waydown3

Mine is a man who would question the world. Mine is a man both mature and innocent. I have never met another man so like myself, yet different just enough in all the right places.

Being a 32-year-old Research Biologist, he has an amazing control of the knowledge under his belt, which is ever-increasing. Yet, Rich loves to indulge in mystery books and music videos, to maintain a level of current events in his world which goes to the other extreme---leisurely, light entertainment. He wants to remained grounded in the present, full of intelligence, yes, but also fully functioning on a more modest level at the same time.

Rich has amazingly accurate mirror neurons, and will come down with bouts of sympathy pain for his friends and loved ones, but even random strangers, at times. He cries at weddings. Even weddings of people he's never met before. He says that it's because, as he listens to the professions and vows of love, he is overjoyed that two people who were made for one another found each other, and that (now) he is blessed to have the love of his life, too.

Richard's senses of morals and ethics shine through his every word. Being a naturally caring person, he begrudges no one their opinions, but still holds high standards for himself. His self-awareness is obvious, as he has a strong character; something is either "like Rich" to do, or it's simply not and is never done.

One doubtful area of Rich's personality is his religious views. He was born and raised Catholic, yet the scientist in him questions the historical validity of the religion, and the gay man in him questions the dogma of the church. He is awed by the Darwinian processes, but unsure if the universe was created, or was begot as more of a natural accident. Thus emerges the theological philosopher within him, a creation in a man with a keen sense of right and wrong, fact and fiction, whose faith is a constant battle between different aspects of his personality.

Rich, above all other men, strives to be the best person he can possibly be, without ulterior motives. He is the epitome of selflessness. In all things---work, relationships, friendships---his approach is one of proud and loyal duty, not settling for anything less than perfect from himself, and his greatest reward is simply being acknowledged for his efforts.

Simply put, Rich is amazing. And I love him.

If anyone could sell swampland in Florida, it is you, JOE! Your charm and charisma draw people into your orbit, and you are looked at with admiration and respect. Your skills of persuasion are at their peak, so take advantage of this extraordinary ability while it lasts. "Selling" is the name of the game today. And the product you should concentrate on selling is yourself. Now is the time to put into action any new ventures you have been thinking of undertaking.

Really?

Queer as Folk, Sex & the City, Desperate Housewives, Grey's Anatomy, Dirt, on and on; what percentage of the population is a housewife of some Wisteria Lane? a medical student humping all the other medical students in broom closets of the hospital? a paparazzi-shot hounding magazine mogul? Not very many. So why are these story lines so attractive in modern media? The easy answer is that they're dreamy shades of everyday reality: that some boring office worker can go home, curl up on the couch after throwing down their half-cooked, just-add-water microwave dinner, & totally lose themselves in a plot they can relate to just enough (the hard day at work, the uphill business struggles), but can't begin to imagine in other ways, to keep it interesting (the paparazzi hanging outside the windows, the murders on the block this week by a new neighbor). The more technical plot twists that serve to "keep it interesting" (sexual promiscuity, unethical work behavior, lying, cheating, stealing) may in fact be more sought-after than any of the more- or less-believable plot vehicles.

In the earlier days of television, the days of Donna Reed, My 3 Sons, and Leave It to Beaver, TV was a media by which to glorify the better parts of life and the human condition. Its sitcoms often portrayed characters worth emulating. Even The Fugitive was really innocent. Slowly, through the fifties and sixties, with vampires like Edward Collins, with comical antagonists like Archie Bunker, TV started to switch over to entertainment that often took the side of the wrong guy. And right up through the years, till we get to NYPD Blue being glorified simply for being groundbreaking by showing nudity on late night TV, the degeneration of TV plots continued.

We arrive at the present-day, where sex, murder, crime, and drug use become the norm of television characters' behavior patterns. They easily move the plot, they each have their own set of consequences to consider for future plot twists, and they are the greedily-devoured traits society seeks.

As social classes quickly sell-out and agree that such behaviors are normal, since Media tells us so, society as a whole begin to crumble more and more as people still struggle to emulate entertainment. Look at celebrities' needing rehab starting at younger ages, look at Craigslist for the adulterous husbands and wives away on business & alone in their hotels, look at the news and listen to all the drug ring busts just today. There is a steady, blanket downward spiral in a society that seems blind to the problem.

With the outlook that any morality in television entertainment is boring, with the rise (due, in part, also to Media) of the consumer approach to life that demands the "I" have better than the next, I see a decline in society that matches Wall Street.

 I want a quiet room, where the cool Summer night air stirs the down of my feet as I lay atop sheets reading a really good mystery paperback that no one's ever heard of.

I want a cup of tea, not too sweet, something mildly berry, and a bathrobe, and a biscuit.

I want to be understood. I want to be known. I want to be needed. Mostly, I want to be respected.

Am I a joke? pours over these thoughts.

And in the dark, sleepless night I dream of, I want to know that, at least to you, I am essential.

My life is far from perfect. Don't think I've never noticed. I see it every day. I'm twenty-six, a sophomore in college still -- after 8 years -- , I'm living with my parents, I have no "life savings" to speak of, let alone "a life", and I'm collecting dust. I get it. My life is shit.

But. . .still. This is my life. That must mean it has some worth. . .right?

I'm morally more sound than most people in their thirties that I know, I have strong convictions, I'm pretty fucking fun to be around. . .I have a great family, great friends. . .

I (personally) think there are worse men in the world to date. Yes, everyone comes with baggage, and everyone is a little quirky, at the least, but there are worse choices than myself, still. [i think. lol.] So why is it that the only people who ever seem to be interested in me expect me to sacrifice of myself for their wants, needs, or folly?

My life isn't much. But it's the only thing I can say I truly own in this world. How much could I possibly be expected to give up? And why should I?

And when, pray tell, is it my turn to receive? That's an angle that never gets discussed.

Again, I don't know what to do. And the stress and disorder and unresolved status drains my every waking thought.

Joe / Antonio

Went back and read some of my old entries here. . .those that remain, at least.  We're all aware that I go back & remove some entries at times, right? . . .Well, regardless, what remains brings me back. The eldest entry dates back to 2004, moving back in with my parents. It's kinda freaky. That was 3 years ago, and look at all that's happened. But then I think, Why do I feel like I'm exactly where I was the very day I wrote that entry? I've wasted so much time. It's really getting old. I'm not going anywhere I dreamed of going, and I'm getting sick of it. So, fuck it. I've decided that I'm going to be more active in accomplishing what I need to do to get where I'm going. And nothing's stopping me. I wish someone would try. . .

Tonight, I have plans to go out with friends. Saturday, too. If anyone is interested in coming along for the whacky ride, any & all are welcome. You have my digits. . .Use them.

Sara, I love you. When are we seeing each other again?

Melanie -- I miss you too. How are you?

Riri, where in the world are you?

Saturday: Samantha, Jen, & I turned a 2-hour drive into a 3 and a half-hour drive rather quickly on our way to Maryland. Fast forward about three hours later, we were in our seats for the DC stop of John Legend's tour. The show was really good. My favorite performance (till the last) was Lifted. The last song of the concert, prior to encores, was Coming Home, from his new CD. He sang with images of troups flashing on the screen behind him. Stephanie & I were all welled-up...It was really touching.

After the concert, we went to Fridays for food. By the time we got back to Stephanie's, it was about 2 in the morning. I passed out as soon as I hit the pillow. This morning we were all up by 12.30 for the 2-hour drive back. We stopped at a rest stop for lunch. I was quite happy with my Green Tea Frappaccino. :)

The rest of today has been pure stress. Online applying & such, worrying about finances, etc, etc. Reality always sets back in after the getaway.

My back was okay & bearable up till halfway through the concert. Those chairs were killer. I kept trying to rock back & forth...& must've looked rather drugged trying not twist certain ways...lol. The drive today was okay till the last hour. I think the hard couch helped a little last night. I should've taken Motrin with me for the drive, but I just took some before we left. =\

So, that was my weekend. Thus far. Tomorrow, more stress to be dealt with....Oy.

Until the shadows come, you do not fully know the light.

Samantha & I are meeting up with Becky and a couple of her friends tomorrow night for drinks. This promises to be quite interesting, in that the crew will consist of everyone from 27-year-olds to youngins.

Last Friday, we all met up at Moda Lounge at 2nd & Chestnut in Olde City, not far at all from where Becky lives. ;) It was a fun time. I said it then & I'll say it again: Never before.

Becky is our newest acquisition in the Crazy Collective. She's a sweetie pie, totally adorable.

I'm leaving you with a quote...for now, goodnight, my li'l owls.....

Untitled Sonnet, Edna St Vincent Millay:
Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,
Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended.
And then adieu, - farewell! - the dream is done.
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The colour and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;
But in your day this moment is the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun has set.

So, I'm having a lot of fun in my life lately. Everything -- people, places, plans -- all have really good vibes attached to them. I feel like I'm exactly where I should be. No more, no less. And that's a powerful statement to me: seeing where I've come from with the 20/20 vision of a survivor. There were ugly moments over the past couple years -- dark days, weeks, months -- times when I did indeed feel trapped under a fallen tower trying to bear too much weight. Yet I always saw the promise of escape. I always knew... "I saw, I see, I won't forget..."

A chapter and a half of Frozen Flower written, and I'm quite pleased with myself. I wonder sometimes of its form... where it's headed, if it indeed is Frozen Flower or perhaps something else -- if so, what what what?

Whatever the matter, I like it. And the writing feels good.

I miss you. Muah! Call me.

Joe / Antonio

Lyrics are from Charlotte Martin's A Hopeless Attempt. It is the perfect statement after the week I've had. And even if you try to read into this too much & figure out what I'm referencing, you'll miss the mark. It's okay though. I set it up that way. Enjoy the poetry...

A Hopeless Attempt
How'd this teardrop start a fire?
Must have thought about you
Better not do this, better not do that
My rivers gush green
Well how did this happen?
Better not rush, better not crush it
So it won't disappear...
You should get away from me
This is too much chemistry
Better not miss me, better not diss me
When she around, you can't let that happen
Better not crave you, cause I can't save you
You're here as you'll ever be...I
didn't mean to do it, I
didn't mean to love you, I
didn't mean to chant it, So
all the ways I want you,
you know
Pouring salt back in the wound
Put your four-way on me
Better not hold back, gimme a quick slap
Maybe I'll slam my teeth on your heart
Better not obsess, better not forget
I'm rich as I'll ever be...

My life is okay. Say it with me now... ;-)

Work is going okay. I was absent today due to the weather. Stayed home & shovelled instead. Which is good, because the local news was reporting that a pedestrian was rushed to Jefferson's ER today after ice fell off MY BUILDING---yes, they stated the address as MY BUILDING---and fell on his head. He was almost killed.

So, I can joyously say I was NOT outside on a cigarette break, and am home safe & sound.

I only have another hundred pages left in Stephen King's Lisey's Story. I'm hoping to finish it up tonight. Then I can start The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon or The Bell Jar---I haven't decided yet.

And that's the latest. Hope all is well and, on this day of all days, wishing you love & happiness.

for now...

Joe / Antonio

Course you missed me. I know. How could you resist?

I've been much the same. Work is going well. I'm getting trained. That tells me good things. (And I can hope it's indicative of an impending raise, too...)

I wrote a couple more poems; the Eastersays page was updated. There's one I'm really proud of, and it's the smallest. Sometimes a meaning is so well-put in 11 words that size, for once, doesn't matter.

I miss you guys. I hope all is well.

Joe

First Fig

My candles burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends---
It gives a lovely light!

---Edna St Vincent Millay

On this night, after all of my chores, after all the pets are fed till fat and cozy, after the dinner dishes have been put away, after my hot shower, ambivalent to the flurries falling outside my window, I sit in my weathered blue robe that might be as old as I am and I quote this poem from Adrienne Rich in my LJ page...

Study of History

Out there.      The mind of the river
as it might be you.

Lights      blotted by unseen hulls
repetitive shapes passing
dull foam crusting the margin
barges sunk below the water-line with silence.
The scow, drudging on.

Lying in the dark, to think of you
and your harsh traffic
gulls pecking your rubbish      natural historians
mourning your lost purity
pleasure cruisers
witlessly careening you

but this
after all
is the narrow and after
all we have never entirely
known what was done to you upstream
what powers trepanned
which of your channels diverted
what rockface leaned to stare
in your upturned
defenseless
face.

(1968)
((taken from The Fact of a Doorframe: Selected Poems 1950-2001))

The Thought Garden Grows:

Contemplative & Crashing

Is anyone else aware that Yule was originally a pagan holiday? Have we forgotten that anything sacred to Christians was stolen?

Happy holidays to all anyway. ;)

Joe / Antonio

Can I be taken seriously with this new layout?

Is it possible that an homage to Madonna is too gay even for me?

And, again, do I care?

Hope you like it.... :)

for now, with love

Joe / Antonio

The Thought Garden Grows:	refreshed
Inside the Sanctuary Is Heard:	Madonna | Like It or Not

Edna St. Vincent Millay:

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving heart in the hard ground.

So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned with lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.

Be one with the dull, the indescriminate dust.

A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,

A formula, a phrase remains,---but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,---

They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled

Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind:

Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

from What Lips My Lips Have Kissed...

"I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that Summer sang in me a little while that in me sings no more."

Stan Rice:

"and the rain is brain-colored,

and the thunder sounds like something remembering something..."

Psalm 161

I heard my first mandolin

On the victrola. Then my sister

Walked into the pasture

And was wed. Lord, why do you

Keep me on the phone until

I am deaf. There comes a day

When the mandolin must be put

In the mountains.

In search of a better life

Valleys inspire conflagrations in autumn.

Rosy the dirt is.

My heart lies down in it.

Im kind of speechless.

It takes my breath, the hammered dulcimer

Left out to be beaten by rain.

Can anything clothe the dreamstate

And keep the hopelessness in.

Have I heard my last mandolin.

Selah.

Christina Rossetti:

from When I Am Dead, My Dearest

I shall not see the shadows,

>I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

>Sing on, as if in pain;

And dreaming through the twilight

>That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

>And haply may forget.

As always, Stan Rice:

"and the rain is brain-colored,

and the thunder sounds like something remembering something..."

Tori Amos:

"A look in her eye says

The Battle's beginning

From school she comes home and cries

'I don't want to grow up, Mom,

at least not tonight'...

It is your time,

so just run

with ribbons undone."

Vanessa Carlton:

"Summer dies and it's just moments we have together

I'd give my bones for you to get a few more years

...for you and I...Oh, Annie...

More to life than trying to survive...Oh, Annie..."

Rachael Yamagata:

"And I'm afraid, and I can't breath,

And I'm in love with you

But you are not with me

And I have put so much into a life

I made too much about you, now to lie"

Damien Rice:

"Stone taught me to fly

Love, it taught me to lie

Life, it taught me to die

So it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball"

Adrienne Rich:

"The meaning that searches for its word like a hermit crab.

A monologue that waits for one listener.

An ear filled with one sound only.

A shell penetrated by meaning."

...&...

"The sole of the foot is a map, the palm of the hand a letter,

learned by heart and worn close to the body."

Me:

"my language as weak as sunset's struggle"