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KentuckyPython - Archived Blog Posts

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It’s never a really good thing when you wear your new pants in the smallest size you’ve worn in years only to turn into a Smurf–or at least give that appearance. Such was the case yesterday. I wore the new cadet blue pants I’ve been trying to fit into, and at one point in the morning noticed that my hands were blue tinged. I washed them. It came off. As the day wore on, I was blued over and over. It was on my face, and when I stripped off at the gym, the only part of me not affected by the bluing were the ones covered with bandages (which were blue). The new guy on the team had gotten marker on his hands from coloring his airplane and said he was like the idiot kid. I held up my hands and told him that I won. He agreed.

Let's just say that at the gym I left a series of blue stained towels in my wake no matter which trainer was on call.
 
Okay, my vacation began today, and I'd intended to do a few things that involved leaving the house. There was a luncheon to attend, and I wanted/needed to hit the gym. Neither of those happened. I slept late, got up, ate some oatmeal complete with flax seed and coco powder, played on-line, and took a serious nap. I think I had some lunch in there as well. I'm more-or-less forcing myself to stay awake now, or I'd be curled up on the couch asleep. It's been dark and gloomy all day. I guess that's what's led to my serious drowsiness. I don't know. I've not even put in my contacts today. That's not quite usual.

I've had to put bandages and antibiotic ointment on my knees. They were getting pretty messy. I'll have to contend with pulling the hairs off for a while I guess. I'll see how things go tomorrow. While cooking supper, I was opening the box of blue cheese for my burgers and managed to cut my finger. I've had a lot of blood letting lately. Is Sean in town? I thought I no longer bled for him.

I will make it out to the gym tomorrow. It's a lift day, and I'll get to go early. It's not bad going in the afternoons, but it's better to go in the late mornings when there's hardly anyone there. It's my favorite time.
 
A friend introduced me to this poem, and I wanted to share.


It happens all the time in heaven,
And some day
It will begin to happen
Again on earth -
That men and women who are married,
And men and men who are
Lovers,
And women and women
Who give each other
Light,
Often will get down on their knees
And while so tenderly
Holding their lover's hand,
With tears in their eyes,
Will sincerely speak, saying,
"My dear,
How can I be more loving to you;
How can I be more
Kind?"

--Hafiz (1324 - 1389)
 
My vacation ends at midnight, and I'll have to head back to the office tomorrow. It's not that bad, but I enjoy the life of leisure. I've got to find a rich husband, become a world famous novelist, and set out on a world tour to sell my book.

My massage time at the gym was priceless today. I'm going to have to go more often. I feel 200% better when I'm going on a semi-regular basis.

I had an order of pan fired oysters from Moby Dick earlier, and I'm in dire need of liquid refreshment.
 
"I love it when someone insults me. That means that I don't have to be nice anymore."​

--Billy Idol​


What an odd phone call that was. Like at my age I need to be lectured like un novice frais dans le couvent. And of course I know that the caller will read this, and so it is here that I post it. I suppose next he’ll be the head choirboi and I’ll be his Ralph.
 
It’s one thing to party like it’s a new millennium on the weekends, but last night was Monday, and the party continued. I called in today. It was too much to think I was going into work. I know. I’ve done this sort of thing before, so it’s time to be a semi-responsible adult for a few days each week, but on the other hand it was so much fun last night. I stayed, mostly, sober and can recall all of the who and what and that I got the phone number.

Damn! When’s Friday gonna get here?
 
Favorite Silk Boxers & Robe: Sundries from my closet

Bottle of Absolute chilled to perfection: a few bucks that I can spare

Jar of Caviar with Toast Points: a few dollar more

Friday Evening at Home: priceless ;)
 
There are just some days that call for an elegant script (that doesn't show up here). Most of them involve me wearing my favorite lien shorts with a dress shirt and having Sunday brunch someplace. The Southwestern Strata was an excellent choice. It might be the best decision I'll make all week. It was good food and great conversation. I did enjoy the day. I want more times like that--kicked back and relaxed.

I’ve also managed to simultaneously shave and not shave. I’ll have to see where this goes, but if I can gauge it correctly, I’ll do it for Saturday night. I’m looking forward to that event. It should be, um, interesting to say the least.
 
Prue Tampled Flat in a Brawl

Prue was one of those overly precocious children—ran a back alley game of three card Monte at age 3, got into bootlegging gin at 3 ½, and by age 4, she had taken over the black-market cigarette trade and set her mind firmly on becoming kingpin of the local syndicate. Her tinted hair and rouged up cheeks gave her an air of sophistication that when combined with her hard living and hooker heels planted the look of a held back seven year old on her five-year-old head.

She was hustling drinks one night in late February at the dive where her father tended bar and her mother taxi danced. She had a Pall Mall in one hand and a gin and whiskey in the other when it started. Some say the rain brought it on. Others tell that it came in with the tide. Either way, Chuck accused Tom of cheating during a raucous game of Candy Land. Tom answered Chuck’s charges with a right hook. Faster than you can say “Goodfellas,” it had become a full on, bare knuckled, barroom brawl. Prue thought to ride it out on her barstool, but a flying rum bottle knocked her to the floor. While she was lamenting a chip to one of her highly polished finger nails, the ebb of the fight turned trampling her under foot. She was buried from St. Sebastian’s the next Friday with a Mass of the Angels.
 
I know I used this in a post, but I like it, so I'm blogging it.

Everything about my life has made me the person I am today. Change any piece of it, and I'm totally different. It's like The Butterfly Effect. I've often said that I wouldn't repeat any of my life experiences--good, bad, or indifferent--for all the money in the world, but I wouldn't trade those experience for love or money either. My gayness is like that. On top of that, imagine who silly I'd look on a quest for a boyfriend if were I straight.
 
Sometimes you just let all of the troubles of the day behind and concentrate on what’s worth remembering. Yesterday was like that. There were so many times I could have just tripped out but didn’t. In the end, I was well fed, given my dose of Shiraz, and seated in a velvet seat at the Palace with a group of people dancing and singing on the stage. I’d not seen a live production of Rent before. It was fabulous–and I’m saying that in my gayest tones. I also had the opportunity to wear my dragon cufflinks. And I realized that I’m going to have to get more shirts with French cuffs, but I digress. In someways the experience was reminiscent of the Rocky Horror Picture Show–especially the two people who came in their Halloween costumes.
 
I've always had a severe prejudice against boxed wine, but I have more than my fair share of boxed Chardonnay tonight, and it wasn't bad. Maybe it was the company or the gluten free chocolate cupcakes, but I must admit that I'm pretty buzzed. Good friends and good food are Heaven on Earth. I'm glad I haven't fitted myself into a box and duct taped the lid on so tightly that I can't ever get out. I've learned to be buckwheat in my short tenure on this little rock in the middle of the Galaxy, and it works for me.

At the end of the day, I'm me, and I have no one to thank or blame for it. When I began cleaning up the train wreck I called my life three years ago, I wasn't sure were it would end, and to be honest I still don't know where it will wind up. I do know that I've got to live, live, live. Life's a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death. So maybe it's a martini bar or doing dishes at church, or going to a play or the opera. I can even have a great time scouring the LFPL for books of obscure poetry by the Sufis. I can serve on an OWL panel for middle school kids and preach my own story from the pulpit on some Sundays in October. I guess the moral to all of this is if you stick with me, I'll open door for you that you never dreamed existed.
 
You're just wheels up,
And I miss you–
the light in your blonde hair
the way your eyes crease
When I make you laugh

I’m on the ground,
and hope you miss
my experimental cooking,
Olympic style snoring,
and my hands on your back

Flee, regal phantam
but stay with me.
Go where you must
leaving me not.
Return without departing.
 
"What do you think you're doing?"

"What?"

"You've got to be careful. You're a wolf."

Wolves of Kromer

Last night my roundtable event ended far later than I’d expected, so I decided to walk home. It’s not that far, and I was up for sometime in the late night air. For the most part, the walk was uneventful, but when I got to U of L, I noticed that there were some people actually milling about. One person in particular was coming from between the Speed and the parking garage. It looked like we might run into each other if we weren’t careful, so I kept him in my sights. From the attire, I though he might be a prof, but as we got closer, I realized that while he carried a book (something to do with the World Wars), he was a metamorphosed lycanthrope. I did a quick check at the Moon. Nope, She’s got another week until She’s in her full glory. I wonder what brought about the change. Later, in front of Ekstrom, I saw a full gaggle of ghouls. While I get on quite well with both loup garou and vampire, ghouls and I often don’t mix well.
 
Last night was great, but like Mardi Gras, it ends and a Holy Day begins.

Too soon the vacation ends, and it's time to head back to the work a day world.

My work out at the gym was a real killer this afternoon, and my biceps are going to be sore tomorrow. I'm back to being able to use the freeweights for my triceps, and I'm lifting more than I have before. And today I did it without either creatine or whey protein suppliments.

I'm ready to get off line, reset the alarm, and get ready for tomorrow.
 
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