sorry people

Okay, all two or three of you who read this.  I'm sorry, I have been without spell check for weeks now on this fucking blogspot.  I can't figure out how to get it back since I upgraded the thing.  I'm a geek but not that kind damn it!  I really just like the chicken heads.

Anyhow, I just got spanked by Liz about my spelling on my other blog.

She informed me that if I want to go viral with anything important to me I need to
        a) learn how to spell, or
        b) figure out how the fuck to spell check my shit.
And grammar too?  Fuck- grammar and writing in the first or third person, and keeping it in the same voice all the way through?  That's just way too much to think about.  I've got an MFA, but not in writing people, in sculpture!  Go figure.

I am sorry to hurt your feelings with my errors.  I will try harder.  I really just like to blab about my crappy, fantabulous, fucked-up, fun and lovely, sometimes even spiritual existence...

K?

not the Pagoda!

I was driving today (I have Bro's truck for the week!) and saw a fence around probably my favorite building in the city.  It's an old Chinese restaurant, The Pagoda.  I freaked out imagining it torn down.  I parked the truck and went to take pictures.  It's one of those places that you look at but never go.  I actually went once and the interior was pretty fantastic too.  Unfortunately the food was not so i never went back.  The building is at a major crossroads in Northeast Portland at Sandy, Broadway and NE 39th.  Traffic comes off the highway or passes through because the residential streets are blocked so people don't zip through.  When you come upon the building it just makes you smile.  A "What The Fuck" moment.  I hopped the fence to talk to the people working on the building.  Hey, is this building being torn down?  No, the guy responds.  The historical preservation society kept it safe.  He smiles, It's gonna be a key bank.  I did a little research and the whole thing may be torn down, not sure... 

What I realize from these photos is that they have already torn off the pagoda and the  awning from the top corner of the building.  Above is a picture of the original building, I think the orange tile was installed sometime in the 70's.

Have a look.

world have your say

I heard this program about Angelina Jolie saying open relationships can work. The moderator brought on a bunch of people to negate this statement but the follow-up email comments are varied (including mine). It may seem my blog is mono focused but it's just for now I think. This is such an important issue in my life I'm exploring it fully. Happy reading!


If you want to comment here, I'd love to read what you have to say.

http://worldhaveyoursay.wordpress.com/2009/12/23/is-fidelity-over-rated/

free to be you and me

I'm in flux. I'm actually in one of those major life transitions. The kind that fucks with you from all angles so you don't know who has your back or who is a monkey on it.

I'm ending a long term relationship. It's been life altering to say the least. I've learned about myself and grown so much through the years that it stuns me that the relationship got stunted and died. Or better, we got confused and killed it. I had hoped we'd be able to figure out how to grow and allow our lives together to morph into something that would still meet our needs and keep the love flowing between us.

Culturally this is not what we are told happens and we often don't let it. When we find that our needs are no longer met we no longer want that person around (or we cheat). Sometimes we do want them around, but we don't want them to change because it threatens the safety of what we know. If each individual in a couple is growing and changing in different ways look out, the possibilities for big emotional breakthroughs or breakdowns are immense.

I have changed, or rather I have decided to realize the my potential. I'm crushed that my "primary" relationship ended and that my now ex was unable to work with me to find a way to change things. No doubt she tried and I am encouraged by that. Change is hard. Big, emotional, life altering relationship realignment is really fucking hard and you have to be willing to hurt and still put out there what you want and need. In no uncertain terms. This kind of work is not for the weak of heart. It's terrifying and it hurts and it requires a lot of commitment and truth and honesty and trust. If you are willing and capable of tolerating all that I do think it can be worth the mind boggling connectedness you can find. I'm a connector. I like people mostly, but gravitate to deep connectedness. I don't go for light conversation much so I don't have a lot of friends. People are afraid. That's okay because I feel afraid too, and I'm okay being afraid by myself much of the time. The people I do connect with on a deeper level get and give some of the best.

I'm also not a forever person. I'd like to be surprised that people will be forever in my life but I want to try and live without that expectation. I like knowing I can work toward success in a relationship and it does not have to be based only on coupling or forever. I like to think my relationships will change and morph over time and that they will fade if they need to. Fade not sever...

I'm losing friends in the process of coming out as poly. Or at least it feels that way. My "bff" has not been able to talk to me much for a while. It's going to be okay. It may be too much for her to take on. I'll encourage her to read some stuff and find out when I can what's going on.

I hope y'all get what you want out of life and love. Keep an open mind and and open heart.

just a glimmer

Grief is a motherfucker.

If you're looking for something cheery, you're looking in the wrong place. This blog will most likely be taken over by the monsters inside me. So don't read it if you plan to judge me or think I am one of those monsters, or if you feel the need to pity me. Because yes, it's true, grief is a Motherfucker. And, sorry moms, not in a good way.

I'm tumbling through the last week hanging on by a thread.

I feel duped in a way.

It's been a long hard road and I need to get my head on. Not straight, no I don't go for that. But I need to move ahead in a way that feeds me. I am sucked dry and have very little to give. I want some TLC. I want someone to make me soup and tuck me into bed and scratch my back until I fall asleep. Then in the morning, coffee will be freshly brewed but it will just be me and Fig (my dog) in the house, ready for our morning rituals. How great would that be?

I'm beat up. My brain is mush and I have very little critical thinking skills available to me right now. I need time to rejuvenate and refresh so I'm not a sobbing bundle of nerves each time I go out in the world. Okay the gym doesn't count, I need that too. The season of giving and parties is not helping me. I'm going it alone since Thanksgiving. Not really sure I can deal with my blood family and not much other choice. It's cool, I don't generally do this gift giving holiday so well anyway. Usually I eek by with the ritualistic nods but feel guilt and shame for falling prey to the obligation.

I have a couple of truly amazing friends that help me cry and talk and allow me to speak my truth. They listen with compassion and caring and help me find perspective. Thank you, you know who you are I hope.

I need more and I need it now. Tonight I'll go to a group looking for like minded individuals. I hope to meet some people I can eventually befriend. I'm hoping to hear tales that express my desire and truth. It's all a dream right now and I'm having difficulty thinking it will get much better, but a glimmer of hope is alive in me and that glimmer will keep me going today.

energy and sound

There is so much amazing music in the world And there is so much great stuff hailing from Portland. I know y'all already got this but I feel like I've been sort of plodding along letting it all pass me by.

I went to this Oregon Public Radio show being taped last night (Live Wire) and heard this band Nurses. Number one they were adorable boys playing a variety of things passed through their "heap". A bunch of electronic gadgets distorting the sound. I liked it. And I loved that these guys bounced around and sang to a seated, mostly middle aged and older audience. It was hilarious at first, then the music took me away.

Now I'm eating dinner but while I was cooking I was listening to some public radio music show. I think I must have pandora'd 3 or 4 bands I've never heard of. They had a band in the studio that I also really liked. I like music, I like the radio and I love Pandora. Okay enough dorking out.

I went for a walk tonight to get some air (and rain). I wanted to start feeling better. I've been funky for a few days now and I'm kind of over it. For some reason I couldn't get myself to walk far from my house, I circled closely and then just came home. I remembered Reiki.

I took a Reiki class a month or two ago and was doing really well at practicing every day. But for some reason I have not been making time for it much this past week. I don't know why, It's not like I have a hectic schedule (insert eye roll here).

So I decided to give myself a treatment. My intention was to feel better, lighter, happy even? I lay my hands on my eyes and feel the heat. Clearing my brain was difficult but by the time I got to the second position I could feel my head pulsing, by the forth position my body was coursing with energy. I lay on my side for the 8th and final position and covered myself including my face with a blanket. My eyes closed I was seeing bursts of moving color that kind of freaked me out. I had to open my eyes just to make sure something wasn't wrong outside my head. No just energy pulsing, I guess?

Sound crazy? It is! And I feel so much better for it. I can actually hear the music and enjoy my evening.

Okay, here's the list of music I'm now listening to, check it out!

Thao With The Get Down Stay Down - Know Better Learn Faster (sounds about right)
The Xx
Nurses

who cares about Tiger?

I don't, but I do love this article in Newsweek. Representation!

http://www.newsweek.com/id/226348

quiet time

I’m squatting down feeding Fig with a fork. Mainly shoving the food out of its muck so she can lick it up. She’s become so blind, and I hate to admit it, but senile too. She seems not to know how to eat these past few days, is standing looking at the wall and generally confused. Looking 15 in her blind eyes Fig’s health is starting to concern me.

So, I’m squatting in the kitchen, fork feeding my dog, and the thing that goes through my head is, It’s so quiet. I’ve been noticing it today. I had to get out of the house for a while because of it, choosing to walk the quiet residential streets. There is no Billy, no music, not talking in the house. Just the sound of the fork scrapping the bowl and Fig lapping it up. I’m thinking… No Billy dragging ass across the floor trying to swoop those leftover Fig morsels before someone yells or snatched his plump little body away, no you tube, or hulu, no bleeping of text messages or emails coming through the phone, no phone calls.

It’s quiet and I need to make it not so quiet. It’s more quiet pounding through my body than I can take. I’m crying and crying from the quiet, making sound that needs to escape.

I’ve been reading through a list of wants-vs-needs in relationship. I wrote it a few months ago when Felice and I were going to see a counselor in Seattle. The counselor asked us to do it so we could have a starting place for our meeting with her. We never shared these lists. Bummer. I wish I had a copy of hers and she mine. It’s important stuff. Felice is the one who got me thinking about it so long ago when we were trying to talk about how to do our relationship. I think it was when we were reading Tristan’s book Opening Up. We were excited about the possibilities. I’m not sure if we shared our lists then either. I wonder if it would have turned out differently if we had done this up front, early in our relationship. Think about it folks and make plans and provisions about what you want, who you are. Do it early so you know where you stand. Don’t cheat, lie, omit important information, and listen to what the other party says. Don't think you can change him/her. Be transparent and do the best you can. It will hurt at some point; it’s a relationship after all. But be out there and real. It’s worth it every time whether you’re coming or going.

I think I like the quiet.

Ouch! I’m thinking that too. That’s harsh right? But also it’s true. It’s been tight quarters here for months and it feels good to open up boxes I haven’t seen for literally years. To organize and clean. To have music or not. To listen to the scrape of the fork on the dog dish.

I’ve been listening to this cd over and over again. Liz gave it to me as a joke because the musician is Rodriguez. She hadn’t listened to it and I just popped it in yesterday cringing a little as I do. Much to my surprise it’s an astonishing album recorded in 1969 the music was lost for decades and the man who made it too. It’s a lightly psychedelic urban tale of drugs, love and revolution. I love it. Rodriguez is compared to Dylan, but reminds me of Nick Drake sans the flowery feel. The music reminds me of Felice and Debbie N. and Zelda, some of the music fanatics I know.

I kind of feel like I just took my last drink. An alcoholic coming out of the fog. The rain has stopped for the moment and the colors are brilliant. There is a haze of new green grass shooting through the black compost in the backyard, it’s pushing up through the earth and into me. The light, composition and color is filling me fully for the moment. But I really want that next drink and I'm angry and sad I can't have it. Last night I took a long walk once the rain stopped. It’s been warmer and it was good to stretch out. I love the starkness of winter branches contrasted by the holiday lights, and occasional garish glare and hum of the blow-up snow people, the santa on a harley, mickey in a snow globe. I can laugh.

I’ve got more work to do around the house to settle in, more work to do on me. I’m finding my feet and standing solid, looking north and south knowing the direction is not important but that staying on the path is all that matters. The rest will come.

how to be poly friendly

This is a link to Freaksexual a blog I really like. The posting is a great way for people to think about how to be friends to their poly friends.

Happy reading!

http://freaksexual.wordpress.com/2008/10/11/how-to-be-poly-friendly/

home alone

I'm home three days and the dissapointment and distrust is setting in.

I bailed on my good friend tonight because again I feel unseen and mistreated. My lfe is in serious flux. Things are new, raw, dissapointing, sad and scary. And I want my broster to be around to support me and talk me through. But no, it's not gonna happen.

Really it's time to find a true poly community. People that get the complexities and are not afraid to talk about it. It's time for me to figure out how to help my friend find ways to support my person instead of cracking jokes about how I'm into anything perverse. Yes, I'm kinky and poly and sex positive and I love perversion. I want to grow a life with like minded indivuals and find safety and comfort in that family. Certainly our culture tells us everything is wrong with who I am and how I want to live my life.

Fuck it. Time for this one to take a giant leap forward.

driving south

I leave Portland early in the morning on Saturday. On the road in the rental car by 7:15. Listening to music and enjoying getting further and further from the overwhelm that has been my life as of late.

I've been dreaming of this car time. Looking forward to alone in my head and body for half a day. But a few hours down the highway I see two people sitting on the side of the freeway. I-5, not a place you want to be hanging out on the side of the road at 9:30 in below freezing weather. I slow and pull over and let the travelers join me. When I tell them I'm going to San Francisco they are elated. My heart sinks that they want to go the entire distance but realize also it's the right thing to do.  I've been working on giving back.

I used to hitch-hike all the time as a teenager and I know it can be risky for both the driver and the riders.  I feel completely safe, and allow myself to trust my instincts. The travelers are Drew and Lady Oak. they have a tiny kitten and the whole of them is smelling up the car. I worry I won't be able to handle it for long, but we crack the windows and crank the heat. They keep me awake. We stop for gas and they buy sandwich makings with their food stamps. They feed me and answer my inquiries. We listen to music and talk about drugs and hippies. My past their present.

Drew was born to gypsies and has ben on the road on his own for 9 years.  He's all of 23 now.  Lady Oak is probably a bit younger an has been traveling with Drew for less than a year.  She had been living at home when her mom lost her job.  She decided her parents didn't need the burden of paying her way any longer, so she left.  They're trying to find an RV so they have a way to move and a place to sleep.  They tell me of all the illegal places to sleep and the help and harassment of cops.  Train hopping and hitching.  They are ever grateful to me for the ride and I'm happy to have them and help them find their way to winter warmth.

They decide to go to Sacramento and I go out of my way to get them to their desired destination. After this journey I don't want them to be stranded 15 miles down the road. I've made good time and I'll still be in SF for dinner.

human kind/kind human

I worked today
I know, I know, it's a popular not religious holiday
But I haven't had work in a while and I'm feeling it in my slender wallet

I left the job and was going to take the bus home
As you can imagine buses are few and far between
It's a major holiday as we've already discussed

I walked for a while after waiting in the rain for a while
Then I headed off the bus line and walked toward Martin Luther King Jr Blvd
I decided to hitch-hike

Americans no longer pick up hitch-hikers
But I thought, it's Thanksgiving, someone might feel kind
Plus it's raining...

I got to MLK and put my thumb out
I walked a few blocks thumb in the air deciding it was a good experiment
Just then I realized someone had pulled over for me

Tooraj Khodabandeh to be exact
As his business card reads
Toorah sells cars, and he's an actor

He demanded to take me close to home
Asked if he looked presentable to meet his new dates parents
And told me he was from Persia

Iran, I asked?
Yes exactly!
I was happy to make the disclosure mundane

Now I'll google his name
And look at his acting photographs as he suggested
And now you can too

http://www.aracnet.com/~whitcher/tooraj/

monkey day for crows

This morning I was walking my old blind dog Fig around the block. When we go in the morning the crows are out cawing for breakfast or yapping about the weather. This morning I stopped to watch two crows on a wire, they were sharpening their beaks and hanging out just the two of them (they mate for life ya know). One hopped over to the other and bowed its head. The second turned toward the first and began raking its beak through the back of the first ones neck. I've not seen this before. When it stopped, the "raker" stepped to the right a few paces. The other one raised its head and stepped over and bowed again. This went on four times before the one scratching the head of the other started to ignore the submissive begging.   I love the crows.   They're rare to see in NY and I have such an affinity for them here in Portland.  A family has been hanging out here for years being fed by my next door neighbor two times a day. She's 89 or something like that and her husband is already gone.  I'll take over crow duty when she's no longer here.

Years ago I had a girlfriend that was a zit picker. She picked her pimples and primped in the mirror and when she couldn't get something, say on her back, she would ask me to help out. She called it monkey day. It was gross and endearing.   The crows reminded me of this long ago ritual.  I'm enamored by the way they change with the season. Right now the crows are at their shiny best. Jet-black feathers newly gleaming for the winter.    

getting back to it

Yesterday I got out of the house for several hours.  Lunch with Jukie, Counter Media, and coffee talk finale.  It was my first real outing since going to Atlanta and coming home sick sick sick- and it was fun. Today was actually productive.  The lawn has been raked, bulbs planted, old rotten tomato plants pulled, both dogs are bathed and I made dinner for my broster Dfox.

I decided last night that Billy would look show worthy if he was all brushed out.  He absolutely hates it when I glam out on him but look at that little man, no food caught in the matted mess of mustache, eyebrows to be proud of, feet all fluffed and fancy!  What a hot little old man he is.

My list of household chores grows for tomorrow. So grateful to be feeling physically healthy.

growing pains

I'm changing my life
it will prove best in the end
but ouch, it hurts now

come to Jeezus

comes in all forms and sometimes when you least expect it.

I've had a week of down days. Since Monday evening I've been losing the battle with H1N1. I slept all day today and feel much better this evening. I bleach cleaned all the knobs and handles in the house hoping it's not too late. I worry that Felice will get sick the minute I go out of town to see Liz. I won't be here to take care of her and she'll have one more reason to be pissed at me.

This week started on a different note. It's been tense and painful. Sad and distant around here for a while. But on Sunday Felice and I went to Seattle to have dinner with a person that counsels others in polyamorous relationships. I felt validated and I think Felice did too. We came home from that trip and finally by mid week Felice was able to tell me her feeling in a way that I could hear and understand. It was calm and delicate even with the anger. I did not have my armor up and neither did she. A day later I was able to offer Felice a deep apology for my mistake.

The week has progressed and we have some lightness between us. We've never lost the love but it's been weighty in this little house.

I fucked up. I abandon my girlfriend in many ways while trying to convince her my way of polyamory was the way to survive. For me maybe it is, but not necessarily for her...

I fucked up. Leading Liz into this not knowing fully where it would go and not having a clear understanding of how to bring her into my life and create space in my current relationship for us to all grow something.

I fucked up. I was blinded by my years long ambition of living a polyamorous lifestyle before actually being able to set it up with the woman I am partnered with.

I fucked up. I allowed my actions to hurt two amazing women I love dearly.

I am polyamorous, no doubt about that. I've been striving to find myself in this for years. Now I have to figure out how to repair some of the damage done and find a balance.

I'm proud of a lot of things I've done while on this search, but not everything. I'm grateful to have the support of a few strong advocates. I will continue to talk to these people and as Liz tells me, stay away from people who can't support me. It's good advice. The world is set up for monogamists. It's pervasive and has led me astray for years. I need to stand tall and recognize where I fell off the path and push ahead on my quest, knowing full well I will again make mistakes. I know it sound cheeseball and many of you won't get it. But I have a vision, and I know it's achievable. It will make me a better person to pursue love and relationship the way I'm meant to. I will work to keep my listening skills and verbal abilities tuned and my compassion for others and myself at surface of my heart.

fun at the spare room

first day out

I was walking into the market and noticed a Harley sportster parked on the sidewalk. I generally don't like Harley's but whatever it looks nice there. When I get in the store I see my old neighbor Daniella. She's decked out in leather fringe jacket, chaps and a Harley bandanna. I'm wearing my lace up oil tans, Levi's and my Dianese jacket. Cock fight is on. We're standing in the middle of traffic at the front of the store, rush hour, bragging about our bikes, sharing stories about short legs and safety classes. Our swords are out and it's fun.

I had just finished my first ride since having surgery on both my hands and I'm feeling tired and exhilarated and my hands, wrists and muscles hurt. But what I don't feel is numbness. I can tell the ride will help loosen the scar tissue and it's worth the immediate discomfort. Daniella is cute in her fringe and we talk about houses and relationships, H1N1 (her housemate has it) and more about motorcycles.

I get my soup, bread and my spices, she gets her antiseptic wipes and wine and we head out for home hoping it's nice enough for a ride tomorrow.

lady of my life

I don't want to see my mom.

She's been on a rapid decline for the past year. Living in an Alzheimer's facility for the past 6 or 8 months.

My mom doesn't really remember me. It's like she knows my name or knows I'm a safe person but she doesn't know who I am. Also she knows I can break her out of the home. But then we're out and having ice cream and she is so confused and happy and angry and telling stories of things that are meandering through her brain. The stories have no basis in reality. And it's hard to take.

I keep thinking I did my time with my mom when I was a teenager. Looking after her when they got a divorce. Going into the psych hospitals to hold her hand while seeing various brothers chain smoking in threadbare robes or shuffling in a drugged out stupor. My most vivid memory is watching her slump to the floor when she found out my brother John was dead. After that, I'd wait up for her at night when she was coming home from class. I was generally nice to her boyfriends and went along for the ride. What else was I to do at 12, 13, 14 and so on...

I moved to Eastern Washington in eleventh grade so she could finish up college and become a teacher. It was good timing for me as I was becoming a super paranoid stoner. I needed to move away from pot and onto alcohol and the cowboy town of Ellensberg was good place for my transition.

We were friends when I needed a mom. I was the caretaker and confidant. And I feel guilt for no longer being able to stay in that role. I'm letting my step dad, brother and sister take the reins now after brow beating them into it, and making all the plans for this home she's in. I've said I came back to the northwest to be near my mom and dad as they age out of this world, but I don't want to see it. I don't want to see the pain and confusion my mom goes through every step of her day. I can handle it, but I don't want to.

My mom taught me to be tough. But she taught me it was so the world wouldn't get the best of me. I want to unlearn that the world is a scary place. I want to find the beauty in relating to it and it's inhabitants with a level of truth and depth that is necessary for me to thrive.

Don't get me wrong. I love my mother dearly. It's just that I can't share myself with her anymore, she's not there to talk about the times we had, the fun we shared and the battles that raged. I think I may just want to keep it for me so it stays secure in my memory banks.

I'm going tomorrow to see my mom. I'll take her for ice cream and tell her about my life and my impending trip to New York. Her eyes will light up at the sound of it. My fear may subside and I just might think, why don't I do this more often...

rough ride

This week has shut me up
And closed me off
I don't want to talk to anyone
I feel afraid
And suspect people
I want to be left alone
To make my choices
And suffer the consequences

peru and poly

I thought that hiking in the Andie's for four days was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. The hardest and most rewarding both. I’ve said that to people for years now. It was strenuous and beautiful and more than exhausting. Scary in it’s unknown and phenomenal in it’s discovery both physical and psychological.

I’m discovering that polyamory is much like that hike. If only the process could be "completed" in all it’s glory in the four days it took to hike the Inca Trail. This is a process and a learning experience that may be life long. An exciting, excruciating, loving, lonely and life altering experience much like that hike.

I’ve been thinking a lot about capacity. What it means to “have the capacity”. I was on an elevator this weekend and one sign said 13 people max capacity and the other sign said 12 people max capacity. How much do we humans have? How much can our hearts hold and give? Can we trust our brains to help us understand the capacity of our heart or are they two different animals not connected? Can you imaging a world where there is too much love going around?

I’ve been polyamorous, or non-monogamous for most of my life. For seven years acting on it, but these past few years I've begun finding a way that feels whole and healthy and real for me. I know I have the capacity to love and love large and I have the capacity to receive a lot too. The problem isn’t love though, It’s the sex and the intimacy. We’re taught so early that “the right one” will come to us if we hold out and wait for it. Many people are impatient and end up making mistake after mistake and blaming their parents or the other person but rarely would they consider that the truth is, there just may not be “the one”. There might be one person that makes you silly happy, but there just may be two or three or more!?

Prior to going to Peru I had been preparing for this trip- hiking around Mt. Hood, and some trails in Utah and Colorado. I went to Peru to hike the Inca Trail with Kristin. On the second day we made it to the top of the highest pass. I was 38 or so and one of the oldest people actually carrying my own bag. Most people were on tours and had elaborate set-ups with porters and hot towels and cocoa in the morning. Kristin and I had instant miso soup and freeze dried breakfast, lunch and dinner. We fought fear and pain and heights that literally took our breath away. Up to the first pass I was able to count 1-2-3 steps, then I would have to stop and catch my breath and wait for my heart to stop racing. Again 1-2-3-4 and stop, breathe and be amazed by how fast my heart could run. I was not alone in this, but Kristin passed me up and eventually sent a porter down for my bag so I could more easily make it the last few hundred yards to the nearly 15,000 ft. summit. When I arrived, I reached into my nap sack, pulled on my down jacket and fell fast asleep.

I feel a bit more prepared for this trip but remembering the last leg of the first pass still takes my breath away. I'm hoping to stay sober and awake during this life transition. I'm working to speak clearly and take time out when things are escalating. I've learned, like a lot of folks that love is meant to be shared, in an intimate way with only one other. It’s fucked me up in many of my adult relationships and I’m working very hard to change my brain around this. Judgement comes in many forms from many people and chips away at the fragile foundation I am laying for myself and working to help build for and with my partners. Judgement and shame are so ingrained we don’t think twice about how our words infect and spread.

I love my life and feel too old to take steps back. I continue to move forward in a way that is loving and kind and hope my girlfriend and lover can keep up and find their place in this with me. I don't want to force anything, but I know my own life must take precedence now and I am taking steps to make my world whole. I am inviting people in and sharing more of myself than I have in years. I'm open to new possibilities and shedding the outer shell that has been grasping me for too long. It feels good and I see people gravitating toward me in a new way. I'm proud of myself and proud I am finally letting go of the cultural expectations and finding me.

Peru was a fantastic journey where I saw things most people will never see. The only way to get to them is to make the grueling trek into the mountains on foot. This journey into polyamory is also proving to be rigorous, but like the Inca Trail, it's full of eye popping ruins, heavenly cloud forests and remarkable connections with unknown travelers all along the way.

my poly process

Last weekend I was in Brooklyn

Spending time with my lover Liz

We've been seeing each other since March

It's been hard on my relationship with Felice


When I met Felice I confessed my quest for non-monogamy

Felice confessed she was a monogamist - of sorts

I assumed she would see the light

I think she assumed the same

We love each other dearly


Liz and I fell in love

We are all plowing through


We talk, and talk, and talk

Me with Felice

Me with Liz


We cry and talk some more

Me with Liz

Me with Felice


My dream is

Felice and Liz

And Me

That will be the true beginning

no white light

Have you ever had that true to life, near death experience?  

Not like seeing the white light thing.  But knowing in your brain that you could actually die if you didn't figure something out Right Now - This MINUTE!

Well, I had that experience this afternoon. 

I had to figure out just how to stay alive and how to get help to do it.

I ate a boiled egg so I could take my medication and supplements.  When I was done eating  I dumped the contents of my pill container into my hand and tossed it all into my mouth while looking for a glass of water.  I swallowed most of the pills with the first gulp and the rest with the second.  As I turned to refill the glass with water a pill lodged in my throat.  

Or so I thought.  I tried the usual gulping water and tongue movements to get it to turn lengthwise but it was stuck and I quickly realized it was in my windpipe.  I drank more water but sort of choked a little and felt the pill sink just a bit deeper.

Looking around I was trying to figure out if more water or hot tea would do the trick while realizing for real it was in my windpipe.  What The Fuck.  So many things were flashing before me, like how unfair it would be to die like this and how messed up it is to not really be able to get a full breath.  I was thinking about all the things I want to do and all the plans I have and why is this happening and how can I get this thing out of my windpipe. I haven't seen my mom enough- damn it!  I felt a little sad and pathetic and I'm thinking of Liz and Felice(*) and not being here for the good stuff- which is starting to happen right now!  My house and dog and not having a Will signed and sealed, dumb fuck!  You have to be kidding, I can't die like this!  I'm squatting and my breath is taken away like I've never experienced before, and I'm scared, but also, I'm determined.  Not now and not like this.  How stupid and how wrong!

I'm looking out the kitchen window and remember Jason is here laying floor in the Airstream, and realize if I can relax enough to walk out to him I can probably live.  He'll be able to save me.  At this point I'm gasping terribly and trying not to panic big.  I get outside and his dog is there, I stumble through the yard and hear my gasping and actually feel embarrased by the sounds coming from my mouth, I sense drool, and now I'm banging on the door to the trailer.  I open the door, Jason is facing the wall away from me but turns his head and looks up.  I keep banging and he jumps up.  His face is horrified as I point desperately to my mouth and make some random, possibly hysterical motions.  I turn around so he can give me the Heimlich. I lunge forward before he can even get to me and when I drop my head the pill shoots from my throat.   It's the big green multi vitamin.  Fucker.  Jason picks it up and looks at me confused.

I'm coughing and gasping and coughing and catching my breath while Jason is lightly freaking out.  He tells me I almost gave him a heart attack.  I tell him he almost saved my life.  I knew he could do it, he seems so handy and good. I'm great after a ten or fifteen minute bout of coughing and drinking lots of water and tea.  My throat is a bit sore, but it's worth it.  I like it here and want to stick around for a long time.  I have big plans after all.

=====

I just woke up and remembered the last time this happened to me.  Not the pill thing, but the knowing I'm gonna die thing.  I'm 15 or 16, floating down the Ellensberg river with my mom and brother.  We're on inner tubes all hooked together by our hands and feet.  We're floating toward this small island in the middle of the river but not deciding which way to go around it so we're headed dead on.  At the last minute we split up.  Mom and Tony go left and I go right scraping the side of the island and flipping over immediately from a branch under the water.  

I'm a really good swimmer. I swam competition all through my childhood.  But when I flipped over there was no swimming to be done.  My tube disappeared and I was caught in an undertow.  That thing had it out for me.  I used all my strength but it was bigger and stronger than me.  I pulled my head up a few times and hollar HELP and catch a bit of air, but continued to be dragged under.  I had that feeling.  Get out or you're going to die.  

I was struggling but getting nowhere,  losing strength and losing the battle when my brother grabbed me and tugged me out of the water.  Again, gasping air and alive.  How did you do that was all I could ask him.  How did you do that? How did you do that?  He had both our tubes and held mine near him as we floated down the river and around the bend to greet my mom.

++++++++

(*) next post: Polyamory

Snow Storm

Damn, I wish...  Sometimes I just want to snort a whole bunch of cocaine and go out carousing all night.  That was then - this is now.

This particular snow storm is the whiteout in the Airstream.  Felice and I bought a 1959, 24' Airstream for extra space. I just finished spraying several coats of primer and doing a lot of repairs.  It's going to be H.O.T.

For those of you not named Diana, sorry, you will not be the first to sleep in the guest room trailer.  But it will be up and running for guests very soon. 

Enjoy the pictures, sorry they are in random order due to me not knowing really how to manage my blog and not wanting to take the time to figure it out right now.  The moving was done with a sexy remote control tractor that I got to drive for a minute.  The guy with the neck tattoo, that's Jeremy, and his boots, yum...  

Finish painting will start momentarily.

summer camp quest

This weekend I spent at Summer Camp. An adult kinky, poly, spiritual camp in the woods outside of DC. It's truly the only place I think I've ever been where I can be me fully, accepted and appreciated for who I am, what I look like and what my body is.

Toward the end of my time there I had an experience that continues to stay by my side. Some would call it a vision quest, some a heavy scene and still others would call it a crazy messed up thing to do.

There was a cleansing of the land around us, a grounding circle, some Lakota prayers and a blessing from our leader. I was attached to my partner Felice by a loop of rope tied to hooks embedded into our chests. Very little blood and no gore, just a means to connect our energy and allow it to flow as we pulled the rope between us and gazed into each others eyes (the gazing, an intense and relationship affirming thing to do in itself). We stood, then sat and pulled the rope with ease, and then pain, and tenderness between us. I felt the flow of old and new circling about us but the goods came in the night.

When the ritual concluded we were told by the leader to pay close attention to the messages we are given for the next few weeks or so. Felice and I had no plans for the evening and without intending to we slept over 10 hours that night. In the morning we spoke of our dreams. It's highly unlikely for me to remember my dreams but I was excited to tell her what I'd remembered. She told me hers first- about accidentally driving a bus slowly into the ocean and people on the bus being upset because it would delay their trip. The embarrassment or shame of causing the delay was her primary sensation. As she was telling me I shot up and said I'd had the same dream. It wasn't exactly the same but it was water and vehicles in the water, and in both of our dreams everyone was safe even though there was a probable tragedy waiting to happen.

My dream happened two times. The first was a small truck going off the road into a swamp and sinking. My dream thought was that someone sunk the truck intentionally so I was not worried. Then I had the same dream from a different perspective where I was talking to Felice and I actually saw the truck fall into the water from the road and watched a person rise to the surface and swim to safety. Like I said, in all dreams everyone was okay. The reality that we had such similar dreams sticks with us as we discuss the symbolism and meaning of each.

I spent the next night in NY with Liz and did not remember any dreams. The following night I had one more "everyone is safe in spite of possible tragedy" dream. I'm putting my brain to good use working out the details of these dreams and talking through the possibilities of meaning. There is some stress for sure but also healing and safety happening in these waters. Don't you agree?

Dfox is home from her weekend trip too. We spent some quality time gossiping about our adventurous weekends and the delicious fun we had respectively. I'm happy to be home and working on settling in.

Each day I look forward to the future and welcome what it brings.

ramble on

Okay people, there is a wonderful thing about Portland Oregon if you own an old house that constantly needs work (and you don't have a closet full of cash). The Rebuilding Center in Portland is a mammoth warehouse of used house parts. It's been around in Portland longer than me and has grown exponentially over the past several years. They have crews that go out and take houses apart to salvage materials and you can buy just about anything house related you want. The lumber they have is old tight grain pine, gorgeous stuff and I can't wait to work with it on some art projects. I have been working on my house for as long as I've owned it and these days I'm pretty committed to using as many green building techniques and recycled products as possible.

Recently I went to the Rebuilding Center to find a window for my garage office. I wanted something that opened and fit into a small space. What I found was a wood construction window that cranks open. it seems to never have been used, works well and fits beautifully. I bought two windows similar to this 5 years ago for my kitchen, they cost me just over $700. I got my office window for $35! And it's so cute! Felice helped me put the window in but I still worked my recovering wrist a bit too much and am feeling the pain of healing. If (When!) you visit Portland make sure I take you to the Rebuilding Center, it's near great restaurants...

I'm so over the wrist brace, but more over not being able to work, lift and carry. I rode my bicycle one handed the other day so I could get a haircut. It was fun but not so safe I suppose.

Have you ever had Reiki? I used to think terrible thought about all that "woo woo crystal wielding stuff" but my Reiki Master Jessica Shaffer is plain and simple a healer. I love her. She has been helping me for a long time but I haven't seen her since I left for NY 4+ years ago. Reiki is all about aligning the bodies energy, grounding and integrating. Probably much more than that, but it's what I have been working on. I came from an appointment yesterday and had to sit in the car for several minutes before I could drive. I had been flying and dreaming and releasing a lot of blocked up mass. I don't really know how this works but feeling your body energy move through you is a phenomenon I never would have believed I could endorse. Hippie much? Fuck yeah, I love Portland and the freedom it brings me!

I'm traveling to kinky summer camp tomorrow with Felice. Currently staying in Baltimore with a house full of Polyamorous folks. It's eye popping what they have and how they have built what appears to be a cohesive family. All good stuff for us to be around this evening.


rebuildingcenter.org
ancientechoes.net/index.html

C'mon Semenya!

I'm so angry by the recent stories coming out about Caster Semenya. Initially I was trying to ignore the whole thing- steam coming from my ears... This morning I ran across a story, about a story in You magazine. The picture of Semenya on the cover has her in a dress, one arm loaded with bangle bracelets. There is so much wrong with this picture. But the message is huge and harmful to legions of people that fall outside the norm. It infuriates me. I was going to upload her "new look" but I decided I didn't want to give in to the pressure. I love the hotness of the picture I'm sharing with you.

At 18 years of age this young person is being told to fall in line with the gender policy of the world patriarchy. It's a tough lesson that may scar her and many others for years to come. Not to mention sports culture on a whole. My hope is that she can break free from what "they" are telling her to be, and stand tall in her identity as a positive role model for so many young people that will follow in her footsteps. Maybe someone in the press will pick it up and tell us something different instead of just hyping the same old trash. But then, I guess I'm a dreamer...

C'mon Semenya, You're the track star! In the words of a master, Do The Right Thing!

Are You F*#>!$+ Kidding Me?

The Oregon State Fair was fucked up amazing and fun! Dfox and Paulie talked me into going on a ride after I ate a corn dog, some deep fried snickers, an elephant ear and a few sips of beer. I didn't vomit but still have a headache from jostling my brain around, and around, and around, and around. The best part of the ride was the Kaia Wilson mini me. I'll post that picture later...

SqEarl

one handed keyboard (left even) is not so fast or easy, so i'll make it breif. i had carpel tunnel surgery today. But that's not what I want to write about.

As you may have noticed a lot of time has been going into my domestic surroundings. One of the last thing i did yesterday was vacuum out the closet i built. When i turned on the shopvac and began pulling in dust the machine was blasting out hot air. I inhaled and found myself with my old dog SqEarl. The odor was strong, sweet and musty a tinge of wet dog softened by her yellow eye looking up at me.

She was with me from 10 week - 11+ years. too short to be honest. She was a wild one, and completely untrained. I wanted a dog and thought grad school would provide the time for good time together. It did and we walked for miles and miles along the greenbelt in Austin. SqEarl would run ahead and check back to make sure I was still there and safe. When Fig arrived she would follow SqEarl's every move on the trails (except the swimming).

Whenever it would flood the water in the creek bed was an astounding turquoise. We'd go down a quiet trail and wander for hours.

SqEarl developed bone cancer behind her eye and I ended up putting her to sleep at home on December 4, 2005 or 04? I have used the shop vac rarely since that time and was pleased to get a whiff of my dead dog today.

can't deal w/ the typing situation more to come...

Bruises

I know, you think it's gonna be an exciting story right? It is, but not that kind...

I built a closet and an office in the garage. I feel proud and accomplished. The closet has sheetrock, tape, mud and paint and it's ready to receive, sans door. I'll be putting up shelves and racks today that will hold of clothing, boots and purses. In the house and yard there are mountains of boxes covering mountains of furniture and the beginnings of a yard sale (that pile must grow). The storage space is not full but not empty for sure. We have our work cut out for us and I'm so happy to have all my things in one place.

In the process of building and moving I've gotten pretty banged up. Along with the boating bruises I have a blood blister and marks up and down my arms and legs. It's how I know I'm working hard I suppose.

More to come on the progress, but right now my goodies are beckoning me.

Labor of Love

That's Nate. I got him from Debbie. He's a general handy man who works out of his bicycle. He has this cart with a big rubber bin that houses all his tools and supplies. He peddles from job to job and is competent and fast. I love Portland for people like Nate. He wired the Airstream and put a box to plug it into at the back of the garage so when it's moved it can be plugged in and powered up, So exciting! Scheduled move date is the 14th of September or something like that. I have more pressing things to think about, it's on the calendar...

Right now I'm building. I'm making space in the garage. Cutting it up into three sections. An office, a closet, and a shop. I've had my house for about five years and have been away for most of that time. Since I'm home things are changing. The kitchen was finished earlier this year. Finally I had the floor done so I could put the kick plates under the cabinets. Finished it looks pretty and I wonder why it took so long to do this. I suppose it has something to do with money and the fact of living in NY. One of my favorite things was to hire someone to do a project on my house while I was away. I'd come home sometime later to check things out a feel instant relief that I didn't have to install the cedar shake or deal with the roofing contractors or... I'm grateful for the people that helped make it happen and the money I had to have it done.

My walls are janky and weird, but with sheetrock you'll never know the difference. Paulie helped me one day and Felice and Dfox put some labor in too. I decided I need to move the door tomorrow, so I'll do some cutting and tearing out and cutting and fitting together and be done with it. It will work and it will be useful. And I will have a tiny office with a window that overlooks the garden and Felice will have a place for her shoes. That makes me happy and proud.

The moving containers come tomorrow. Five of them. I'm pretty positive that we're in okay shape to receive the merchandise, but we have several things to finish up before the mover dudes come to unload them on Saturday morning. I'll complete the closet, we'll move furniture out of the house and add shelves and generally organize where we have not. The storage place is rented and the overflow will live there until we figure out how to make the house big enough for two.

12 hours yesterday. Laboring with sheetrock, tape and mud. I feel proud of the work and happy to do it. I'm in a hurry not only because the containers come tomorrow but because on Monday afternoon I'm having surgery on my right hand. I have been waiting for this for years and will have the left had done in about three weeks. I have carpel tunnel from throwing pots, blowing glass and exacerbated by years of labor and general wear and tear. I'm excited to have my strength and agility back. It's been longer than I care to admit that I have been kept awake at night by numbness. I'll be able to ride my motorcycle and use tools without having to power through or try to shake out the numbness. I got to the surgeon after several months of chiropractic, acupuncture and physical therapy for a recent problem with my wrist. Turns out the MRI shows severe tendinitis causing that pain. The Doc thinks it can heal with the steroid shot he squirted in a few days ago. We'll see if it works but if not he'll go in when he does the carpel tunnel surgery on my left hand and "scrape it out". I've never been so grossed out and excited at the same time (well, that's probably not true, but this is a different post).

So, I'm busy. I'm working hard and learning and teaching and mostly enjoying the process. We'll settle in and finally all my things will be in one city, a joy I have not known for far too long. I'll set up my wood shop and pick up my welding equipment from my old girlfriend's house where it has been for years. I'll make things, useful and not, pretty and experimental, and maybe once again I'll feel like an artist.

How great will that be?!

Mascochist's nose job

Yesterday was a fantastic day on the mighty Columbia River. Felice wanted a fast boat for her birthday so we got this hot machine that chewed up gas and gave us all a big fat hard-on. Along with the boat we got a tow package that included this big yellow and black blow up dog bone thing. Why in the shape of a dog bone, I have no idea?

We made a thermos of vodka lemon and soda cocktails and had great food, nasturtium nori rolls, fresh basil and garden tomato with mozzarella cheap beer and other fantastic treats. After racing around and bouncing into each other we anchored for snacks and enjoyed the solitude of the big open river.

Then it was time to rock-n-roll. Felice jumped out first and I pulled her along the river on the dog bone float watching her slap the water and the yellow gortex bone. She was laughing hysterically and fully enjoying herself. Next I was on the bone and felt a little afraid of Felice getting retribution for how I bounced her across the river. Thumbs up and we're off! More, I want more speed so thumbs up again and we take off faster and faster. Suddenly there is water from the boat spraying me so I just close my eyes and hold on until I get thrown bounce and sink a bit. Yes, I'm wearing a life vest and that keeps me afloat. My endorphins are roaring and I just want to go again! They pull around and pick me up and we're off again. I'm holding on tight because I want to just keep going fast. The water is rushing into me and I just relax and focus on my arms holding me tight on the big float. My face smashes into the bone and I feel the pain and shock of the crunch. Nice. I keep holding on and reposition my face to either keep from smashing my nose again, or maybe I want to smash it. I'm so zoned out that nothing matters but the rush. After a long while I release the grips and feel the weight of my body in the water. When the boat reaches me Tyler comments on how good my nose looks. Charlz asks if I'm bleeding. I'm so buzzed I can't feel my nose and don't care much about it. They help me in the boat and I thank the driver with a kiss. Good job, so much fun.

Today I'm a mess. My body feels like hell and my glasses hurt my nose. But I wouldn't change it for anything.

end of an era

Early this morning I loaded up a big stainless steel piece of crap I've been dragging around for a long time. It was the structural component of an installation I made in grad school many years ago. I thought I should keep it to reinstall or disassemble and use the piece for something else.

I took it along with some scrap kicking around behind my garage to Metro Recycling, put it on a cart, hauled it in and released it. I got a check for $17.07. I love the significance of that check. Selling one's art is a hard thing to do...

It feels like first light. I'm choosing to live for me right now. And, although my idea of how that looks is not always popular I am feeling strong and capable because of it. My hope is that the people in my life will be able to come on the journey with me. Even just in support of me and my authentic self. I've been coming out, over and over again and explaining myself and my passion for connection and love. Assuming it will just click and I will be understood, accepted and approved. Stamped stapled and handed back with a smile.

The garage is getting cleaned out and the Airstream is wired. Building and painting is happening and the pods that wait in Vancouver Washington are about to be delivered. My things will come, and I will make a home in this little space that was built as my bachelor pad. One bedroom, an open kitchen and living space and the only doors lead to the outside world.

I'm changing the way I live and at the same time figuring out what my true dream is. Thanks to a number of wonderful people I'm brought challenging questions and must consider them deeply. I've invited my partner into my pad and hope we can make space for our things, but more importantly our large leo selves. We look at that floor plan and discuss a bump out here and a second story there. We will make this home right for both of us but ultimately my desire is to build "family" in a way that allows love, openness and ease all the while bringing distinct happiness to each of us.

This house is ripe for renovation, and so am I.

Poppa

My dad has always sung to me. He sings me love songs from the 60’s and 70’s mostly but sometimes jazz standards from his youth.

I love it.

This weekend when I was with him, I mentioned a previous girlfriend who was visiting Seattle, she wanted to stop by to see us on her way back through to Portland. She and I had been texting the day before when she was on her way to Seattle, stuck in traffic around my dad’s exit. I joked that she should stop in to see them. Her response was really sweet. She said it would be a treat and then she reminded me of an installation I did about my dad. The piece revolved around a tin can phone with a chili powder line. One of the cans was sitting atop a ladder straining to take in my dad’s words and a little song his mother sung to him and in return he sung to us, and then his grand children and now his great grand children. It’s part of a ballad to help the little ones go to sleep. My dad started singing it immediately but stopped, feeling a little shy. My dad is anything but a shy man and resumed with little prodding.

It was sweet and flooded me with memories. The recordings I have of his voice and his songs, his family life and his history have been tucked away long ago. I still ask him the same questions in hopes of burning the answers into my brain. With a little luck I will remember his seven brother’s names. Ermine, Esa, Nick, Eli, Vincent (sometimes called Richard for reasons I still don’t understand) Jim, damn I’m missing one, and my dad John (not Juan) along with Guadalupe (Dolly) and Josephina. My dad is the oldest son alive and I can hear the pride and privilege he feels with this honor. I don’t really know my dad’s siblings, they live in the Midwest mainly and Colorado but we spent very little time with them when I was a kid. I have probably 47 cousins from his side of the family and would know one of them if I saw them on the street.

I’m at the point in my life that I want to see my family and I love them for all we’ve been through as blood relatives- but I’m thinking much more intently about chosen family and cultivating the relationships of those I want to grow old with. The community of people that know me and share mutual love for the people we are. It sounds sappy yes, but for example; I know my broster dfox will always have my back even if she must questions my desire, motivation or intellect at any given time.

After my folks divorced my dad bought a 1976 corvette stingray. Red and convertible. I remember him picking me up one time and taking me for a ride. He wanted to get it on the open road so we went to the back roads on the air force base and he cranked it up. Later when we were both smiling and not knowing what to say to one and other he started singing Me and Mrs. Jones. His voice is lovely and he can carry a tune. I remember I felt shy and happy and sad all at the same time and I was grateful my dad seemed to love me in that rare moment alone together.

Yesterday we picked corn from dad’s garden across the street from the house. My step mom, has the entire front and back yard and my dad has the big plot across the street. Big ears of corn ripen on the stalk amidst the blackberry bushes and cosmos and he proudly snaps corn from it stalk to send home to Portland. Damn, what a great time to spend with my dad. He sings me a song and hugs me big and tight.

Captain's Log 97211

Wouldn’t it be funny if I were a Trekky…

Maybe it wouldn’t be since a lot of people are, and probably even people I know. I watched that show religiously when I was a kid. I fucking loved Kirk, his commanding voice, all his women and power. The Enterprise his glory and Spock by his side, intentional, logical and cool in every move, ready to answer to Kirk’s every whim with precision not passion. Hot.

I just rode home in the trunk of a car after watching a movie on the roof of a hotel garage. The car became over full after the driver agreed to add one more person. Zelda needed to go back to work to get some baby mice to take home. She didn’t want to leave them at her job overnight and didn ’t want to transport them on the bus. Apparently a client of the place she works came in with a crazy tale of these baby mice sitting by her front door every day when she came home.. She wanted to give them to someone who would “take care of them”… My friend Zelda tells her to bring them in and she will give then a fighting chance. Having just come from my tour of duty in NY I’m rolling my eyes thinking to myself, kill them…

So a few days later this kooky lady comes to Zelda who is working the front desk of this social services place. The lady places the box on Zelda’s reception desk and before she can open the box the lady has scampered off. It’s serious how she’s describing the vintage box the mice came in, the two of them just sitting there on this white pelt when she opens the lid. Zelda is going on about how she’s going to bring them home and how serious she is about allowing them to live. Admirable yes. For sure, Felice says, we’re taking her to work to get the mice so she can bring them home.

As soon as the film is over we break away from the crowd. The trunk pops open for bags and invites me in. I was thinking I’d do a lap dance for my bro Dfox on the way home but the trunk is so appealing with the blankets from the movies. Zelda makes like she’s throwing me in but I’m hopping in willingly. The Midwesterners are a bit worried about me, but really, I have a more space than anyone else, and I’m horizontal.

I can hear the murmur in the car and have time and space to relax and take photos. I hear partying on the sidewalk outside of bars and kids on the street corners. I feel pampered in my solitude. The Lieutenant is driving and Dfox is navigating. We stop to pick up the alien beings and make our way home dropping people at their destinations. I feel the crunch of gravel beneath the tires before the trunk is opened and I climb out and find my way inside. Sorry Kirk, you got nothin’ on me.