A Tale of Beasts Who Were, For a Time, Men

So we went on the train together... and that's when you said:

G: So there's this guy that we hang out with. He's a friend, but you should know... he's a little in love with me.

B: Uhm...

G: O my God... don't get that look on your face!

B: What? I'm just saying...

G: What? My friends are really nice! He's really nice!

B: Yeah, but you're just not understanding.


Hetero men are, at best, wolves. Wolves who like beer and naked chicks, but wolves nonetheless. We travel in little groups, battling for alpha status and lying to our friends about that desire for status. I don't know why we do this. I just know that we do this. Maybe its about sex? No idea... But we're protective and creepy and repressed and bloodthirsty.

So introducing a new wolf to the group, especially when that wolf is sleeping with you, is a dangerous proposition. The woman of the group is seen as the mother. Wolfmothers, in relationship to prehistoric life, were the stuff of fantasy and fairy tale. Adopted wolfmoms claimed the hearts of beastmen even when they didn't seek that heart, and someone giving you their heart is quite a commitment.

When they have to watch you give that heart to someone else, not of their clan, expect conflict.

I am, by no means, a judicator, so this conflict will not be settled in a logical or legal way. I'm a wolf too and I'm ruled primarily by that code. I'd deny it, but I'm of the mind that denying the self is dangerous, so I might as well learn its drive and try to at least take that nature seriously enough to be fair to it and try to give it a proper place in my life and in my societal weavings. To that end, I let testosterone take over and come out of my pores. I walked tall, kept her hand in mine, and behaved as any caveman would in jeans and a buttonup: I smiled a rakish smile and let their eyes trail over me.

When you're in full cavedude form as a guy, your mouth says words that your body finds pussified. In turn, a dual conversation begins to occur with scent betraying language.

"Hi, nice to meet you all"
My eye contact indicates that if you fuck with me, the world will smell like blood for days.

"Oh, you're Reece?"
I know you like our friend, but I'll fucking kill you if you hurt her.

"Yeah, that's me. The whole crew is here, eh? Great day for a game... the weather is perfect!"
I'm not intimidated by the fact that its five guys to one. In fact, I like those odds.

Even when we don't speak, we're talking to each other. You might be looking at me with affection or just listening to me, but the guys are all watching for the move of a hand or the kiss. Each time it happens, its an affront. Why? Because every time is a reminder to him that he's not going to get the chance to fuck you (at least not right now... you never know) and that's just plain old injustice when you're a wolf because... hey, everybody wants to fuck the machoman right?

--

I survived the date.

Thank Jeebus.

Deafened

I spent pretty much the whole day in a haze. Everyone at work is giving me the "Someone is changing..." look. My boss actually asked me, "But how are you doing? Have you taken some time for self-inspection? You are a very different man than the one that I interviewed a few years ago."

What about me has changed?

I think I met one of my five great ones.

If you've seen A Bronx Tale, you know exactly what I mean by that.

I've avoided a lot of personal talk on my own journal. For whatever reason, I've become somewhat nervous about it. I have to ask myself before I type this, "Why is this piece of you so guarded and hidden from everyone? Why can't you ever share how you're feeling with your friends and family?"

I don't know.

But what I do know is that I comically stumbled through my workday. I laughed maniacally as I sent out the wrong flyer to the wrong person at the wrong time for Publications. I then got a humorous email exchange back from upstairs, when in reality they should be telling me to go fuck myself.

I drove all the way to a work location to realize I hadn't called the guy I needed to see today early enough. He has now since switched shifts and probably won't even see me at least until the weekend.

I can't write this entry without laughing hysterically.

I feel great... so why am I fucking things up?

Obama 2: Kucinich Boogaloo

"I am a Dennis Kucinich supporter because I believe America's greatest problem is its incivility, its intolerance to new ideas, its remorseless hatred of weakness and failure, and the willinglness of its individual citizens to submerge their individual cowardice within the vicious commerce-driven standards of our national self-image. George Bush is a terrible president, but he is merely a by-product of thse wider national tendencies, which exist outside of him and independently of him. And these tendencies are symbolized exactly in the laughter directed at Dennis Kucinich. To vote for Dennis Kucinich, I believe, is to vote for man's right to publicly be who he is and not be ridiculed for it. If we are peaceful people, it is a vote for our right to merely be who we are."

- Matt Taibbi

If Obama is my black revenge revolver fired lazily from my privileged position, Kucinich is the velvet hammer swung by my endless pit of revolutionary rage. There's a lot about both guys to like, but liking the president isn't the requirement for a presidential candidate... the dude just needs to be right. In fact, I'd argue that the motherfucker just needs to be right about a few things and can get help from us on the rest. Dennis Kucinich is that dude, Barack could be that dude with a little help, and Hilary and Edwards are too scared to be that dude. Fear might push the privates, but the generals need confidence to lead the charge... and that means not just taking a stand but making the right choice that LEADS you to that stand.

Maybe they'll run on the same ticket and that would help me out. How much of a bonus would that be? Barack and Dennis doing the damn thing in the White House with a cabinet full of people that can throw some assists but aren't trying to pull a Demonic Dick and take over.

Why not just run some shit? Why not fix some shit? Man, I'd be all over the next candidate that says "I think I'd rather go out and work on Baltimore's education system" or "We fucked Iraq up like Buster Douglas..." Why does every candidate instead start talking through a big Plexiglass megaphone built by Bechtel?

Don't they know that they can't live without us? Yeah, yeah.. you have money. But regardless you still need someone to make your food and drive and all that... don't you know that if you don't start somewhere soon you're probably going to die painfully? Can't you see that if you abandon me and mine, you're abandoning yourself and yours?

Take this one chance, this one day, and be brave. Oddly enough, the dude you make fun of is the same person you should be emulating to get my vote.

Baltimore Love Thing Part One

Abstract


It feels so underrated, but that's a pile of horseshit. Baltimore is that person in the bar that looks like they don't just drink rail liquor but that they ARE rail liquor. Chipped teeth, eggbeatered hair, and a killer body. You can practically smell the funk of the last few losers that spent the night in it... and you know she'll be used again, you just don't know if you will be the user. Are you even thinking about it, or is she seducing you? Can you feel her hot fingers running through your hair?

And now its 6 AM and you're sober... clearly a bad decision. Is that puke in my goddamn trash can?

I love her, but I want her to give me a fucking break. I'm sad about her losses and struggles to stay in the black, but I'll be damned if I'm paying for even one more abortion.