On the way home from the dentist today, sitting atop the public trash recepticle at the corner of Hayes and Octavia Streets, was a dirty Hello Kitty toaster - which totally reminded me that Ggreg Taylor’s Hello Kitty Toaster was stolen last year! So, I nabbed it and it’s now sitting on my computer desk. I wonder who it belonged to - if it was Ggreg’s missing toaster?
Which led me to muse on the nature of posession. How important are things, really? I lost everything I owned back in 1994 when I moved back to California from Virginia, except my duffel bag of clothes, and my camera. Those were the things which were, and still are important to me. All those other things I had collected in my life up to that point where just gone, sold by my ex-lover sight unseen to an auction house for $250.00. I have to admit that at 28, that was a bit hard to take, and it wasn’t for many months that I was able to forgive him for that betrayal.
But what value did those things really have? They were a tangible marker of my existence. Of course, many of the things I had had then had been previously owned, so they were also markers of the existence of others. I never knew most of the people from whom I acquired my things - antique stores, and collectibles shops, thrift stores, and department stores had all had commerce with me and whomever they had purchased the things from. Those things are like the currents in a river, flowing toward the oblivion of the ocean, passed on from hand to hand until they recede out of sight, leaving only a memory. Maybe that’s the real value of things - they serve as useful landmarks for the passing of our lives, reminders of loves and hates and meals and sharing and intimacy. Is that the proper way to view the things in one’s life?
Is there anything more? Are some things worth having for their own sake, to be reminders of our past, our heritage? Or our our memories enough, enduring? Having that garnet ring of my grandfather’s doesn’t increase my love for him, nor does it add a single moment to the length of my life. Perhaps we are all really meant to “consider the lilies of the field,” and just live our lives, holding on not to the past, but to the present, letting the things come into and pass through our lives without attachments.
I just got my first photographer lined up - Hooray!
http://www.paulbrown.net/tattoo/
When I was 16 years old, I was (anally) raped. That event fucked up my life for 17 years, and I would never wish that fate upon anyone. The fantasy is a sight better than the reality.
On the way back from dinner with tonight, the Mercedes shot its wad, and lost all of its oil, on the 580 Westbound. was able to coast off at the Seminary Rd. exit. We got out and looked at the engine - there was oil everywhere!
He called AAA and the driver came and picked up the car, dropped us off at Coliseum BART, where we got on the last train. The driver took the car to the shop in San Mateo, and called John when he had delivered it. By that time, we had disembarked at Civic Center and were walking home.
I’m still meaning to write up my weekend, but all this weird stuff keeps getting in the way. In the morning.
By the way, , trust me when I say this - I’d rather have four more years of W. then be anally raped again.
Perhaps I never mentioned this, but I give free massages for three referrals that lead to appointments.
The whole of my Pride experience this year consisted of walking home from Civic Center BART through the throng. I saw John O., ’s ex, and we chatted for a few minutes, and he wanted to see how my tattoo was progressing, so I took off my shirt. A small crowd gathered to look, so I decided to keep my shirt off while I walked through the rest of the crowd on my way home.
As I was approaching Van Ness, I put my shirt back on, and this young lesbian boi came up to me saying she had only gotten a glimpse of my back and would I mind showing her my ink. I pulled up my shirt to give her a look, then we started talking for what turned into an interesting talk into tattoos, the challenge of enduring the pain, getting into the “zone,” and body adornment in general. I mentioned to her that I had been contemplating putting a calendar of tattoo images together, and she seemed really excited by the idea, especially as a fundraiser for the Melanoma Foundation. Her girlfriend had a boyfriend in high school who died of melanoma, so she was empathetic to the plight of those who suffer from skin cancer. Click here to read a fact sheet on Melanoma.
On the rest of the way home, I was thinking more seriously about it, and realized that instead of having a Tattoo page soliciting funds for my own selfish needs, I need to be doing something bigger and more generous. I’m going to re-work the tattoo section of my site for my calendar project.
So, what I’m doing here is throwing the idea out there. I really need to find Photographers, Subjects, and a Graphic Designer who would be willing to work on this project with me. And donations: I need between $1500 - $2500 to print calendars, depending on how many I have printed.
Would anyone be interested in helping out on this project?
These two just struck me as funny for some reason:
“i just got mine cavort boron colloidal”
“Get another travel I.D- inception eyelash”
So, I figured out the problem with Internet Explorer. Sigh, it’s always making one jump through extra hoops.
http://www.paulbrown.net/test.htm
So, the house is now quiet, what with The Usual Suspects being gone from Sunday Dinner. just left to go have a drink or a cigar with Alan W. at the Best Western Lone Star. and just got a ride home with , and took his two heterosexual friends to some place to get them a bite to eat. Except for B’harnee, who is always in the Big Dog House (John’s bedroom), I have the place to myself.
One of the things I always enjoyed about living by myself in the past is the stillness when I’m alone. I miss that about living in my apartment in Sacramento - even though I had a roommate, he wasn’t there except at night to sleep, pretty much. Being able to be alone seems precious to me, mostly because I don’t get much of it these days.
I love those Sunday Dinner folk, but sometimes I just wish we didn’t have to have that event every week.
