words, words, words
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If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
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Monday, September 29, 2003
I learned to play Go yesterday, down at the Commonspace for the first time. It's a strategy game that's simultaneously simple and complex. I felt stupid again, or just boggled with so many possibilities. but i loved the friendliness of the small group who plays there on Sunday afternoons. They were perfectly willing to teach me, give me hints, let me play with their pieces, etc., happy that a newcomer was trying it out. I've been meaning to stop by there for months, since i found out about it, but when two people began playing go at the cafe i work at, I decided I would try the next day. It's nice to learn something new, even if you feel incompetent. As much as i love to teach, it's good to get practice at learning, too, something completely new and frustratingly difficult. There at the cafe, i ran into a social justice group who meet once a month after reading a book on the subject. can i fill my life with one more thing? I think perhaps I would be accomplishing more if i worked at social justice while volunteering to help people in my community instead of reading and talking about it. but again, all the options both excite and frustrate me. I can't do them all, no matter how hard I try. especially when my sleep and my cooking is so important to me. I have lists and lists of things to do, important things, fun things, hectic things. Nobody can say I'm not living, but i just don't want to be gasping for air underneath a ton of life.
3:58 PM
Friday, September 26, 2003
so, i'm reading your blog, and i'm wondering. what do you want to see on your blog? you asked us what kind of stuff we expect or want out of it, but what the difference do we matter? this is your blog, you write it how you like it! i figured most bloggers were out there to enjoy themselves, but from reading several others recently, it looks like they're working for a public. i guess that's thrilling and all, but not when you're trying to do self-analysis. i can't say much, few people read my blog. but honestly, i don't write it for them. i love keeping it, i love talking about my life, and explaining myself to myself. i do it in public because the more i put it on my blog, the more i'm able to do it in real life. once i'm able to tell everyone around me all these crazy thoughts that i hide, that i've repressed for years because of my parents and all my air force compatriots, then maybe i'll give up the blog. for now, it's practice to become better in real life. i can't tell you the times i've thought while talking to friends, oh, i shouldn't say that to them, i don't trust them that much. but wait, i've said that in my blog, so it's out there. go on, tell them; they're worth it, and it's good for you. and i love it. i love sharing my life with people and losing my fear of sharing myself.
7:49 PM
Thursday, September 25, 2003
I am so glad this [Israelis refuse to carry out airstrikes] is happening. When people used to taking orders refuse to drop bombs on civilians, their courage rises higher than the smoke of war. I know the feeling of being part of an unthinking system; i know how difficult it is to think and to walk against that system. These men deserve our thanks, for respecting poeple's right to live, no matter how dangerous those people may appear to be.
1:59 PM
I woke up this morning, not knowing if my friend and first love, Joshua, was still there, not after the conversation we had last night, him desperate and hurt beyond reason, me, lost in how i could help. I didn't have my senses with me Josh. i want to tell you again that i love you, that i know i hurt you in the past, and may still be hurting you. i don't understand how you could have forgiven me, but i have so much respect for your ability to do just that. i know you may not be listening any more, but i miss you. how many times have we called each other this summer and told each other stories we didn't trust with anyone else? if you've walked away from me this time, i won't let my loss disrupt my love. You have meant too much for me; you started a hope in me that refuses to die, a hope that other people exist who have the same passion for life that I have, who not only recogognize it in me, but encourage it in me, unlike the so many people who have laughed at me for it. but stay with us, we need you as much as you need us. you have sight beyond our comprehension, love and forgiveness that has taught me how much is possible. so much of me is better because I was with you for a time. and I know that you and i will continue to learn from each other.
and now that I know you are better, i want to see you even more, just to thank you for your love and your life.
12:49 PM
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
songs in my head recently: Dionne Warwick's Anyone who had a heart, Natalie Merchant's Whose side are you on?, the Magnetic Fields' 100,000 fireflies, Emmylou Harris' Wrecking Ball, the Beach Boys' Cabinessence, and Fats Waller's Loafin' Time.
11:15 PM
Monday, September 22, 2003
one year ago today. one year ago tomorrow. how do you measure a year, i've heard asked before. last year, today, i felt compelled to conscientiously object to the air force and leave, before my time was up. it wasn't a decision I wanted to make; i had dragged my feet for eight months. it wasn't a path i wanted to take. i would have let someone else do it, had it been possible. but that's why i use the word compelled, compelled by that something inside me, that i listen to during a Quaker meeting, try to understand and try to make more a part of me, that still, small voice. one year ago tomorrow, i made my first entry into this weblog. although i had been keeping another form of an online diary, nobody was able to read it, so i copied the pages to this new space. but the first entry, is there at the bottom of that first page, about the decision i had made the day before, still shocked at what i was about to do.
what has this year been to me? the most immense inner trouble i have seen, and yet the most rewarding year as well. i had few friends the beginning of that year, some had drifted away, some were too far away to help, and some simply were not available. but i found new ones, and leaned on them in ways i never thought possible, crying while they held me, not able to stand up on my own anymore. i found a voice i never realized i had; i found strength and confidence i always wanted to have. i found reason, to stand up, to change my life, to face something else. i am someone different today, reborn as it were, once more, and am still remaking myself from who i was into who i will be. one year ago.
and this weblog, full of the words i used to describe my situation. although, i have been writing for years in my notebooks and still have plenty of ink there, i was able to use this page for others to see what was going on inside, again, my first time to allow others to see who i am. i am less afraid now, less afraid of someone peering into me, all these things i have left open. i don't know how you see me, because of all the sight you now have, but that doesn't so much matter. i am grateful for the sight this page has given me as well.
i measure my year in the words i spoke and wrote, the people who have loved me, the growth between then and now.
11:11 AM
Sunday, September 21, 2003
Last night, my friends Jeff and Rob and I talked with a lovely stranger, a European lady whose name I don't remember, about normality and commonness. it seems to be an american ideal for people to seek normality and shun their individuality, to ridicule intellectualism. I know from my parents, this was true because their concept of christianity did not allow for intellectuals; too much thinking leads you away from God. I've since found that religion and thought fit just as well as philosophy and thought, as if they are one and the same. But what I still struggle with is how to be intellectual without being snobbish. How to appreciate difficult art without frowning on those who can't yet see it. I think partly, education is the answer, that when I am in a situation where I feel I understand the art or the concept better than those around me, i need to be willing and able to explain it, for their benefit, the difference between raising them up to my level and me seeking the lowest common denominator like many of us did in high school in our response to peer pressure. What I don't want to lose though, is the appreciation of what is average and common. That is, learning to enjoy and appreciate good wine while still enjoying a coke when you're in the mood. I reproach myself with music far too often, forcing myself to listen to independent music with a guitar and feeling that somehow fun electronic music is never as artistic or thought provoking. Liking something that is easy to like is not a crime, and although it shouldn't stop you from learning to like something else that may not be so easy, you shouldn't look down on what is easy to like, just because it doesn't challenge you as much. I suppose this argument is why I love Andy Warhol, because he took things that were common and normal and tried to elevate them to art, forcing us to look at them in a different way, perhaps stripping them of their normality. Or was he responding to the lowest common denominator as well, using these objects because he knew people would understand them?
I can't answer my own questions; i've struggled with this since i can remember, being challenged by my brother to read high literature, instead of the Hardy Boys. I appreciate that challenge, but it's given me another challenge, to question my intentions, to give myself enough time to learn many things I don't know while still be able to enjoy what I already have, not looking down on what I have because it is not new or especially challenging. or perhaps, find a way to be challenged by what I already know, by approaching it in a different manner.
12:30 PM
Saturday, September 20, 2003
home, with a dsl connection. with a new job, with a new telephone number. is there anything about me that has remained stable? yes, plenty. but in cyberworld, i'm quite different. i have work to do. and a whole internet full of distractions.
7:49 AM
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
I received an invitaton recently, from my high school's football booster club, to attend a ten year reunion next month. A week earlier, I dreamed of being in football practice and flirting with some male stranger in front of the coach, not caring about what he thought. for the first time, my subconscious was not afraid of this man, who has always haunted, frightened, and angered me more than any other person. the two events together have made me consider actually attending the reunion, especially if i am in town for my mother's surgery. but, every time i see myself walking to the stadium, or sitting in the stands watching the game, or talking to my old teammates, i get nervous and frightened, just like i used to get before practices and games, dreading every minute spent. my feelings about football are too complex to explain here; i have spent ten years ignoring and then trying to face my fears from the five years i spent playing, from the lies my father told me to get me to play, from the way that i berated myself for not liking a sport that was contradictory to every part of my personality but so normal as to seem necessary for every able young oklahoman boy.
To go back, is it revisiting and reopening old wounds, or is it an attempt to heal myself? these wounds have played me for a fool. i thought that harboring them would give me power over my father some day, that i could throw them back in his face so he finally knew how much he had hurt me. but instead, i haven't gotten over how much he hurt me and know i can never explain to him the consequences of his actions, how much i tried to please him, how much i hurt myself in the process. so in trying to let go of this angst, do i keep to the situations that give me peace, or do i walk back in the scene of my torture? how much strength do i have? can i be the person i am every day, when i am back there, with all the memories swimming around me? there's so much to think about. i might just make a decision and deal with it, not stress over whether to do it or not but how, and if not, how else do i overcome my fear?
4:18 PM
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
You took off your shirt for me, hard chest, muscled symmetry, smiling to have my attention. I removed mine, same stuff again. Under clothes lies flesh; under flesh, ? I too often forget to read in our moving picture world. Might as well enjoy another night. Maybe tomorrow, I'll see your soft depth between the lust in my eyes.
1:39 PM
Monday, September 15, 2003
I'm living in my new place now, all my stuff fit to a different shape, like liquid poured from one glass to another one. of course, this glass is smaller, and i had to do something with the overflow. it's nice though, finally sleeping in my own bed after two months of travel, after many different beds of friends and family. i have my music back, i have my cooking pots back, and many ideas brewing in my mind. i'm visiting the old places i used to frequent, coffee shops, my quaker meetinghouse, bars, parks, and all those buildings i love. i'm riding my bike around town, getting to know different avenues, streets that end in strange places, sidewalks that get too bumpy. funny how september always seems the start of things, even now that i'm no longer in school.
2:51 PM
Monday, September 08, 2003
10 bands singers you've been listening to a lot lately
1. Dionne Warwick
2. The Magnetic Fields
3. Nina Simone
4. Roberta Flack
5. Smashing Pumpkins
6. Underworld
7. can't even get this far - i've been collecting so much new music lately, i barely have time to listen to it before i find something new at the library.
9 things you look forward to
1. cooking in my new apartment with my wonderful pots
2. seeing how my relationship develops with my mother
3. putting more music on my ipod
4. cycling regularly
5. what my hair will look like in two, three months
6. eating breakfast
7. staying in one spot for a while
8. winter
9. dreaming more and more
8 things you like to wear
1. leather pants
2. nail polish
3. my blue-green shirt
4. boots
5. a speedo
6. purple in my hair
7. my goodwill shirts
8. my sunglasses
7 things that annoy you
1. summertime excessive heat
2. people who run red lights
3. myself for driving too aggressively
4. the impersonality of driving everywhere
5. stains that won't come out of my clothes, especially one of my favorite blue shirts
6. the first twenty minutes after waking
7. my heart pounding for no apparent reason
6 things you say most days
1. i dunno, i'm tired.
5 things you do everyday
1. sing
2. eat lots of food
3. drink lots of water
4. think about sleeping
5. wish that st louis were colder
4 people you'd like to spend more time with
1. Emily
2. my brother
3. i can't bring myself to say it.
4. several new guys i met this summer
3 movies you could watch over and over again
1. Harvey
2. Batman
3. The Scarlet Pimpenel
2 of your favorite songs at the moment
1. Walk On By
2. Anyone who had a heart
1 person you could spend the rest of your life with
1. how can i tell? does it have to be just one? that's too limiting. i think i'll opt for all of my friends and some lovers.
12:26 AM
oh, i move into a new place tomorrow. new walls to surround me, a new route to walk, closer to the park i love with the great cycling route around it, the coffee shop i love, and closer to many people i know. much rejoicing.
12:01 AM
Sunday, September 07, 2003
If Christianity is true at all, if we are to follow any part of it, then it must exist on the premise of service, and not on the claim of righteousness. We don't remember Jesus for what he didn't do, i.e., have sex, get drunk, grab power, etc., but for what he did, which is largely healing the sick and teaching a better sense of who God is. His life was in service to us, every part of it, and he told us that the way to serve God is to serve those around us. The verses, you fed me when I was poor, you clothed me when I was naked, you visited me in prison; when you do these things for others, you are doing them for me, illustrate this direction. You cannot run for God or lose weight for God, or even build a church for God; to serve him you must serve people around you. While asking what Jesus might do in your situation might help decide small scenarios, our lives can be more easily determined by looking to serve Jesus in those around us. Each person is another way to serve him and must be treated with respect and love, not someone to judge or preach to. i learned this vaguely from my years in fundamentalist churches but rarely saw the truth in action. most so-called Christians I know spend their lives denying themselves or others the pleasure in living.
So while I am refocusing my life, I have to use this principle, that whether I earn money by it or volunteer my time, I must spend large portions of my life serving other people. Strangely enough, I thought that becoming an Air Force officer was doing just that. So this is nothing new; I have simply realized a better way to serve people, and perhaps I am less assuming and more honest about what other people need from me. Perhaps I can be more humble and more aware about who I am if I am not focusing my life on msyelf. The question is whether I can honestly put these thoughts into action, whether they are simply what I think i should do, or rather, a way of life.
11:09 PM
Saturday, September 06, 2003
I have loved Bjork for a long long time, starting with a few songs on a tape my brother gave me, mixed with fifteen other artists i didn't know. I remember staring at the album cover of Debut in high school, not knowing what to make of the picture, whether i would like her music or not. But when I bought Post in college, I fell in love with the way she manipulates words and sounds into art. Post is still my favorite album, full of lyrics that have moved me in many different directions, have spurred me on while biking up large Colorado hills, have engaged debates between friends, have encouraged a mental orgasm i once shared with an english major friend of mine, the two of us practically drunk on words and ideas and images in our heads. I have walked around at 4:30 in the morning, unable to sleep, while no one else is about, and the only company i have is the street lights, singing Hyperballad like it would save my life, imagining what my body would sound like, slamming against those rocks.
I've been embarrassed though, like i am with a lot of my favorite music, to admit that i really like it. As if somehow, because bjork moves me, i don't want to tell anyone about it, because she uses electronic beats, other people won't consider her a serious artist, because i'm a nincompoop who sometimes won't stand up for himself. But it wasn't until Vespertine when Bjork held my hand and walked me through what i couldn't handle alone. I bought it in 2001, not long after its release, which is unusual for me. I often wait for a while before I notice new albums. But i needed her that winter, the coldest of my life, when I was desperately alone and couldn't handle the fear in my mind, was teetering on the edge of bridges in my neighborhood, wondering what it would be like if i jumped off. and so i played vespertine nearly every night, never taking it out of my cd player for at least a month after i bought it. i can't listen to the album now, without remembering that pain, without remembering how it soothed the loneliness, made the darkness beautiful instead of deadly. now it's an old friend, one to play and remember how i healed myself, with the help of others.
5:25 PM
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
New Orleans always holds charm for me, the shuttered windows, the varying colors of the houses, the roofs piled on top of each other reaching towards the sky, the shock of the downtown buildings looking from the smallness of Bourbon street, the trees and birds of Audobon park, the sweaty sultry, drinkable atmosphere, the attitude of the people, that everyday should be effortlessly fun. it's a beautiful city that seems to make its beauty out of its ugliness. the houses are old, but they have such feeling to them, you want to hold their hand as they walk across the street to another decade. the streets in the French Quarter pile up with so much trash, but look at the grins on the people walking around, take a new person with you and watch him gawk at the neon and the craziness. Everyone is sweaty and hot and dirty, but that just increases the vibrancy, the sexuality, all the pheremones dancing around your nose. I've loved New Orleans for five years, when I first visited labor day weekend of 1998, soon after graduating college, after coming out. I had moved down to Biloxi for three months of training and decided to visit New Orleans with some friends, but driving a separate car so i could hang out that night. I looked up the gay district in a Waldenbooks tourist guide, and ran into Southern Decadence by chance. Smaller back then, but just as lively. I met so many men the next few months, visiting almost every weekend, loving the gay atmosphere I had never had, loving the dance floor and the shirts off, loving Royal street where i could walk for endless days, in and out of the glittery ancient stores. Las Vegas tries to be New Orleans, tries to have that gilded charm, the always fun-atmosphere, but if you take any layer off, you see right through to the thin air behind it. In New Orleans, behind every layer of gold paint there's hard wood, a story of the former owner, tenant, french peasant. the stuff the makes up our world, that's been there for centuries; the gold is just make-up to take this elderly bride and keep her beautiful, recognizing that it isn't only youth who has beauty but the richness of a well-lived life, the woven story fabric of many many people. Each time I visit, I'm more a part of that story, see into it a step deeper, feel more a part of it, as if I too am old and have stories upon stories to tell, of what i have seen and done in this sultry city.
2:30 PM
this may be the best news I've heard since I received my discharge papers from the Air Force. Finally, people are beginning to see through the lies of our president. slim shady vs dubya: "in a recent poll that asked about truthfulness, rapper Eminem scored higher than President Bush. According to a global marketing agency, Euro RSCG Worldwide, 53 percent of American adults aged 35-44 believe that Eminem's lyrics contain 'more truth' than Bush's speeches. (62 percent in the 18-24 age group agreed.) It turns out that we may need to do a better job of protecting our kids from our President's gangsta'"
11:11 AM
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