That night, after wearing the dead man's clothes, he found his dreams infected by the other...

Then and now

Dreamt last night I was in an old town at dawn, walking dusty roads between dilapidated houses, scattered amidst gently rolling hills.

You were there, of course, in the town, but safely ensconced in our own little shanty and dreaming your dreams. I remember we were looking for a roommate to help share expenses.

It was Montana meets Jerome, and it felt like the 1950's (and yet now), with wood burning stoves and smoke risen into the cold air over dark roofs and tall dry weeds - all in stillness. 

by Matt's Big Breakfast

on a board

on a box

there is a message

written in chalk:

(things to do)

Before

I

die…

Rise above

Ever do something that surprises even yourself? Making you realize you don't actually know very much.

About life, reality, and maybe even your self. 

What you are truly capable of. 

Socrates was proclaimed the wisest man in Athens because he knew... that he didn't know... sh*t.

(of course, it was Socrates who did the proclaiming, but all narcissistic considerations aside, we still talk about the dude centuries later, right?)

I first experienced this phenomena at 16. Not that it helped me much along the way - made me smarter, wiser, or better prepared for life - but I really gleaned for the first time ever, way deep down, that I truly didn't know anything. 

And it gave me a glimpse of something larger than myself. But we'll get to that in a bit. Meanwhile...

The vehicle of my little epiphany? A missed dunk. 

For some years previous, I'd ate, slept and defecated the sport of basketball. Hell, I was more like an adherent than a player, I approached it with such religious fervor. 

I'd practice for hours each day, dribbling, shooting, defending -and- as I grew taller and jumped higher, the art of the dunk. 

Dunking was so. F*cking. Cool. Combining grace and power into a creative act. Jim Carroll talks about his feline fluid grace in Basketball Diaries, and yeah, that's how it felt. Animal and primal. 

But though there was room for creativity, those dunks were born of repetition. Tried everything I'd ever seen on TV - reverses, 360's, cuff dunks, one hand, two hand*, etc. ad nauseum - and would usually work 'em over and over again until I got 'em literally down.  

And for a skinny, awkward, adolescent white boy hitching out each day from the dirt-road-sticks to the nearest concrete court - not another living soul within 10 miles - I had a pretty good arsenal. 

But it was all known - nothing new. 

And then one day I did something… unknown.

I was in Illinois, had been playing pick up ball for hours, and there was a break between games. 

In the time honored tradition of 'watch what I can do' I threw the ball off the backboard, attempting a self-administered tip dunk (something I'd done zillions of times previous) but this time...

When I jumped, it was like I was running, upwards into the air (think climbing stairs) and somehow, ala' Bob Beamon, I jumped a foot higher than I ever had before. 

Which, previously, had been eleven feet.

Now it was twelve - high enough to touch the top of the backboard.

(pause)

I missed it, btw, the dunk - even hit my funny bone on the way down - in a zen-monk-whacking-his-adherent-into-satori-kind-of-moment.

How, you might ask, could I compare such a simple act - not even performed to the point of completion - with the act of enlightenment?

Because I had exceeded the bounds of the known universe. Mine, anyway.

And at the moment I felt like a superman, that I could fly and walk through walls, and that all things were possible... 

And then I tried again.

A few minutes later, after collecting my soul and stuffing it back into my body (because out of body is exactly how that experience felt) I set foot back on the court, ball in hand, to duplicate the act. To master it and myself.

For hours, days, weeks, sometime even years later... I would attempt it - try to remember, in my body, that moment, and relive it. 

Which did not happen.

Ever again.

It has become one of those extraordinary, once in a lifetime kind, out of body experiences - never to be repeated.

(big breath)

Which is pretty much how it felt when I proposed to LB. 

(more to follow)

(isn't there always?)

Everything is illuminated

It's not hard finding things to write about.

Each day I rise and sit at the computer, universes waiting to be born and whirling like dervishes inside my head...

But as the clitter-clatter of keystrokes accumulate, I hear Old Man Time titter in the corner, and realize it's donut makin' time yet again.

I then pile these old bones into the car and drive, rolling up that hill into Scottsdale - one more day - Sysiphus and his rock.

(beat)

As I drive a song coalesces in my head: a trilling bird's notes morph into melody.

Or words lump together into strange and interesting shapes.

I see the sky, hills, and asphalt with the light shining through - like a fluorescent "mountains of Bush" or "Coors Light" sign in some dusty old bar, backlit and glowing in pearly luminescence...

Is it the face of god I'm seeing? Or maybe the Shinto-esque spirit, the animus, revealing itself.

Or maybe I'm just bug f*ck crazy.

Meanwhile... re: writing - the hard part isn't how to start.

It's how to…

(end the never ending, encapsulate the universe, and seize time - all in a few scribbles...)

(the sound of laughter ensues)

Effected

Driving home yesterday, there was something about the quality of the light - effected by the season, angle of the sun and/or smog's filter, perhaps - and I found myself visually obsessing over everything around me. 

Obsessing? Maybe seeing them in a different, more intense way.

Mundane things were revealed, literally, in a different light.

Or maybe it was just all in my head...

A bit later, on the mountain, I found myself practically sauntering - not my normal M.O. - and I saw a bird building a nest into the side of a saguaro, about 5 feet off the path.

P.S. Pic previously taken, btw, and though filtered, and not specific to yesterday's conditions,  seemed to convey that spirit.

home

Indecent Proposal - Part 2 - An open letter...

(to the person responding to my previous post)

I believe it was James Brown who said it best when he said:

"Well, well, well."

(or was that John Lee Hooker? Anywho…)

Truth is you really don't have all the facts. Which is in part my own fault. I wrote an oversimplified version of what happened for numerous reasons, including:

1. Brevity (less is more, after all)
2. I was still pretty hurt and angry that next morning - and yeah, a little hung over at the time.
3. Felt like I had been marginalized and wanted to return the favor, sh*tty though that may be.
4. And finally, I didn't fee like dredging up a lot of personal history, starting with the fact that I actually knew the guy - that he wasn't just some "gay dude" but someone I'd known -and- liked some 5 years previous - but mostly because he was a friend of my ex-girlfriend, and he was acting on misinformation she'd disseminated after a bad break up.

(blah blah blah - here's where it get's a bit wordy, and maybe a skosh whiney, so bear with me)

Her smear campaign had included my giving her 3 STD's and beating both her and the cat (once in a drunken stupor she told someone I'd beaten her "with the cat," which was probably just a grammatical error, but did evoke the image of someone grabbing a cat by its hind legs, swinging it like a rubber chicken, and with every ensuing whack a little kitty "meow' being produced. Add to this, that I was gay, and liked it up the *ss.

Bravo, my dear, for your creativity.

The closest thing to the truth? I did once throw a t-shirt, very forcefully, at our cat when he'd continually meowed and kept me up for the third sleepless night in a row. And I'm not proud of that sleep deprived moment, but there it is.

But that's it.

So when the aforementioned man, let's call him K, told me he "knew" I was gay… actually let's back it up for a second.

I don't blame K for acting on her misinformation. Didn't at the time. Was faintly (albeit wearily) amused that such rumors were still being circulated.

So why did I subsequently get upset?

Because he then -intentionally- deceived and hurt the woman I love. Someone to whom, 30 minutes previous, I'd just proposed, btw.

She, unfortunately, was not amused by the story, and before I'd realized, had approached him to set the record straight.

He not only told her I was gay (fine, whatever) but then insisted I was the one who asked him into the bathroom. That I'd solicited sexual favors.

Not the act of a sh*tty person?

And regarding the alleged shove (a brief anecdote):

When I originally ready your post, I was pretty upset, and wrote a response (for about an hour and half) including an apology for a shove I didn't remember.

Then, like an idiot, I accidentally deleted the whole thing. Nearly lost my mind in the process. But then I just had to let it go and get on with my day.

Later that same day, LB, my girl, read your comment and said to me, "I didn't see you push him - and I was watching you the whole time." And I hadn't yet broached the topic with her. So that was interesting.

Here's what I do remember:

After he'd intentionally and maliciously lied - I didn't approach him - just told her I was ready to be done with it, and we left.

Then as we walked -outside- the club, unlocking our bikes, he happened to follow us out (could've been a coincidence I suppose) and I asked him why he was being so sh*tty.

He walked back over to me, placed his face inches from mine, and asked, "so why are you still here?"

At which point I became infuriated, and started yelling as loud I could, "because I want you to tell the TRUTH!"

Then I kept yelling over and over, "why don't you just tell the TRUTH! Why don't you tell the TRUTH!"

And yeah it was probably pretty scary for those around. Maybe weird and uncomfortable and looked as if I might resort to violence.

But I didn't.

I did get really angry, cause an embarrassing scene, and yeah, ask for the truth.

The worst part for me? I love the gays! I mean, really, people who are stereotyped as sensitive, articulate, and creative? We should all be so lucky. And for crissakes, I did theater 10 years. You think I cleverly hid my homophobia all that time and it's suddenly reared it's ugly head? Gimme a break.

So whatever. I get it. A straight man can't get mad at a gay man for acting like an *sshole. Especially in a gay bar.

But what if it was just one person getting mad at another person?

Maybe we should just drop the labels.

And the assumptions.

P.S. it occurs to me I left something out which could be misconstrued. When I first saw K, earlier in the evening, I was truly delighted to see him after a 5 year hiatus. I gave him a hug and complimented him; said how good he looked - how we was charming & talented and a bunch of other crap I don't remember.

I greeted him as a friend.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do. 

Why I should have my head examined

IIt’s that time of year again - summertime in Phoenix – with the mercury on the rise and triple digit temperatures here to say "howdy".

And what, you might ask, could be more fun than weather hot enough to fry an egg on a sidewalk?

I know! How about a 67 mile mountain bike race?! In August!!

Sound like a bad idea? Of course it does -and- here's how you can help:

Your dollar a mile pledge helps me fulfill my masochistic fantasy. And if that doesn’t do it for you...

The money actually goes to such charitable organization as Toys for Tots or Marine Relief Charity, so there's that, if altruism is your gig.

Want to know more? Of course you do!
Respond to this post with a "yes" comment below (and email if I ain't got it!) and I'll get back to you with all the pertinent info.

Til then, mi compadres!

-Adman

P.S. ALREADY GOT MY FIRST RESPONSE! (below)

“You gotta be NUTS!!!I wouldn't try 67 miles in the spring or fall, let alone August.I do appreciate the organizations you are raising money for...sooo,Maverick Plumbing will challenge ALL to $2.00 a mile to help in yourquest to fulfill your "masochistic fantasy" and help out the Kids andMarines!

Best of luck

Tim"

Indecent Proposal

Got drunk last night at Bliss/Rebar and ended up yelling at a gay dude trying to out me.

Dude, I'm already out. This is me.

And it took me a while to get here, by the way, comfortable in my own skin, coalesced into a mature adult male (well, for the most part, anyway) who as it just so happens… is straight.

Who effing cares, right? But here's the thing...

When I don't want to follow you into the bathroom and make out with you, can you please just deal with it?

(didn't judge, just said no thanks)

So masking your embarassment by flipping things around - making a point to tell my girl, vehemently, it was I who made the proposition...

Seriously, dude? What a sh*tty thing to do.

And for those of you going, "methinks he doth protest too much," take a breath.

If it had been a woman trying to spread the same malicious bullish*t, it wouldn't be a question of my sexuality, just her deceit.

So how 'bout you put the gay card you pulled back in the deck and just own up to being a sh*tty person?

(beat)

Oh, and speaking of proposals…

Eh, maybe I'll let the smoke clear a bit before launching into that next topic.

More later…

:)