Moments of Thought (during a 4 KM walk)

Entry 12/03/2014 06:40:38 AM – Mentat 811

Nothing like completely screwing up my sleep patterns in one day.  I laid down early last night listening to Psychobabble and then the Relic Radio Podcasts that I collected yesterday.  Ended up listening to the first one (from the Science-Fiction collection) from beginning to end (20 minutes), then when I moved onto the others (Thriller, Suspense and the straight on podcast), I fell completely asleep during each and every other podcast afterwards.   Oh sure, I woke up at the end of each and every one, start the next, get comfortable and then **BANG** out like a light once again.  So all in all I drifted in and out of sleep during each of the podcasts.  I remember listening to the last of the podcasts at 11:30’ish last night.  I stayed up for a couple of hours then went back to bed only to wake up again at 10 to 6 of which I’ve been up since.  Sure, I got something like 9+ hours of sleep, but thanks to the program I’m using, it doesn’t count.  Bloody annoying that…   But that’s what happens when one is working with a program and all the various quirks that it comes with.

Now that my mother’s home from the doctor’s office and about to start her morning chores on ironing what little clothes that need it, I’m sitting here having a rather interesting time trying to come up with the energy for some of the thoughts that I’ve had watching and listening to some of the various podcasts, YouTube videos and stray thoughts that usually assail my mind during the early evenings and especially when I’m taking my 2.5 mile (4.02 km) walk through the neighbourhood.

I’ve continued to mull over the lack of “neighbourhood” in the urban sprawl of Providence and in its place is what retail companies think “neighbourhood” should be.  Especially now that my walk routine’s changed a little bit and surfaces along Atwells Avenue near to De Pasquale Square.  I mean Broadway has never truly felt like a neighbourhood.  It’s almost always been completely renovated from Residential to the sort of Commercial zoning synonymous with Doctor’s/Dentist’s Offices and…  ick…  Lawyers.  What little retail stores while being a Ma & Pop of some sort or another, don’t really give the feeling of a neighbourhood store (that I remember from my childhood).  About the only exception to this is the Sutton & De Pasquale Street block on Broadway (where DASH Bicycles is).  Between the bike shop, the gaming store and the “corner” pizzeria there, it definitely has the right sort of “neighbourhood” feel I used to get when on the Hill 20+ years ago.

But Atwells?  No sir…  Taking the walk through the neighbourhood here and what I remember of the neighbourhood when living here  is near completely gone.  Sure, there’s the old tattoo parlour and Sicilia’s Pizzeria at Dean Street..  Sure there’s the corner mart diagonal from it…  Sure there’s even Caserta’s on Spruce (a block off of Atwells)…  But the rest?  Ugh!  Restaurants and Boutique stores up the ass and especially in De Pasquale Square itself.  There’s some stores that I remember from 20 years ago — but they don’t seem to be open much anymore.  Like the old Federal Hill Liquors (which the security shutters are closed on all the time), or the Jamaican Dive Restaurant (where the laundry I used when I was living with Darin used to be).

What’s worse about it is the fact that with the invention of the leaf blower — a lot of these trendy boutique store have the nasty habit of blowing everything away from their store fronts, instead of putting it in one pile to pick it up (and throw it out).  This of course leads to a metric shit-ton of various flotsam — leaves, paper trash and bags) to end up in the neighbourhood immediately behind and around the storefronts to look polluted…  And more importantly changing the various old-age and character flaws of the neighbourhood to look…  Well, more depressed than it should.   It’s sad really…  Having moved up from the Valley (just a few blocks difference) and what I end up in is hipster and trendy hell.

As the saying goes, “the more things change…  the more they remain the same…”  At least when it comes to the conformity of retail…

Then there’s the other thoughts I had yesterday during my walk on how much has changed with being a queer in the new millennium.  I remember back in the mid 80s, the generation before me had been blaming my generation for dropping the torch that was handed to us.  I remember vividly at the time my generation had been accused of “resting on our laurels” by not continuing fighting for the rights of LGBT folk in the USA.

Sure, when it came to getting states to pass laws for domestic and partner benefits (and turned it into a hell of a fight with the hydra forcing groups & activists to approach companies instead of states), DADT has come and gone…  DOMA is being stigmatized and given of feeling of being a blue law as Domestic Partnerships has been passed in many more states.  Or my personal favorite, watching how coming out episodes went from “After School Specials” to Coming out become statements of the every day on YouTube.  Of seeing queerfolk being queerfolk without the mockery, the spectacle and even the mockery from 30 years ago…  Love & Hate and annoyances….  Or my personal favorite the bickering that happens in love.  You know what I’m talking about when it comes to every couple:  the really intense sort of comments (snide or otherwise) made at the other that makes anyone watching extremely uncomfortable.  I don’t mind them of course, they remind me of the times when I was in a relationship and know it’s not as bad as it looks.

I know there’s still a really long way to go…  A hell of a long way to go still…  But perhaps what was always needed was viewing it all from the every day instead of when I came out 35 years ago and only being a taste of it given to middle of nowhere America in the form of news snippets on Gay Pride.  Make them see it’s not all about deviations and parades…  But instead the everyday and the ordinary…  Even if folks like me see the color that might be missed by everyone else.

There were a couple of other thoughts, mainly the sort of thing that I find myself reminiscing about things in my personal past.  Like how Battey Street off of Broadway seems to have gotten longer than when I was living in the neighbourhood.  Or how the houses in my neighbourhood are certainly weird and wild and of course pre- and Post-Victorian odd…  With sections of the building jutting out or the wild window work (like some of the houses I’ve taken pictures of during my 2012 picture of the day and might again for 2015…).  Or how many of the houses have preservation plaques on them (especially on and just off of Broadway).  Or finally the quirkiness I seem to stumble across while I’m walking….  like the church off of Tobey that has French Services (this is a predominantly Italian & Spanish neighbourhood now).

That about it for the time being.  Off to simmer a thought or two.  Until the next time.

Health, Welfare and General Sanity Ruminations

Entry 06/08/2014 11:00:40 AM – Mentat 702

Sleep is for the weak… Or so adrenaline junkies often say.

For me, sleep is an important part of my ability to focus on one subject at a time, instead of flying off in a forty million different directions and finding thirty things to do at once. It allows me to look at my problems from an unconscious standpoint and allow the unconscious to work out the problems my conscious mind can’t wraps itself around. Usually by simply seeing it from a more primal perspective. Without uninterrupted sleep, I often find myself more impatient, more short-tempered about problems or even more prone to avoiding a problem in lieu of complete procrastination. That’s precisely what I’ve been going through the last couple of weeks.

My focus has been shot.

My ability to face stressful situations has caused me to avoid and procrastinate whenever possible.

I’ve found myself anxious when I really shouldn’t be.

I’m clumsy as hell. Last night when I was making myself Cinnamon & Sugar Toast for dessert, I happened to have spilt the teaspoon of sugar all over the table and floor. The dropsies on everything else have been more pronounced. And “best” of all is that the amount of scratches, black & blue marks, and gashing I’ve done to my hands because of this more pronounced.

And worst of all… I’ve had more raging moments than I should have because of this lack of sleep. While I’ve had moments where things have triggered my seeing red; at least I’ve been able to take control of them quickly enough for them not to run rampant as they have in the past.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what the contributing factors are for this lack of sleep… Well, it’s not so much lack as it’s more scattered. For example, I will fall asleep like I normally do. Then I’ll wake up 3 – 4 hours later. Then I’ll stay up for 1 – 2 hours. Then fall asleep again to complete at least 6 – 6½ hours sleep.

Wash… Rinse… Repeat… For at least 10 days.

It’s not as though I’ve had stressful dreams. Most of my dreams, while bizarre were not the typical Cthulhu, face-eating weird-fests I typically have. Or even the sort of dreams that conspiracy theorists would be having a blog-party about. If anything they’ve been the sort of bland that friends and acquaintances tell me about whenever I asked them what they dreamed about: Life, Work, Friends, Family… Everyday sort of dreams. Hell, somewhere in the last 10 days, I’ve had more than usual erotic dreams as well… About 5 or 6 if I recall correctly. And what makes them so memorable was that I had been completely lucid in them; right down to one where I recalled the previous dream and made a comment within the dream that I “deserved” this sort of distraction.

It’s not entirely the stress of the summer as it’s beginning to loom on us all here in the Tundras of New England. Sure, there had been a couple of evenings where I felt like I was hotter than usual and struggling with my sheets — but that was quickly remedied by a fan in the window and lightening the sheets and blankets for the summer.

It’s not as though the neighborhood’s to blame… Since the weather’s been warming up, the idiots evacuating from Tammany Hall at closing time are a bit more sedate now then they were at the end of the Winter/beginning of the Spring. Sure, I can hear them occasionally when I’m up at that time, but they haven’t been as rowdy. In fact, they’ve been almost as sedate as the folk that frequent Lily Marlene’s next to the house.

It’s not as though my diet’s entirely to blame… Although I admit there was a couple of nights where what I had for supper did in fact bite me in the ass appropriately. Like the time I had the Mexican Red Chili Taco recipe. Funny thing that, I’ve also had the Moroccan Chicken Stew which was in fact spicier and that didn’t give me heartburn or acid reflux at all. Nothing a glass of milk and sitting up while I digested it didn’t remedy the problem.

And it’s not as though Moe’s to blame either. He’s a rather marvelous bed-time companion; moreso than either Cricket or Tiger ever were. He comes to bed when I’m about to pass out. He’ll get up without much fuss if I roll about a bit and then come back to bed when I’ve stopped moving. While he doesn’t try to get under the covers like either Cricket or Tiger, he’ll make his presence known only if it seems I’m mostly awake and even then he sleeps no higher than my waist. In fact, the only time I’ve heard him make a fuss has been when I cover my head with a pillow to create the absolute dark I need when I’m light-sensitive (pre-migraine). Then he’ll meow blue-murder until I either pet him or call to him. (I need to check with the woman that had given me him. I vaguely remember her saying to me that he’s a rescue from an estate sale; I get the impression that his first owner might’ve been old and died which might explain the anxiety he has when I’m covered head to toe in bed. Especially given that when I leave the house he doesn’t meow abandonment issues like Cricket used to. In fact he’s quite silent when I leave the house for hours at a time).

And finally, it’s not because of this milestone of turning a half-century (in a couple of days). While sure it’s been on my mind, taking a conscious and unconscious temperature, I’m finding myself in the sort of anticipation that I had when I had my epiphany at 25. While sure that time has come and gone and I suspect that I won’t have another — it’s certainly not enough for me to losing any amount of sleep over. If anything I’m not looking forward to my birthday with the same apathy, lack of gusto, and anxiousness I’ve had for many of my birthdays in the past (other than 18, 25 and 45). Sure there’s a little something there as I realize, “holy shit, I’m going to be a half-century old”, but it’s not the sort of “HOLY SHIT!!! I’m going to be 50?!?!” most folk have when they get to that age. Heh, I thank my mother’s side of the family for that sort of non-event enthusiasm. They’ve never made much of a fuss about their birthday and I’ve maintained that tradition through most of my life.

*shrugs* Whatever it is, I hope it passes soon. Or I’ll be seeking out help for it.. And hopefully that help won’t mean pills…

Speaking of Moe, he’s gotten way more comfortable with me (and the house) now that the weather’s stayed warmer. Sure he’s not all in my face or on my shoulder as he typically is during the winter, it’s just that he looks forward to time with me when I decided to take a nap. For as long as I’m above the covers or don’t have a thrown on me, he’ll climb up on me and fall asleep on either my waist or my chest. And like a 4 year old (child) that can sleep any way and anywhere: he’ll happily sprawl out hanging his head off of me while catnapping. If I’m sleeping under the covers, he’ll sleep at the foot of the bed instead.

Also because of the warmer weather — he sleeps through most of the day like a lump on a log. If he eats then, it’s a nibble or two. Most of his eating — wet and dry food — is either early in the morning when I fill his bowls, or in the middle of the night when it’s cooler.

Some of the random thoughts that I’ve had the last week or so are as follows…

The smells at this house are definitely different than what I had gotten used to in the Valley. Gone for example is the fact that I can’t smell the bakery in the early morning. The nearest bakery to this apartment are Scialo’s and Palmieri’s, but they’re too far for from here for any bakery smells. Not to mention they open up later than Maya’s in Olneyville, which was open at the butt-crack of dawn every morning. In it’s place I get barbeque and burger smells from Lily Marlene’s at night. Not to mention cigar smells from there and Tammany Hall in the late evening when the winds are just right. Sometimes in the morning I might catch the smells of dryers and fabric softeners from the apartment complex on Knight and Swiss St, or Addie’s. Lately through it’s been construction smells of asphalt (from the renovation/stripping) they did on Knight Street, or the apartments opposite here on Marcello at least for the last couple of weeks because the landlord’s getting the place prepped for new tenants (now that the loud, redneck tenants there had moved out last month).

Across the street here, I’m beginning to suspect hanky-panky of some sort from the chav there (my family calls him a wigger, but he lacks the bling). One, they never open their windows or blinds. Two, in the last week they had put in security cameras on the second floor that watch the driveway and front area of the house. While either the chav, or their kids occasionally make appearances in the yard, there’s just something about their actions that raises suspicions. I was reminded of the idiot at 32 Tuxedo that did the same thing (kept his windows constantly shut and shades drawn). Turns out that the ex-tenant at 32 Tuxedo who disappeared like a thief in the middle of the night was running a marijuana hydroponics set up that when he moved out — douche-bag ex-landlord was whinging up a storm about the thousands of dollars of costs to the water bill that had been run up by the tenant.

Anthony’s Tony’s (the business owner for the upholstery store at the corner) nephew was here working on his truck on the street. Well, he, the chav across the street and one of the chav’s friends that’s here Monday through Friday while the chav’s wife is at work — were in some sort of committee trying to figure out what the problem with the truck was. When I left my mother’s to come home after installing the air conditioners for her, Anthony (my landlord) was out there trying to help him out, and I couldn’t help but overhear the tales of woe from Tony’s nephew on how the inspection sticker had been stolen (quite the work given the adhesive lasts more than a year and can only be removed by razorblade), how he had been arrested and how they beat him up while he was in lock-up. While I was trying to hide the facepalming I was doing while unlocking the front door, I caught the look of two passers-by that were walking their dogs that were laughing visibly at the over-dramatic tales of woe. Apparently, they didn’t believe his story any more than I did and Anthony being as deaf has he was, didn’t hear any of it.

Then Tuesday when my mother and I got up at our usual time (6 AM) and headed to the laundromat, we stopped along the way at an ATM only to find her Debit Card is missing. Seems that over the weekend she had cleaned out her wallet and in the process of that, misplaced her card somewhere in the house. Of course she stressed out. Of course, I tried my best to keep her calm. We called off the laundry trip for the next day while she looked about the house for the missing card. The bad news was that she couldn’t find it. The good news is that it wasn’t lost outside of the house as my mother’s been monitoring her account and nothing unusual has happened. So she’s waiting 3 – 5 business days for the replacement/copy card to come in the mail. That didn’t mean that for the remainder of the day (until her trip to the bank to request a replacement card) she wasn’t completely stressed out about it being missing. And of course, even with me trying to keep everyone calm, it felt like it was just a veneer to being stressed out myself.

[Last Edited: 06/08/2014 09:57:53 PM]

I’ve come to the decision that I want nothing to do with queerfolk in Rhode Island. They’re rude in ways that I cannot even begin to describe. Try simply to chat with them and they completely ignore you. When they try to chat me up, while I’ve been friendly with them they get intimidated because they see my first requirement (of my 4 Rules of Dating) of 6’4″ and taller as the deal breaker for them having any sort of chance. When they push forward, it’s almost always because they want a Friend-with-Benefits, have the sort of daddy fantasies that scream instead “Daddy issues” to me, or *dry heave* NSA, which is met with complete shock that I want something more substantial, or ignored because I want to take my time.

I recall I made mention in previous journal entries of attempting something more… long-distance. I admit though, I haven’t really tried at all. For one, I haven’t tried socializing in any place where folk socialize and mingle. Well other than perhaps one or two MMOs, but those are gamers and not the sort of folk that socialize much other than to get to the end of some mission or another. And even then — there hasn’t been anyone really to spark my attention, other than to make a joke or three with. Eh… In any case, I have more important issues to work on, instead of dating anyway. I just need to cut out whinging on this subject and move on without so much as a second thought.

There’s more to write, but I can’t remember at the moment as I’m tired. I’ll make one more attempt tomorrow… Until then.

[Last Edited: 06/09/2014 08:47:31 AM]

Oh I remember now what the point I forgot about last night… Had to do with something that I was dealing with in an MMO I was playing (Rift). Was with the guild I play with on my main character (Hyakinthos) and I believe I was either doing a dungeon or a raid with them. The straight boys were going on about how they’re glad that the “heavy hitters” aren’t in the group as it allowed them to score better points on the DPS meter. It was (basically) a show of e-peen at it’s finest. Uh, as a Saboteur when it comes to groups of mobs no one — and I do mean no one — can come close to the DPS I’m capable of doing. Even during the Raid I did last night, if I started first early with the attack I was ahead of everyone by 10% of the total damage.

But apparently because I’m not cock-slapping a boss one-on-one during the fight with that awesome amount of damage, I’m simply to be treated like the red-headed step-child and it doesn’t count. Ha, silly straight boys and their e-peen games. It always gives me a chuckle the demented rules straight men and boys make up in order to prove their superiority in a situation. Ironically, I was taught somewhere along the line that if working as a team and defeating the issue (be it opponent, obstacle, or problem) is a win for everyone. Too bad this is a lost lesson for many…

Anyway, I’m really done at the moment. Two more days and counting. And I’m going to be a half-century. Woo… Until the next time.

Ruminations on a Spring Day

Entry 03/19/2012 01:58:11 PM – Mentat 636

Man, I’m beat. Drained. Knackered. Slagged.

Once again I stayed up much too late, and got up much too early. Amusing that given that for a creature that I am and being well known to being more Nightbreed than Daywalker, the instant the sun is up to a certain point in the sky and the lumens in my room reach a certain level — I’m up much to my chagrin. Sure, I could always hang the old blackout curtains to fix this issue and sleep for as long as I possibly can, but I’m just too lazy to do it. So I’ll suffer through the half-knackered feeling until such time as the caffeine and adrenaline that I’m currently running on has crashed out of my system and I pass out into the wet spot of drool on my pillow… Or in this case on the chaise outside in the backyard.

I’m still fairly impressed with my old router given that I’ve got signal in the back area of the house — enough to sit here and watch the YouTube videos that I’ve been watching on and off the last couple of days. I know that I can still get signal all the way out to the bus stop at the corner, but it’s one thing where I have a direct line of sight (after all my room and the router location is in the front of the house), it’s quite another to be in the back of the house and still get a “good” signal. Not too bad for a router that’s only been certified for home use. I might actually stick to this brand (TRENDNet) given it’s durability and power. That and the fact that unlike most home routers, it has a metric that autocorrects itself back up to synch and speed. In fact, I think out of the 3+ years I’ve owned it, I’ve technically only had to reset it a handful of times because it got de-synched and didn’t reset properly.

Although with the warmer weather coming, I’m seriously going to need to look into getting a new Desktop Case. I lost one fan earlier in the year (whatever was holding the fan assembly into the electro-magnetic motor had stopped working and the fan itself become unbalanced. And now the one that’s on the removable door has suffered the same fate. Add to one of the front fans who’s motor had died and simply won’t power back up and the case is in serious need of proper ventilation. After all, it’s one thing to have a P4 with 2 fans and modest ventilation, it’s quite another with an i7 which needs far more cooling. Seeing as I have the money, I’ll probably be ordering it this week. It’ll at least give me the chance to clean out the dust that’s in there (as I’m coming close to the semi-annual dust contamination clean out… Let’s just hope that I don’t have the same amount of “fun” I had April’s Fool last year. *crossing fingers* More on that at the end of the week.

I had not one but to trials to face yesterday. One that left me rather angry (well, madder then normal) and the other that left me feeling rather daunted. The anger came from an incident listening to Mark talking about his kids (he has 4 or 5 of them), and how one of his daughters got into his grandmother’s makeup to make herself look “pretty”. Listening to that reminded me of the zaniness of my brothers and my growing up… The time my brother at 4 got into my mother’s lipstick to do the same thing (and then later ate on the stick of lipstick much to my mother’s horror). While I could definitely understand most of Mark’s reaction to the thought that his daughter at 8 shouldn’t be putting on makeup; what set me off was listening to the one-sided story of his how he and his ex-wife put the child in the middle of their petty bickering and fighting. Oh god, it brought me back to the time my parents were going through their ever never ending custody battles and using my brother and I to get at each other by manipulating us in the middle. And listening to Mark’s stories (which not only has a terribly one-sided feeling to them making himself out to being the completely innocent victim, but also has all the wrong earmarks of self-delusional lies) completely set me off. Boy was I ever angry… furious… Some of the bullshit that Mark does reminded me of the pathological lies that my biological father was well known for. And so I went at him with a vengeance… Sure I eventually calmed down and realized what it was that was eating at me, I even apologized… I was just surprised how the demons from my childhood can still take hold of me at middle-age. I guess there are just some things no matter how calmed down some demons are, they sometimes have a habit of coming out of their coma and wrecking havoc for a little bit before going back to their slumber.

The other thing came later in the evening, after I calmed down… After having a long-time coming chat with Glenn… When he was reading his journal, I made a comment about the importance of keeping one. While I admitted something to him (that I’ll share here), I’m not sure I’ll be able to convey the feelings of concern that I felt while I was talking about this. The thing is… In all the years I’ve written my diaries and journals, there is a section of them that leaves me feeling: alien. Strange. And that’s all my entries from 2004 to 2005. I have sat there reading those entries now and again and realize I still don’t recognize the man that wrote those. While I don’t have hyperthymesia, I do have a very long and orderly memory. When I look back and read an entry, there are three things that have always helped identify the authenticity of the stories within them: how I write, what I write about, and how they can trigger the labels to the memories that I’m writing about.

Looking at those entries, I can see my writing style and even the words nuances that I’m using to describe something within the entry, but everything that I’m talking about doesn’t trigger any memories within them, or even trigger the (for lack of a better word) indexes where those memories are stored. Sure I can occasionally see glimpses of what I’m talking about in my mind’s eye. But they don’t seem to be me, but someone else trying to be me. And that sort of frightens me. Years and years later, I realize that in the various high and low points in my life I have never before been that low as to near completely wipe out the memories and all the normal cues that I use to remembering things within my life.

As I said to Glenn, the closer I get to the time of the car accident and losing Tommy, I know that there had been organic damage from the traumatic head injury of the car accident. I can accept that, it’s something that falls out of my hands (and my control) because it had happened to me. But that time between entries 50 through to around 190… It’s entirely different. It’s like I intentionally went out of my way (consciously or unconsciously) wipe out all the memories of that time.

Hmmm.. Writing about this, it’s sort of sad really. If there was anything that I would want driven out of my mind was the years of anger, and abuse and toxicity of a relationship I had with Rick, but instead I wiped the memories out of my trying to pick myself up off the ground after our break up. I know, I know… I say it all the time to the kids I chat with — Millions of years of evolution taught we humans to remember the bad over the good, because it’s the hurt and the pain that keeps us fighting for survival. That which hasn’t killed us makes us stronger and all that. But here I thought I was just a little bit different. A little bit more evolved than my brethren Homo Sapiens. That with my ability to remembering the bad with the good, I could also remember the hurt and the recovery. Apparently this isn’t the case.

I guess I’m not as far along as I thought I was. *grins* I guess a little eating crow is in order for the likes of me. And a reminder I still have not only a little growing up to do but also a lot more evolving.

Well that’s about it for the time being. I’m off to enjoy the remainder of the day, have a supper and perhaps play a game or two before I call it an early evening. Until the next time.