Vibrant.(Still) Unrepentant. Badass. Old. Queer

He finally called at 7:30. I didn't answer. I called back half an hour later. "I'm not coming over tonight," I said. "We need to have a conversation. And I'm not ready." "I know," he said. "Maybe tomorrow." Things that need to be said in person. Things that need to wait until tomorrow. I'm upset And disappointed. And don't really know where this is going next. Sometimes I'm OK. Sometimes I'm scared. Like tonight, looking out my kitchen window into the dark night. My heart beating fast and my breath refusing to come Except in short raspy gasps Until I told myself to remember to breathe. And concentrated on the air coming in My chest expanding Contracting And the air going out. I never thought I'd have to think about breathing. But, there, in my kitchen, Water dripping from the tap That's what I was doing. And maybe we'll talk about this tomorrow.

The soup was all right. Board meeting went well enough. I feel uninspired. *smooches*

Last night was quite uneventful. I did laundry. I made chili. I knitted. I created a photo essay of me using one of my Christmas gifts, but forgot to upload the pictures, so you'll just have to wait. Instead, have I got a surprise for you! Guess what I'm wearing today??? Need a slightly better hint? That's right! It's the debut of the Never-Ending Sweater of Doom (finished sometime last Spring, but never worn -in public- until today!) Make me feel good. Tell me it's not crap. Oh, and the color is actually CRANBERRY , not the washed out brownyred in the photo. And, finally (for this post at least), a bad poem I wrote last night: A Weekend Memory Captured in Crappy Free Verse Drunk, We danced. His hand slithered down the front of my jeans. Wide-eyed, I started to speak. "He doesn't care," he said, Matter-of-fact. I turned to look at his partner, My ex, My friend, Chatting unaware across the bar. Another friend, Dancing rhythmless behind me Twisting Arms ...

And other times it's complete and total crap. Remember on Sunday how I had the opportunity to hook up with this really hot guy, but Y's inability to show up on time threw a giant monkey wrench into the deal? Yes? Well, Really Hot Guy (RHG) called last night. He was nearby. He wanted to come over to watch movies (and we all know what that means). So, I was all calm, cool, and collected and was like "sure, ok, whatever, let me give you directions." Then, I went into Total Panic Cleaning Mode because my house was a disaster. He arrived about 25 minutes later, and ... um ... RHG was cute-ish, but -seriously- people, if you're going to send out a photo of yourself, how about using a current one? Would it be that much trouble? RHG was about 20-30 pounds heavier than his photo. Not a complete turnoff, mind you (because sometimes I likes my men to have a little meat on their boneses), but I felt mislead. Which is not a good way to feel. He came in. We watched a movie. Th...

Take a look at the screenshot from my homepage this morning: Obviously you will need to click to embiggen. See what's wrong? Do you? Do you? No? Here's a hint: It's not 83 degrees right now. Meanwhile, my evening was uneventful. I did laundry. I drank martini. I cooked dinner. I drank beer. I watched movie. I drank cordial. I vomitted. Ha! I jest. I didn't vomit. My plans for this evening include an exciting rental car trip to Target ($25 gift card! woot!) and maybe Trader Joe's! And, that's about it. I really need to start cleaning and tidying. SCGB suggested that we co-host a New Year's Eve Party. If we decide to do that in my apartment there is some serious cleaning that needs to be done. Gah. As far as I know, my date for Friday is still on. I need to find a good place in DC for martinis. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know. And now, here's the third and final poem of mine from Colonnades (1990). Try not to get too excited, there are still...

For some reason, I thought of that word on my walk to work this morning ... not because I am feeling particularly lugubrious. Rather, I like how it is pronounced, and -sometimes- when I am being silly, I say it to myself slowly, stretching out the second syllable to the point of ridiculousness. Luguuuuuuuuubrious. Unfortunately, it doesn't mean quite what I remembered it to mean. Oh, well. I hope everyone had a SuperHappy Holiday yesterday. My day proceeded thusly: I woke up. I drank lots and lots of coffee. I opened a few Christmas presents. [Big hugs and thank yous to Only Me (I can't wait to try the most rockingest one).] Then, I filtered the goop out of the Christmas Cranberry Cordial and mixed it with some leftover simple syrup I had in the fridge. The cordial? It is yummy. I took a picture, but forgot to upload it. Sorry. A little before noon, I headed over to Mike's for his Christmas Potluck. Yum. I made White Trash Broccoli and Cheese Casserole. It's always a ...

Java asked awhile back for a photo of my purple tinsel tree in the daylight. So here it is: Purty, no? My friend in Boone, Lori, gave me a special present while I was visiting her, the 1989-1992 editions of Elon University's literary magazine, Colonnades. My copies had either been lost or destroyed during my many moves. And I thought I should share with you the joy of reading a young VUBOQ's bad poetry (and short stories) from long, long ago. Since it's the holidays and most people are out and about and not reading blogs, not many people will be harmed by the exposure. For those of you that dare to continue reading, here's the first poem (of many): Old Woman Old woman -- Why do you sit there Knitting your life away? Spin the yarns into quilts and mittens and scarves of words and pictures. Fascinate us with your life. Not your death in brightly Colored Afghans. Weave the tales of the golden age. A shawl to keep us warm on Cold winter nights. The needles flashed in the...

For those of you who don't know, the 2007 vintage of Beaujolais Nouveau goes on sale today (or, more accurately, went on sale -in some places- at midnight). From the wikipedia entry : Beaujolais nouveau is a red wine made from Gamay grapes produced in the Beaujolais region of France . It is the most popular vin de primeur, fermented for just a few weeks then officially released for sale on the third Thursday of November. This "Beaujolais Day", or "Beaujolais Nouveau Day" sees heavy marketing from the producers, with races to get the first bottles of the vintage to different markets. For the past 6 or so years, I've had a small gathering of friends over to drink beaujolais, eat cheese, and make happy talk. I think there's something comforting about people all over the world drinking the same wine on the same day. This year will be no different (yay!). Several of my neighbors will be coming over tonight. Hopefully, a fun time will be had by all. Here...

As I put the cans And bottles And boxes In the cupboard, I feel his hands around my neck Like a lover Caressing, stroking. Soft. As I line up the liquor bottles By height And move the furniture one more time, I feel his grip around my heart. Bony fingers tightening With each passing hour. I make my lists And plan and organize And he's beside me Watching. I sweep and clean. And tidy and straighen. And he is there. Waiting. For his moment, For me to form his question: What if no one comes?