The Kavorka

I was standing in a hot shower today, drinking a whiskey on ice, letting my mind wander. Inevitably I ended up thinking about sex. Hmmmmseeexxxx. I know that most people enjoy it, hell I've known that for years! What I'd only recently considered was in what way people enjoy it. Why do you enjoy it? What part is the draw? Is it the power you can have over another person? The intimacy? Can you only enjoy it with someone you love or, alternatively, with someone you hate, or don't even know?

I thought about why I like it. I've had a diverse sex life in some ways. I like to try new things but am not yet into anything particularly kinky, I'm attracted to a wide variety of people and their many qualities, shapes,sexes, colors and sizes. I can enjoy sex with someone I love nearly as much as someone I don't know so well, albiet very differently. I really appreciate all the different aspects and options that can be had.  Quiet and loving, rough and crazy, in the dark or in a spotlight(hurrhurr). It's all with it's benefits.

But mostly I just love the texture of sex. I love skin and all the ways it can feel against my face or under my hands, how cold and clean in the winter. I like how it tastes on my tongue on a balmy night when all the windows are thrown open to tempt a breeze in.

The scent of said skin is also big. There's something about individual body scent and I don't mean perfumes or cologne. That rich, warm feeling you get in a quiet moment, when you bury your head in their neck, between nape and ear and you smell the life inside them, you can feel their heart against your chest and it's addicting.

I've always been pretty attracted to thick dark hair as well, I enjoyed Carlito's Way more because Al Pacino had such an amazing head of hair. You could lose your hand in it, it was so thick. I like having something to pull, something to tangle in my fist or smooth out with soft fingers.

I like the urgency, the connection, the deep soft kissing and the texture. I love the texture of it all. 

On a bicycle at night

The strange beauty of life comes to me as I ride my bike, half drunk with the stars over and around me and the moon and the earth and I feel that intense love of being. It swells my heart and I pedal harder, faster to relieve the almost painful feeling. To feel it is one thing, what to do with it is something else.

Harder and faster, my breath deepens as I attempt a tall hill. I smile at this friend I love to hate, I welcome its challenge. When I'm done I coast for a while, feeling the crisp air cool my sweaty skin, calm my panting, ruffle my hair. The bike begins to slow and I don't try for the pedals, just let it be until at last we are at a crawl, the bike and I, and together we fall sideways onto a lawn in a tangle and I just lie there, feeling the prickling grass on my back and neck below me, feeling the glow of the moon on my closed eyelids.

"Are you alright?"

There is a youngish woman standing over me, she also has a bicycle.

"I saw you fall off your bike...do you need help?"

I smile and shake my head. She considers this, then looks up at the sky. Then back to me. Another moment and without a word she's set her bike down, she's laying next to me and we stay that way on the grass, just being.

This strange beauty of life.

Snow in Texas

 Yesterday morning it was about 80 degrees and humid as all hell. I biked to work and arrived sweaty, pulling my jacket off down to the tanktop underneath. The rest of the day stayed that way, until around 4 when a gale came in with the cold and put our jackets back on our shoulders.

By 6 I was wondering if I would be able to ride my bike to meet a friend like I said I would, but they were coming from even further away and hadn't said anything about picking me up or cancelling, so out I went. 
It wasn't so bad, until I left the bike lane on Guadalupe and the wind came head first over me, nearly stopping my bike completely and making me swerve into traffic. 
I got off and walked some of the way, until I was out of the main tangle of traffic and then jumped back on and rode to Spider House.

3 hours later

It'd been raining and we'd waited it out for a while, but couldn't stay forever. I considered taking up residence at Spider House but for some reason my friend didn't think it made sense. We wiped down our seats and took off, ears freezing, backs soon pelted with hard rain, turning into sleet. We parted ways at 14th street, my friend insisting they would be ok to make it the rest of the 15-20 minutes home in this weather. As I said goodbye and turned down 14th street the wind became stronger and the sleet became hail, stinging, stinging, face tenderizing hail. I yelled and went faster. In times like these you have to put your head down and remember your one goal: get home.

6 minutes later I was there. 7 minutes later I was changed. 10 minutes later my friend called to say they'd made it in record time and were going to take a hot shower.
12 minutes later, cup of tea in hand, I hear my roommates exclaiming about the snow. I look out side and sure enough it's actual snow, big flakes in fact. The melt upon impact, the ground is not nearly cold enough to keep them, but look, it really is snowing in Austin!

Hello Buddies!

I just joined the Hill Country Ride for AIDs. A few months ago I told Annie I wanted to sign up for it when registration opened. The other night she came in and reminded me, and though I was reluctant at this time, Annie did force me to do it anyway, and I thank her.
This means I'll start training for the race, which is in April, soon. I'll need teammates and I'll need sponsers.
If you live in Austin and you feel like getting fit on your bicycle for a good cause you can register at www.Hillcountryride.org
If you live anywhere at all and want to sponser me, my goal is 500 Dollars minimum. A dollar helps, 50 is even better :)
Here is my page: http://hcr.convio.net/site/TRC/HillCountryRideforAIDS/General?pg=peditor&fr_id=1080&px=1239741

I withdrew from my only class two weeks ago. The second I signed the yellow slip I felt better, lighter, happier. On my walk home I had 2 new ideas for an art project I'd failed to give enough focus to before.

It was a math class, a subject I've never been too successful with and at this stage struggle to care about. I want to take Art classes and computer classes to further my career interests, I want to take English and History for personal knowledge. But not math, not math at all.

Hm.

I recommend Lockpick Pornography by Joey Comeau, the whole thing has been put online and as usual, Joey Comeau has done a great job. If you haven't heard of him, check out www.Asofterworld. com for a gentle introduction before you voraciously seek out his other work.

Fortune cookie says:

Look to a friend when you are confused,
they are a great voice
when you can't hear your own.

Skim milk is just milk with water. It's disgusting.

A bicycle for Madge

After a month of obsessively checking craigslist and making fruitless bids on ebay I have finally secured myself a road bike. It's no Bianchi but a Vintage Panasonic Sport 1000 will do me well for now.

Freeeee

VP Debates

This might be a little edited to the left, but it's pretty accurate from what I saw live last week:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXJ4Dk33cCQ

T.V. on the Internet

God, why do my housemates watch so many Bravo shows? It's everything I never wanted in life. It's like watching the Sex in the City movie over and over. I can't hear another story about a man who eats too much and how his poos smell, don't want to see into the life of Rachel Zoe, don't care about Project Runway or any other reality competition show. Maybe I just hate T.V. in general now.

This from someone who watched as much T.V. as I could possibly get away with as a child. Matlock, Days of Our lives, Sanford and Son, Simpsons, Ghost Writer, Batman, Cheers, any terrible Saturday afternoon movie, anything at all, even Power Rangers if I were in a spot. How had to be grounded from the T.V. specifically when I broke a rule, since it was the only thing that would really hurt me to be taken away.

And then I moved out of the suburbs, forgot my shows, got a life and never looked back. Now when I watch T.V. I can't relax, instead there's a nagging feeling I should be doing something else. Like sitting online writing blogs.

"Obama may be a bit professorial, but at least he is trying to unite the country to face the real issues rather than divide us over cultural differences." - THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN

Blacker the berry...

Damn Elijah Kelly, you are good looking.

Charlie The Magical Unicorn And Candy Mountain

Caaaannndy Mouuuntaaiinnn

Day's the same

What difference can it make to you
if I walk away
We never really knew each other
anyway
You pay me and I stay with you
and there's the little routine
we go through
Comin' in at 4 by 6 we scrape the floor
Sweep away the mess but by 10
Scums back for more
Eat apples, drink milk for lunch
Hope it's enough to keep
me strong until brunch
Scrape again and then it's one
And by them I'm hopin' to God we're done
Go home, take a shower
Draw some toons, go to bed and then
Beep Beep Beep it's that hour
Do it all again til'

American Things

It was nearing the end of lunch break. I took a half slice of bread from a bag, smeared peanut butter on it with a knife. As an afterthough, I took a little piece of lemon cake from a sample bowl and put it on top, for the sweetness. I turned away from the counter to sit back down. “AHHH!” screamed the 19-year old café manager “what are you doing, that’s yuck!” The others stood up to get a look, make faces, and generally be horrified. I shrugged. “That’s so weird” said a co-worker. “It’s no worse than fairy bread” I said. “Must be an American thing. Fairy bread is normal” the 19-year old mocked, looking to the others for a laugh. My face failed to hide distain, “Butter and sprinkles on white bread is normal?”

The topic was cars. My fellow bakers lamented the jobs lost in factories due to outsourcing in other countries and that there was no choice but to buy foreign. “What kind of car are you looking at, Wren?” asked our boss. “I’m not sure” she paused “but not American. I’d never buy American.” I didn’t look up from my task, since she was baiting me. “I’d NEVER buy American” she said again. No response. “Never American!” she shouted triumphantly.

As it was the end of the day, we each were cleaning up, ready to go home. I was busy scraping the floor while simultaneously chatting with Tina, a fellow baker. “That’s a strange way to scrape the floor” she commented “must be an American thing”. I looked up and saw her grin. She was joking but so what. “The next person that comments about America is getting their face scraped.” I held up the scraper, helpfully “It’s going to be like ‘Son of a Witch’”. Tina grinned wider “Son of a witch? What’s that?”. “It’s a book, based on the Wizard of Oz.” She frowned “Must be an American thing.”

Tiny Beads

He jabbed his finger at his wrist, pointing to a small beaded bracelet. "It's a fucking lie, isn't it?"
He pointed to the white bead "that's not me" then to a red "that's not you" then to a green one "and that's not Maine, and it never was." he laughed caustically "it's always been a lie"

I sat on the bed, cowed by how awfully close to the truth he was. Not that I'd tell him. Not that he'd really know. I hadn't wanted to mess things up like this. I'd known before that it was probably a bad idea to get deeper into a relationship with someone who clearly had a lot on his mind. His plate was full, but maybe I thought I could help clear it...maybe I really did, but more likely all I did was give second helpings with gravy. I thought I knew what I was doing, was never afraid or uncertain further than a shallow level. Not even when I thought I was pregnant.

That problem had weighed realistically in my heart in a way I'd never felt but at that age there wasn't a choice that seemed plausible. I knew what I'd do and I'd do it more or less as in a dream. Watching without really taking in that it was happening to me.
I wasn't pregnant, but after that things broke down worse than ever. We'd never had a future anyway, there was so much fighting. His jealousy, my selfishness. I knew what was needed when I needed it, acting out the part when I knew he needed me. I'd gotten used to dis-attaching from emotion-can't get in too deep with someone so emotional. Someone has to be the clear head, the calm one, the rational one. That kind of distance doesn't lend itself to deep love, and I did want to love him. All of them.

I guess it was an experiment. A wait-and-see. Maybe I would fall in love this time, probably I wouldn't. The rush was there and it was real. Didn't last.
So he finally figured it out and from the look in his eyes I'd say he's angry but not that surprised.
"This is bullshit" he yells. I formulate a rebound argument, one that'll shut him up, make him at fault. It's a good one: calm, rational and there's nothing he can argue against. I still sit on the bed, arms wrapped around my legs, mouth shut now that that word of right is out. He stands watching me for a beat, then he yanks at the bracelet, which breaks easily and tiny beads spray around the floor. He catches my eye and I recognize this as a good time to shut up. There's nothing real to say anyway. He's right and I won't admit to anything. He'll leave and I'll move out having never seen the red or white or green beads again. Not that I'd looked.

"Hey, it looks like it's a girls-only day."
"Ohhh now we can talk about girly stuff!"
"Ah yeah, what's your boyfriend like in the sack?"
"What color are your nipples?"
"Do you wear a bra? I wear a bra."

Oh you!

I just read this:

Rachel, confronted me with a problem concerning her boyfriend Michael.. "I find it really disturbing when guys don't shave after the 3rd day and I keep telling Michael to shave but he doesn't bother.. I want him to dress up nicely for special occasions, but he wouldn't on my birthday.. I'm just going to wait to see if he surprises me on our one year anniversary" He sounds like a slob to me who needs coaching on how to romance a lady. I'm sure that if a guy liked a girl enough, he would do anything to make her happy. Perhaps Michael is just a guy who'd prefer a casual relationship and Rachel needs a bf who is a bit more cliche.

On this blog: www.memoirsofagirlfriend.com

Maybe I shouldn't be reading any bit of a blog that uses Sex in the City as a reference point for an actual relationship since it'll only confuse and rile me up, but it happened anyway. It was an accident.
But...
Why is an unshaven face disturbing? Maybe it's uncomfortable to kiss, that could be a good reason but disturbing? Does it make you bleed? Does it talk to you while you're sleeping? Does it grow at many vastly different lengths?

And I've heard this "if a guy liked a girl enough, he would do anything to make her happy" too much. Who are you, girls-who-think-this-way? Are you celebrities? Are you very rich and this man is your butler? Does he give you a diamond every time you cry and wipe your bum? What are you doing to make him happy, aside from nagging about his beard. Bitches ain't gonna change just because you told them to.Accept it or move on.

Lastly, what is a cliche boyfriend? Did she mean something else by this? I couldn't guess it.

Perhaps

If you really love me, say yes
but if you don't, dear please confess
you only answer

Perhaps
Perhaps
Perhaps

But the truth is, quite often, that people want perhaps.
They want hope over "no". Say maybe instead of "no",
then we'll have a few more precious hours or days or months
or even years...
just hang on in the between until we can't stand it anymore.

Aren't white North Americans stupid and predictable for liking certain things and doing things a certain way?
http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/

The quiet stillness in the room, the sound of the green bristled broom brushing quick strokes over the cold ceramic tiled floor. It was somehow comforting, like the sound of home.
I loved when the maid came because it was a time when I slept best. I'd sit on my bed reading but not reading, silence broken by the sound of the faucet turning, water running warmly into the red plastic bucket, soap mixing and building up foamy suds. Her shoes as she clip clopped over the tiles. She always wore heels to clean. The splash of the water as she squeezed excess till it was just right, not too sloppy, not too dry. Swish of the mop and my book closed, dropped to the floor as my eyes shut, drowsiness pervading my body. She left quietly, taking the money set out on the coffee table. 3 times a week she came. No one needs a floor that clean.

My mouth hurts

I'll be in and around about Asia for a month and week so probably won't update. Later doods!

Stubborn Love by me

Yes We Can - Barack Obama Music Video

Remember when we were trying to choose between the lesser of two evils?

Try this at home

• Raw Spinach-one bunch
• feta-200gm
• tomatoes-3 or 4
• pumpkin- 1 kg(or potatoes if you live in the US)
  
• garlic-2 or 3 cloves
• Fresh basil

Method:

Rinse the spinach, tear the spinach in half, put that spinach in a big salad bowl.
Take that feta, cut it up, crumble it into big ol' chunks.
Put those tomatoes on a cutting board, cut them in half and put them face up on a baking tray. Sliver up that garlic and put those slivers alllll over the tomato halves.
Douse it all in olive oil, put it in the oven for 10 minutes at 150 celsius, till it's kinda baked but not too mushy.
Cut up the pumpkin, bite sized, douse it in oil, put it in the oven, bake bake bake for 30 minutes or until golden and soft, like a good pumpkin should be.
Tear up some basil. Throw everything into that salad bowl so it joins the spinach, mix it all around.

Everyone loves you, it only cost 10 bucks. the end.

A man walks up to a bar. At the bar is a cute brunette drinking a cocktail, her friends stand nearby chatting. The man smiles warmly at her "Hey, you come here often? Hah, just kidding, old line. My name's _____, what's yours?" She seems to ponder him for a minute, then says "I know you." He continues to smile but looks somewhat confused. The girls friends are now listening, as is the bartender. Now the girl smiles, not with malice but not with any warmth either. She leans in very slightly to him and says something in a low voice so that only the man can here. His mouth drops slightly, he looks somewhat shocked, demeaned, found out. She turns back to the bar as he leaves, coughing as if to cover an embarassing noise. The bartender waits for the rest of the customers to go back to their conversations, then quietly asks if she knew that man, what had she said. The girl shrugged matter-of-factly " I just said he was the kind of guy who really liked his balls crushed by a stiletto heel. I only wear flats."

Spanish knobskin sues victims family for damages to his car

From OverQualified

This is one of my favorite essays from Over Qualified:

Once, a girl and I were in bed together, masturbating. She was on her back, naked, touching herself, and I was above her, mostly naked, doing the same. I was eighteen or nineteen years old, and all I could think about was coming on her breasts. You know, like on the Internet. I think, probably, I was saying something to that effect. I wasn't mentioning the Internet, of course, but I was saying I'm going to come on you, I'm going to come on you. I'm classy like that. I don't remember how she felt about the whole coming-on-her idea, actually, but I can tell you that I was very excited about it. I was almost lying on top of her. I was leaned forward so far. So when I felt my orgasm coming, I looked down between us to watch for, "the come shot."

And then I came in my own eye. It came right at me, like a 3D movie gone terribly wrong, and it stung. I started clawing at my face. She laughed and laughed while I tried frantically to wipe my eye clean. She was curled up naked on the bed, laughing so hard there were tears. I started laughing too. I couldn't help it. We both laughed until it hurt, until the muscles in our cheeks were sore from smiling, and then we looked up at her ceiling, on our backs, exhausted. For the rest of that afternoon, every once in a while one of us would start laughing again and then so would the other. It is one of my favourite memories.
-Joey Comeu

A bucket list

I haven't watched the movie "The Bucket List", probably because I'm not a middle aged man. But I have written a bucket list before, and accomplished most of the things on it. It's a sort of birthday tradition to do at least one thing on that list, or to at least do something memorable that I haven't done before. Scheduling a sky dive, bungee jump, seeing a kiwi bird takes the pressure off what to do on a birthday and still makes it a celebration. Writing the list usually happens around the new year, to take the pressure off whether or not to make resolutions. It's a chance to face a myriad of the ridiculous fears left over from child hood or the angst of the teens. This years list has been a little more difficult to compile, not because there aren't enough things for me to do, but because the more easy to accomplish have been done. The new list is shorter but will take more work than laying down for a tattoo. Here is most of it:

• Go back to school, stay there until a degree is given. Be smarter.
  
• Purchase or otherwise attain a keyboard, practice every day for a year from the day.
  
• Continue trapeze and acrobat work, get good, get strong, get discipline.
• See more of the world. I have a month-long trip around Asia planned from the end of Feb.
• Take more chances, say yes to your destiny.
• Don't be dirt poor. Get a better job or ask for a raise if you need/deserve it.
  
• Be as honest as possible, especially in close relationships ie: friends, family, romantic. This just means be as honest about feelings, wishes, hide less, cut through unnecessary man made shit.
• Fire a real gun (in a safe place at a target)
  

Accomplishing these things is going to be good.They will happen.

Sensitive

As we entered the carnival I saw to my left a huge moonwalk covered with kids running up the airfilled steps and sliding down the sides. The moonwalk was shaped like a sinking boat. "Is that supposed to be the Titanic?" I asked, turning to the elderly man standing next to me. He nodded, then cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted "Too soon!" and turned away in a angrily.

Nelson to Wellington

I printed my boarding pass online which meant that I did not go to the counter and so forgot to check my bag. It wasn't until I was on the runway actually looking at the door when I realized "this bag isn't going to fit in there! Why am I carrying it?" luckily as this came over me I turned to see the baggage handler watching me with a smile. I laughed and rolled my eyes to the sky as if to say "how foolish! I have forgotten to check my bag!" He laughed in response and took the bag from me, for which I was glad.