Thursday, September 09, 2004

My lifetime love affair with sleep

I suspect I have spent more of my lifetime sleeping than most people. I am not sure why I require so much sleep, at least when I want to keep feeling sane. Lately, I have been alternating between sleeping too little, to sleeping too much. I guess I shouldn’t say “lately” because now that I think about it, I have always done that.

Years ago, during summer school breaks, living at home with no real responsibilities, I would stay up until 4 am every night and then sleep at least until 4 pm every day. I am one of the only people I know that has ever slept 16 hours straight and woke up tired.

Now, I love to sleep in the “womb” at least that’s what lilmtty and I call it. The womb is our bedroom, and at the proper time of day in the summer, it can almost put me to sleep just by thinking about it. We have a large bed with cushy mattresses, crisp red 300 thread count sheets, a billowy white down comforter and four luscious pillows. In the afternoons when the sun is already on the other side of the house, the bedroom gets a fake “evening twilight” effect going on in it. Before taking a nap I love to draw the shades, air conditioner humming, turn on the fan to drown out the loud rental-house-next-door neighbor kids (which are never in short supply), and climb into bed. The safe secluded feeling in that room is like a drug and if I need a nap I can’t function. If I don’t sleep long enough, I wake up feeling like I took ten Valium. Sometimes I sleep and wake up feeling like my slumber was busier than the waking hours. I think it’s because I get so involved in my dreams.

I have been having some of the best synthetic chemical induced dreams of my sleeping life lately. (One of the better side effects of stuffing a steady stream of physician prescribed happy pills down your throat on a daily basis.) The dreams tend to boarder on bad B movies from time to time, and horror movies other times. Some of the dreams are so realistic, I wake up thinking some of the things actually took place. Often I think of something during the day, I then remember it didn’t really happen and only dreamed it. Once in awhile I wake up truly mad at lilmtty for something bad to me in some of the dreams.

Recently I had a dream that was almost traumatizing, and stayed with me for many days to follow. I dreamt lilmtty and me were sitting next to each other on an airplane flight. Suddenly the plane went eerily quiet because the engines failed in mid-air. Instantaneously a complete paralyzing fear came over me, followed by an absolutely tranquil calm fueled by the knowledge that there was nothing in the world I could do about the fact we were going down. A complete and utter loss of control and the only emotion that emerged from it was love. I leaned over and softly whispered in lilmtty’s ear that I loved her with all my heart. Then I woke up very abruptly.
Knowing full well what it feels like to think you are about to die and also to be totally loved.

My favorite toy store...

Qees, Kurbricks, Dunnys, Etc.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Stuck in the middle with you….

Two of my best friends live at opposite ends of the United States. For those of you not familiar with Oblivion, we are, of course (where else would you expect a place named Oblivion to be?), just left of center in this I ‘tis of thee, sweet (yet slightly salty) land of liberty.

I have come to realize that Oblivion is a hard place for all of my friends, and by default our friendships (due to my present proximity to Oblivion) to deal with. To the people I’ve known that have now moved away, this place is a reminder of all the things they never became. Here, the only thing to do is dream of other places and things bigger than you. Imaginings that someday you will leave and do all the things you’d always hoped. Not that any of them are unsuccessful, quite the contrary. One is a geologist, another pursuing a Ph.D., yet another teaching and working in a highly respected art museum, the list goes on and on.

But when they were here, when our friendships were wired with late night coffee buzzes and reckless talk of our futures, the geologist was an aspiring actress, the Ph.D. was moving to the French Quarter pursuing dreams of freedom, the teacher was off to art school with visions of Pollack in his head, and I was stuck in the middle with them. And, I was stuck in the middle with them. A warm place with smiling faces and laughter, cigarettes, driving junky cars, drinking cheap wine, full of teenage angst raging against the “system” of conformity, listening to (what felt like) revolutionizing pulse pounding alternative music, dropping acid, discovering our minds, discovering our sexuality, going to concerts (some of the best), talking until our dawn, and more glorious laughter.

I thought the day would never come when I would smile back on my teenage years and declare them the “best days of my life”. At the time, those days seemed anything like the best. If I actually dared to think then that those days were the best it was going to get, I probably would have successfully opened my wrists with a razor blade. Now, one month from my 30th birthday, I am not ashamed to say that they were fabulous times.

I am a collector. I always have been and I probably always will be. Not a collector of things, but a collector of memories, feelings, experiences and happenings. I am the one who remembers collectively for the groups of people in my life. I am the one who recalls those hopes, and dreams we all had. I am the one who remembers what we did ten years ago on someone’s birthday. I am the one who had the camera there and still has those pictures. Ask me what I did yesterday and I can’t remember, but once things pass out of the short-term memory mark and hit the long-term vault, I’m golden and will remember it forever (All those drugs I took in the Sixties).

Nothing and no one has turned out to be like they thought. Presently, I am lucky to talk with a friend or two every few months. I am their memory of a carefree time and place, in the flesh. Sometimes the transition between the past and present is too hard of a bridge to cross again and again.

I’ll have to finish this thought later….

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Leave it to an Australian.... finally get me off my ass and write some more mind-blowing (or is that mindless?) crap for the world.

Either way, I'm back from the summer hibernation slumber beneath my desk and ready to puke up a few witty observations for y'all. Speaking of 'ready to puke'..... has anyone else had enough for this stupid so-called presidential campaign? Let's get real folks, these two candidates are just slightly better than have to choose between getting poked in the eye with a stick, or being forced to watch a "Starting Over House" marathon. I must state that I am a kindhearted noninterventionist a.k.a. “compassionate liberal” democrat, but John Kerry reminds me more of a democrap, than a democrat. Sadly, I will be voting for him though. Mostly out of bone-chilling hatred for the self anointed frat boy gone wild, Bush Jr. I’m not saying Kerry doesn’t have good things to say, but I’m not saying he does either. Because you know what? I’m not sure I’ve really heard the man say anything at all. I watch the news, I read the paper, I surf the net and I’ve seen John Kerry pictures and stories hundreds of times already. But, I can’t not recall a single, solitary sneeze, much less an opinion or original thought, that this man has put out there. I know all about what he did before I was born, (ie: Vietnam, after Vietnam, etc.) but what about something from the last 20 something years? I would appreciate knowing that he voted five years ago for or against protecting the habitat of the imaginary endangered three-toed, yellow fin hermit crab rather than wondering if he’s spent the last 20ish years in a suspended animation hyper-chamber. He’s like Jesus…. Born, (time lapse), did some stuff in his outspoken late teenage years that no one agreed with, (time lapse) and now is back being hailed as the savior….or something like that. (Sorry Jesus, no offense, you’d win hands down against Kerry any day if you ran for President).

Anyway, enough of that, it’s making me depressed. By the way, I take back all the mean stuff I said about C2. It’s actually ok tasting…..

Friday, June 04, 2004


The music of Richard Cheese totally personifies my outlook on life. I can't fricking get enough of it.... If you don't know who he is, click here.


Again with the ridiculous newscasts…

Someone should really put me out of my misery by not allowing me to watch the local nightly news. I actually sat through a 5-minute segment last night in which a newscaster took around the new “low-carb Coca Cola” (just the fact that Coke is making such a product is enough to make me heave and possibly give up my lifelong love of the stuff) for people to taste-test it against regular and diet Coke (with the sad state of affairs in the world, I can’t believe they would even air this crap).

First we visited a Fire Department where the five guys participating in the highly scientific analysis obviously had jack-shit else to do. Let me tell you I wouldn’t take taste-test advice from these five guys unless they told me I had to drink the crap before they’d put out the fire engulfing my house.) Well, hooray for Coca-Cola they all liked the new “C2”. I guess we’ll all sleep a little more easy knowing our firefighters are happy with their new choice of caffeinated beverage; or a little more uneasy knowing those are the guys that will be holding the tarp trying to catch me when I leap to my certain death off of a ten story from watching too much stupid news. I tell ya’ Coke couldn’t buy this kind of glowing endorsement…. And I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t if they could.

On with the story… the next place the newscaster went was a fitness gym. We were greeted by 6 Barbie Dolls and one illegitimate daughter all slurping the sludge. One by one they all agreed on the great taste and weighed it against the other soda choices, giving their opinions. One lady kept insisting that she was a HUGE diet drinker, but might now be converted to drinking the new Coke. Anyone that considers themselves to be exclusive diet drinkers, not only has awful taste in pop but should also be shot because they are the sole reason we are getting more and more crappy choices of low-carb crap. (It makes me happy to use the word crap so much when referring to low carb crap.) They are the ones that spawned the whole Atkins/South Beach/carnivorous revolution. They are the whole reason the government plot to infect us with more bovine hormones is working…lol (nice X-Files conspiracy theory tie-in, if I do say so myself).

I think that these low-carbed, more protein than any human should consume idiots, are going to start ripping each other to shreds like cannibals. It’s going to become like a National Geographic photo shoot of the tiger stalking and mauling the zebra, right outside in the hallway of my office building. I can see the bitchy “ice vultures” down in the next suite with their noses pressed to the glass front doors, licking their lips waiting to get what’s left on the carcass of Patty the Receptionist once Dave in Accounting gets his fill of her. In addition, if there’s even one shred of truth to the theories that increased growth hormones in meat are the causes of early maturation in children (accounting for the boom in teenage pregnancy) or that women in their 20’s are getting breast cancer in record numbers, then I don’t think anyone in their right minds should be suggesting such a diet. (Disclaimer: I must say that I am NOT one to give diet advice, because with my thighs as my witnesses, I love to eat.) I just question this whole (possibly unhealthy) trend that the media is perpetuating with stories such as the one I was watching.

So, “C2” was also a slam-dunk with the Barbie’s, but not surprisingly, the kid didn’t like it (maybe hope the next generation “XYZ” or whatever letter we’re down to, is our only hope to stop this madness). But, please god, oh please, make them better newscasters…

My only consolation is that the DIET coke Barbie will probably keel over suddenly from working out too much.

Friday, May 28, 2004

Stand up and be counted

Considering the massive conflicting climate of “homosexual” anti-marriage hysteria mixed with the total embracing of gay style sensibilities that seems to be sweeping our country, I’ve decided to blog about the business I own called Qwear Gear. When first deciding to blog I thought maybe I would keep the business out of it. I’ve since decided it might be mildly interesting to others as well. Of course I could be wrong and instead it could possibly bore you to tears (yet to be determined). You can visit our website at:

I live the life of a proclaimed, very lackluster undercover agent of sorts. During the day I work at a non-profit as a marketing and communications manager (which amounts to a glorified graphic designer, yawn). At night I morph into the almighty alternative lifestyle goddess and owner of Qwear Gear.

Qwear Gear is one of the largest, all original lines of Alternative Lifestyle (gay, lesbian, bi, trans, drag queens, drag kings, bears, pride, leather, misc. other fetishes) “stuff” around. I basically started out in 2000 with a few designs for funny t-shirts (mainly designed to amuse myself), selling on eBay. I’ll try to post some of the first designs (all since retired) if I can dig them out of the archives.

Here’s the description of Qwear Gear from one of our eBay “About Us” pages:

"Greetings... from the parallel universe where all are welcome, no matter race, creed, religion, body size OR sexual orientation!

The Tiny Mad Idea...
One day while walking down a non-descript street, I came across the idea in my head of creating a line of GLBT T-shirts. Like stepping on a piece of misplaced bubble gum on a hot sidewalk in July, the idea just stuck with me. Qwear Gear by Sublime Design was born, and I've been doing it ever since... My problem was, I had too many design ideas that covered a large variety of lifestyles and fetishes. I didn't think I would ever find a way to get them all out of my head, and up for sale, to a large enough market, much less others who would understand and enjoy my humor. Guess I was wrong! Ebay has provided a wonderful platform for reaching millions of people who not only got my humor, but also wanted to own a piece of it for themselves. I have been a successful seller for almost four years now. Thanks for looking, and as always...enjoy!"

Then something astounding happened: Other people started buying them! So, I would list more, and other people bought those. On and on it went, and slowly I built up a huge cache of designs, expanding into more and more categories of lifestyles. Today, I have a catalog of well over 500 designs to choose from and lots ‘o stuff the designs can be put on and sold (t-shirts, clocks, stickers, magnets, etc). I still do a fair amount of eBay, but my main focus over the last two years has become selling my products wholesale for others to retail. One of my goals is to open my own store within the next six months or so. We are going to the southern part of Oblivion on June 4th to meet with a realtor and see some properties. I’ll keep you posted….

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Napkin Queen

I have a bonafide napkin fetish. I can't stand seeing one go to waste. I always take the extra napkins home from restaurants if the server gave us too many. Let me revise that statement, I don't actually take them home, I stash them in my car. In the glove box, in the arm-rest holder that opens up, etc. I'm not sure why, where or how I acquired this obsession, but I did. Lilmtty makes fun of me for it... But you know what? When someone is in my car and spills something, I ALWAYS have something to clean it up with. If Jules has a runny nose, he ALWAYS has something to blow it on. If I'm cleaning out my car and need to wipe down the dash, I ALWAYS have something to do it with. On and on...the uses are endless, and hopefully so will be the continued generosity of helpful servers always willing to "bring us a few more napkins" when requested (which I often do when supplies are dwindling). Posted by Hello

Spoonfed Oblivion

TV drones unite! Forget about the fact American soldiers are dying daily in Iraq, forget that the deficit is spiraling out of control, forget that our choices for a new President can be likened to Beavis and Butthead, forget that the rest of the Earth detests our entrails…. Who cares! Like the Beatles sang, “All we need is… television” or, was that “love”, I can’t remember?? After an evening of watching TV my brain is so low-carbed, Kentucky Fried and yearning for a prescription of just about anything to make my allergies and erectial dysfunction go away, that I can’t stand it.

Our evening news opened two nights ago with a heart-stopping scoop of a top story about the missing and/or vandalized Carousel Horses in a neighboring town (a misguided attempt at supposed “public works of art” intended to be a tourist draw). Of course, the horse thieves happened to take the one horse decorated by the group of special, nine fingered, inner city, dyslexic, impoverished, (feel free to add in your own drama drenched adjec-news-tive) and apparently Kleenex lacking school children. Timmy was seen in his classroom making a tearful appeal for the horse’s safe return, with a steady stream of green-slime running directly from his nose into his mouth (don’t worry, he’s apparently getting enough protein in his diet). Mind you, this is the TOP story on the newscast, it seems that the car bomb that killed 30 people yesterday was getting to be too commonplace and boring.

Other channels offer even less riveting but equally mind-numbing fare… Ugly chicks turned into Barbie prototypes (even if it takes a team of 30 doctors and three months healing time), obnoxious women scratching each other’s eyes out for the chance to be hauled off to the new cave by the latest Neanderthal man, worms and maggots spit into a meat grinder out of which the gut wrenching contents are then deposited into your siblings mouth for a chance to win a stupid amount of money, or episodes of Law & Order’s newest series Appallingly Special Sodomized Victims Unit.

I must admit that I spend approximately 15 minutes every other day recounting the previous evenings heaping dish of spoon-fed oblivion with my co-worker, code name: Decadence Sparkleplume (a.k.a. Fancy Platinum). We fill each other in on important developments in TV-Land that one of us might have missed. Sometimes I just feel it’s more exciting and less depressing to talk about the fictional characters on TV than it is to see the reality and sadness of the state of affairs that surround us. Obviously lots of other people agree when you look at the number of viewers calling in to vote for the next ruby-throated, sugar coated American Idol winner. Too bad our next President couldn’t be elected ala American Idol style…. the voter turn out would probably surpass that of any time in history,

Latest News update: The horse thief has been nabbed….Timmy is seen giving other children high-four’s in the background behind the news caster. Apparently the horse was found under very unusual and compromising circumstances on an alleged Pony Play ranch owned by a certain local member of our County Council.

Friday, May 21, 2004

War on Stupidity

Gumball Machine Stereotypes

There is a vinyl collectable phenom sweeping the gumball machines of American that goes by the name of “Homies”. For those of you not familiar, Homies are an assortment of small (approx. 1”) toy figures modeled after members of the Hispanic race. Mind you, Homies are not the usual iconic Hispanic images such as let’s say, a man wearing a traditional sombrero with an acoustic guitar, or a woman in colorful, flowing dresses. But instead by inserting a mere .50 cents (two shiny quarters) into the now electronic automated gumball machines (yes it even accepts dollar bills and gives you change now) we are dispensed our very own, (one of ten in the series) plastic, mildly demeaning, clichéd “west coast/South Compton” type Hispanic thugs. In true ésse fashion some of them are wearing button down shirts (with only the top button fastened) and white t-shirts underneath. Others have on long khaki shorts with white tube socks on pulled up to their knees. It’s all there, tattoos, Hispanic Chica’s in TIGHT blue jeans, even a guy in a wheelchair (reminiscent of the good ‘ol drive-by days). If you’re really lucky you can get one of the older Hispanic Homie gentlemen wearing a purple pimp overcoat and carrying a newspaper and cane under one arm.

Now I must agree Homies are kinda cool and I find it hard to pass by the machines without buying one, but I’m an adult prone to collecting ridiculous things just because they make me laugh. My point is, I simply wonder if it’s a bad idea to be vending these stereotypical toys to kids, and are the Latino and Hispanic populations ok with this? I’m not Hispanic, so who am I to say… it just strikes me as strange. Maybe they do like the idea… Maybe they’d feel it’s nice to finally see toys reflect real life (not to say the whole Latino race is full of thugs and kids in baggy clothes, but a portion of people do look like those portrayed by the Homies).

Can you imagine if someone came out with a line of Bros? Little black guys drinking 40’s of Olde E and bottles of Wild Irish Rose. Maybe one of them could look real shifty and have crack pipe burns around his mouth. Then of course there’d have to be a pregnant woman walking a rotweiller with ten snot nosed kids in tow. Don’t like Bros? How about the Tards then? Small figures modeled after people who are mentally retarded. Maybe a guy with encephalitis, or a kid in a motorized wheelchair with a helmet on…. Both of these ideas are horrible and of course the public (not to mention also the NAACP and Special Olympics) would be probably be outraged. But, again, do you think poor black people who actually sit around all day drinking or a kid with Down’s syndrome would really mind? Or, could they relate and think it was novel to see “action figures” modeled after the real lives they live? I’m really not sure, but I can guarantee that if either of these types of toys were made, SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE (probably me) would buy them.

I can only conclude that since Homies are in the gumball machines that no one really cares and I’m the only fool devoting this much thought to it. So, hey holmes here’s an idea, everyone turn your hat to the left side outta respect for the west coast next time you pass the super dooper gumball machine alter which you can find shorties praying to daily in your local supermarket.

Thursday, May 20, 2004

Cancer for Minimum Wage

Today I was smoking a cigarette while waiting in the McDonald's drive-thru for my Mega McCholestrol meal. Two black male employees were changing a advertising banner probably two feet away from my open car window. One gentleman was up sitting up on top of a ladder changing the sign, and the other was standing on the ground smoking a cigarette. The guy on the ground said hi, and I reciprocated the greeting (same with the guy on the ladder).

Then ladder man said, "You shouldn't be smoking, it's bad for you and causes cancer."

And I responded, "So does eating at McDonald's."

The guy on the ground cracked up laughing and took a drag off his smoke.

Then ladder man said, "Yeah, but I need YOU to eat here so I can keep my job and get a car like yours."

I said, "You wouldn't want a car like this!"

The ground guy said, "Why not? It's smooth looking."

Ladder guy said, "Because it's a Chrysler. Looks nice but you gotta replace the brakes every three months."

I laughed, told him he was exactly right then proceeded through line.
I ate my heart attack burger and felt happy in the knowledge that using my body for a dumpster helps ladder man keep his crappy job....

Kitchen Frenzy - New Blog Photo test

Kitchen Frenzy Posted by Hello


Temp Insanity

I watched "21 Grams" last night for the first time, and for some reason it opened up some sort of temporary, spur of the moment, emotional vortex that sent me swirling into what turned out to be a very relieving bout of uncontrollable sobbing. I woke lilmtty up (who was asleep on the loveseat) and told her I needed to be held. She, or course, took me into her arms and sleepily begged to know what was wrong. With tears streaming down my face, I told her I was sorry for yelling at her earlier in the day, and that I loved her. Then I felt like I had to puke, which I promptly did upon arriving in the bathroom. When I emerged back into the living room she was asleep once more with Lola and Minnie curled up next to her. I felt totally better and like I'd just passed through a true moment of temporary insanity. I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in weeks.

BTW- I had a revealation today (I can't remember if it happened while I was awake or asleep), I realized it is much easier for me to be sexual with someone, rather than to be emotionally open with them. Sex comes easy, emotional trust takes me awhile... I wonder how that happened?


My brother is a junkie..... He has struggled with an addiction of one kind or another since he was 16 years old. He is now in his 30's and currently a heavy horse user. I am mad because I no longer have a brother. He is not someone I can trust. He is not someone I can hang out with. He is not someone I can ask to babysit my son. His brain makes him seem normal on the outside, but given the chance and circumstance he would rob me blind to feed his addiction. He lies, he cheats, I suspect he does drugs in front of my 80 year old grandmother that he lives with. He spends her rent money, he spends her grocery money, yet she refuses to kick him out. She loves him, she enables him... She resents me for throwing it in their faces how sick they are.

- Sublime

More bad poetry

The Sun
is one thing I would
not want to be.

The Sun
will never consider
how your mouth
feels (meeting mine)
when I kiss you
alone in the dark.

It (naturally a being of lightness)
would never recognize
the beauty of holding you
(laying asleep)
during hours
of darkness.

Upon it
would be lost
the art and sanctity
of studying your face
in dim light.

The Sun
could not comprehend
feeling the aliveness
(so fiercely I wanted to weep)
of seeing
the meaning of life
among your thighs
by candlelight.

Nor, will the Sun
ever dwell
in the knowledge of
how exquisite
moonlight tastes
shining freshly
on your skin.

To give up
every next day
under the sun
would be a small
price to pay
for living with you
beneath the moon.

- Sublime


The doors on the gloomy rooftop opened
out walked my pouting lover Death.
She brought with her a sullen look
which upon seeing sends stomachs
to sicknesses involuntary consent
Her eyes were red and swollen
tears fell on her exquisite heaving breast
I asked of the disdainful distress
that given her attention
allowed heaven a momentary rest
Her reply was softly spoken
beneath her sweet dulcet breath
Like the whisper of a butterfly
caught hopelessly in sticky spider net
she uttered the two simple words,
“You’re next”.

A wee bit of original poetry.
- Sublime

Sumptuous prospects

I suppose since this is my first post, that I should say something brilliant. Something that will make visitors declare the electrical firing in my brain ingenious while subsequently addicting everyone to my verbal spew. Too bad for you that at the moment I am without ideas, because I realize what a sumptuous prospect being addicted to me could be. More to come ….