Me and Mr. Jones

James had never known what to do with the video. Until now.

Just minutes ago the boy upstairs had volunteered to record the award show for him. This was the boy James heard all afternoon and night. When he showered and sang. Or when his boyfriend visited and the two made a lot of noise. The boy who had moved in 7 months ago with a smile. James realized that this would be the only chance to show his creation. He crossed his fingers and rewound the tape.

“Thank you so much taping this for me. I can’t believe I have to work tonight.”

“No problem,” said the boy. “I owe you anyway.”

“I already rewound the tape. I’m not sure what’s on it, but it doesn’t matter. Tonight’s show should top anything else.”

“Who is hosting again?”

“Who cares! This is a our solemn duty: The Oscars. We have to watch…it’s in our genes.”

“Whatever. You are crazy. it’s like you read some book on how to be gay and are just following the directions.”

“Thanks again, puddin’. I’ll stop by tomorrow to pick up the tape.”

What if he doesn’t play the tape before he records the show? No…he has to watch it. He’s too curious. Maybe he’ll even rewind it and play it again.

What James had left for the boy upstairs was the only pornographic video he had in his collection that he had made himself. And it featured James as the sole (solo) actor. A 3 minute and 22 second recording of himself playing with himself. He skipped to work expecting the best upon his return. I am happy to say he was disappointed. Although, at the same time, I am not exactly sure what his goal was. Seduction? Did he think I would watch it and ask him to see the real thing? Did I mention he was 37 years old at the time? Chunky and divorced from a woman?

I’m curious what happened to James. He disappeared completely after his refrigerator caught my upstairs apartment on fire, but not before he got his tape back from me.

making plans to settle for more of the same, i sit here with Thom and switch between calm and anxious longing for the time to come. there is a new project with George about to overtake me. the summer promises a lot of down time. i have already ordered it all in my head, and my expectation is a major house-cleaning and life-stuffs overhaul. and then i get up to fix myself another drink.

so i continue.

work remains this continual open wound. i explained to an ex-colleague that i assumed it would settle things if i just had a job, with some money, and the freedom to write. turns out that this “freedom” becomes boredom and/or exhaustion depending.

the point is that the old stories in my head are becoming merely plots that lead to nowhere. I am looking for the theme. the point.

These walls are missing some color. With the shades drawn it is an egg-shell cage. This home. There are many nights here spent sitting.

Camia and I spoke today about the situations one finds herself in when every moment is pregnant and meaningful. The stressful times when you do not know what may happen but you are for sure that it will change everything. And then the situations that follow where everything returns to normal although you still want the urgency and reflective insights. But instead things are just things.

I have acquired most of what I need externally. And I also have Thom. And then there’s the egg-shell colored walls that surround me.

Is it the whiskey the book or the iPod that will provide the right inspiration? From where will my color come? And who is still out there? Audrey? Steffen? Kristina? Robert? My sister or Thom? For whom am I even writing? This blog once offered me a lot of possibility. Now it sits upon my piles of unopened mail and forgotten deadlines.

And yet, some spaces are infused with shades or shadows that may actually outline some possibility. Some kind of harmony within this pale container.

“…and I said NO, NO, NO!”

and how entertaining it was. not unlike the remix of the remix of the remix.

Dear Diary,

this weekend had an aura of peace and communion. it was filled with continuous blue-sky-days and relaxation with Thom. we slept in past 10 a.m. and lounged often on our couch. took walks, drank with friends, played scrabble, and watched movies. the only problem is the fact that it is near its end. weekends are fated to always end in work on Monday morning. but i suppose they also are guaranteed to always return.

nothing of note passed my attention yesterday. but today there were several instances that make the subconcious perk up and swallow them whole. the first happened in the morning during breakfast. a commercial for some sort of anxiety-prevention program came on with a 1-800 number that I decided to call. i think the thing that caught my ear was one of the characters saying how they had considered pulling in to oncoming traffic. i had recently confessed to Thom that i had had this impulse, and i figured that if it were common enough to act out on a commercial then perhaps i should give them a chance to sell me their wares.

unfortunately, the man who answered was reading from a script and only had the goal of selling me a set of DVDs that would cost me 8 installments of $59.95. i was as polite as possible but definitely lost all interest in actually giving them my attention enough for them to actually have an effect upon my confounded worries.

a later incident in the day also caught my mind’s eye. i was playing online and visited my brother-in-law’s blog. it is already highly odd to me that i have a brother-in-law, so a blog of his is bound to interest me in some way. his last entry was in January. it featured 2 youtube clips, each about 10 minutes long, which solely consisted of him reading. him, sitting in a chair and reading. overtones of yoko ono and andy warhol aside, for some reason it struck me as rather odd.

now, first i should say the blog is dedicated to his reading of the newest Thomas Pynchon novel. interesting to me because i had actually hatched a similar idea 2 years ago of blogging my reading of Gravity’s Rainbow. it was wondefully titled “Reading Rainbow” and lasted for all of three days whilst i gathered my resources to read this mammoth. i never finished either the blog or the book. and it appears that my brother-in-law was having a heap of more luck.

so why did the videos prick me? well, it was still rather eccentric and i couldn’t help but muse upon its ramifications and then consider the fact of my will-be niece/nephew when my sister gives birth to their child. i commented to Thom, “He/She already has an interesting set of genes coming from my family so this should be interesting.”

together, these two incidents both could prove to mean more or simply be idle thoughts on a Sunday evening. either way it was a nice two days with Thom and will keep me in good spirits for the coming week.

so audrey and i have been chatting most of the morning/afternoon. we have covered a lot of ground: family, college friends, love and its relational complications, and my particual avoidance of things. we actually didn’t cover this topic, but just mentioned it before she had to log off. we were talking about death. i confessed how i usually just avoided funerals and procrastinate on talking to those who have suffered a loss. she said, “i was thinking of you and how you avoid lots of things.” shit. what else? i can’t think of anything major like death, but i’m sure there is a lot of stuff to bring up. deadlines, major proofs of my intelligence, not indulging in vices, um… death really resonates as my major faux-paus in polite society. do i live in a shell? i hope to find out soon.

images are coming in to view. i confessed a story to a friend this morning.
and i made contact with another.
the usual coffee and kisses were had upon waking.
casual fantasies scurried around the empty apartment.
at the moment i cannot decide whether i prefer my factual voice, or the more obscure blogging tone.
the problem with not writing is that eventually ideas and storylines blend into one another and it becomes harder to sort through them all. this is the same with the music upon my iPod. too many options. when it comes time to choose, it just seems easier to do something else.
so we begin the random play-by-play.
this is a dull flame of desire.

Greetings from GUAM, bitches!!!!

p.s. so Foxxy has moved to the island of barbecue, and currently lives in a place with two balconies facing the ocean. above we find evidence of why i am going to visit her soon.