These dull days; simultaneous not

So in the recent days I've been obsessed with Matchbox Twenty, but in a slightly weird way. I found out that they are in fact not on hiatus anymore and had released a compilation album with six new songs in recent years. But instead of checking the new stuff, I immediately retreated to two of their older albums, #2 and #3 to be specific, and with special emphasis on "Bent" and "Unwell."

My appreciation for their music came at that brief, inimitable period of my youth when I discovered popular music but didn't really care about the words that were being sung. It wasn't until later in my tumultuous pubescence that I truly understood the gravity of some of the words that drifted out of my stereo, and by then I had become mired in the likes of Jewel, Goo Goo Dolls, and Vertical Horizon. I was standing still, listening to tired songs on a tired radio, because he was everything inside of me that I wished I could be. Details, details.

I digress. The words in "Bent" and "Unwell" resonated with me particularly well
in recent days, so much so that I used particular lyrics from each as instant messages statuses and as inspiration for tweets. Because, truthfully, I apply greater value to music as a form of poetry rather than as a form of musical expression. And I suppose I agonize and obsess about the words to try to find some way to possess them, to simultaneously declare emotional empathy to and independence from them. To take in all that was to be offered by the music and then be able to cascade its message throughout the course of my life.

Tonight, we walked down the street to sample the fare at Five Seasons Brewery. All along the way, I played the words to "Bent" in my head like a broken record, humming softly to myself between bouts of actual conversation. My mental analysis was in overdrive, ridiculously so. I was thinking myself in circles and reducing the words to meaninglessness. By the time we got seated at our table, I was almost grateful to have the house music blasted into my right ear by a particularly close speaker. It forced me out of my own little world and back into the discussion on beer choices that was going on around me.

Our server arrived, and I ignored him as I hurriedly scoured the menu for something to order. Let everyone else deal with the greetings and niceties, I thought. Luckily, I didn't have to think about the beers too much because they did flights at a reasonable price. All six of us ordered flights, and our server praised our choices but looked visibly flustered. Between all of us, there would be 42 glasses brought to the table, even if they were basically the size of a double shot glass. To make matters worse, we all ordered a different combination of beers, with some overlapping and some not.

By the time he stumbled back out with a heaving serving tray of beer, I still had not thought to take a look at the menu again. I watched the hapless fellow try to identify the varying shades of amber and gold and distribute them accordingly, only to realize he was one drink short. It was only his third shift since beginning work there, apparently. He bustled off to get one amidst a flurry of apology and obvious embarrassment.

He returned with the missing beer, and began to present to me my own six choices. Due to the size of the table, instead of lining up my glasses in a neat line in front of me from left to right, they curved inwards toward me, as to not interfere with someone else. Of course, everyone else thought this was hilarious. The inevitable torrent of comments ensued. And then out of nowhere, the server said:

"Your name is Nate too? Cool, I guess we're all a little bent, huh? Just like those glasses."


And off he went to put in our food orders. I would be lying if I said it was a moment of epiphany for me, but it was meaningful in its own right. I'm not sure if it was merely the combination of so many coincidences that left me breathless: the identical first names, our bumbling natures, the bent presentation of the glasses.

Or maybe it was something more. Maybe it was indicative of a pure and innocent connection that you can make with a complete stranger based on the silliest of things... the similarities in human nature and the human condition that plague and bless us all... the affirmation that each and every one of us must cope with the same things, and that we should find comfort in each other.

Not meant for male consumption

I know the coolest people.



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Woman Obsessed with Yaoi Fiction: Did you watch it? Did you watch it?!

(She is referring to a listing of soap opera episodes on YouTube featuring the storylines of famous gay couples from around the world)

Me: I got the gist, yeah.

WOwYF: WASN'T IT AMAZING?

Me: ... well, it was a bunch of soap operas.

WOwYF: Ok, ok. I know. And yes, I agree, most of the plot devices and writing makes one want to throw a brick through Danielle Steel's window. But this stuff is groundbreaking!

Me: Why, because the angsty couple is comprised of two guys or two gals?

WOmYF: Yes! And furthermore, I only forwarded links to you which had significantly M/M plots. The fact that there were also F/F relationships present is striking, and I think you would agree.

Me: ... again, why? And yes I'll concede to the second point.

WOmYF: Let's face it. The majority of the world is still steeped in rampant homophobia. Each of the soaps' country of origin may be progressive in terms of the LGBT communities and its issues, but we're kidding ourselves if we think the war is over.

Me: Umm. Ok. But why does this matter?

WOmYF: Think about the viewing audience for soaps. The targeted audience is women. Women are arguably the most influential people (read: soft power) when it comes to spearheading controversial social issues.

Me: ... I'll take your word for it.

WOmYF: If you decide otherwise, I'd be glad to forward you a bunch of anthropological and sociological studies. Anyway, the idea here is that women are a barometer for how perceptions change within a society with regards to various social issues. In this case, it's homosexuality.

Me: You're going to have to explain that one.

WOmYF: These kinds of issues wouldn't appear in soaps as positive storylines unless the women who watch them view them as normal to human nature. And if not normal, then at least acceptable. It's different from shows like Sex and the City since those shows were on premium cable and not subject to the same censors as broadcast television.

Me: I guess that makes sense. But what about prime time major network shows like ER, Brothers and Sisters, and freakin' Desperate Housewives who have/have had notable gay or lesbian leads?

WOmYF: That just helps to further prove my point. Those are nothing but prime time soap operas. You know it's true.

Me: ... you're right.

WOmYF: But back to the point. Take Brokeback Mountain for example. That movie garnered a huge female following and fan base. In the years following, just count the states that have allowed civil unions and gay marriage, in spite of Proposition 8. These things may not be causal with respect to each other, but they are at least correlated.

Me: Interesting. Do you think that Brokeback is the reason that all these soap storylines seem to be so popular?

WOmYF: I don't think it's the reason, per se, but I think they're all fruits of the same era. These writers and actors are operating with the functional history of shame, secrecy, and denial that has driven the lives of gay men and women for centuries. Long before Brokeback Mountain there was Philadelphia, and although it was chiefly received as a piece of AIDS cinema, it was an important piece on gay identity as well. And remember, they're soap operas. They feed off of conflict, romance, and tension. Combine those with a gay identity and you basically have a formulaic plot that is quite frankly very riveting. They will vary depending on if it is a M/M or F/F couple given inherent gender differences and identity issues, but overall it's the same.

Me: I guess that's fair.

WOmYF: Luke and Noah in the US. JP and Craig in the UK. Christian and Oliver in Germany. Not to mention the lesbians out there nowadays. These presence of these kinds of relationships points to them now entering what's considered to be mainstream. Not to mention the fact that they humanize and contextualize what once was merely anecdotal for a lot of people. Even if people have gay or lesbian friends, they might not fully understand what it means to cope with that identity. In a way, seeing these soap characters can help.

Me: But racism is still an issue in the US, and in the clips I saw, there were very, very few non-white leads and even fewer interracial relationships. Does race fit in this industry differently than sexual orientation?

WOmYF: Well, no. It's all a slow process. There have been leaps and bounds since the birth of the civil rights movement, but there is still work to be done. I mean, HELL, look at all the crap that Sotomayer has to deal with. Proposition 8 is the gay rights equivalent of that. It's important to not focus on the battles lost, and instead on the progress made. Baby steps. It's happening.

Me: So basically, if you want to know where society is going, pay attention to soap operas.

WOmYF: And romance novels!

This devil on my shoulder

Obligatory "every now and then" music post of pseudo-emo intentions. You don't have to like it. Just drive through if you are not amused.

Today's singular reason for being

It's amazing how well we can sabotage ourselves, without even realizing it.

The methods can be as varied and diverse as we ourselves. But in the end, the underlying reasons are all the same.

Pride.
Responsibility.
Shame.
Guilt.
Denial.

And it's never as simple as we would like it to be. We're not that lucky.

At the end of the day, it's not enough to accept the mere recognition of your condition as the first step to salvation. Nor is it enough to formulate a battle plan to turn back the clock.

We can only hope that our crimes against ourselves have not left indelible marks on our hearts for which we cannot forgive.

Somewhere only the shadows know

Proof that I am no longer a misanthrope:

I had a dream last night that started out with me inexplicably trying to shave the back of my head. Maybe it was the back of my neck, I'm not entirely sure. I was standing in front of a mirror with a straight razor, trying to contort myself into a position where I could see where I was aiming for. Obviously, this is nigh impossible with only one mirror, so I decide I should look for another, hand-held mirror so I could abuse geometry. It was at that moment that I realized I was calf-deep in a fountain in the middle of some city park. No one around me seemed to think it was weird that I was in the fountain, that there was a bathroom sink and vanity in the middle of it, or that I was trying to shave the back of my head/neck. So I climb out of the fountain and scanned my surroundings for a mirror, a compact, anything. I see nothing. Promptly, it begins to rain. No, it begins to HAIL. Needless to say, I haul ass toward nothing in particular, seeking shelter. I run past a bunch of fairly innocuous park scenery and reach the edge, where I cross the street, dodging (of all things) HORSE CARRIAGES and make my way into a CVS. I take a second to wonder why the fuck a CVS is in the middle of a metropolitan city, and then look for a mirror. I find a nice little compact, and reach for my wallet. I touch emptiness. I drop an F-bomb. I reach for my cell phone. Again, I touch emptiness. Again, I drop an F-bomb. At this point, I realize that I have also lost my razor somewhere and somehow. The store clerk starts to attack me with a broom, since I am apparently soaking wet and dripping all over the carpet. Yes, this CVS is carpeted. I try to fight back, but soon find myself standing on the sidewalk. Miraculously, it has stopped raining and hailing. I reason that my phone and wallet are probably at the same place. I begin to look for a pay phone so I can call my phone, and then die a little on the inside when I realize I don't have my wallet so I can't use a pay phone anyway. I see a woman walking down the street, texting on her phone. I ask her if I can use her phone; she gives me a dirty look. All of a sudden, it starts to hail again. One of them falls on her head and kills her before she can hit the ground. I shrug, pick up her phone, and call my cell. I hear my phone ringing off in the distance, faintly. Intrigued, I throw the phone at the dead woman's body and run toward the sound of my phone. After a few seconds of running down the sidewalk, the ringing stops, and I kick myself because I should have just kept the woman's phone. I look back toward her body, and see that she and her phone have mysteriously disappeared from the front of the CVS. Something hits me in the back of the head. I turn around, and see my phone lying on the ground. I reach down to pick it up, and it jumps backward. Long story short, I make a veritable Looney Tunes ass of myself as I chase my phone down the sidewalk, until I run head-first into a man. I hit him in his crotch, of course, as I was stooped over and pawing for my runaway phone. I hear him scream as we tumble to the ground in an awkward mess. I look up, and see that the man is Al Gore. He's out cold, a little vomit dribbling out of the side of his mouth. I roll him over, and discover that he has crushed my phone. Enraged, I kick his catatonic body. He explodes into a shower of Tootsie rolls and Jolly Ranchers, as if he was in fact a pinata. Right on cue, a flood of tiny children rush out and swarm the falling candy. So many of these children come out that soon I'm crowd-surfing. The children disperse and I find that I am now on top of a boulder. It starts to roll downhill (yes, I am apparently also on top of a hill), but I somehow manage to stay on top of the boulder despite the fact that it is spinning underneath me. I just sit there flabbergasted for awhile, until I hear sirens behind me. A cop is pulling me over. The boulder rolls to a standstill, and the cop steps out of his squad car, walks up to me, and starts to write me a ticket for speeding. I begin to argue with him over the idiocy of getting a speeding ticket while on top a boulder. He gives me a look, and I realize I am in fact driving a limousine. Speechless, I just accept the ticket, and the cop walks back to his car and drives off. I look down at the ticket, and see that it is actually a napkin with a ketchup stain on it. And then I wake up.


The point is, if I were still misanthropic in any way, I would never have asked that woman to lend me her phone.

Of dilettantes, of stoics

Once again I feel the indescribably crushing sense of the future, that specter on the horizon that looms with questionable motive.

Like a Cole painting, it affects with an overwhelming splendor that belies its seemingly torpid nature. It bears down on you until you nearly suffocate in its majesty; and while it is undeniably beautiful and wondrous, sometimes it's just too much.

So that's life. And it's such a bewildering ordeal. Things happen so quickly, and they swarm in with a relative quickness that can catch you off-guard, and before you know it, they take your breath away. Standing still and seeing everything shift and change around you... it's daunting.

It's hard to say what I'll be doing one month from now. One year from now. Ten years from now. Where I'll be... who I'll be. Oddly enough, I ponder these questions with respect to the people I know more than I do to myself. I wonder if that's just me, or it's part of a greater commentary on the human condition?

Maybe that's a lie. I often wonder where my awkward mesh of neuroses, faults, and caprices will land me, and where I'll finally put down roots, leave my mark...