Bastique

November 20, 2008

Government by dictionary

Written on this Facebook chat page

The job of the state is not to uphold the dictionary of the English language. Any argument about "changing the definition of marriage" doesn't take into account the fact that sociologically speaking, marriage has been defined as a union between two people for some fifty years now, or that marriage rites have been performed for same-sex couples, whether blessed by the state or not, by a increasing amount of churches each and every year. The fact is the language is reflective of society's definitions, not the other way around. Marriage already includes, legally, same-sex unions in two English speaking countries (Canada and South Africa) where the effective definition has already changed. I'm certain that debates about changing the dictionary in the great halls of Oxford and Cambridge and Webster are already well under way. What argument will these people have when the definition in the dictionary is reflective of society as a whole and the legal system?

Posted by Bastique at 12:16 PM | Comments (0)

October 18, 2007

Hi! Just a request from my boss... :)

The Wikimedia Foundation (the non-profit organization behind Wikipedia
and many other collaboratively-edited reference projects) is about to
embark on a wave of hiring.

Over the next month or so, Wikimedia will be recruiting for the
following positions: developers, chief financial and operating officer,
head of public outreach, head of partnerships development, accountant,
personal assistant to the executive director, office manager, head of
development, head of communications and head of business development.
For the full job postings and application instructions, please go to
http://wikimediafoundation.org/wiki/Job_openings.

These jobs are intended to be based in our new San Francisco
headquarters, but as an international organization we're open to the
possibility of locating a few positions elsewhere. For the SF office
itself, we will only be able to hire people who already have the legal
ability to work in the United States.

These are fabulous opportunities for creative, motivated people who want
to work in a successful, growing and highly-collaborative mission-driven
environment :-) Please tell your friends & colleagues.

Company: Wikimedia Foundation, Inc.
Job Title: Multiple openings
Description: Please see http://wikimediafoundation.org/wiki/Job_openings

Posted by Bastique at 2:11 PM | Comments (0)

September 23, 2007

Moving to San Francisco

If you're familiar with the goings ons at the Wikimedia Foundation, you already know. The office is moving to San Francisco. If not... well, let me be the first to break the news to you. I'm going to San Francisco and taking Michel with me.

While we love Saint Petersburg, it has never completely felt like home. Too backward in many aspects, too many uneducated people with conservative leanings. While I'm not knocking them, I can't understand people who like to vote against their own best interests.

San Francisco is the opposite. Affluent people with liberal leanings. Plus the weather can't be beat. No more ridiculously hot and long summers.

Posted by Bastique at 10:20 AM | Comments (0)

September 18, 2007

Big news coming

I'm ready to announce a major change. Stay tuned for details.

Posted by Bastique at 6:53 PM | Comments (0)

October 8, 2006

I'm alive

Note to Tammi: I'm alive. I'm overly preoocupied with Wikipedia. ( See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Bastique ) Probably need to be rescued. Don't send anyone yet, but if you don't hear from me in one week, send out a search party.

Thanks.

Posted by Bastique at 2:58 PM | Comments (12)

July 14, 2006

On time!

O joy of joys! Tri-Rail is on time on this merry day. After he had read last Friday's post, a friend of mine mentioned that I would probably serve my readers as well as derive my own benefits by pointing out the many advantages I've inherited by commuting by light rail rather than driving into the office on a daily basis.

First and foremost is hours of relaxed peace I spend riding each week, wherein I've been able to renew my romance with the quill and ink, otherwise known as my writing fancy. It is no secret how much I love crafting words from the whorls of chaos churning in my mind every day. There is a kind of "self-help" power in making entertaining or provocative commentary.

The Tri-Rail looks turned round when it's heading northbound.
This one is leaving the stationThere is also a mental muscle involved in writing, one that gets weak and flimsy when not in use—but when exercised on a daily basis, the muscle grows strong and dexterous, able to masterfully ignite effervescent prose from even the most desolate of environs.

Secondly is the stress relief of putting all my power on an immense, constantly moving locomotive when local traffic reports every morning provide an endless barrage of accidents, fender-benders, and roadway debris causing backups for miles and miles filled with psychotic rush hour drivers high on the carbon monoxide fumes of countless cars.

There is little to compare with the feeling one gets looking out the east window of the rapidly progressing train and seeing I-95 looking like a parking lot.

Next on the list is the daily exercise I have been getting from riding a bicycle between the station and work (and many mornings between home and the station). I sit in front of a computer screen all day at the office and much of my evenings at home. I need to have some sort of routine to prevent the onset of my impending forties, and bicycling happens to be the perfect daily aerobic workout.

Finally, the Tri-Rail provides a never-ending supply of entertainment from comedic announcers to sleeping security guards…and certainly not the least of which are the other passengers—a cross-section of South Florida society. Whether riding for convenience, economic necessity or ecological conservation, there is no end to the flow of personalities to be found on every Tri-Rail train.

I've recently become part of a subclass of Tri-Rail riders, the "rider-bicyclists". Out of necessity, we become familiar to one another. Bicycle storage stations on the trains come in pairs, and one often finds oneself doing a sort of dance with other bicyclists in order to insure that "next-one-off-the-train" is the bicycle on the outside.

There is one female rider-bicyclist, who, judging by her garb must work as a hygienist or nurse's assistant, that only rides for one train stop, but being the friendly and outgoing individual that she is, smiling and starting conversations, has become an easily recognized rider. Recently she asked what it was I was writing in my notebook every day.

In so many ways, the train is the better option by far. I wish they were more frequent and had a better on time ratio. Perhaps they'd attract more riders and be able to provide even better services.

But no more bicyclists…please. We need the space we get!

Posted by Bastique at 4:53 PM | Comments (1)

July 5, 2006

39½ (part 2)

Inasmuch as the home in which Michael H. and I live is concerned, we finally, as of the end of June, have a new roof on our house. If your long-term memory is good, you'll remember that our home took a noticeable beating during last October's Hurricane Wilma.

Our brand new roof

So, after…

• three months to receive an insurance check,
• one month to get a roofing estimate,
• three months for the roofer to get our paperwork through some ridiculous hold-up in the City involving the flat portion of our roof and wind estimates,
• another month to see our old roof come off and for the city inspector to show up,
• two weeks before the new shingles to arrive, and
• another two weeks,

our roof is finally up. Now all that's left is for the ceiling in our Florida room and our garage to be repaired.

I don't speak much on the topic, but never fear, my HIV hasn't magically disappeared. As of my last regular checkup a week ago, I have a good healthy 364 T-Cells and a viral load of "undetectable." The T-Cells figure is important, because it's a remarkable increase over my previous count of 270 and the highest level it's been in about 7 or 8 years. My lowest was in July of 2004…and I wrote about it.

I wonder if my health with improve as well, or if my "life-saving" HIV medications will have a negative impact on my medical outlook.

Of course, I can always look to the cards… yes, as if to confound rational thinkers and religious zealots alike, I have taken to reading Tarot cards. Believe what you will about them, for myself I can see patterns emerging around me and anyone in my life, that are reflected in the cards that I deal. This new belief is a large consideration for me because the change in thought that I experienced in order to have faith in my interpretations was immense. To admit it to the sophisticated audience that I expect reads my blog is somewhat humbling. I fear what I believe most of you think about such things as Tarot and astrology, and I have no desire to have you think less of me as a result. Therefore, consider that I may still be the bright, brutally honest individual that I hope you've always believed me to be, and just accept that my insight and experience may be slightly different from yours.

A few statistics:

This is Coco Kitty - our Siamese cat, grooming.

As of my 39 and one half^th birthday, there are one dog (Banjo), one cat (Coco), and four birds living in these four walls along with Michael H. and me (and Mike D. on weekends).

My familial bonds include:

• A grandmother, age 84, widowed and living in the Columbia, South Carolina area,
• A father, age 65, remarried recently and living just north of Boston,
• A mother, 63, married for something like 18 years to my stepfather and living in the Columbia area,
• A sister, 43, married with three kids:
  • A daughter, 13
  • A son, 12 (next week)
  • A son, 7.
  All living in the Charlotte, North Carolina area,
• A brother, 42, married and newly a father of one daughter, living in the Frederick Maryland area,
• A brother, 37 (this month), married with two children:
  • A son, 5
  • A daughter, 3
  living in the Savannah area,
• A brother, 25, in the Atlanta area.

That's my semi-annual update. Now I can start counting down to my 40th birthday.

Posted by Bastique at 6:10 PM | Comments (0)

39½

June 28 was my official "half-birthday", making this missive more than a few days late.

I wanted to take the opportunity, as I've done semi-annually in the past (see 37½ and 38), to present a glimpse into the state of affairs of my life as it presently stands.

Me at thirty-nine point fiveUntil recently, I worked at a nearby Internet marketing company; however, things began to deteriorate at the office with more people departing for greener pastures. I decided to take up a standing offer and work for a similar group in Delray Beach.

This has afforded me the opportunity of commuting via light rail—and presenting me with the opportunity of doing more writing. (This missive was constructed partially during a stop and power failure on the Tri-Rail).

Michael H. and I are "no more," at least as a couple, but we continue to maintain an amicable cohabitation in our canalside ranch-style home in beautiful, peaceful Palm Aire Village, Fort Lauderdale. It seemed that his incarceration and our extended separation was more than our already strained relationship could bear.

However, it happened, Michael and I both agreed it was better to develop a charitable friendship than to continue fostering resentments and frustrations trying to rekindle a romance that had passed its time.

As quickly as one door slides to a close, another one opens and allows the passage of a crisp, cool, fresh ocean breeze. Suddenly someone reenter into my life. Mike D., who, although I've known him for over ten years, has only now awakened some part of me that I didn't even know existed. He returned to Fort Lauderdale In January, and almost immediately, my life has been irrevocably transformed.

For once in my life I can finally say I am taking care of my needs, putting myself and my mental, physical and spiritual health first, above everything else.

More to come.

Posted by Bastique at 8:00 AM | Comments (1)

June 28, 2006

Tough

I have had a rough week. One of our siamese cats, Ojee, took ill over the weekend, and on Monday he stopped eating altogether. Most of the evening he lay on the floor. I said to Michael, "We need to take him to the vet tomorrow!" After Michael had gone to bed, I was still awake, and I heard him convulse on the floor, vomiting up the milk and sugar that Michael had force-fed him.

These are our two siamese cats.
Ojee is the one on the right.
It was pretty evident to me that his time was over. I took a towel and put it under him, holding on to him. He was shaking and convulsing. I'm not sure if he was still breathing but his heart was faint.

I woke Michael up and told him that Ojee was leaving us. I let Michael hold him for a while.

There has been considerably more that's happened this week. I received some wonderful news on Sunday that I would like to write about in a separate post. It would be better to write about that when I am not feeling sad.

Posted by Bastique at 9:59 PM | Comments (3)

June 21, 2006

Road rage

Whoa, the self-righteous indignation I felt while waiting at the light that leads from my neighborhood at Lyons and McNab Roads as an eighteen-wheeler pulled onto McNab eastbound from Lyons north, just as the light was changing from red to green. The monster then slowed to a crawl as he made the turn, and only a few of us waiting were able to pass under the short-lived light as the truck finally cleared the intersection.

Being one of the ones who made it, I considered it my holy duty to tell the driver just what we all thought of his action, not for myself of course but on behalf of the suffering commuters left behind as a result of his carelessness. As the truck still had not yet achieved driving speed down McNab Road, it was easy to pass him on the right, and as I did so I shouted out my window, "that was fouled up!*"
*Paraphrased

No doubt the truck driver paused to reflect on my actions, thinking, "Yes, that was indeed all fouled up. I shall be more considerate of my fellow human being in the future." More than likely he laughed at my objection as he spewed some foul insult, heard only to himself and whatever else might be crawling about his cab.

Nevertheless, I was on my worst behavior. The best I can do in such situations is to accept that nothing will change the three facts of the road:

• There will be assholes on the road.
• I will encounter them.
• I can either let them be or become one of them.

My fellow travelers were little aware of my indignant actions, so what purpose did my outrage serve? While venting my frustration, I run the risk of causing the consternation of not only the truck driver but also other drivers on the road who may perhaps mistake my rage at being directed at them. Nay, better to say a little blessing for the trucker and go on my merry way. All parties will be better off because of it.

But how much further down McNab Road did I have to go before I encountered yet another truck driver making disturbing maneuvers, causing havoc to the traffic flow around. This rig was nearly blocking all three lanes of traffic, as McNab Road widens at Powerline, attempting to back into a side road and having very little success at it.

Not having learned anything, I pressed my horn for a solid two seconds as I passed him in the only free lane on the road, hoping by that this one feel the full sting of my fury.

I soon counted my blessings—as I looked in my rearview mirror, I discerned that this new truck had now obstructed all available space, leaving all the remaining traffic, including my first truck driver, at a standstill.

Through no action of my own, justice was served

Posted by Bastique at 10:00 PM | Comments (0)

March 31, 2006

On air! Live! It's me!

This is Annie Armin
Okay, I kept on Annie Armin's mailing list (see entry dated a really long time ago: Armin Hammer. Lo and behold, I received an email with a program that was somewhat timely: The Dangers of Psychiatric Drugs: Part 20 SSRIs and Sexual Side Effects. I sent her a response.

Annie,

It's your friend Cary Bass from the blog bastique.com here. I'm sorry that much of the Anniearmenlive@aol.com email has been winding up in my spam folder and I didn't see last night's topic until today...but it looks like tonight you're doing part 20 (is that right?).

I don't know if you want me to call in tonight, but here's what I have to say.

Although you originally called me based on my email to you about Ritalin and ADHD, at some point it came out that I was taking Celexa as well. I didn't know about a lot of the stuff that you had previously aired at the time, but I did know that I had been feeling a general lack of enthusiasm about anything in my life.

Annie, a couple of months ago I stopped taking Celexa, and I want to tell you in addition to my sex drive returning--what a wonderful surprise for man who is looking at 40 down the road!--I feel as if my range of emotion has returned once more as well.

The anxiety and depression I was trying to shut away with Celexa was completely irrelevent compared to the loss of my feeling like a human being. The difference in my life is amazing. I can laugh and cry with ease. I can be angry and I can be overcome with joy. I feel like I can fall in love again too. As far as my anxiety and depression go, yes--they're back, but nothing like I thought they were. I think at some point I grew up enough to handle them with acceptance. I will be anxious from time to time and I will be depressed. But these are things that come with life conditions.

I hope I never get into a state again where my anxiety and depression overwhelm me to the point of paralysis like I believed they once did; but today I've made sure that I've got people in my life who understand my conditions. These feelings pass!

I pray that I never have to become dependant on that little white pill.

There's so much more that I can't possibly write about in one short little email. I'll probably try to call you tonight during the broadcast. But feel free to take my number: 1-954-XXX-XXXX.

Cary Bass

Well, I got an immediate response. And, well, that night, I was on her show. Me, a celebrity!

It's an hour-long show...fast forward to about the middle to get me. Click Dangers of Psychiatric Drugs Part 20 -- Aired 03/16/06 and click the "Listen" button.

Posted by Bastique at 6:05 PM | Comments (0)

February 3, 2006

Chatrooms and Sexual predation (unrelated)

I had a few things I wanted to discuss tonight but I spent all evening in the Wikipedia channel on IRC.

Now channel 10 has this horrible story about Sexual Offenders living near Day Care Centers. The story did nothing more than point out how the reporter knows how to point and click and look for registered offenders who happen to live within 1,000 feet of a Day Care Center. I wonder what asshole thought of this report.

I believe sexual crimes against children are horrible. However, I also believe that our culture has put absolutely no research into curing these people, or even trying to find out from where this affliction stems. Guess what—the numbers seem to be growing. They found 500 sex offenders within 1,000 feet of Day Care Centers in South Florida.

I wrote the reporter an email. The contents of which follow. I encourage anyone else to do the same:

Hi Julie (jsummers@local10.com);

Your story served no useful purpose whatsoever.

As long as society continues to deal with convicted sexual preditors as animals, keeping them inside little zones, then we'll continue to have them. Who the hell knows where a day care center is?

I don't pretend to understand sexual predation...I wasn't molested as a child and I tend toward physical attraction of those more mature than myself. But I do understand similar problems, such as drug addiction, something else people believe you can't recover from, and something that leaves other kinds of scars on loved ones, including children. How come children who are physically or emotionally abused are allowed to suffer or returned to the abuser? Why not do an expose on that? You can't...because your 500 will turn into 50,000 people. And yet these children are suffering from damage far greater than many of the victims of those sexual predators. Teenagers don't scar quite as easily as children do. Or don't you remember being a teenager?

These people are human beings, Julie, whether you want to objectify them or not. I'm sure many if not most of them have had some sort of counseling. As human beings, they deserve pity and love.

I'm certain you believe you are doing something good, but you are probably hurting more people than you are helping.

Cary Bass
Fort Lauderdale

Posted by Bastique at 11:03 PM | Comments (1)

February 2, 2006

Groundhog Day

This is a groundhog!Groundhog Day, once known as Candlemas. I heard two explanations about how Groundhog Day got started on the radio this morning on Air America Radio. First by Rachel Maddow, then immediately thereafter from Jerry Springer on the drive into work—but not until Jerry went on a long, entirely inaccurate explanation.

Today is 48 days without cigarettes. I quit smoking on Robert Boyd's birthday. Robert was one of my oldest friends, who died about a year ago from a heart attack. I have no idea of the specifics, but I'm certain the fact that he smoked over two packs of cigarettes a day was no help. He was 45 years old.

Robert and I had a falling out and hadn't seen one another in quite some time. The truth is that I was sick and tired of only getting phone calls when he wanted something. But I still cared about him.

I would like to get this darn thing going again—frankly, my writing is like a muscle that's begun to atrophy, and I can think of no better exercise than to try to keep this going on a daily basis.

Peace.

Groundhog image derived from Wikipedia modified and released under the GNU Free Documentation License.

Posted by Bastique at 10:34 PM | Comments (0)

October 17, 2005

So much to say, so little to gather

I have plenty of things to talk about. As I make my way through each day, I come up with things to provide to my blog, little vignettes and amazing streams of consciousness that provide great new insights into the mystery of humankind and the answers to the universe in general.

What I don't have is a great amount of time and determination to sit down and relate these things here. Since I left to pick up Michael on Tuesday morning, it has been a non-stop flurry of activity, from housecleaning to meetings to shopping to softball to work, and by the time I sit down here in front of the computer, I don't have enough enthusiasm or brain activity to do more than surf throughout the web.

So many things I've planned to say.

Like telling you about my friend Vinny, who is now country western DJing at the new bar, Steel (formerly the Eagle) on Thursday nights.

Or talking about the letter W's first storm, Wilma.

Or rant on about the increasingly pitiful excuses conservatives are making for this criminal of a president.

Paul Rodgers and QueenI don't even have time to talk about how much I love Paul Rodger's vocals on Queen's new release of Bohemian Rhapsody.

But I can't seem to draw one thought together long enough to make any of these worth my blog's time. Maybe it's the full moon.

I'd like to get a good night's sleep one evening soon. Then maybe I'll be able to put a few interesting words together.

Posted by Bastique at 11:36 PM | Comments (0)

September 28, 2005

What's up?

I'm actually not asking my readers that question, it's just the title of the song in my head by 4 Non Blondes

My last entry was on September 22. I haven't paid my blog any attention. You know; the last thing I want to do is let this get away from me again. Bad Cary!

Especially since I can always throw together a few words in just a few minutes. I have no excuse whatsoever!

So, what's going on? I haven't had a cigarette in 31 days. This is a truly amazing accomplishment! Last time I quit was April 2004, and it was easy, but I decided at my class reunion that I could pick up just one...and then one more. Let's just say that I will never be a social smoker, and I have to remember that one cigarette for me is the same as ten thousand cigarettes, and more.

If you're on my main page, look on the left column. As of this moment, I've saved $85.11 in not smoking the 486 cigarettes I haven't smoked. At 90 days, I'm taking that money and getting tattoo number 4.

For all you Michael lovers out there... thirteen days from now I'll be driving up to the beginning of the panhandle of Florida to go pick him up from Eglin. Wednesday morning of October 12, 2005, I had better have pulled up to the west entrance of Eglin Air Force Base or else they'll take him back. Keep your fingers crossed that I have no problems.

My softball team, the Tigers, have won a game, now! Our record is now 1-2. I didn't get to play for a second week because of a second injury I sustained during practice. This time I pulled my groin muscle. Coach wouldn't let me play. I hope I get out on the field one day! They said I made an exceptional good bat boy.

Cheer me on...

Posted by Bastique at 9:36 PM | Comments (3)

September 7, 2005

Catching Up

What's been going on with me? Well, since I have trouble with short to long term memory retention, I'm afraid you're going to have to settle for the last month or so.

I had some kind of mass removed from my rectum. Surgery was interesting and I want to thank my good friend Jeff for hanging around the hospital and waiting with me while I waited to go in to surgery (which was scheduled at 3, and didn't happen until past 6).

I found out I have emphysema. I've been without cigarettes now for 10 days. My breathing has improved, although my allergies have been kicking up!

I had another roommate move out. This was not a bad thing, this one was next to useless.

Michael has another 35 days before leaving Eglin Federal Prison Camp. That's something to cross my fingers about.

UPDATE 9/11

Hey... but I've still got a damn good life, you know? I have a great house on the water with a swimming pool. I've got good friends. What else can you ask for?

Posted by Bastique at 10:41 PM | Comments (4)

April 11, 2005

The Six Date Sex Rules

I am so sorry...have been so busy working have had no time to write...here's a best of...dated last October

The writing bug did not hit me today. I have to keep hoping some morning I'll simply be inspired to take out my drafts of A Mirror's Shard and start working it again. Maybe tomorrow morning.

I had a nice date with a friend tonight. That's all, a date. Who's to say it won't become something else? I'd like to do it again. I'm just not used to going out with someone to dinner and then a quick hug and a quick closed-mouth kiss and then going your separate ways. He has had a six-date rule, and although I don't know how firm he's going to stick to it, this was only a first.

I don't know what it says about me, but I don't see a problem having sex with friends. I mean, people in recovery like to fantasize about dating, and then work on getting to know someone before they have sex; although it's rare that this actually occurs. Me, if I've got friends that I find attractive as well, what's wrong with getting together and sharing a deeper level of friendship. I find sex is better when the party of the first part is already intimately acquainted with the party of the second part.

Some people will say something about sex ruining the friendship. Well, if there was unconditional love to begin with, then sex isn't going to change that. Maybe this is simplistic, but I have a higher opinion of sex than I once did, and I much prefer experiencing sex with men who are already connected to me on some level. I haven't had sex in several months, because for ninety days, I wanted to make sure I was prioritizing my life properly.

That period of celibacy has been over nearly a week, and I still haven't had sex, even though I was pretty sure I'd be making up for lost time by now. Maybe it's because I want to really connect with someone beforehand. I don't want to hook up with some guy from the Internet, even if I do know him, and head right over to their house to do the nasty. I want to plan it, possibly after dinner and a movie. Maybe not even gave sex until after the third, fourth—sixth date?

That doesn't sound like me, though. Maybe my date rubbed off on me a bit tonight. I'll have to get together with him again. Five more dates to go...

Posted by Bastique at 11:16 PM | Comments (1)

February 24, 2005

I'm sorry!

I have had so much work in front of me that I haven't had a moment to write up a nice blog entry. But...

My roommate is moving out: This means that there will be less television and more time to spend tied to my computer. Hopefully it won't be all work!

Posted by Bastique at 10:46 PM | Comments (0)

February 14, 2005

Picture of Melissa

I didn't have a picture last night when I posted the stuff about Melissa Etheridge, but I thought you'd appreciate it more if you saw it. This is her getting down with Joss Stone--doing Janis's Take a Piece of my Heart

Posted by Bastique at 11:09 PM | Comments (0)

February 13, 2005

Melissa's comeback

Melissa Etheridge performing Janis Joplin at the 47th Annual Grammy Awards just moments before I write this entry. Her head is clear of hair, and it's not just to look outlandish. Melissa Etheridge is being treated for Breast Cancer.

See this article from contactmusic.com, entitled Melissa Etheridge: Melissa Goes Bald for the Grammys:

Brave MELISSA ETHERIDGE appeared bald on the red carpet at the GRAMMY AWARDS yesterday (13FEB05) because she didn't want to hide her cancer battle.

The rocker, who was making her first public appearance after revealing her battle with cancer last year (04), insisted she's winning her personal fight.

She said, "I feel good, I finished chemo last month, I'm out, my hair's growing back. I'm feeling fine."

Etheridge was also set to perform a JANIS JOPLIN duet with British soul sensation JOSS STONE at the awards show.

But just to let you know that people survive, she belted her heart out, to a standing ovation from an audience of her peers. Melissa Etheridge, original platinum record dyke singer, diva extraordinaire, still has it, in spite of her difficulties.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is a ray of light and happiness. Sometimes the good guys prosper. She gives me hope!

Posted by Bastique at 10:22 PM | Comments (1)

February 9, 2005

Happy Chinese New Year!

Given my prior entry about the Cock Flavoured Soup, people might say I'm obsessed with roosters. I'm not. I have a certain amount of control over it. I don't think about them all the time.

Still, it should be a great year. According to the 60-year Lunar Chinese calendar cycle, which includes different elements in each series of twelve years, today begins the year of the wood cock. Happy Wood Cock New Year 2005!

Posted by Bastique at 9:05 AM | Comments (0)

February 8, 2005

Depression sucks.

Trying to get out of bed in the morning, trying to get motivated to do some work. It's not that I don't have work ahead of me...it's that I don't have the energy to do it.

It's like I've got a great weight attached to my legs, dragging me throughout the day. My creativity is severely limited. I can create pictures that don't take much work, I can write brief posts. I can respond in a minor way to emails.

What I feel I cannot do is design a website. Write a short story. Write extended posts. Anything that involves more than fifteen minutes worth of work, seems difficult at best.

What do I have to do? Force myself to move forward. Eventually I can get back in my groove feel right about accomplishing more than just the bare minimum.

Posted by Bastique at 9:51 PM | Comments (2)

February 3, 2005

Still here

It's been a rough recovery from my trip to Pennsyvlania... Came back with a bug, and haven't had much energy for much.

Worse, my abcess is back--with a vengeance. Take an Advil 800mg--hope for the best, call my Doctor in the morning because my dental insurance doesn't start until the beginning of March.

Oh, and the roomie is moving out at the end of February. Anybody looking to share a house for eight months or so?

I have to pull myself together before I fall completely apart.

Posted by Bastique at 10:56 PM | Comments (1)

January 30, 2005

Snow

I haven't been a first-hand witness to falling snow since 1991, and that was in South Carolina. It had been a light dusting then, Martin Luther King weekend. The ground was covered, and it was fun to watch falling.

But this weekend, in Middletown, Pennsyvlania—man this was SNOW!

I am amazed! Awestruck! I love this stuff!

Posted by Bastique at 9:12 AM | Comments (0)

January 29, 2005

Slow Boy

I'm writing this on board my flight to Philadelphia. I am begenning to get jumpy from that cup of coffee I had back in Fort Lauderdale. The book I'm starting has text in some bizarre font that I have to hold at arms length in order to read. Is this the beginning?

So, I put the book down and glance over to the magazine that my row-mate is reading. It's one of those in-flight catalogs filled with all sorts of things you never realized you needed. 16-foot telescoping dusters for those hard-to-reach windows in the two-story entry areas of your colonial mansion. Multicolor 8-unit wireless key locator for those who lose multiple keys--and aren't worried that they'll misplace the locator box.

My eye alights suddenly on the yellow plastic "Slow-boy," and recognize it immediately. This is a roll-out stand up whimsical "sign" that parents can use at the edge of their driveway to notify drivers that their kids are at play. The advertisement also mentions that it reminds kids to stay away from the street.

The reason why I recognized it immediately was because there is a family on a street in my neighborhood, on one of the more traveled blocks that has aone of these charming little critters. Mom wheels the "Slow-boy" out into the street, and seems to give her kids a sense of security that nobody will come barrelling into them in an SUV so long as this little fellow is out there doing its job.

I was driving my truck recently and saw the thing out there, and did not see the kids in the street, but looked closely at the side of the street where they live. Just Mom, a another Mom and the "slow-boy". Suddenly while my eyes are watching left, seven-year old comes riding out from a driveway on the right. I slam on my brakes, making a rather screechy sound. Mom number two, who I seem to recognize as a woman who hauls ass through the neighborhood when she drives, screams, "Can't you see? SLOW!" I'm mortified, immediately guilt washes over me for being so careless as to nearly run over an unsuporvised kid.

As I pull off, I realize that it was because I saw the sign was the reason I didn't barrel into him. It was one of those moments when I didn't have that snappy comeback until it was too late to use it.

This street is a high traffic area, and not all the drivers are going to be quiet as alert as I was that day. If I was to think the worst about people, I'd believe that this mother was pushing the fates and asking for someone to injure or kill her kid so she'd have a fabulous lawsuit in the making. But people aren't capable of things that horrible. I can't imagine it.

The day after the incedent, I drive be again, late in the evening, to see "Slow-boy" at least four feet out in the road, no children or Moms to be seen. I have to drive on the wrong side of the road to avoid him. I briefly contemplated putting a swift, violent end to its career. But to do that would be to blame the little green boy for Moms abuse, and I couldn't do that to the little plastic fellow.

Posted by Bastique at 4:09 PM | Comments (0)

January 24, 2005

Chilly

It's 45 degrees out this morning. I have nothing warm to put over my head like a cotton skullcap or a ski mask, so I have to make do with a red bandanna and a biker's cap to walk the dog. Of course we appreciate our cool days here in South Florida, because they are so few and far between. Nevertheless, many of us who have lived here any length of time are never prepared for them, having to make do with layers of clothing from our wardrobe. Good thing it never dips below freezing.

I'm traveling to Harrisburg next weekend to spend some time with my friend, Jack. He asked the obvious question one gives to a Floridian: if I had any warm clothes. I've been on trips where I forgot to pack anything warm. Sometimes it's easy for a Floridian to forget that in April and October, it still dips down quite low in the north. I've had to borrow things to wear from friends and family.

It seems likely that I will have to break down and buy a few items, because I don't have anything that covers the ears besides my red bandanna, nor do I have any gloves, flannel underwear, or any of those things I used to have to own when I lived in more intemperate climates.

On the other hand, I do own some bit of leather gear, like the above-mentioned biker cap, a motorcycle jacket, and various less practical bits of leather clothing. These are leftover from my days of dressing up and going to the macho butch leather bars to meet and hang out with other like-minded men. Unfortunately the wardrobe is not complete. It doesn't include gloves, and most of it cannot be sensibly worn trying to get through metal detectors at the airport.

I've had my luggage pulled aside and looked through, before, at a small town airport. While I don't live the most outrageous lifestyle, I have my quirks, and the search was as uncomfortable as it was annoying. I've become very careful with what I pack these days, the few times I even fly.

It's usually just easier to simply drive to my destinations.

Posted by Bastique at 8:50 AM | Comments (0)

January 20, 2005

The Visit

Well, I'm taking tomorrow off. Not the entire day, as I'll be doing some work from home, but I’ll at least be getting some rest for my brain after an extensive week of learning and programming ASP.NET.

The main reason is that Michael's probation officer is coming by tomorrow at 9:30am to make sure that it’s going to be an appropriate place for him to stay. I wondered if I had been Michael's wife whether this would be a requisite, but I understand that it’s strictly routine. I'm not sure exactly what to do to straighten up, but my clutter is a clear indication that I certainly need him around here. But it hasn't even gotten too badly cluttered up since New Year's. It should just be a simple matter of getting some of the stains and smells from my poor cat Joplin's presents in the living room

I am curious as to why they're doing this so soon, though. Michael is not scheduled to be released until October—it seems odd that they would be checking the home this soon. Unless the government has decided to get smart and have decided to reduce the prison population, and Michael will be home early? I dare not hope! I can always pray about it, however.

Otherwise, I’m still suffering from a minor cold, aggravated by my toothache. I mainly feel somewhat crappy, but more secure than I’ve been in recent months, work-wise and financially.

Good things are coming.

Posted by Bastique at 10:44 PM | Comments (1)

January 19, 2005

Dragging

I've been a very bad boy regarding my blog lately. I've got a bad toothache, a relapse of the same toothache that I saw a dentist about in October but didn't get my tooth fixed. It requires a root canal. I haven't been able to afford a root canal. So I live with the pain.

But! The good news is that I've qualified for a special grant to pay for my insurance payments plus get me on a dental plan because of the AIDS and my general poverty. So I'll be able to get dental work done soon. Maybe when the insurance kicks in in March. Only thing is I don't get to go to the dentist I used to go to because they're not listed. Bummer. I never felt anxious and neurotic at that office.

But there's hope in sight for my teeth!

Posted by Bastique at 10:08 PM | Comments (1)

January 16, 2005

Mmm, just a bit salty

Every once in a while, you'll pass through the ethnic foods portion of the grocery isle, and come across something that sounds so delectable that you just can't pass it up. When the Roomie and I saw this one, we knew we just had to try it. I mean, everyone loves the flavour of cock, right?

To be perfectly honest, a female friend of mine bought the same thing for me a few years ago, but I came home one day and the dog had managed to get hold of it and it was ripped all apart. My dog just couldn't resist that delicious cock flavour.

I searched the grocery store time and again, and just couldn't find it again, until we went to a different Publix, out in North Lauderdale. I guess the wonderfully delicious flavour of cock is just more appreciated in that part of town than where we usually go.

Posted by Bastique at 6:00 PM | Comments (1)

January 8, 2005

Building Walls

Well, Joplin's situation has gotten me quite bummed out and I haven't really had much gumption to blog. I'm trying, however, to come up with something clever and interesting to provide for everyone's enjoying pleasure.

Today was a most unremarkable day. Unseasonably warm, even by Florida standards, I hauled dirt across the back yard to put behind the wall that I'm building out on my lake. You see, this yard has been slowly getting eroded away into the Canal/Lake out back, and as a result, the last survey said that our swimming pool was within the right-of-way of the Water Authority.

Also, my backyard slowly slopes downward into the lake, thus preventing full enjoyment of all our backyard space. Therefore, early last year I began doing something about it. Taking a cue from my next-door neighbor and expanding upon it, I started buying 60 pound cement bags and stacking them into a wall, then I put dirt behind it to flatten out the yard. I've started doing this on three levels—and hope to have it finished by the time Michael gets out of prison in October. In fact, if you remember, this was #6 of my ten goals for 2005.

It's really not terribly expensive, and I'm doing it a little bit at a time. Hauling 12 60-pound bags of cement can be exhausting in one afternoon. Plus there's the dirt issue. Although I know I can get large amounts of dirt or land-filler from somewhere, I have yet to figure out just where!

If you're not into home and garden stuff, this has got to be one of my most boring posts ever. But I rather enjoy doing stuff around the house. Plus it gives me a tan and helps with the muscles—what little I have.

Posted by Bastique at 11:57 PM | Comments (0)

January 4, 2005

The Dyke and the Fag Hag

Incidentally, I hate both of those terms, but I thought it would make a snappy title. I'm not even going to mention how I know the two women, but they used to be friends and now there's no small bit of bitterness between the two of them over some things that occurred last fall. I'm friends with both of them, however, and really hate being put in between them. I don't think either of them read my blog, however.

The point is, that there was a small responsibility that the dyke was supposed to be in charge of, but as a result of her leaving town for one of the hurricanes, she didn't take care of it. The fag hag took it as the dyke's shirking of her responsibilities, and was pissed off at the position she was put in as a result. It wasn't as big a deal as the fag hag thought it was, but nevertheless, the dyke blew it off and didn't even apologize, and the fag hag yelled at the dyke and after that they didn't speak.

Well, I ran into the fag hag recently, and she asked me about another arrangement between her and the dyke for something that was going to occur in 2005; to which I replied I didn't know anything. The fag hag contacted the dyke by email and by the time a couple of emails passed they were each accusing the other of being abusive.

I basically sent a “you're both wrong and can't we all be friends” email and heard back from the dyke about one small point I made in the email that was entirely not true and she was offended by my referring to her bad behavior. As if just because she didn't yell, like the fag hag did, she wasn't displaying bad behavior. I apologized if she was offended and let her know that we had two different opinions about what constituted abuse.

I think she was assuming that I meant that the fag hag wasn't being abusive. I actually meant that the dyke was being abusive, due to her negligence and unwillingness to accept any portion of the responsibility.

This is the dyke's pattern, however. She puts people in difficult positions and the moment they show their less-than-perfect side, they're out of her life. I've already seen it happen between her and a number of other people.

I really need to stay out of these things.

Posted by Bastique at 11:13 PM | Comments (0)

January 3, 2005

New Blog Page!

I've decided that Blogger doesn't quite have enough functionality for me and have moved the the Movable Type platform. I can do more things with Movable type, like change the order in which my archives appear, allow for scrolling through the individual posts, categorize my entries, and a lot more.

Therefore, I've changed my format, and all, and moved my blog pages to a different directory. Why? Because I want my main page to have so much more than just my blog, plus, I hope to be designing more websites in the very near future, and am not really interested in having the links find my sometimes opinionated blog. If you're reading this message, you already know where to find the new blog, because you're here.

If you haven't changed whatever link you use to link to me, it's http://www.bastique.com/blog.

Posted by Bastique at 1:55 PM | Comments (2)

January 1, 2005

My Goals for 2005

I was at a meeting tonight wherein someone mentioned that they didn't quite do all the goals they set out last year on New Year's but they had accomplished a few of them.

On the morning of December 31, 2004, my office space was filled with piles of paper, scattered objects, and worse; mildew from the air conditioning unit, food stains, paper stuck to the floor, and minor bodily fluids left by my poor cat Joplin (See My Poor Cat). It was the one part of the house I couldn't bear to face and caused me to feel nothing but dread every time I thought about cleaning it.

But by last night, I had cleaned it up entirely. I didn't want to carry that clutter into the New Year with me. Instead I carried a sense of empowerment, and my self-confidence is strong enough to risk listing a set of goals for the year 2005.

1. Get three more short stories into publication.


2. Finish the second draft of my novel.


3. Take a trip somewhere I've never been, at least 500 miles from home.


4. Make enough income from web design to not have to work any longer.


5. Get through my tenth step.


6. Finish the three walls along the lakefront.


7. Learn PHP (it's an internet programming language based on C)


8. Quit smoking and stay quit.


9. Get my teeth fixed.


10. Keep my office organized for the entire year.

Okay, so I've written these goals down, in public, for everyone to read. Succeed or fail, you will all know that I've done them. And I promise to let you know every step I take toward these goals, and let you know when I've completed each and every one of them.

Or, in the case of smoking, if I've backslid.

Posted by Bastique at 11:48 PM | Comments (2)

December 30, 2004

Random Links to an End

Tonight, I am full of random disconnected thoughts and can't come up with any sort of essay for my faithful readers. It happens from time to time with people with ADHD who only take 15mg of Adderall in the morning, like myself, after it gets late. It's why I really need to write my blogs in the morning.

I finished The Elfstones of Shannara earlier today, and was planning on writing a book review but get my thoughts together to create a full sized blog. But in order to gather the information for the above referenced link, I found the following at the Amazon.com associate's section.

I don't have any money to donate, or else I'd do something. Given the horrors that occured with the Tsunami, and the countless people that have died, this is a way to help show the rest of the world that Americans are more than just selfish and greedy.

I'm just leaving it here for you to know about, and click on it if you feel so compelled. At least I can say I tried to make a difference.

Posted by Bastique at 11:16 PM | Comments (0)

December 28, 2004

38

Today's Horoscope from Astrodienst:

Favorable results
Your energies are high, you feel good, and you believe that you can do twice as much work as usual, which you probably can. This time is also favorable for most business activity, for your actions are blessed with insight that helps you succeed in business where others might fail. For the same reason, this is a good time for making decisions. You have a very clear sense of yourself and your needs, so that you can make decisions according to your best interests, in the largest and most enlightened sense of the phrase. If you must take chances or do something that you can't foresee the outcome of, this is as good a time as any. Your optimism now creates a positive energy that will attract favorable results from your gamble. Besides, you have the sense at this time to avoid any real risky ventures.

This is based on Mars Trine Jupiter, not my sun sign. Yesterday, strangly enough, the Sun was conjunction Sun, something that is supposed to happen on your birthday. I think it has something to do with the fact that this was a leap year.

Yes, today was my birthday...and a nice birthday it was. Nobody made a big deal, I had a nice date for dinner with someone I met online. We ate at Galanga, a lovely Japanese-Thai restaurant in the heart of Wilton Manors. I had a Miso Soup and a Sashimi 9-peice appetizer. Simply Delicious.

I made it another year. There was a time I'd never make it 30 and here I am at 38, and somewhat healthy, at least I believe I am. Tomorrow morning is a doctor's visit. It also means I've been doing this Blog for 6 months. One of my earliest blog entries was entitled 37½. It doesn't seem so long ago. Gosh, time is moving pretty quickly.

Posted by Bastique at 11:10 PM | Comments (0)

December 26, 2004

Post Christmas Blues

I'm resting up and trying to get through the holiday season without too much depression.

I need a full-time job. It looks like I'm going to be heading down to the Florida Job office tomorrow and get some help. Maybe my HIV or ADHD can get me in a door for someone looking for a tax break. They won't be sorry.

My Persian cat, Joplin, is suffering from some really nasty lower body problems. He has no bladder or bowel control anymore and he drags himself across the floor, because his back legs don't seem to be working properly. I mentioned this problem at a meeting tonight and someone is going to give me the number for a Pet Help Center that will take care of whatever poor Jops needs without charging me. Thank goodness, because I can't afford a huge vet bill.

I have a lot to be grateful for, and I have to keep remembering that I have blessings in this world, no matter how bothersome my problems may seem. I'll be working soon, I'm certain, and able to pay the mortgage and my other bills without difficulty.

Special thanks to Mom. I love you.

Posted by Bastique at 11:41 PM

December 18, 2004

Silly Blog Games

Okay, this is something that I found on Annabel's Blog and thought I would do the same.

Sounds like a swell way to get to know people, plus it will give me fodder for future posts. Follow the directions. Even if it's your first time here.

Any response to the questions should be done as a comment to the blog:

1. Recommend to me:
1. a movie
2. a book
3. a musical artist/album/song
2. Ask me any three questions you want, anything at all.
3. Go to your blog (if you have one), copy and paste this and allow everyone to ask you anything.

Posted by Bastique at 11:53 AM | Comments (2)

December 15, 2004

Xmas Lights

Got very little done today except pull the deer out of the storage room and then I got all the lights out, spending hour after hour testing the long green strands that I love so much, frustrated that I can’t get more than one of three green strands to work. Now it's starting to feel like the holiday season.

With Roomie’s help, put the lights up. —Roomie was once display designer at Marshall Fields in Chicago so many years ago. Good thing having a designer mind under my roof.

When Roomie moved in, he told me that Michael and I must have lived like lesbians. No sense of style, design, too many animals, it goes on and on. Perhaps he's right. I picked out the colors of the dining room and kitchen myself, but when Roomie moved in we painted over the offensive shades.

I have to say the kitchen looks much better now that the color is different. The dining room isn’'t anymore, because we moved all of the unused weight sets out of the unused Florida room and redid the Florida room, putting the dining room fishtank into the Florida room making it a divider between family area and my little office, where I sit right now. The dining room now contains the weight machine, a few fishtanks and full-length mirrors (for working out) as well as a cat box where three (of four) cats go to do their daily duty.

I’'m only posting so you can see a picture of my beautiful front yard display. Now we don’t look like the scrooges of the neighborhood. The Christians next door, thankfully, still haven’t gotten to decorations. I hate being last.

Posted by Bastique at 6:55 AM | Comments (0)

December 8, 2004

The Ties that Bind

I called Michael’s mother today. She doesn’t seem to be there when he tries to call her from Club Fed.

I’m really bummed by the telephone call. First thing I hear is that his nineteen-year-old niece is five months pregnant. Apparently she fell in love with this guy and against everyone’s advice moved up to Savannah with him, then left one night and returned to Fort Lauderdale. Then found out she was pregnant only when she got home. I won’t be surprised if this kid gets her mother’s last name like Michael’s niece did, furthering the tradition of single mothers in his family.

I could send Michael a letter, and he might it on Friday—or I can wait until his telephone call on Sunday to tell him, either way, there’s no way for me to share with him this blessed news.

The main reason I called Michael’s Mom, however, was to let him know he’d be eligible for a furlough next April, and to see if she wanted to come down for a visit at that time. “We’ll see how my health is,” was her response. “Let me know when we get closer to the date.”

No excitement. No concern. She was even doubtful that Michael will actually change. I really began to feel protective of Michael at that point—this is his own mother—and she doesn’t really know this man. “He’s changed, I said. He’s tired of living that lie.” She’s prefers to wait and see. At least she said she sent him a Christmas card.

More reason to be grateful to my own family, who seems to be genuinely sincere when they say they’re looking forward to Michael’s release. Maybe for a few of them it’s for my benefit—I have been somewhat of a basket case at times while Michael’s been gone; but my family truly likes Michael and wishes him well.

Michael’s own sister lives in Fort Lauderdale and I never talk to her. She never talks to me. Her daughter is knocked up and doesn’t care if Michael, who helped raise these kids in their early years, knows it or not.

Michael’s brother, the few times I’ve spoken with him, holds onto an “I told you so,” attitude about Michael’s arrest, though I doubt he ever actually said anything. He doesn’t send his brother mail.

There’s a wonderful cousin in California who corresponds to Michael, although she writes as much about Jesus as she does about her own family. Someone’s got to save him, and she’s taken it on herself.

I love and care about Michael, and it was no difficult decision for me to stick around and see this through. Maybe it’s the way I was raised. But his family is more than content to allow me that responsibility. It makes me sick to think that if I weren’t here for him, he’d have nobody to take it on.

F.P. says when you have a resentment toward people to pray for them. Well I’ll do that.

God bless ‘em.

P.S. Michael loves getting cards. If anyone wants to send him one, email me and I'll send you the address.

Posted by Bastique at 4:22 PM | Comments (0)

December 5, 2004

The Life and Death of Peter Sellers

The Roomie and I sat down for a nice evening of HBO Sunday night television. Unexpectedly, the HBO current drama, The Wire, wasn’t on in order that HBO could feature its movie, The Life and Death of Peter Sellers.

I must say, I expected a bit more from the movie, hoping it would be a bit more entertaining. HBO’s preview certainly made it look as if it would be more upbeat. Geoffrey Rush commands a superb performance of the famous actor, his own characters and the brief cutaway scenes wherein Rush portrays various other characters in the movie notwithstanding. But the movie, which I wouldn’t even classify as dark comedy, was ultimately depressing.

Peter Sellers is presented as a childlike and selfish man with no personality of his own who faced anything serious in his life by retreating into characters. The writers show him as a megalomaniac, who only returns to Blake Edwards’ Pink Panther films after he has a series of cinematic failures and is basically broke.

Academy award winning actress Charlize Theron is the opposite of Aileen Wournos, portraying Sellers second wife and 60s starlet, Britt Ekland (Eckland). Her Swedish “accent” is unconvincing. English character actress Miriam Margolyes does a wonderful job as Peg Sellers, the overbearing mother who created the monster of self and arrogance that Peter Sellers apparently became. The movie also features John Lithgow, playing John Lithgow as Blake Edwards (Geoffrey Rush does a better job at Edwards in a brief cutaway scene), and a decent performance by Stanley Tucci as Stanley Kubrick.

Emily Watson, best known for her Oscar-nominated role in Hilary and Jackie, also has an outstanding performance as Anne Sellers, Peter’s first wife and source of emotional support, long after their divorce.

Ultimately, I would not be surprised if Sellers’ children or any of his wives had a strong hand in the making of this film, given the sympathetic portrayal of both Anne Sellers and Britt Eckland as well as Anne’s children, Michael and Sarah. Although in general, the acting provided award-winning performances, notably by Rush, this movie should be included in a long line of bitter, posthumous bio-epics that began with Mommie Dearest.

If you are a great fan of Geoffrey Rush, and want to watch one of the performances of his life, see The Life and Death of Peter Sellers. If you are, like I am, a huge fan of Peter Sellers' life work, then rent any one of his many motion pictures, but avoid this movie at all cost.

Posted by Bastique at 11:46 PM | Comments (2)

December 1, 2004

For the Birds

It’s December, my birth-month. It’s time for a new beginning. It’s time to get the writing bug back up my butt. It’s time to start making some money.

I’ve been having strange dreams that I usually can’t remember, mainly because of my bird, Dickie, who insists on making annoying blue-jay calls while I’m still sleeping. When I figure out how to easily record the noises and transfer them to my PC, I’ll let you all listen to some of the sounds of my house, but I don’t have a proper recorder, and my dictation machine has no proper computer connectivity. After the last row of jay-calls this morning I started going under again and dreamed up the name “Britetta Tome,” the whimsical host of a cable access TV show on bird psychology. Look for her in one of my stories soon.

When Michael and I met, he had a dog, BJ (who died after I bailed Michael out of jail—Banjo, my boy, is the dog today), and a cockatiel and I had a Persian cat, Joplin. The cockatiel flew off when he was cleaning the cage. At some point, we decided we needed a child of our own, so we went out and bought a Siamese, Coco. Then we wanted cockatiels, so we got a mating pair of birds, who don’t really have names, but they have produced three clutches, from each of which we still have one chick: two females, Uno and Rosie, and Dickie, the aforementioned living alarm clock, who’s just about 2 years old.

Cockatiels are hard birds to teach to speak. Dickie’s already developed a repertoire of tunes; most of which he’s made up himself--but I was proud that he quickly picked first few notes to the refrain of Verde’s Spring. Lately he’s been making unintelligible bird-mumblings, signaling a possible beginning to talking according to The Complete Book of Cockatiels, by Diane Grindol:
Most birds start off imitating tone and intonation before the actual words are formed. This sounds like gargling, or singsong garbled intonations. Some birds don’t mimic exact sounds per se. I have met a few people with talking pet budgies who never realized their bird’s fast, high-pitched chatter was actually words.
Dickie’s latest noise is a series of descending squeaks that sound remarkably like the “Ha ha ha ha ha” I was trying to teach him a few months ago. It’s amazing what he’s willing to pick up and what he isn’t. “Pretty Bird” has returned not as words but as a three-note tune. He sings it often enough that I know exactly where he got it.

Cockatiels live long lives relative to mammal pets, and I’ve found sources on the net that quotied from 10-17 years to 10-30 years, although there have been recorded cases of birds living into their 40s. This means Dickie could easily be with me into my sixties, so there’s plenty of time to learn how to say “Faaaa-bulous,” and other charming little ditties, like:

“You’re beautiful!”
“What a stud!”
“I love you, Daddy.”

Posted by Bastique at 1:43 PM | Comments (0)

November 30, 2004

Caption, anyone?

Please don't think that it's a slow blog day and I have nothing to write about; but I took this picture of my cat, Ojee, today and I just had to share it with everyone. The Roomie says that Ojee is not really a cat, but a creature from outer space. If you ever get the chance to meet him, you'll know he's definitely a cool and remarkable creature, and the mellowest pet I've ever known.

I think it deserves a caption, don't you? If you can think of something, click "Comments" at the bottom of this screen and add something.

Posted by Bastique at 10:35 AM | Comments (3)

November 28, 2004

Family

Being in the twelve-step rooms, I hear lots of different stories about people’s families, often involving abuse and neglect. Gay men, especially, are often estranged from their families, doubly so when addiction is involved.

Having taken the trip to South Carolina for Thanksgiving gave me a new level of appreciation for the love and support I receive from my parents and my siblings. While I often joke about this one or that one, in spite of our unique character traits, we still have a great deal of love and tolerance for one another.

This is not to say that I’m detracting from people’s own choice of families. Oftentimes people have to create their own families from their circumstances, whether due to abandonment or hard feelings, anger and resentments. I’m just glad to say that I still love the original family in which I grew up.

Every few years or so, my siblings and I manage to all be in the same place at the same time. This time the occasion included all of their spouses and children, the entire clan all at once. Everyone, that is, except one important person to me.

I wish Michael could have been there to stand next to me in the huge clan picture. Hopefully, he’ll be out by next holiday season, and I promise him, no matter what new form our relationship may take upon his release, that he will be there with me to visit.

And my family will welcome him with open arms.

Oh, I’m the one in the plaid shirt.

Posted by Bastique at 10:34 AM | Comments (0)

November 25, 2004

Gratitude List

There's a tee-shirt that I've seen made in South Broward members of my twelve-step fellowship that reads on the back, "Grateful I'm Not Dead." Although may sound on initial thought a rather harsh sentiment; for someone who's had HIV for the past 16 years and spent at least 10 of those years drinking and drugging or otherwise not taking care of myself, it has a remarkably poignant message. It also carries with it the idea that there is some other reason I'm still here on this mortal coil while so many others have passed on, why I've been granted further opportunity to breathe, write, eat, laugh, cry, and share another holiday with people that I love—that some Power greater than myself has made it all possible.

I'm grateful for the gifts my Higher Power has given me, the ability to use my language effectively and write stories, essays, anything I need, the ability to create graphic designs, and to program in several different programming languages. I'm grateful for the ability to read and understand HTML, XML, CSS, or any other markup language I set my mind to.

I don't mention my sponsor, F.P., enough on these ramblings, but the shirt is a favorite of him to mention when discussing the issue of gratitude. I'm grateful to have someone who has managed to stay clean (and sober, for those that feel the need to differentiate) for 14 years in my life, who cares about me enough to put up with my lack of telephone calls, my isolation, my moodiness and all those other idiosyncracies that make up this Planet Cary.

I'm grateful for anyone that loves me that much—especially those that are willing to live with me. The Roomie points out often enough that he loves me; not in that "I love you and can't live without you," kind of way but a stronger, more friendly love. He's my best friend, and I'm happy to say that he is mine.

I'm grateful for the ability to love someone enough to put up with a big arrest and lengthy prison sentence. I'm grateful for the strength and courage to manage a house and animals, that sometimes takes every ounce of conviction I have to do it. I'm grateful for Michael W and having spent some good years together, even if the last few before his bust by the Feds were marred with fear, anger, and drug abuse. I'm grateful he survived the drugs and the darkness and is still in my life.

I'm grateful for the best dog in the world, who I miss even if I'm gone from the house a single day, who keeps my legs warm every morning by being curled behind my knees while I sleep on my side.

I'm grateful for my family with whom I'm lucky enough to be spending today, even if it is in the middle of an overwhelmingly Red state. I'm grateful for the next generation and the opportunity to watch them grow and develop intellect and personalities all their own. I'm grateful for each opportunity I have to spend with my aging grandmother.

I'm grateful for my guardian angel, Barry, who let me know in no uncertain terms this past Tuesday that he's watching over me.

Above all, I'm grateful for this day and my ability to communicate to G-d, and for every time G-d rescued me, even when I didn't ask. I'm grateful for each prayer that I think to send, for each one answered.

I'm grateful to be me, the only one I know how to be.

Posted by Bastique at 10:32 AM | Comments (0)

November 20, 2004

When Too Much is Enough

I have a friend with whom I got together last night, and we talked about how other people in our lives had once been friends and what happened. I had originally intended this post to be about his friend's breakup, and the reasons, but somehow it became more important for me to come to terms with my own ended friendship.

I explained about my friend “the Void,” who only called me when he wanted something and then borrowed Michael’s pressure hose from me and never got around to returning it. I finally started calling him on a regular basis, “When are you going to return the pressure hose?” His answer was always, “Too busy today, I’ll bring it to you this weekend,” or “Things are real crazy, I can’t think about it.”

When I called and offered to pick it up myself, he said his boyfriend was going to be home at a certain time and I could do it then—the boyfriend wasn’t home and neither was he. Finally, while Will and I were out for a drive, we passed the house where they lived, and I decided to look around to see if the machine was there. Nobody was home, the machine was on the back porch, and I had to “steal” it back home. Void called me a couple days later, asking me if I had taken it, when I told him I had, he said only, “I thought it was stolen.” Funny thing, I thought it was too, but I could only respond with, “No, I had it.”

Only later did it become clear why the machine had never been returned. It wouldn’t start. As much as I tried to get it going, the ignition wouldn’t turn. He hadn’t gotten it back to me because he had broken it. Why was I not surprised? This turn came after a long history of not being there for me when I needed a friend, but expecting me to be right around the corner when he was needy.

My last report was that Void was sick, had just gotten out of the hospital with a grim outlook. It’s not the first time, but we share the same primary care physician and he didn’t seem very enthusiastic about Void’s health.

I can’t bring myself to see him. I’m still very angry and very hurt about being taken for granted, over and over again. I wish him well, because I still care for him, but I value myself too highly to bring him back into my life. It was a one-sided friendship, but primarily because I don’t believe Void has any concept of what unconditional love is. Everything came with conditions, and if I wasn’t able to do what he wanted, when he wanted, anything else I had wasn’t good enough for him.

In all seriousness, he hasn’t called me or asked me to see him either. I could very likely change my mind, if I came with boundaries already in place. I did however, mentioned to another friend who was going to see him to tell him that I was thinking about him and praying for him. So maybe he understands.

Sometimes we have to give up the ones we love for our own well-being. I’m a generous and charitable person, but I can be taken only so far. And the Void took me past that point.

Posted by Bastique at 10:28 AM | Comments (0)

November 16, 2004

HMO woes

What does this mean?
Preexisting Condition - a physical or mental condition, regardless of the cause of the condition, for which medical diagnosis, care or treatment was recommended or received within (1) the six month period for groups of two or more employees and for groups of fewer than two employees who have had the Continuous Creditable Coverage, ending on the person’s Enrollment Date.
This comes from a document called the Preexisting Condition Amendment. What I understood when I signed up with this United Health Care policy that for two or more employees the Continuous Creditable Coverage trumped the preexisting condition clause. The wording in the contract is fairly ambiguous, leading one to believe that it applies to groups of two or more employees who have had the CCC as well as fewer than two employees who have had the Continuous Creditable Coverage. So why separate them out? Why not just say any employee who has had Continuous Creditable Coverage?

I think this is one of those clauses that seems to be intended to be ambiguous—but the helpful young woman from the State of Florida Department of Financial Services seems to feel that I wasn’t covered. But I’m still going by my original understanding.

Now after talking with the State of Florida Agency for Health Care Administration, they suggest I call United Health Scare again (gasp!) At least they opened a complaint for me. I do desperately hope that this will conclude with United figuring out they made a big mistake.

I hope this saga ends soon?

Posted by Bastique at 10:25 AM | Comments (0)

October 30, 2004

Getting Smashed in Charlotte

I am writing tonight from Jacksonville, Florida. One more night and I'm home! Hurrah!

Now, getting back to my vacation, I woke up in Charlotte last Monday morning, my last night there, to find that my passenger window had been smashed in. What was stolen? Michael's three-year-old radar detector which I only briefly used to get from Columbia to Charlotte and had foolishly left out in plain view. A shopping bag containing a shoebox with shoes and a couple new pair of dress socks. The shoes in the shoebox? An old pair--I wore the ones I had just bought into the hotel. I guess I should have brought it all in.

I want to say that both the Holiday Inn Woodlawn and the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department were both extremely helpful in following up. Not that I recovered anything, but I certainly felt better afterward. It seems that Progressive has a $500 deductible for broken windows and it only cost $200 to fix.

Incedentally, I rode back to Columbia with an open window, because I didn't want to wait around in Charlotte anymore and there's a window shop across the street from where my mother works, that was very helpful. The company is called Astro Glass and I wish I could remember the name of the lady that made sure I had the window as soon as I got there.

And special wonderful thanks to Mom who was so helpful in paying for it. She only asked that I hooked up her new wireless keyboard and mouse so they both work. Easiest $200 I ever made! I ♥ you, Mom!

As far as the smash-and-grabber goes--while I certainly feel violated, I can only wish that they got what they needed to get them through another day. Unfortunately, while I don't know what is the going rate for three-year-old radar detectors at the fencer, it can't possibly be enough to buy a decent amount of crack or heroin.

And the one positive side-effect? I not only drove close to the speed limit the remainder of my vacation! Funny how fast you still get places without speeding. Funny how relaxed you are getting there without all the anxiety associated with speeding. No worries about passing slow cars, no agonizing trying to cut off other drivers who are trying to speed too.

Every time someone passed me on the left, I just turned my head and smiled.

Posted by Bastique at 10:15 PM | Comments (0)

October 28, 2004

Sharing in Charlotte

2004-10-25
The week before I left for Columbia, I found out my friend Chris Zimmerman was going to be in Charlotte for the Together in Leather event, as well as a number of other people who are part of an extended family: Lee, JP, Russ, Billy, Lady D, Vi, this particular list is ever growing. Chris suffered the lost of his partner, Bill, whom I wrote about in Tribute to Bill Brewer earlier this month. While I didn't actually participate in the event as a whole, I spent some time with some people there who meant a great deal to me, especially Chris. I'm committed to not allowing our connection to deteriorate again.

Chris, together with Lee and a wonderful dyke named Gwen held a seminar entitled "When the Collar Comes off" dedicated to sharing stories, lessons in coping, and finding closure when a relationship that has any type of dominance and submission comes ends, or changes. There was not a dry eye in the room at the end.

It was meant for me to be there that weekend, and in that room. I'm not going to get into individual's private details or explain the intricacies of the relationship that Michael and I had. Michael held a definite role in our relationship, outside of sex, in which the trust eroded due to our drug use and the dominance ended when he became imprisoned. In some ways the roles are reversed because he has to rely entirely on my decisions while I am out here, like when I send him money, books, or letters; who I have to contact on his behalf, selling stocks, or decisions about the house.

I am willing to swear that Bill Brewer, wherever or whatever he is right now, made it possible for me to find out about the weekend and Chris's presence in Charlotte. Chris needs to know that he has my love and support. I need to know about his, and others', like Lee. I also needed to participate in that seminar, and meet Gwen, with whom I spent some quality time later on.

I have no intention of letting these ties fall away.

Posted by Bastique at 11:12 AM | Comments (0)

October 26, 2004

Reunion in Columbia

2004-10-24
On Saturday came the big Brookland-Cayce Class of 1984 Reunion. Wow… it was totally freaking. The hardest part was remembering who I was supposed to know versus who I actually knew. There were, however, many faces I did recognize.

I don’t have a lot of memories from high school. Why I could remember people and not any particular events is beyond me. I remember dreading to go into class in fear of being made fun of… but I can’t remember who it was that was doing the taunting.

I know I stayed very much to myself. When someone didn’t recognize me, I’d explain that I had really light blond hair, longer, I was skinny as a rail and I read comic books in class. Then they’d figure it out. Finally, someone pulled the 1984 yearbook out and there was my Senior class picture in the Junior section (I had failed tenth grade English and didn’t make it up until the summer after my senior year). THEN, people recognized me. Including people I really didn’t remember myself.

I think that ultimately more people remembered me than I remembered. My biggest fear was that people were going to look old. There was a lot of gray hair but not too much looking old. I looked very different than high school. Some other people looked identical. Some people said that other people who looked the same looked different.

And I broke my smoking ban by having four cigarettes during the course of the evening.

Bad Cary.

Posted by Bastique at 3:00 PM | Comments (0)

Bad Tooth on the way to Columbia

Have you missed me? Running all over the south can be exhausting, especially during the election season. It’s important to note that I’ve been dealing with a rather difficult issue with my teeth. Years of drug-use combined with no dental insurance make for some pretty nasty conditions inside of my mouth. I have a prescription for Advil 800mg, the “not-fun” painkiller. It has been working. Mind you, the addict part of me would much rather be making an excuse to use Oxycontin to do something about my pain, but I've been addicted to Alcohol, Cocaine and Crystal Meth and I probably don't want to complete the big square with the Opiate family.

As I'm catching up, rather than confuse you by posting these in earlier dates I'm going to put actual dates here and date the posts when I actually post them.

10-23 2004-
Did you know that a company called DenTek makes a “temporary filling” product called Tempanol? I was in so much pain before I left Florida it somehow managed to help me get through the night at my brother’s house, on the way, despite the presence of an almost-three year old nephew named Jacob and my six-month old niece Molly who has not yet learned to sleep all the way through the night. Combine aching tooth, baby, and two curious felines and we have a night of fitful sleep. The couch was quite comfortable.

My younger brother and his wife have a nice house and some really cool kids. I am really grateful he let me stay the night with him and so happy to finally meet my niece. Jacob wasn't really sure about me and didn't seem to want me around. “Are you leaving yet?” was the typical response. Wait until he starts getting Uncle Cary's birthday presents...then he won't be so ready to see me go.

The kid is a Capricorn, like me. Our family doesn't have a lot of Cappies, my beloved Grandfather, Jack Spigner, was a Capricorn and my cousin Craig, with whom I have often vied for the official title of Black Sheep of the Family, is a Capricorn. Let us hope that Jacob has higher ambition--and turns out more like his great-grandfather. He is, after all, a Christmas Eve baby.

Posted by Bastique at 10:41 AM | Comments (1)

October 10, 2004

Contracted

It’s Sunday night and I don’t have anything specific to talk about. We just got done watching Cold Mountain, but I had an idea about getting my crap straight. There was one promise that I made here, that I would blog on a daily basis, and I’ve been pretty straight about keeping up with it, minus a few odd days, such as hurricanes, and on most of those occasions I make up for it by blogging twice the next day.

Something about saying something in writing works with me. When I was eight years old, my mother and father drew up a contract that I would never suck my thumb again. For some reason I was willing to try it and I signed my name. I don’t remember what their end of the bargain was—or if they even kept it, but I kept my end. From that day forward, I never stuck my thumb in my mouth unless there was fried chicken grease on it.

So, without further ado: Tomorrow I will start my day by walking the dog, and then journal for a half hour. Then, after having a bite to eat and take my meds, I will go straight to work and catch up. I will write twelve scripts, before noon.

Then I will make two appointments that I need to make—one of them being a dentist. I will package the book I need to send out, and run errands, and when I return begin work on the website that I have recently contracted.

On Tuesday, I will begin to write for myself once more—after journaling, I will spend an hour rewriting one scene for A Mirror’s Shard. I will also commit to working on that sort of creative writing once a day, in the beginning of the day.

It’s official. I wrote it. This is my contract. If it works for me, I'll recommend it to other people.

Isn’t commitment fun?

Posted by Bastique at 11:58 PM | Comments (0)

October 5, 2004

Watch Farscape