Words At Arm’s Length

My 100% happy post. These cats are playing in Hamilton soon and I must be there.

This post actually isn’t going to be about Family Day. People like it, people don’t, people find it absurd. Whatever. I dig the holiday pay.

Minor celebrity sighting today. Dallas Green came to the store. I wasn’t sure it was him until one of the other customers turned around and called him out. He actually looked pretty cute with facial hair. I didn’t say anything to him besides my typical quick “Hi!” and the price of his beverage. No, I don’t remember what it was.

Two of my old co-workers came into the store today, one I like and one I wish would be erased from history for she is the most loathsome hag I have ever had the displeasure of encountering. Now she knows where I work, and she blindsided me by asking for my cell phone number so I could “help fix her computer”. I’m gonna screen that shit like a blood test. How do you politely say: “No, you can’t have my cell phone number, you bitch-harpy”?

Anyway, the main point of my post is that I’m going to stop promising I’m going to post more. Retail sucks the will to write out of me. That’s all there is to it. Blogging doesn’t really count in my books. All of the good, creative shit I should be doing bounces around my head in the morning, usually while I’m making popcorn or small-talk with the customers and vanishes before I get a chance to get it down. Action without stimulus. I’m doing such menial tasks that I don’t have to think about for hours on end and it just fucking kills my creativity. So, I’ll post when I feel like it. Hopefully that will happen more often.

I haven’t post a poem in months. That makes me really fucking sad, actually, even if no one wants to see that shit. I’m going to force myself to write something soon, probably in a specific form of some kind. Maybe another sonnet.

AGH WHY CAN’T I JUST WRITE

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve walked the dark and depressing road that is Internet dating. It’s not something I’m proud or ashamed of, really, but it’s common to the point that pretty much every gay person I know has used it for one reason or another. It’s part of the culture now. It provides a venue outside of the clubs to meet people that are a little more day-to-day normal and not already plastered or flying on however many lines of coke they just did off the toilet seat.

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule. I’m guessing heteros get their share of freaks, but there’s something about the emaciated, over-plucked, over-pierced gayboizzz that make me fear for the gay online community in general. More vain than any slutty teenage girl, the 20-something boi’s photo gallery consists of more Photoshopping and airbrushing than an issue of Cosmo, and all so he can look even skinnier, so his pink hair can be that much more vibrant, so his piercings look more like independent sources of light than just metal piercing flesh. This is the ideal that I’m supposed to be getting all hot and bothered for.

That, or would be Abercrombie models who are way out of my league. 9s and 10s, as it were.

Or the dime-a-dozen “average” guys to which I probably belong.

It’s disheartening to see this shit in action, and unsurprising. You gotta flash yo shit to get any attention, and even negative attention is better than none at all. All so you can hope that you can culminate some kind of passion for someone that you met on the Internet, which you’ll downplay to all your friends anyway, because who wants to meet the love of their loves on a free internet dating site?

And, not to brag, but I’m not saying this out of spite because I haven’t got any hits or anything. There is a ping to your ego when you get messaged by someone who seems potentially interesting, but chances are it won’t work out and you’ll just have to start all over again. The inevitability of it all just makes me grit my teeth.

This blog is getting to be bitter to the max. 100% happy times for my next post.

I would really like to get through a month of blogging without taking a week-long break from it, but once again I failed to have been inspired by much of anything lately. I think this is perhaps symptomatic of my seemingly endless sojourn in quarter-life limbo. I’ve applied to graduate now, though, so at least I feel like I have a real springboard to move on and out, and if I get into that French program it’s very likely that I won’t return for a very,very long time.

A few things I wanted to talk about though:

• Obama backtracked on repealing the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy for gays serving in the U.S. military. Yet another disappointment for the LGBT down south. Canada not only allows gays to serve openly in the military, but actually allows gay wedding ceremonies to happen on military bases. Get your shit together, Obama. The studies have been done. End the madness.
• A woman was set on fire outside a stripclub in Tarzana. Setting aside any potential feminist issues here, that is just an incredibly heinous act. How cruel does one have to be, how detached from reality, in order to douse another human being in lighter fluid and throw a match on them? This was apparently the result of a personal argument between the woman and two of the bar’s patrons. However, there was also the case of a homeless man who suffered a similar fate in October of last year, which seems to indicate that people will do this kind of thing pretty randomly. Let’s not have this be the start of a new trend, please.
• On a much, much lighter note, tunethousandnine continues its glorious release streak. I plan on busting out a bunch of mini-reviews of albums soon, but it’s been damn hard to keep up with the amount of quality aural candy out there.
• I will be soon be training on the video side of That’s Entertainment, thus solidifying my status in the Bowtie Brigade and hopefully picking up more hours during the week. Make money, save money, leave. It’s all coming together.