Moondance.

The alarm clock said 3:26. The house shook as another gust of wind pushed it’s way through. I looked out the bedroom window and saw that the lawn was lit up brilliantly, jumping up for a closer look I noticed it appeared to be a full moon.

The roar of the wind continued. I put on a pair of jockey shorts and made my way through the dark house to the patio door. The lawn furniture was doing it’s own little dance on the patio. The pillows ran across the lawn. The umbrella turned and shook in rhythm with the rest.

I went outside and made sure everything was secured. The moon was shining brilliantly. The wind was unbelievably warm and so very forceful. There was such power in that wind. Trees were bowing to Mother Nature in ways I haven’t seen them bow in a long time in these parts. I chased the pillows across the lawn and picked them up. They were easy to spot in the bright moonlight.

After everything was secure, I went back into the lawn. I was bare footed. The warm, strong winds caressed my body. I was bathed in moonlight. It was then that I found my nature based spiritual beliefs once again, and in the Wiccan tradition I went skyclad. I opened my arms and thanked the Universe for that incredibly beautiful moment. I felt alive. I felt refreshed. I felt that I was looking at beauty that few saw at that time of night.

I reveled in the experience for nearly 10 minutes before going back in the house. I then slept peacefully the rest of the night.

Winds of Change.

Photo 77.jpg

I am sitting on the back patio enjoying the breezes that precede the arriving cold front. I look straight up and I can see stars, in the distance I hear continuous rumbles of thunder. This should be an interesting evening for sleeping tonight.

Today was spent with relatives from both sides of my family tree as Earl and I hosted an open house to usher in the arrival of our nephew. It was good to see the cousins, aunts and uncles; I hadn’t seen some of them in quite a long time. We had the whole affair catered from one of our favorite Italian haunts (but without any cute waiter boys this time around).

Overall the party was a success and everyone seemed to have a good time. My nephew put on his happy face and made everyone smile and say nice things. I guess that happens around most babies, now that I think about it. I like to think he’s a special guy though.

It’s going to be hard to see my sister and him move to Switzerland in a couple of weeks.

Broadcasting.



Broadcasting., originally uploaded by iMachias.

At tonight’s gig the bar manager decided to try something a little bit different and put a webcam on stage to show the folks at home what was going on at the bar. I don’t know how well the whole affair worked but it was enjoyable in a novel sort of way.

To add to the merriment I DJ’d from the stage in the center of the bar instead of using the DJ booth, which is tucked away in a corner that few can see. This put me within the field of the webcam, so I took a screen shot of me looking rugged.

DJing from the stage made the night a little more interesting. It’s a shame that there weren’t more people to enjoy the experience. We are going to try again next weekend after the Rainbow Express train ride on the Adirondack Railroad.

What Is Love.

I’ve mentioned on several recent blog entries that I do a lot of thinking on my bike rides. I don’t know if it’s the fresh air, the physical exertion or just the freedom I feel while I’m peddling down a rural road in the warm sunshine, but I do some of my most creative thinking whilst on a bike ride. I often come up with blog entries that I never record. It’s time I do something about it.

One of the blog entries that I’ve formulated is this one, and it’s about love. Such a short little word with a big responsibility. Not to get all flower power but I believe that love is really what it’s all about and it’s not something that should be squandered away or ignored. Love should be celebrated. Love should be cherished. Love should be shared.

Growing up I felt a lot of love. I guess I was a happy kid because I felt loved and secure. My mother always told me that she loved me, my father never did. He didn’t need to. Grandma City told me she loved me, Grandma Country didn’t, she didn’t need to. Oh I knew that love was there, it’s just that it was an unspoken love. It didn’t diminish it in anyway and it’s not the way I play the game but that unspoken love wasn’t any less real, it was just conveyed differently.

There are so many different kinds of love. I’ve had three substantial relationships in my life. The first was a puppy love. We’ve all been there, you’re in love with being in love, and you’re going to love whether you really love or not. It makes sense when you’re 18. Looking back it makes you take pause but that’s o.k., it’s just part of our learning. It doesn’t make it any less real, but it’s just a little love.

I loved my second boyfriend as well, but it was more of a kinship type love. After a few beers I’ll declare that I love him to this day (though I don’t just bark it out randomly at people). We share a good friendship. Was it limitless? No. But was it good? Yes.

Now when I fell in love with Earl that’s when love knocked me off my feet. My love for Earl is honestly limitless. I still see fireworks when I see Earl, even all these years later. I love Earl in a way that I will never love another. My love for him is all encompassing. It has consumed every part of my soul and I know with all that I know that my love for him is never ending. I guess that’s easy for me to say as I don’t know what the future brings, but I’m certain that I will always love Earl. “‘Til death do us part.” Yep, it goes that deep. I’ve never felt that before.

Even with the undying love I have for Earl I do love other people. I’m not afraid to tell people that I love them if the emotion is true. This might make people take pause. Now I don’t go around telling everyone that I know that I love them, because that’s hardly the case. There are only a few that I could say that I love. It’s not the same kind of love I feel for Earl but it is love nonetheless. For example, I love our friend Steve in Buffalo and I have told him so. I love him like the brother I never had. We play games that only we get, like riding in the back seat of a car on a dark night telling each other cubby bear stories. It’s definitely a different kind of love. The closest comparison I can come to is a person that loves to paint but also loves to eat Chinese food. They don’t derive the same type of pleasure from painting that they derive from eating the Chinese food but they love both activities nonetheless. Both can coexist without compromising the other. The love of painting fulfills the painter in a myriad of ways and is all encompassing, the love of Chinese food goes beyond just satisfying them or fulfilling a need.

I wish I could write an analogy about how I feel about love. I’ve thought about saying, “I’d take a bullet for a person that I love” but then again, I think I’d take a bullet for just about anyone in danger, so that doesn’t really work. I guess I could say that it goes beyond caring. Perhaps it’s a special bond. Maybe we met in a previous life and here we are again. I just know it and I wish I could describe it.

I guess the point of my rambling is that love should be shared with those that we truly love, and those that we truly love should be cherished in their own special way. Save it, savor it, share it.

No More!

As God as my witness I hereby declare to all the care: No more cheese for me. None. Do not feed me cheese.

I do not cherish sitting in the bathroom for a good chunk of my lunch hour. I’ll refrain from further description.

That is all.

Techno Bed.

Earl is sound asleep next to me. I’m snuggled up in the covers, refusing to turn the heat on even though the weatherman has issued a frost warning for tonight. It’s easier to add another blanket instead of forking out a lot of cash to Niagara Mohawk (utility company). I have the computer and a cat in bed with me (in addition to Earl) The cat is not Xena, though she let me pet her once before hissing today. We are making progress. As a kind gesture I made a little cat bed with an old comforter for her. She enjoys resting on it, paws crossed in a pristine way.

My sister is asleep with her son in the back bedroom. He is growing like crazy. At three weeks old he’s discovering his sight and looking at various toys with interest. The miracle of life is truly amazing. My sister has a good sense of humour. I tell Dylan (her son) that the milk truck is coming and I call my sister Byrne Dairy (local dairy company). It’s all in jest. She laughs. My sister has always laughs at my jokes. Even when we were little.

My aunt and cousin came to visit this evening. They brought along a casserole that my uncle made. He’s recently retired. Apparently he’s becoming intimate with the ways of Rachel Ray. The casserole was good. The company was enjoyable.

Lying in bed I’m chatting on the computer and sending text messages back and forth to dave and greg. It’s what I do. The internet has afforded me the opportunity to make important connections in my life. Most don’t understand. I cherish those that do.

I’ve never written those blog entries that I formulate in my head whilst on my bike. I should really sit down in a quiet corner and write them all down and then post them when the mood strikes. So many things to blog about: spirituality, love, monogamy, sex, exploration, politics. Are we sick of politics yet? I believe I am. It’s not a game I enjoy watching. Few take it seriously. So much at stake.

Today began the experiment of recreating the Big Bang in Switzerland. Particles whizzed in one direction at seven per cent of the capacity of the machine. When we reach one hundred per cent and send two particles in opposite directions, only to collide with one another is when it’ll get interesting. But today they learned that what they’ve spent 30 years building works. Let’s hope there’s not another Big Bang as a result.

Earl is still sound asleep, oblivious to the soft clicking of the keyboard on my Mac. I look at him and smile. He still gets me. Few do. He gives me room to grow. He encourages me to explore, to seek, to spread my wings. It’s something I’ll always cherish.

Aunt Sissy.

The year was 1996. It was my second or third visit to my future in-laws and shortly after Earl’s “big announcement”. Said announcement included the fact that the buddy he brought along the preceding Labor Day was more than a buddy, not only did we bounced bellies at football games but we bounced bellies (amongst other things) in bed too.

Anyway, it was a family gathering of some sort and I was meeting everyone for the first time; cousins, aunts, uncles, all sorts of relatives from all branches of the family tree were mangling my initials in all sorts of ways. I didn’t mind, I figured all was well if they were speaking to me and not spitting on me. I guess I’m easy to please.

Earl introduced me to a short, wild haired woman who looked like she really knew how to live life. “Hey Glad-ie”, he said to her before introducing me, “This is my Aunt Sissy.”

Aunt Sissy. At 73 or so years old at the time she was obviously the free spirit the cover of her book portrayed; she’d been through three husbands, three continents, countless bingo cards and an unmeasurable number of cigarettes. Her stature was short but her heart was obviously big. She grabbed my face and pulled it down to her face and gave me a big kiss on the lips, “Hello John!”. We have a winner, she got my name right.

She turned to Earl. “I hear you got a new car!” Earl had just bought a Hyundai Elantra.

“Yep.”

“Is it a convertible?”, she barked out. Aunt Sissy always talked loud.

“No, why?”

“I had a convertible once. A FRENCH convertible”, she said. “The top doesn’t go down but the driver does.”

Aunt Sissy shared that story, amongst a bunch of others, with us several times for next 12 years.

Last night we made the trek down to near Philadelphia to attend Aunt Sissy’s memorial service. She was 84 years old. She died of lung cancer.

Rest In Peace, Aunt Sissy. Enjoy the ride in your new convertible.

The Cleaning Out The Closet Thing.



Slut Jeans., originally uploaded by iMachias.

Earl and I have been busy cleaning out our closets this weekend. I’ve needed new work clothes for a while, but I was told that I couldn’t buy any new clothes until I cleaned out at least 20 items from my closet. It turns out I cleaned out over 60 items in my closet, as I decided to go crazy and throw out anything I hadn’t worn in at least a year or more.

One particular group of items that I got rid of was my safety net or my “fat clothes”. This wide (no pun intended) selection of clothes was from my days when I was 40 pounds heavier. I no longer have a need for them so there’s no sense in having them there as a safety blanket for the occasion where I might gain some of my weight back. I think this helps my subconscious mind get into the groove that I’m sticking to that whole healthy thing so out they went, along with many t-shirts, jeans and other odds and ends that I won’t wear anymore.

We ended up shopping at JC Penney for new clothes as they were having a sale that involved buying a pair of pants at regular price and getting any regularly priced shirt for a dollar. That was a really good deal. I have a new selection of clothing that I’ll be modeling over the next couple of blog entries. No longer will I have to wear khakis that have a fringe on the bottom from excessive wear and I have banished any and all pleats for the remainder of my life.

One extra bonus of cleaning out the closet was that I found my old “slut jeans” from my disco bunny days. I never thought they would fit as they are from an era when I had a size 31 inch waist but lo and behold, I was able to get into them without any sort of leaping and still be able to breathe. It was a very close call and they’re certainly not ready for primetime again by any stretch (ha, such wit!) but all snaps, buttons and zippers that were on them when I put them on were still in place when I took them off.

And there was much rejoicing.

Here’s a full on ass shot for those that couldn’t believe that I could bend over in these things.1

Ass Shot.

1 Nah, I’m just an attention whore.

Tracking Treasure Down.

I discovered this track on a DJ Feel mix1 I was listening to on the Thruway today. It’s two years old but I have to say I’m liking it a lot. This is definitely having an influence on the sound of my gigs lately.

This is Gabriel and Dresden, “Tracking Treasure Down”.

1 Thanks dave!

Purrfect.

This morning I woke up at 6 a.m. to a rumbling sound from my chest. Groggy from a late night, I went to give Tom a little push off my chest when I realised that I wasn’t at home, but rather at our friend greg’s house outside of New Haven, Connecticut. The rumbling sound was actually a very loud purr; it was Sybil and she decided to be a friendly native and make the houseguest feel welcome.

This is Sybil. She enjoys basking in the sun, eating grass from the lawn, staying within the confines of the property and eating an occasional chipmunk head. When asked “Why chipmunks?” she told me that they are lower in fat.