There is no greater creature of habit than me. I like routine, stability. I need security. But the odd thing about all of this, the irony of it, is how bored I get by it all. I'm always craving something new. I need routine, but it bores me to death. I'm not sure what it is about my current state, but the days and weeks seem to fly by like the yellow dashes of a passing lane. I'm feeling a sense of urgency, born of this sense of passing time, together with a pervasive boredom. I've always believed that you're living life well if the recent past seems a million years ago. What makes things seem like they were a million years ago? Well, I think it's change. When someone has the feeling that something 5 years ago was just last year, look out. That person needs some change.

I saw a news story on the MacNeil Lehrer News Hour last night about blogs and bloggers. The journalist was praising both, with the prefatory caveat that "sure, they might be narcissistic and self-absorbed, but..." haha Yes, indeed. See the paragraph above for evidence on that point. But I'm glad I'm doing it. The ease of doing it would have escaped me but for Ann, so for that, I thank her. She's so much more tuned into what's happening out there in cyberland than I am. It seems that lots of people are writing and reading thoughtful political commentary, or other similar less self-absorbed material. While I often have thoughts on such matters, I rarely want to write about them, and certainly not on a regular basis. I prefer more personal things. So that's mostly what I'll be writing about. I have little interest in reading the personal thoughts of others, or rather, I might enjoy it but I set aside no time for such reading, so I can't imagine who might read this. But as one guy in the segment on tv last night said, I'm doing this to force me to write. That alone is enough reason. I've long ago realized that I am only able to think clearly when I have to write things down. It's as if I'm unable to make simple connections that reach from a to m without mapping them out. So that's what I'm doing. Also, I find that sitting down and being forced to write something when you have no thoughts is a good thing. Often times good things come of it. I used to write someone at least once, but often multiple times, in a single day via email. And it was good for me. It exercised my imagination a little. Afterall, you eventually run out of things to write about yourself, so the imagination begins to kick in. So bear with me (It's not bare, is it? No). Eventually the self-absorbed stuff will run its course and I'll write something good ocassionally.

(Aside: The Prokofiev piano sonatas are wonderful, contrary to what I was led to believe. Not immediately accessible, but worth a little work.)

Tonight ... things that happened at the gym.

Lately I've been getting out of work early (I have nothing to do there, afterall) and consequently I've been arriving at the gym earlier than usual. You see different faces.... and bodies. Upon checking in, gathering my key, and pushing open the locker room door, I saw before me a tall lanky kid, probably 20 to 25, in a towel. Gulp. Just my type! He removed his towel (happily) and I had one of those Jim Carrey in "The Mask" moments. You remember one scene in that movie in which the goofy guy lusts over a woman and his tongue literally drops to the floor and rolls out like a Persian rug? That was me catching a glimpse of this guy. Man. I want some of that. Well, I collect myself, do not gawk and stare, and have a good workout (just shoulders). As I'm mounting the Stair Master to begin my cardio workout, I listen casually to the two guys in front of me who are doing some leg extensions. They're regulars at the gym, classic jock types, very muscular, great bodies, etc. (though not my type at all). They're nice enough guys. I've spoken to the one (Joey) many times. I'm not listening too carefully, as I'm also reading and watching tv at the same time. But then I hear the phrase "There are a lot of 'em in here. Here come two right now" and he nods in the direction of two gay boys walking down the ramp onto the cardio floor. Now I know the two guys he was nodding to are gay, and I'm immediately certain what he's talking about. Who knows what he was saying about 'em (gays, that is) -- perhaps it was nothing, nothing at all. Hell, I would say something like that to a friend too -- 'here come a couple right now." But when he said it, it seemed a little sinister. Those two boys are very nice guys, a bit queeny and not for me really, but they wouldn't hurt a fly. They didn't deserve the disdain that Joey was directing at them, and I'm certain Joey wouldn't be cruel or mean in any way to them, but it's a reminder. That's still there. I rarely sense it anymore, but it's there. And suddenly my lust for the boy in the locker room made me feel vulnerable to it. I was harkening back to high school. Yikes. The difference is that now I'm much stronger than I was then. Much stronger. I can't handle Joey now. I lusted over lanky boys in high school, and 20 years later I'm still lusting over lanky boys. And I imagine (and hope haha) I'll always lust over lanky boys.

As I was leaving I ran into my friend Rob. We chatted for a few moments, and then he asked me if I found it depressing returning to Rochester after the vacation we had shared in Ft. Lauderdale just a few weeks ago. I said, well, really I didn't mind returning to cold weather or the usual things one mind find difficult to return to. What I didn't like about returning was the dearth here of lanky young boys to feast my eyes and hands upon. hahaha

Yesterday I was sitting at my usual perch atop a stool in Spin, one of my regular coffee shop hangouts, watching the crowd walk by through the window. A man sat down a few stools away and muttered something pleasant. I recognized him as someone I'd met before, once or twice, through my friend Gerry, though it took me a few moments to remember where I'd met him. A friendly enough conversation ensued. He was a portly man in his 50s, with a toupee covering what was surely a nearly bald head. Oh, sure, there may have been long strands of thin, fuzzy hair hanging from the sides of his head, but really nothing much more. He is a gay man, retired, though he denied it, claiming to be on sabbatical.... by now a six-year sabbatical which he assured me could come to an end at the mere mention of a word to his boss. I'd met him once at a concert--he sings in a couple of choruses about town. Blah blah blah, conversing, conversing, me thinking I'd really like to return to my reading materials, look at the time, maybe I shold leave early and read at home.. He asks if I have a boyfriend. He tells me a long term relationship had just ended badly. He's going to Canandaigua to check out some ballet event this weekend. Would I like to get together sometime next week for dinner, or perhaps a movie. Here, let me give you my number. Call me.

Yikes! The very next moring my man, let's call him Ron, high-tails it to my friend through whom I'd met Ron months earlier. Ron's inquiring about my "availability." Hahaha Ron, if you happen to stumble upon this, I'm so unavailable. In fact, I believe I have to wash my hair or something right now. I'm certain of it. (This last joke was stolen from Gerry--yes, the very one who has brought together Rom and me. Are Gerry and Brian free for an outing with John? No, Gerry has to wash his hair. hahaha Very funny, I thought, so I reuse.) Well, I have Ron's number tucked away for a rainy day... 30 years from now.

This evening I'm doing my stairmaster thing at the gym, trying again to read through some materials I'd brought--the very same materials I did not get to from the previous evening, due to Ron's distraction. The guy next to me... let's call him Ed... proceeds to ask me, out of the blue (though we'd already established that I know a bit about information technology), whether I knew anything about web design because, well, he'd like to put together a web site for his portfolio of his work as a model. Ed is not a vision to behold, mind you, and up close he's no scent to smell. Am I to believe Ed, a civil engineer for the State of NY by day, is a fashion model by night? Well, yes, yes I am. Honey Brown beer commercials, jeans, Tommy Hilfiger, etc. But he'd like to contribute his earnings to charity, give something back, you know, and this web site will do that. Do you follow this? No, neither do I. He's a nice, friendly chap, but really, I haven't enough interest to endure 30 minutes of distraction from him. Please, Ed, can I interest you in a fat gay man in a toupee? I'd really like to read some of this material on PL/SQL. That's what I want to do.

(Prokofiev piano sonatas again)

I see the same two guys at work walking the halls at the same times each day, never apart. One is a tall African American fellow with a mustache; the other is an Indian guy, average height. They're always walking with apparent purpose, that is, toward a goal, and always talking with earnestness about non-work-related issues. Their predictability is so annoying, I find, but even more so is the fact that neither is ever seen without the other. Christ. Anyway.. I have so much I could write about that hopefully I'll get this out of my system soon and can quickly get to the point where I have to work at topics. That's when things get interesting.

Today is Good Friday, and things are very quiet at work. This is not unusual, though. Things to do this weekend:
1. Sell my god-forsaken car! Pleeeaase.
2. Clean up the floor of my living room.
3. Study more PL/SQL. I'd also like to revise the Oracle form I use to insert data into my CD collection database. It's so crude now. I should read more about Oracle Forms too. And speaking of my database, I want to add more data. I'll get there eventually. I really should begin leaning Unix/Linus too, but I can't do it all!
4. Should learn a little French. Phrases, mere phrases, Joan tells me. I'll try. It's not so fun, though.
5. Maybe go to Tilt on Saturday. Haven't been there for a while. I'm told it's moving or closing because they lost their lease, so I may not have many more chances.
6. I should do a little research on San Francisco. I keep thinking I want to move there. This is a huge topic to write about, but I avoid it because there's too much.
7. I want to do a little addition to my web page--just some old pictures I've had hanging around.
8. Saturday I should remember to get some wine to bring to Ann's dinner on Sunday.
9. I need to read about how to display the current track number on my car's CD player. It's the one thing I need to know at all times, and I can't figure it out during the fiddling around whilst driving and being careful not to change the track that's playing.
10. I should begin reading some new fiction. I have Adam Bede, but I think I'm not in the mood for that. What then?

I am so profoundly bored. Have you ever noticed a little dissonance in your mind when someone speaks of someone being profoundly retarded? It seems an oxymoron, though I suppose it isn't strictly. I think I'll leave work early today. Why should I stay? WHY? Because they pay me to? Oh, screw that. hahah My moral compass has been out of whack for some time now. It no longer registers any moral pangs about such things. I can fit in my quick leg workout before showing my car. Yes, I will.

Sometimes I can't think, or rather, I have no interest in thinking, while music clatters away in the background. Prokofiev and those manic piano sonatas. Turning it offf.... Anyway, I was just thinking about my favorite times of the day. What do you look forward to, what things about facing a new day make the prospect appealing? Here are a few of mine. I've always really enjoyed that span of 20 minutes or so in the morning when I eat breakfast while watching the news magazines. I love eating my English muffin slowly (I eat all things slowly, truthfully), washing small bites down with my cup of orange juice, and after that's done, having a bowl of raisin bran to savor. I eat the same things every day, mostly, but I never tire of them. After the raisin bran, it's time to get moving, dressed, etc. But while I'm eating, I'm utterly content. The same is true of my dinner. I come home from the gym, clean up, fix things, mostly by microwaving them, and then sit down in front of the news. For that 30-45 minutes I'm enjoying myself.... always. Those are my top two. The rest of the time I'm plagued with the feeling that I should be doing things. But not during meals. That time is not to be filled with other chores.

Driving to work and back can be nice. A few moments set aside for, well, solo sexual activities. My lunch time at work, where I can surf the web for news and other things, free form activity time. I love to read what's new on Andante.com. Lately I've been enjoying entering data into my database for my CD collection. Why has that become fun? I'm not sure. Of course during the weekend I look forward, above all else, to the few hours on Saturday and Sunday when I sit in a coffee shop and read or study something. Maybe during the week I'll do that in the evening on my day off from the gym. It remains, after a couple of years of doing it, incredibly satisfying. What do all of these have in common? Or do they? I think they all give me contained segments of time in which I'm alone and not subject to feelings that I should be doing something else. I've set aside time that is not subject to outside pressures. Time-boxed, as Xerox people say, though with a slightly different meaning. And speaking of solo sexual activities.... I've got a little time set aside for this current time box, so I should be going. hahah

This is my new board for stream-of-consciousness writings. It's nothing more than an outlet for me which perhaps some might find interesting at times too. But I'm not going to try to write well-crafted text, anecdotes, and such. I intend this to be more of a quick snapshot of what's on my mind at the moment. Well, I leave it wide open. If I want to write something neatly wrapped into a little story or something, I might, but mostly it'll be just ramblings.