it's monday and it's raining.

it is a kind of pain to find one's diversions/hobbies are mutually exclusive. i cannot seem to read and knit at the same time. go figure. i'm working my way through Suzanne Marrs' s new biography of Eudora Welty and it is a welcome remedy to that schlocky crap/pap promulgated sans Miss Welty's approval/authorization by K. Waldron. Waldron painted Welty as a provincial old maid and didn't realize that she was remarkably well-traveled and was party to a tragic love affair lasting many years with John Robinson (a remarkably handsome gay man) there is a suggestion that she and Elizabeth Bowen were close but even in her private correspondence Welty never was so definite that one cannot say "yes" or "no" and i just admire the quiet and unapologetic dignity of the whole. it is pleasing to see things as they are supposed to be........i was surprised she despised Carson McCullers because of her whiny and clingy attempts to "hook up" with Welty and Katherine Anne Porter at Yaddo. she really considered the woman a "little devil." sadly, Miss Welty didn't keep a journal or diary which would have been a remarkable source to gain some small access into her interiority and that's the stuff i really like..........shades of Anais!! lol.

i've sooo much to get read, written, and knitted! Poisonous Ivy called me with the excitement.....she'd just returned from her ultrasonogram and the baby is currently 14" long and weighs about 2 lbs. it is a boy and he'll be named Aaron Christopher and is expected to arrive December 23. so, the baby stuff needs to move to the front burner BUT i must get Peaches's scarf finished. Peaches is the 23 yr. old brother of M.'s 21 yr. old housemate. i cannot expect too much of the boy given he is only 23 and doesn't know "nuthin' bout nuthin'" as is true of anyone that age....it's a problem of perspective only and the only remedy is time. it's odd....he'll be affectionate then seems to withdraw....and i believe he thinks i might only be nice to him for another chance to poke him in the bum, again. i told him it's best, i think, that he just consider me a fondly affectionate friend who might poke him in the bum sometime again but maybe not.....it's not important. the other night he mentioned that he was directionless and i had to agree but i told him to simply pick a direction and go that way....just cause you're going in one direction doesn't mean you can't change direction later. i then offered myself as an example.....lit. major then biology major. young queer separationist of the "kill the breeders" type to someone who is perhaps only a little more 'gentle'. i also encouraged the boy to be patient.....he's had more than his share of things to process in losing both parents in the span of little more than a year AND some time to one's own is in many ways preferable to the "desperately seeking a hot boyfriend." i call him Peaches cause his fuzzy ass reminded me of peaches. he hates it because it's "not butch enough to be a nickname!!"

i am really pleased with these stripey rainbow-themed, stackable canvas baskets i bought the other day. they are for the stash overflow and my prettiest yarns look so pretty in their canvas nests. i wonder if the whole thing is more for me to arrange in a tableux than for practical concerns. ultimately, not important.

the goldenrods along my driveway and behind the house along the windbreak for the field have their first blush of yellow.....meaning cooler weather is imminent (thank God!!) i look forward to their greeny-chartreuse richening and deepening to the golden yellow that is a promise of frost. some people pray for rain, i'm praying for frost. yes, it'll pinch the tomatoes and the late blueberries BUT after a hard frost things become cleaner. purer, maybe? and it means that next year's hollyhocks go in as do the turnips, collards, broccoli, and cabbage. frost will sweeten turnips so that you'd think someone spooned sugar into the pot with them. i might put in beets as well....haven't decided. frost will also be the death of lovebugs and mosquitoes and this wouldn't be a sad thing, truly. thanks to Katrina, i've already enough firewood laid by for a long, cold and dark winter....a proper winter, one for which i can wear some of the "fab'lus" hats i've been making.

i put in an order with Yutanna the White Devil for Martin Meeker's book Contacts Desired: Gay and Lesbian Communications and Community, 1940's-1970's. the work focuses on gay networking in that time period and sounds interesting tho' i can't claim to even care about the lesbian side of it. i've grown tired and uninterested in them. there did at one time (and who knows it might still ) exist in mississippi a network of tea socials, bridge/garden parties, and MSCW/MUW alumnae that provided lesbians the opportunity to establish contact with each other.

i am feeling one particular tragic deficiency here in South Mississippi. i've had a hankerin' for some Tiki bar atmosphere but sadly, no Tiki bars to be found anywhere. i could recreate it and have a Tiki party in my backyard but that's so much work and the clerk at the booze shop stared at me like a calf looking at a new gate when i asked him if it was possible to get orgeat for my Mai-Tais (*i honestly loathe the sickly,cloyingly sweet alcoholic kool-aid that is passed for a mai-tai in most drinking establishments these days, don't you?"*)

currently listening to: the rain, the wind blowing through the trees and quietly on the CD player one hears "Stupid Little Squeezer" by Armageddon Dildoes.

currently should be: doing housework.

current poem:

Days of 1912 by Gregory Woods
Outside, the bedlam of the human race
Proceeds. The silence in this book-lined space
Is metaphorical, conveyed by tone.
Aloft, aloof, not lonely but alone,
The Poet listens, then rejoins the noise
To look for gods disguised as mortal boys.
So human are these heart-convulsing few,
Each is a miracle. Descended to
The common herd but from more lofty stock,
They raise the spirits as they stir the cock

my, that was lovely!

Currently needing: a haircut and a foot rub.

Current aggravation: Peyton Manning, my extremely jealous and possessive imaginary boyfriend believes that some of the 'love grooves' on Justin Timberlake's new CD are about me. *sigh* it is a burden. i cannot help it if that boy wants me, too.

Current ambition: pricing lumber to build deeper shelving to accomodate storage bins of yarn and the like in my stash room.

Current ambition#2: repotting and dividing some of the asparagus ferns


a passage from William Howarth's essay on Rachel Carson in the Summer 2005 The American Scholar really struck me:

"Secrecy is an important ingredient in imagination, allowing
us to pretend and invent, and some experts say that we have no self until it
learns to keep secrets. Children who have invisible twins or talkative
dolls are on a sound mental path. Those living with tyrants who demand
perfection or glory often have trouble maturing. They learn to inhibit
their needs and conform to dictates, creating a false self that hides what it
truly wants...They put others first and assume a sacrificial mien, embracing
denial as their duty."

Howarth concludes that Carson's life was such a captivity-narrative and he forcefully concludes that reading is a particular salve/solace for those living a captivity-narrative:

"Reading provides a safe, cloistered life until it nurtures writing, a way of breaking free and reaching others."

Ouch! a painful resonance. i glibly dismiss the reasons for my own writing as merely OCD inspired graphophilia and move on without attending to much to what really is happening. tho' honestly i have doubts about the "reaching others" since i'm never certain as to who i reach and why. i don't know if the function is still available but at one time there was a macro that would show who i was listed as a "favourite of" and i was suprised at who had me on that list since i'd never read their diaries/blogs and they certainly left no notes/comments. writing is a mechanism of or defense against loneliness.....by assembling these onscreen flickers that someone might happen upon and read; allowing the pretense that I am real enough to be "heard." real enough to evoke/provoke a reaction. i'm uncertain if this is a sad attempt at validation seeking......i am unkind enough to have on occassion left other people's entries with the feeling that i was "slimed" by someone else's needy seeking of validation. my own personal horror at being perceived as a needy validation-seeker warrants some scrutiny but that takes time and i've so little of that. i really don't feel needy. i feel harried and bereft quite often, but "needy?" just not certain about it. i appreciate the differences between want and need and i actually need very little. i want quite a lot.

want1: to be desired, adored, and loved without feeling trapped or constrained....an object of worship without the necessity of listening to and answering prayers (megalomania?)(narcissism?)

want2: a little less interiority without the threat of too much exposure. (*to be the epitome of Cheshire Cat-edness?*)

want3: to be more powerful without attendant responsibilities (*this is probably a paraphrase of want1 that is more acknowledging of the cruelty that want1 implies*)

want4: to have absolute control over the perception of myself by others.

want5: long, luxurious, slow blowjobs and ball-licking from hot guys on demand, any time, any place, regardless of context and situation.

want6: the lack of the necessity to use toilet humour and second-voiced self-deprecation to deflect attention from uncomfortable subject matter, e.g., the content of want5 and conclusion (*which will be the subject of the majority of most if not all comments this entry provokes, if any*)

conclusion: i'm a narcissistic megalomaniac with a modified messianic complex (sans the martyrdom fantasy)

after some discussion with some educated friends last night (*all quite erudite despite the enormous quantity of marijuana they consumed....i don't partake of the herb or of the hop, either*) i've decided that since my degrees are in chemistry/biochemistry and microbiology and other things "molecular" and "clinical" i've no authority to speak of anything but oddities in test tubes (*in vitro for you latinists*) besides, God is tired of theologians and so am i. this could be a longer and more comprehensive entry but i've got radishes to harvest (still!!) and i'm going on a lichen hunt. i noticed some growing in the woods below the near pond on my property with asci like structures that were a blaze orange colour which was quite interesting against the light greenyblue of the primary vegetative structure.......hopefully, i can find it again for identification. if not, i'll put a note in my notebooks to be on the look out for it again approximately the same time next year. the mention of the near pond reminds me of a question i have harboured but never have gotten around to answering: "when does a pond become a lake?" the near pond and the far pond are each approximately 1-1.5 acres in area but the third pond covers approximately 17-25 acres depending on rainfall and the activities of the beavers. so, is there a criterion as far as size/area or is it a volume issue? i've worked with many limnologists but somehow never asked one of them. they should know, i'd expect. admittedly, the pissy tone of this entry stems from an observation shared and corroborated by these friends that we all have felt at one time or another constrained by the credentials each of us holds.....the assumption/expectation that we can only hold interests and opionions within the scope of our credentials. as an analytical scientist, i can not discuss issues of faith, literature, politics, or art. likewise, the art historian in this herbal cabal has felt that she has had to hide her fascination with social insects because this would be perceived as dangerously outside her category. i must now go and hide all the books in my house except for the technical literature and journals lest i be accused of somekind of heresy or worse yet, juvenile punditry. (*gawd, i've finally got to use the word "lest" in a sentence....i feel.....giddy*).


i'm experiencing a horrible dilution of attentions. this blog is suffering for it as the rate of posts will attest. my best friend bought herself a husband via eHarmony and then due to some really plum job offers they had to make a sudden transition to the Pacific Northwest. this has created tons of work for me since i'm somewhat responsible for trying to find coverage for her vacated position at the hospital while the human resources devils begin their slow grind in finding a replacement. i'm a horrible worry-wart and can really bring myself to a dither very easily.....i'm seeing a GP this Monday because i believe i'll have to go on a medication for hypertension. my blood pressure has been more than a little high lately and i can tell......get sort of light-headed and i notice i tire, easily. last 2 measures were 145/102 (so very not good) and 169/99(certainly not improved). i dread the process because everyone i know that has gone on meds has had a miserable time at the outset getting acclimated to the drug after finding the correct one and correct dosage. i will have to work harder on stopping my reliance on cigarettes (*love 'em*). i turn 36 in a few days so i wonder is this a harbinger of a mid-life crisis?? tho' gay men are well past middle aged at 26(so i've been told and if true why do i know so many 40 yr. olds who developmentally are all of maybe 10 or 9?) so i'd expected that i was over that rot. oh well, we'll see.


a truly unique and important voice in speculative fiction passed away of an apparent stroke February 24. Octavia Butler is one of the primary reasons i'm still a fan of science fiction despite the trend being most is schlocky by the numbers pap and pretty dumb. she showed that an author of the genre could address serious questions about identity, gender, poverty, fundamentalism, and racism. in a commentary/essay on the UN Conference on Racism, she asked the question "What would make us more tolerant, more peaceful, less likely to need a UN Conference on Racism?" to which she provided the answer: "Nothing. Nothing at all." She then spoke of the necessity of our resisting our innate 'hierarchical tendencies' which often leads toracism, sexism, classism and a host of other "isms" causing so much suffering in the world while never failing in recognizing that "there is, unfortunately, satisfaction to be enjoyed in feeling superior to other people" which makes this resistance difficult for most and impossible for some. it sounds grim, but actually i always took a sense of a kind of hopefulness from her books, interviews, and essays. perhaps the discussing and imagining of better futures/realities is one of the most powerful tools to realizing them. but, i could just be talking through my hat, eh?


i need a personal assistant/secretary to whom i can dictate an entry to whilst i knit. i've tied up (*no pun*) with this really awful yarn....it's the first time i've ever messed with a 100% synthetic before....it squeaks and has a tooth for the needles......i've tried bamboo, teak, and steel needles and it holds to the needles regardless the material. anyway, the yarn was super cheap, and the colours are incredible....that's why i bought it. so, i live with the choices i make, eh? tho, i'll certainly keep bitchin' about the 'hand' of the yarn and certainly bitch about this being the slowest yarn i've ever encountered. this will eventually be a "Doctor Who" type scarf roughly 10" x 72" but since the yarn is variegated in these deep clear jewel colours: no stripes...i chucked any ideas of a pattern or fanciness and went with a standard garter stitch to try and speed this damn thing up. it'll be pretty one day. i've come to a decision to take a hiatus from the church for awhile. the str8 devils there were feeling more of a burden than an elegant young fellow like myself need worry over...... besides, i've been working a lot lately and my doctor's made threatening sounds re: my level of exhaustion. "busy peoples is happy peoples" as my friend Brick always says...... i must be insanely happy. besides, i'm using my hiatus from the UU as an opportunity to check out other congregations because honestly, the husband-huntin' in the UU ain't for shit 'round here. having a Sunday morning to myself was actually something of a treat for myself....i made myself a waffle with the blueberries and pecans......read my sunday paper and worked all the puzzles.....did some knitting, reading, then puttered over my seedlings. very relaxing day and much needed. actually tackled some con-ed stuff, too.


i came across something somewhere(i've forgotten, ok?) that essentially was someone's wondering about a "meaning" for Katrina. a very jaded and cynical Baptist friend who is a closet socialist (i think) said to me "Katrina is proof that so many of the Main Street Baptist's (*he's making a pointed reference to one of the local 'fortress of god' mega churches*) are correct with their implication that God really doesn't like poor people.....they have messy lives." now, none of them would actually SAY it but i see where his implication comes from........most churches of any significance 'round here are purely for social climbing/networking. there, i said it. but Katrina does have meaning......it teaches us that the mighty can be brought low and that po' folks have a tremendous capacity to 'just get through...' i would stress that no one should ever mistake survival with living. Katrina could also mean that titty bars and gay backroom sex clubs are ok with God....since those parts of the Quarter seemed to get through relatively intact. Katrina could be the heralding of worse things to come.......does anyone see the problem of global warming being taken as seriously as it deserves? probably not. also, it shows us that we as a nation are too simperingly pleased at our own complacency....we get what we deserve by being so disengaged from what goes on in our government, our communities, in our own homes, and too often, in our souls.


i found this over on kevin's blog and it made my day.....considering that i had myself a detonation of sorts at work.....i thought someone was being very unkind to a dear friend and sort of proceeded to "sling shit." i've never been a good quaker. but, this photo somehow helped me get back to myself. reminded me to not take anything too seriously.

y'all be good.