter couldn't make it), the Bear and his bunny, G (Auxugen's roommate), Buddy and myself. We met at G's apartment. Auxugen knew we were all getting together for dinner, but that was it. He didn't know we were belated celebrating his birthday, nor did he expect what happened next.
Once we all arrived, we headed up the hill to Broadway. Just before turning onto Broadway, a large black bag was placed over Auxugen's head, and his hands were bound behind his back with a canvas belt. We parade him down the sidewalk and at the end of the block, turned into The Deluxe, for dinner.
Being Capitol Hill, no one really blinked an eye. On the street, they probably figured we were making a political statement. In the restaurant, the waitstaff and diners simply smiled and assumed it was just another night out for a group of friends.
The hood and tied hands remained, while we ordered drinks and toasted Auxugen. Our waiter referred to him in the third person as "hood boy"...such as "would hood boy like something to drink?"
Auxugen was able to order his drink, Long Island ice tea, but it sat in front of him until after the toast. A few of us tasted it for him. We had to make sure it was safe. :-)
The toast, in addition to birthday wishes, included directions for the future informing us of his birthday wishes (such as "it's my birthday but I hate surprises, or I don't want to do anything") We just need to know. Otherwise you always run the risk...
It was a wonderful evening with a fabulous group of loving, hot and sexy pervs. I'm thrilled we had the chance to share some of our lovin' and bestow some special attention on Auxugen. (Love you man. You're so totally worth it.)
If I get a hold of some of the photos, I'll post 'em.
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