Digital Large Format Moleskine

For all the technology I enjoy and use, I am horribly late in adopting a blog. Not that I don't like the idea, I like that people can interact with a person's ramblings and musings. What makes me hesitate is the social networking aspects of many blogging sites. I would rather not "add friends" as I prefer to build relationships, make meaningful connections, even if only in a digital format.

And since my own server with my own format and all the wonderful headaches that go with are still a ways away ( curse you comcast!) I think I'm just going to take a thread and make it into a blog. This way people can comment as they like, most of my on-line friends are here anyway, and all of the fluff and non-sense I'd rather not deal with is just not an issue this way.

SO imagine this not as a typical thread, but rather as a black notebook, found laying on your desk. As you read it, you can add your own notes to be passed along to the next person who finds it. There are no guarantees how long this will last, but I wanted to give it a try. Just to see.

*takes pen in hand and begins writing*

I do not blog. I don't facebook, I don't live journal, I don't myspace. I hate them.

They're too widely used, too popular and I prefer the low grade rambles. I don't want to "do what everyone else is". It's also because of some of the images just the name of those places come to mind. My sister and mother finally shanghied me into making a myspace, but it just sits there empty. Only a few close relatives were even added.

I have a deviantart, but just cause I can look at other people's stuff and randomy throw down what amuses me to show to another person.


All in all, I hate "mass friends" sites. I just can't stand them. I don't want to broadcast who I have on my friends, what I'm doing at any given moment. When I become world famous, and paparazzi dogging my heels, THEN I will let everyone know what I'm doing every moment of the day.

Actually, I got a plan... I'll hire people to take "exclusive" photos of me and flood the market so people get so sick of me the paparazzi won't make money offa my image

I am a blog slut ... or whore, rather, 'cause I do it for money.

galaxygoddess said:

I do not blog. I don't facebook, I don't live journal, I don't myspace. I hate them.

They're too widely used, too popular and I prefer the low grade rambles. I don't want to "do what everyone else is". It's also because of some of the images just the name of those places come to mind. My sister and mother finally shanghied me into making a myspace, but it just sits there empty. Only a few close relatives were even added.

I have a deviantart, but just cause I can look at other people's stuff and randomy throw down what amuses me to show to another person.


All in all, I hate "mass friends" sites. I just can't stand them. I don't want to broadcast who I have on my friends, what I'm doing at any given moment. When I become world famous, and paparazzi dogging my heels, THEN I will let everyone know what I'm doing every moment of the day.

Actually, I got a plan... I'll hire people to take "exclusive" photos of me and flood the market so people get so sick of me the paparazzi won't make money offa my image

Click to expand...

Quit reading my mind . . . it's freaking me out.

WEEEEOOOOOOO

*wiggles fingers

MIND taker!

7/19/07 About who I am

I am a man who is trying to define masculinity for himself and not by societal standards, and yet be readily identifiable as masculine.

I am a wannabe philosopher of the ancient ways. I don't want to argue Sartre versus Mille, I want to examine "how then should I live?"

I am a poet, often spontaneously voicing verse for no other reason than, because I feel like it.

I am a technician and an engineer, solving problems, tweaking systems, looking to do the impossible and enjoying that sense of awe when it works.

I am a container, bearing and holding, keeping things safe, preventing things from falling apart, and when they do fall apart, giving them a place to be broken until they can be fixed again.

I believe in the lost city of atlantis, that there are secrets we as modern "enlightened" minds have forgotten, that there are things which can not be explained, only believed.

I give fantastic hugs, I listen well, I give solid advice if not so good, I laugh too loudly, I sing off key, and I rage with the power of a thousand thunder storms when I am angry.

I am over weight, but losing it slowly. That does not detract from my sex appeal, it merely weeds out those who cannot see past the outside to find the sex jedi cloaked underneath.

I love elephant jokes, light bulb jokes, and knock knock jokes.

There is one spot on my body, not normally considered an erogenous zone that if you were to caress it lightly, I will putty in your hands.

I have been compared to Tom Bombadil, Gawain, LeStat and Michelangelo.

I like my coffee like I like my women; hot strong and bitter.

I believe that if you are capable of speech within 10 seconds of being kissed, you weren't kissed properly.

And above all else, I am a work in progress. Should I ever stop evolving, that is when I shall die.

galaxygoddess said:

WEEEEOOOOOOO

*wiggles fingers

MIND taker!

Click to expand...

I can see I'm going to like having you around.

Imp already knows I adore her, and S-Des I respect deeply.

Pleasure to make your acquaintence.

Howdy ^.^

Don't mind me, I'm just a bit off in the head.

Hey! this is my 69th post! One of the most awesome numbers ever

galaxygoddess said:

Howdy ^.^

Don't mind me, I'm just a bit off in the head.

Hey! this is my 69th post! One of the most awesome numbers ever

Click to expand...

69 dude!

*insert bill and ted air guitar gesture here*

Just stopping by to say hello and blow you a from the good little witch.

Kudos, Salvor

Love your post about who you are, Salvor. I already knew I liked your style, but your introspective thoughts are simply wonderful.

I like the idea of this as a giant electronic moleskin notebook. I'll contribute some kind of something when I'm a bit more inspired. Just stopping by to say I dig you.

07/20/07--- Half a lifetime away

Nineteen years ago, I was nineteen years old. I was home for the summer, working with my mother and her friend doing commercial cleaning for newly finished houses and condos. My mother and her friend were one crew, a guy named Brian and I were another.

Brian was a great guy, a good friend. He was a gifted piano player, a decent singer, and he was strikingly handsome. Girls flocked to him consistently, and as I was Robin to his Batman, that meant girls around me too. I knew they were there for him, but being a shy awkward skinny geek, I was happy for even spill over attention.

One day, Brian called me and told me to meet him at a parking lot near where our next cleaning assignment was. Dr. Pepper in hand, I drove over wondering why we wouldn't meet at the house like normal. The normally warm and cheery smile was a scared nervous line across his face. He looked up only enough to ensure that it was me approaching then looked back at his feet.

"I got a call today. A friend of mine has AIDS." Now I knew why he was so distraught. Losing a friend to a vicious disease, watching them deteriorate beore your eyes was heart breaking, and such a tender soul as his would be racked with pain. "And he told me I need to get myself tested too."

That was when my world began to change. One of my closest friends, a man I admired and wished I could be like, admitted to me what was at the time the hardest thing a man could say. He was gay.

He mumbled something about needing to take the day off, to go see a doctor. Could I handle the job today? Yeah, no problem, sure. Then he got in his car and drove off. All that day as I cleaned and scrubbed and vacuumed I was stunned to think that a man who could have any woman he wanted, wanted none of them at all. I tried to reconcile my notions of the flamboyant lisping effeminate gay stereotype to the strong, mild mannered friend I cherished. As I packed away the supplies I stopped for another Dr. Pepper and drove over to Brian's place.

I knocked twice before I went in. He was sitting on the floor, just staring at the walls, eyes red from the tears. As I sat down next to him he began to roll a joint and then looked at me. "I didn't think I would see you again."

"Brian, we've been through too much. I'm not gonna run away."

We sat in silence while he lit the end and took a drag then offered it to me. I declined and just looked at him. He exhaled and then took another hit, then proceeded to tell me things I never would have guessed. Years of abuse from his step father, abandoned to fend for himself for three months while the rest of the family went over seas. Hustling to feed himself, living on the streets for a year and a half, climbing his way back to what the world called a decent and normal life, all the while hiding what was inside of him.

Several hours later he just exhaled, as if that breath was the final punctuation. I put my arm around him, hugged him tightly and then told him I would see him tomorrow. He looked at me to gauge if it was a true sentiment or a polite write off. I hugged him again then left.

I couldn't go home, I my mind was too tumultuous to sleep. So instead I drove out to the beach, to sit beneath the stars and watch the waves crash. I just sat there, struggling between reconciling realities and the feeling of insignificance beneath the vastness of stars and besides the enormity of the ocean. Then it hit me. Gay was not wrong. Gay was not to be feared. Brian was still the same Brian, the only thing that would change would be I would his support as he struggled with whether he was positive or not.

Over the next few weeks he took me to a few gay bars, introduced me as his straight friend, and I saw an array of personalities and people. None of them tried to molest me or convert me. I was who I was, they were who they are, period end of differences. I changed to meet my world, to be open minded in new ways I never considered.

I assume Brian is dead by now. He was HIV positive in a time when the drugs and treatments were not what they are now. He disappeared, left without a word a month after he got the results. Knowing the way he dealt with problems and troubles, the odds are in favor of his end was met as John Doe, and we was sent wherever unclaimed bodies go.

But still, another lifetime later, his impression remains with me. I am the man I am today because of him.

A heartbreaking, but in the end, inspirational story. I'm sad you lost your friend, but he helped make you who you are, and that's a wonderful thing.

We are the sum of so much: our families, our friends, our lovers.

Sal darlin You have given me goosebumps tonight reading what you wrote.

Thankyou Sal

I used to be on Lit a lot once upon a time, but for various reasons I don't feel as comfortable on the site.

But here, on this thread, I will drop by frequently and read your life, and be inspired.

Thankyou for creating this space for us, for those of us who hear the beat of your drum.

07/21/07 The Joy of Cooking

I love cooking. I do it well, but that's not why I love it. I love the act of what looks like chaos as I move from one dish to another to another keeping them in a dance of heat and chemistry. I would love to one day have a proper kitchen with large six burner stove top, two ovens, an island for mixing, and all the fun tools and toys I lust after on Food Network.

Today I started with pancakes for the family, and used this star shape utensil thing to make them something other than round. About half way through I had the bright idea to add red food coloring to make them pink, and voila Patrick Starfish pancakes. Next weekend I may go all out and try to do Spongebob and Patrick and if I am overly ambitious, Mr Krabs.

Tonight's dinner was steak burritos, a favorite I don't make nearly enough. They go really well with a good beer, but I don't keep that in stock for fear of the kids getting into them. I still don't know a good side dish to make with them. Rice is a bit too stereotypical, and I almost always burn some. Nachos lacks the bit of elegance I want to make it more than just "comfort food". I think I need to head to Argentina or Spain or Mexico or Brazil or some place for ideas.

Which brings me to an idea I want to pursue. Ethno-gastronomy. I would love to travel the world exploring the native and indigenous foods, and study how location, culture, influences from other people and everything else influence the way people eat. If any producers from Food Network read this, give me a call, we'll talk.

I believe that if you are capable of speech within 10 seconds of being kissed, you weren't kissed properly.

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<sigh> Then I don't believe I have ever been kissed properly.

I admit I have blogs. Some are more "me" than others. For me they are a way of integrating my "selves" into a whole, at least for a little while.

You have an interesting writing style. Thank you for sharing yourself here. I will definitely be back.

Ivy

Salvor-Hardon said:

I love cooking. I do it well, but that's not why I love it. I love the act of what looks like chaos as I move from one dish to another to another keeping them in a dance of heat and chemistry. I would love to one day have a proper kitchen with large six burner stove top, two ovens, an island for mixing, and all the fun tools and toys I lust after on Food Network.

Today I started with pancakes for the family, and used this star shape utensil thing to make them something other than round. About half way through I had the bright idea to add red food coloring to make them pink, and voila Patrick Starfish pancakes. Next weekend I may go all out and try to do Spongebob and Patrick and if I am overly ambitious, Mr Krabs.

Tonight's dinner was steak burritos, a favorite I don't make nearly enough. They go really well with a good beer, but I don't keep that in stock for fear of the kids getting into them. I still don't know a good side dish to make with them. Rice is a bit too stereotypical, and I almost always burn some. Nachos lacks the bit of elegance I want to make it more than just "comfort food". I think I need to head to Argentina or Spain or Mexico or Brazil or some place for ideas.

Which brings me to an idea I want to pursue. Ethno-gastronomy. I would love to travel the world exploring the native and indigenous foods, and study how location, culture, influences from other people and everything else influence the way people eat. If any producers from Food Network read this, give me a call, we'll talk.

Click to expand...

Click to expand...

If this intrigues you, the Travel Channel has some interesting programs you might like.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and your life. I am new, but I like what I've read here thus far, and I plan to come back by and check out your "blog."

07/23/07 Welcome to my abode

A quick post to make up for missing sunday, and a chance to welcome the people I've not spent a lot of time with previously.

Invitation

If you are a dreamer, come in
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er. a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come sit by the fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!

-Shel Silverstein

I've loved this poem ever since I first read it as a child and it still rings so powerfully in my heart. Shel Silverstein was such a gifted talent, and I love that he even insisted on the kinds of paper his books were printed on because the poems had to feel right as well.

SO until I finish my coffee and get some actual real thoughts going on in my head, come sit by my fire and listen to my heart.

Come in!
Come in!

07/23/07 -- My Dream Woman

There is always that one, that quintessential ideal that all others are compared to, unfairly in many ways but still, the impact was made and the impression remains forever. For me, that woman was Emma Peel, as played by Diana Riggs on the show "the Avengers".

She was beautiful yes, dark eyes, bright eyes, athletic build, but also she was elegant, stylish, and smart. She was witty, could banter and exchanges quips with the same precision as she would strike with the martial arts. And when she appeared as "the queen of sin" in what passed for 60's kink, she was just lethal to look at.

That is what I find attractive most in women now. Dark hair, bright eyes, an athletic build. But more so than looks I want a woman who makes me wonder if she could be a secret agent. If she possesses an air of mystery and intrigue around her, that smile that tells me there is more to her than meets the eye and I could take a life time to learn her secrets.

And if she has a black corset with fishnet stockings and thigh high boots, thats a bonus.

Salvor-Hardon said:

I am a man who is trying to define masculinity for himself and not by societal standards, and yet be readily identifiable as masculine.

I am a wannabe philosopher of the ancient ways. I don't want to argue Sartre versus Mille, I want to examine "how then should I live?"

I am a poet, often spontaneously voicing verse for no other reason than, because I feel like it.

I am a technician and an engineer, solving problems, tweaking systems, looking to do the impossible and enjoying that sense of awe when it works.

I am a container, bearing and holding, keeping things safe, preventing things from falling apart, and when they do fall apart, giving them a place to be broken until they can be fixed again.

I believe in the lost city of atlantis, that there are secrets we as modern "enlightened" minds have forgotten, that there are things which can not be explained, only believed.

I give fantastic hugs, I listen well, I give solid advice if not so good, I laugh too loudly, I sing off key, and I rage with the power of a thousand thunder storms when I am angry.

I am over weight, but losing it slowly. That does not detract from my sex appeal, it merely weeds out those who cannot see past the outside to find the sex jedi cloaked underneath.

I love elephant jokes, light bulb jokes, and knock knock jokes.

There is one spot on my body, not normally considered an erogenous zone that if you were to caress it lightly, I will putty in your hands.

I have been compared to Tom Bombadil, Gawain, LeStat and Michelangelo.

I like my coffee like I like my women; hot strong and bitter.

I believe that if you are capable of speech within 10 seconds of being kissed, you weren't kissed properly.

And above all else, I am a work in progress. Should I ever stop evolving, that is when I shall die.

Click to expand...

Sounds good to me.

Talk to you soon.

GentleSub_Ivy said:

<sigh> Then I don't believe I have ever been kissed properly.

Ivy

Click to expand...

I know I haven't in a long time : /


But I am liking reading how open you are. Ugh I'm back in slumpy town for a moment. various reasons.

You inspire, keep it up

I wanted to be Emma Peel when I grew up. Not so much the looks, although those were great, but the style, the attitude, the quick wit.

07/24/07 --Is it my breath?

A few years ago, I worked retail. For the record I am a great salesman, being able to talk well with people, listen to what they want, and able to "you want X instead of Y, but if you really want to buy Y I'll sell it to you." I had many loyal customers, some who even stopped shopping there when I left because they would only work with me. I say this to give you an idea of the salesman I was, not to brag. Ok a little bit to brag.

One of my customers ran a travel agency that specialized in group tours to Hawaii. Tony was a great guy, very friendly and when he could spare a few moments, he would love to talk about his home. One day, one of my colleagues asked him "so what does aloha really mean? Hello? Goodbye? I love you? what?"

Tony just smiled quite wide. "It means all of those things. It literally means 'I give you my breath'. When we meet, we say aloha to exchange parts of ourselves, to create that connection. When we leave, we give each other that part of ourselves to take with you when you go. When it is a term of affection, it means I want to be with you, even when we are apart. It is aloha."

I have known the connection between breath and spirit for a long time. I'm not even sure when I became aware of it, it just always made sense that the two would be analogous. But to hear it from someone else, to realize that an entire culture recognizes the exchange of souls as we go about our days, that reassured me that my often unique and individual take on the world was not so far off base.

But then I wondered...what do people do with my soul when they leave? Do I really want every person I talk to and interact with carrying away part of me? What do I do with the breaths that are given to me day by day? Why are some souls so different from others?

I see my life like a paper mill of souls. At first sorting out the desirable and non-desirable. Keeping the ones that are positive, letting the negative slough off. With the newly acquired bits and pulp I compress them, wash them, blend them together to make them not only part of me but letting them interact with each other so as to give them more strength, even if I am the only witness to their combined energies.

The raw material is then pressed, processed, dried, and cut, to be sent out to and given to those I meet along my path. Some days the paper of my soul is more refined than others. Some times what you will get from me is like vellum parchment, waiting to be embossed by royal decree. Other times, it is not much better than paper towels, to dry your hands and consigned to the waste bin without a thought. I adore the people who know the difference and pity those who do not.

And so I say to you "aloha".